Night Vision (33 page)

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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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“S
he won't come out of the room,” said Nolan, pulling Jane and Cordelia aside as they entered the lobby of the hotel. “She's got a gun, says she'll use it on herself if the police try to break in.”
On the way to Bloomington, Jane had called Nolan to tell him that Freddy was involved, too. She gave him all the details. Nolan said he'd pass it on.
“Where's Freddy?” asked Jane, glancing down a hallway and seeing a bunch of uniforms milling around.
“He broke a window and climbed out when he heard the sirens, but two officers caught him as he was making a run for it across a field just west of the building. Good thing the cops got here when they did. All thanks to you two.”
“How come Joanna didn't go with him?” asked Cordelia, unbuttoning her football jacket.
Nolan shook his head. “No idea.”
“Where's the room?”
“It's a suite. Down the hall, across from the pool.”
“Are they married?” asked Jane.
Nolan nodded to a young man sitting in the hotel's deserted coffee shop. He was talking to another, older man, probably a detective in
plain clothes. “That's the guy who performed the service. They used two cleaning women for their witnesses. Now that they're legal, they can't be forced to testify against each other.”
“Is
that
why they did it?” asked Cordelia, her jaw dropping.
“You'll have to ask Joanna. Freddy's out in one of the squad cars. He refuses to talk until he has a lawyer present.”
“But what about Joanna?” said Cordelia. “Maybe I can talk to her, get her to listen to reason.” She turned and rushed for the hallway. A cop who was standing guard near the entrance stopped her. “Sorry, ma'am. Off limits. You shouldn't even be in the building.”
“I'm the one who friggin' called you! You wouldn't even
be
here if it wasn't for me.
Joanna!
” she shouted. “It's me. Cordelia. I'm here for you, babe! Tell them to let me in and we'll talk.”
The response was loud and clear. Through the wall, everyone heard Joanna scream, “If you let her in here, I'll not only shoot myself, I'll shoot her, too!”
Cordelia blinked. “I … I don't understand. She must not be in her right mind.”
The cop pushed her back into the lobby.
“A uniformed neanderthal isn't going to kick me out of here!” she sputtered.
“It's okay, Cordelia,” said Nolan, holding up his hand and nodding to the cop that he'd take care of it. “We're all cleared to be in here. We just can't go back to the room.”
 
Two hours later, they were seated at one of the tables in the empty coffee shop when Dreashon Johnson walked up, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
He crossed his hands on the table, eyed each one of them briefly, then said, “We've been talking to Ms. Kasimir on the hotel phone, trying to get her to agree to let one of our people in. Unfortunately, she refuses.” He glanced at Nolan, then looked directly at Jane. “She asked if you were here, Ms. Lawless. Said she'd be willing to talk to you.”
Cordelia nearly erupted out of her chair. “Why Jane? Why not me?”
Johnson shifted his gaze to Cordelia, said nothing, then turned back to Jane. “Ordinarily, I wouldn't even consider it, except that we spoke to Mr. Kasimir. He said he didn't have a gun with him, and he's almost positive Joanna didn't either. I talked to him for quite a while. I could be wrong, but I feel like he cares about her, that he wants her out of there safely.” Fingering a sticky spot on the table, he continued, “We could fit you with a protective vest. Other than that, you'd be on your own. But we'd be right outside. What do you say? It might be the only way to get her out of there.”
Jane had worn body armor before, so it wasn't something new. “Okay,” she said, feeling her palms begin to sweat.
As she started to get up, Johnson stopped her. “Even if she doesn't have a gun, she could have some other kind of weapon. A fork or a knife from a dinner tray. Scissors. You'll have to play it very carefully.”
“I intend to,” said Jane.
After being fitted with the vest, she slipped her jacket back on. As she was led back through the front lobby, she saw Cordelia sitting morosely in one of the chairs. There wasn't much she could say to make her feel better.
Johnson accompanied her down the hall to Room 122. He knocked, then called, “Ms. Kasimir? Jane's here. Open up.”
A few seconds later, the bolt was thrown from inside and the door eased back a crack. “Don't try anything or we'll all be sorry,” came Joanna's voice.
Jane glanced at Johnson, feeling the blood pump hard in her chest. Nolan had taught her that in tense situations, she needed to slow everything down, stay focused. And that's what she did. She breathed in slowly, let it out slowly. She did that a couple of times and then said, “It's me, Joanna. I'm coming in.”
 
The room was pitch-dark. Jane could sense a body standing next to her.
“Walk away from the door,” said Joanna. Her voice held no warmth.
As she moved a few steps farther into the room, the bolt snapped back into place behind her.
“Sit down on the floor,” said Joanna.
