Bayview Heights Trilogy (88 page)

Erica remembered Mrs. Lansing’s little girl
saying,
Aunt Zoe was on top of Uncle Kurt on Camille’s
bed
.

Suddenly it became crystal clear. They were
getting back together! Shit!

She stood abruptly, tipping her chair back so
it teetered and fell with a thud. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She
grabbed her purse, planning to split for the night. As she turned
away, she saw Dan lean over and say something to Julia.

But Erica didn’t look back. Her whole body
tingled and her palms got sweaty. Her head started to pound. Then
her heart. Did she have more pills in her purse? she wondered as
she entered the coat room, grabbed her leather jacket and shrugged
into it. She’d already taken two today and wouldn’t sleep tonight,
anyway. What was one more?

You’re overusing, big time
, Pike had
told her,
if you need more already. Even one a day’s too
much.

Erica swore aloud when she bumped into
somebody as she hurried out of the coat room.

Big hands steadied her. “Watch it.”

She looked into Dan Caruso’s face.

“Excuse me.” She tried to brush past him, but
Julia grabbed her purse strap. “Erica, wait.”

Erica swung around, spilling the contents of
her purse onto the ground.

Dan dropped to one knee. “Sorry, I’ll get
this.” He found lipstick, her wallet, a hairbrush.

Then he grasped the small white paper packet,
out of which fell three black capsules.

He frowned at them. Picked one up and studied
it.

Erica made a grab for the pills, but he was
quick and gathered all of them into his hand.

“What’re those?” Julia asked.

Erica froze.

Dan looked at her. “Black beauties.” At
Julia’s puzzled frown, Dan said, “They’re uppers.”

o0o

ZOE WALKED INTO HER HOUSE and threw her coat
onto the chair in the darkened living room. What a mess she’d made
of things. Stomping into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of
wine and caught sight of her face in the glass above the sink.
Coward. You should have made some overture to Kurt
today.

But she hadn’t. She’d watched as he strolled
around the festival with Lauren, introducing her to the girls,
buying her a beaded headband; she watched as he’d swung Alexandra
up on his shoulders while Mitch carried Camille; and she’d watched
how his muscles had rippled when he’d shot the basketball and won a
fuzzy lion, which he presented to his daughter with courtly
flourish.

Sighing, Zoe wandered back into the living
room, put an old Beach Boys CD on the player and sat on the couch.
Why wasn’t she with Kurt? This was so stupid. Where was he...?

“I’m leaving,” he’d said at about four.

“Oh. Did you have a good day?”

“Good enough.”

When she didn’t say any more, he gave her a
sad smile, turned and, ten feet away, pivoted and came back. “What
the hell,” he said, dragging something out of his jacket pocket and
slapping it in her hand.

Then he’d walked out of the gym.

She hadn’t read it. Because she knew what it
was. She could tell from the notepaper—it was what they’d used at
Down to Earth.

The twenty-four-hours-to-live assignment—
Write a letter to one person in your life, telling them how you
feel about them and what they mean to you...you might want to clear
up some old baggage between you...

After a few more minutes of futile debating,
she snagged her purse off the table and fished out the letter.
Flicking on a light, she held the note tightly for a moment, then
opened it. Her heart thudding in her chest, she read his words:

Dear Zoe,

I write this letter to you knowing full well
it’s not something I have any right to do. Like everything else
I’ve done since your birthday last year, I’m being selfish. I just
hope I have the courage not to give this to you—unless I really do
only have twenty-four hours to live. In that case, I’d want you to
know how much you mean to me, how much I regret my decision last
year, and exactly how wrong I realize I was.

Mitch has always said I don’t like to fail at
anything. It’s why I went back to Elizabeth. That and because I
thought it was best for Lauren. Though my daughter blossomed, I
think she would have been all right even if her mother and I hadn’t
reconciled.