It took a few seconds for Jane's eyes to adjust. When they did, she noticed that a crack in the curtains let in a thin sliver of light. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Joanna was still wearing her wedding dress. She rustled over to a chair across the room. “Where's the gun?” asked Jane. She sat down on the floor by the bed, leaned her back against the frame.
“Don't worry, I don't plan to use it on you.”
If that was supposed to make her feel better, it didn't. “How come you asked for me?”
“Because I wanted to talk to someone other than the police.”
“Why not Cordelia?”
Joanna laughed. “She having a fit about that?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her. But, like I said, I wanted a conversation, not an argument. Now that you're here, I need you to do me a favor.”
Jane waited.
“Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Yes.”
“Mine's dead. And they won't let me call out on the hotel phone. I want you to call Abbott Northwestern Hospital. Give them my name and tell them you were there last night to see Hillary Schinn or no, ‘Cordelia.' She was in the emergency room. I need to know how she's doing.”
Jane held up both hands. “The cell's in the pocket of my jacket.” “Go ahead,” said Joanna. “Get it out.”
Jane pulled it free and flipped it open. “Hillary. She's the woman we met at Flying Cloud the day you arrived. The one who'd tried to commit suicide last night.”
“I see the real Cordelia's filled you in. Make the call.” She switched on the light next to her.
Jane punched in the number for directory assistance and had them connect her.
Joanna watched steadily, her hands busily kneading the fabric of
her skirt. She looked like a wreck of a human being, her eyes too bright, her skin impossibly pale.
It took a few minutes, but Jane finally got the information Joanna wanted. “Looks like she's doing much better. The nurse expects her to make a full recovery.”
Joanna exhaled, bowed her head. After nearly a minute of silence, she looked up and said, “This may sound strange to you, Jane, but I don't know what I would have done if she'd died.”
“But you hardly knew her.”
“Doesn't make any sense to me, either. After I saw her last night, I couldn't get her face out of my mind. There's no logic to it. If Gordon were here, he'd put it in some larger philosophical context.”
“Gordon?”
Her head fell back against the chair. “Yeah. He was always good at throwing around big words like he understood them. ‘Redemption.' ‘Freedom.' ‘Meaning.' ‘Love.' Sometimes I think he did understand them—at least, better than I did.”
Jane prayed that Joanna would leave the light on. It was easier to track her mood if she could see her face, watch her eyes.
As if reading her mind, Joanna switched the light back off. “I like the dark. Gordon said we all lived in the dark. That's why we needed to find a star to navigate by. Gordon said he'd be that star for me. I wanted so badly for that to be true.”
“Are you saying that you actually loved him?”
Her voice had softened. “Ever since I was a kid, I've felt like something huge and vital was missing inside me. Like I had only one lung. Or half a heart. I thought if I just pursued my dreams, when I achieved them,
they
would fill the void. It never happened. Maybe religion fills that need in some people. Maybe what I craved was a sense of safety—or certainty. Whatever it was, those first few days I spent with Gordon, that feeling went away. I was happy in a way I'd never been before or since. I don't understand it. I don't like it. How can the man who ruined my life also be the only one I ever loved? Because I think that's what it was, Jane. Love. What's worse,
what
I loved wasn't even real.”
In the darkness, Jane could just make out Joanna's body huddled in the chair, hands in her lap. She was a crumbling soul trying to understand her past.
“Freddy's a good man. He says he loves me, that he never stopped. It's funny, but I believe him. The only problem is, I never loved him. I still don't. But he's a good man. More than that, he's funny, smart—everything I'm not. He doesn't see that I'm really a very average person. I just happen to have an attractive façade, one that others have used to project images on.” She paused, then said, “Do you think I'm shallow, Jane?”
“Of course not.”
“No, I want your real opinion.”
“I'm not sure I want to play this game with someone holding a gun.”
Joanna laughed. “I see your point. But I'm serious. I respect you. I always have. And I promise I won't hurt you. I'd just like an honest answer.”
Jane didn't like being put on the spot. There was something she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure this was the time.
“Come on, Jane. Do you think I'm shallow?”
“I'm not sure I'd use that word.”
“What word would you use?”
“Well.” She drew her legs up to her chest. “It seems kind of strange to me that I've been in here for over ten minutes and you haven't asked once about David. You knew he'd run away. You killed Luberman, but you let the police think David had. How could you do that?”
The words seemed to startle her. “But they know the truth now.”
“Yes, but couldn't you see that David's in terrible shape? Have you got any idea what it's been like for him these last few days? He thought he might go to jail, Joanna. Do you know what that can do to a guy who's already living on the edge?”
“I never would have allowed it.”
“
He
didn't know that. He's sick. Has been for months. If you weren't so fixated on yourself, you might have noticed it.”
“I … I did,” she countered. “He and Diego are having problems. Diego's been sleeping around.”
“No he hasn't. You don't have a clue what's going on with your brother. And I think that speaks volumes.”
Joanna sat up straighter. “I'm selfish? Uncaring?”
Jane didn't answer. She prayed that Johnson was right, that Joanna didn't have a gun.
The quiet that replaced their conversation felt thick and corroded.
Finally, Joanna stood. “You're right, Jane. I'm a selfish bitch. Incapable of love.”
“I didn't say that.”
“Sure you did. I'm not sure I disagree.” She stepped away from the chair. As she passed Jane, she paused and dropped the gun in her lap. “Will you do me one last favor?”
“Anything.”
“Tell Cordelia how glad I am that she has Hattie in her life now. For a long time, I thought she might be suffering from the same malady as me—that she had lots of lovers but didn't know how to love in return. Gordon was right about one thing. You do need a guiding star in this dark, dark world.” With that, she turned and, head held high, crossed to the door and walked out into the arms of the waiting police.
T
he next morning, Jane carried two cups of coffee and one cup of hot chocolate into Cordelia's office at the theater.
“Zero minus five minutes and counting,” said Cordelia, looking at her watch. She was sitting behind her desk, two large pink stuffed bunnies on either side of her, gifts for the returning Hattie.
“You need some of this,” said Jane, setting one of the coffees down in front of her.
“Cream and sugar?”
“The requisite amount.”
“Good woman.” She rubbed her hands together. “And the hot chocolate?”
“In the small cup.”
“Excellent. Now, what should we talk about? You have to take my mind off my anxiety, Jane. I'm close to total meltdown.”
“You don't think Radley will show up on time?”
“Or that they'll be in a car wreck, or that Radley will slip into a fugue state and forget where he is. Or that—”
“I get it,” said Jane, lowering herself into a chair on the other side of the desk. “You're catastrophizing.”
“And I do it so well. Speaking of that, I called my new lawyer this
morning. No more living on borrowed time. I'm about to sue my sister for legal and physical custody of Hattie. The papers should be drawn up by early next week.”
“Wonderful,” said Jane. “You've got a good lawyer?”
“My personal attorney says she's the best. Now, entertain me, Jane. Sing something. Recite a poem. Tell me something I don't know.”
“Okay, I talked to David before I drove over here.”
“Ah, yes. David. I'm glad you finally decided to tell me what was really going on with him.”
“Well, I had to distract you last night,
too,
remember? You were pretty upset about Joanna and Freddy when we got back to the loft.”
“Magnanimous diva that I am, I've forgiven her for talking to you instead of to me. I see now that she didn't want to put my life in danger.”
“That's right,” said Jane, coughing into her fist. “I'm more disposable.”
“Not to me, you're not. So tell me about David.” She laced her fingers together over her ample bosom.
“He's spending another night at the sleep lab. But he did have an episode last night, which was good. They think they might have a handle on what's wrong with him. And it's treatable. They've put him on something called Klonopin. They want him to stay in town for a week or so, so they can adjust the dosage. But if all goes well, he can fly back to Atlanta next weekend.”
“The police let him completely off the hook?”
“Well, technically, they could charge him. Mutilation of a dead body, or something like that. But Nolan didn't think it was very likely.”
“All good news.” She looked at her watch, shook it, then lifted it to her ear to make sure it was still ticking.
“Nolan called me on my cell as I was pulling into the parking lot downstairs. I asked him if he'd heard anything about Joanna and Freddy. He said they'd lawyered up—separate lawyers, which he said was smart. He thought both of them would be out by late this afternoon.”
“It's all so awful. They're looking at a long trial, major prison time.”
“Actually, Nolan said he'd be surprised if Joanna even served a
day. She's got a great case for self-defense. And she's a celebrity. The public adores her, so jurors will instinctively want to believe the best about her. And as for Freddy and the thug he hired to murder Luberman, Nolan thinks they'll have a hard time proving it. Faye may testify—or she may not. If the DA cuts her a deal over the concealing evidence and unlawful surveillance charges, maybe she'll talk. But if she doesn't, who knows? They don't even have a lead on who the thug might be. He called Joanna from a cell the night he botched the murder, but it was one of those throwaway cell phones. Can't be traced. Nolan figured a good defense lawyer could make it all go away. All except for the death of the security guard. Freddy would still be on the hook for that.”
“Time will tell, I guess,” said Cordelia. She looked at her watch again. “Two minutes.”
“You know, he might not be here right on the dot.”
“He better be,” she said, a snarl in her voice. She turned and patted one of the stuffed rabbits. “Say, how's your house coming along?”
“The rugs and the furniture will be moved back in today. I can sleep in my own home again tonight.”
“I'll miss you,” said Cordelia. “It was fun having you around.”
“Excuse me,” said Cordelia's secretary, knocking softly on the door. “There's a man out here to see you. He says his name is Cunningham, that you were expecting him.”
“It's
just
him? Isn't Hattie with him?”
“Um, no, Cordelia. It's just the man.”
“I'll kill him!” She exploded out of her chair. But before she could get to the door, Radley appeared.
Cordelia was right. He did look a little like Clive Owen. Dark hair, dark stubble, intense eyes, almost a Roman face. But heavier, older.
“Where's Hattie!”
He was wearing a long trench coat and held a brown fedora in his hands. He looked rumpled, the way Englishmen often looked to Jane. Like they needed tending, as her English grandmother used to say.
“She's not with me,” said Radley.
“I can see that! Where
is
she?”
“Can we talk privately for a second?” He glanced at Jane.
“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of her. Now talk!”
He closed the door. “You see, Hattie's with Octavia and Cecily,” he said, leaving Cordelia standing by the door. He sat down on a chair next to Jane. “They flew back to London this morning.”
Cordelia turned to look at him. “Say that again?”
“I have a home there, and one in Northumberland. Don't worry, she's being well cared for.”
“You promised you bring her here, back to
me.
”
“I know,” he said, looking down at his hat. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Holding her body rigid, Cordelia returned to her chair and sat. “Speak. Make it fast, unless you want to see a middle-aged woman have a heart attack right in front of you.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You're really a lot like your sister.”
“No, I'm not!”
Pressing his lips together, he said, “What Octavia didn't tell you the other day was that she and I are married, have been for almost seven months. It was a private ceremony at my home in London.”
“Well, that must make you feel really special to be one of a dozen.”
Again he looked down. “You're quite a lot like your sister, actually.”
“Get to the point.”
“Octavia has been wanting to make some changes in her life. Part of that has to do with Hattie. I've always wanted a child, and Octavia has been hoping to spend more time with her. She's an amazing little girl. I know a great deal of that has to do with you. She's very well adjusted, knows she's loved, feels at ease in the world.”
“You're right. She sure as hell didn't get that from Octavia.”
He gave a slow nod. “But the great thing about life is that sometimes we get second chances. That's what Octavia craves. Neither one of us wants to shut you out of her life. You can come visit whenever you want. Call, or write. As far as her coming to visit you here in Minneapolis, we'd like to keep her with us for the next year or two, but after that, I'm sure we can work out something that will be good
for all of us. Sensible. Maybe she could spend the summer. Or Easter vacation.”
Jane could see that Cordelia was about to come apart at the seams. Her face was ashen, but her eyes glittered. “Easter vacation? You think that's a
sensible
solution, do you?”
“I knew you'd be upset. And I'm very, very sorry. But Octavia
is
her mother. That trumps everything.”
“Even Hattie's welfare?”
“Motherhood is an unbreakable bond.”
“You silly man,” she said, her voice quivering with suppressed fury. “That bond is broken all the time. You think there's something sacred about biology? A mother is as a mother
does.
What's sacred in this world is love—real down deep and dirty love. The kind that changes diapers and cleans up vomit. The kind that sits up all night with a kid because she's sick or scared. The kind that helps a little girl learn to love Brie, or introduces her to noir movie classics! Has Octavia
ever
done
any
of those things?”
Radley stared at her. After a long moment, he said, “Honestly, I don't know.”
“Well I do. The answer is no.”
“I'm sorry this is so hard for you.”
“Did you think it would be easy?”
“No,” he said, his voice grown soft. “It wouldn't be easy for anyone to leave Hattie.”
Slowly, like a volcano spewing in slow motion, Cordelia stood and pointed at the door. “Get out of here.”
“I wish we could have come to a better understanding.”
“I understand perfectly. Octavia's finally found herself a guy who likes kids. You're not her usual type, but then, at her age, I expect she's getting desperate. You're the one who wants Hattie, not Octavia. If you don't see that, you're a bigger fool than even
I
think you are. So you better be prepared to be a single parent, Radley. On the other hand, don't get too comfortable in that position. You can tell Octavia from me that I'm suing for custody of Hattie—both legal and physical. And maybe, just maybe, I'll let you see her
for Easter vacation in a couple of years. That seem fair to you?”
Radley stood. He seemed to hesitate. There was clearly something more he wanted to say, but in the end, he put on his hat and left.
Jane was there to catch Cordelia when she fell backward, almost missing her chair. Jane guided her down safely.
Looking up with desperate eyes, Cordelia said, “What am I going to do, Jane?”
“Just what you said.”
“What did I say?”
Jane crouched down next to her. “You're going to be Cordelia M. Thorn. You're going to be strong. And you're going to be smart. You've got a good lawyer, and you've got a chance.”
“And you'll be there to help me, right?”
Taking Cordelia's hands in hers, Jane said, “Always.”

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