Why did I do this? You know that I’d dated
Elizabeth since I was sixteen—that’s a thirty-year relationship.
Somewhere in my mixed-up brain, I thought I’d always love her. What
I hadn’t counted on was the depth of my feelings for you. Even as I
went back to my ex-wife, I knew I loved you, I just didn’t know how
much. Nothing Elizabeth could have done, no matter how much she’d
changed, would have made me happy. I was too in love with you for a
successful relationship with any other woman

I discovered how I really felt within weeks
of the reconciliation. You say you don’t want to discuss this part,
but I know how much my sleeping with Elizabeth hurt you and I want
to set the record straight. You have to understand that the first
time, at my house, just before you and I split, was a knee-jerk
reaction. I was caught off guard. So shocked and surprised, I just
let it happen. I know this was an unforgivable weakness. After
that, when Elizabeth and I were reconciled and we slept together, I
blanked my mind, and participated in the act with just my body.
Notice I didn’t call it making love. It wasn’t pleasant, and very
soon I couldn’t do it anymore. Especially since making love to you
was the best thing that ever happened to me I hadn’t realized how
intimate it was, how emotional and spiritual it was between us. She
never affected me the way you did, sweetheart. I’m convinced no one
else ever will.

Elizabeth was livid, and that was the
beginning of the end. I also think my distancing made her more
determined to keep me. Suffice to say, those months were
horrible.

So if I really had twenty-four hours to live,
the one thing I’d want you to know is, ironically, I was more yours
that year we were apart than I ever was. When you remember me,
remember that.

Kurt

Zoe folded the letter.

And wept.

But once the storm was over, she
straightened, scrubbed her face and stood. She was headed to the
phone when the doorbell rang. Praying it was Kurt, she flew to the
front door.

Outside, she found Julia and Dan.

o0o

A BLACK CLOUD of depression hovered over
Kurt’s head as he studied the request from a group of doctors in
Puerto Rico to help them establish a clinic in the vicinity of one
of their medical schools. He’d come to his office this Saturday
evening after the festival to work, and stayed until—he checked his
watch—eight at night. Only a few times had he felt such
despondency: when Mitch shipped off to Vietnam, and then when he
came back in such rough shape; when their parents died; when his
marriage broke up; and finally, when he left Zoe. He’d learned over
the years that there was only one antidote to despair—work.

It was so quiet he could hear the heat come
on and a car horn outside. Then the sound of scraping near the
window. Glancing toward it, he took off his glasses to see if
someone was there. Had he left it open?

Slowly Kurt rose and strode to the window. He
yanked up the blinds and looked outside. Blackness, broken only by
a muted security light. His office was in the back of the clinic
off a small parking lot. He could see the outline of his car in the
spot labeled Director.

Crossing to the other side of the room, he
checked the private-entrance door to make sure it was locked. It
was. He chided himself for his skittishness, then sank onto the
couch and stretched his feet out on the coffee table.

Damn, things were a mess. He was on the brink
of giving up on Zoe. There. He’d let himself have the thought; he’d
allowed it into his consciousness. She was never going to forgive
him, and he didn’t blame her. He’d slept with another woman when he
was involved with her. He’d left her for that same woman. No matter
that he’d suffered that year, too. He knew it was his own actions
that had caused all that pain. Zoe had been an innocent
participant.

He’d given her the twenty-four-hours-to-live
letter today as a last-ditch effort, but he didn’t hold out much
hope. They weren’t making progress. They took two steps forward,
then three back. And yesterday morning, after an incredible night
of lovemaking, when she’d still put distance between them, he’d
come to understand she would never truly commit to him, never
completely trust him not to break her heart. Which was why he
believed it wouldn’t work between them now. He couldn’t settle for
half of her.

So he thought practically, do something
constructive.
Help those Puerto Rican doctors get their clinic
up and running.
After all, medicine was the only thing he had
left. Besides Lauren, who was growing up fast and would be on her
own all too soon. She didn’t even want to be with him tonight.

God, you’re getting maudlin, Lansing.
She’s eighteen. She’s out with kids her age. You should be glad the
others like her.

I am.

Rising, he strode to the desk, dropped into
the chair and put on his glasses.

An hour later he heard a
thunk
. In
the parking lot. Remembering his earlier unease he strode to the
window to look out.
What the hell?
A small dark sedan had
rammed into the back of his car. Their bumpers were crunched.

Go to the phone. Call the cops. Don’t
open the door.

He grabbed the cordless and, back at the
window, punched in 911 as a girl slid out of the dark sedan. In the
dim light of the parking lot, he could see it was Erica.

Disconnecting the phone, he rushed to the
back door and flung it open just as she reached it.

“Erica, my God, what happened?”

She stared at him blankly, her eyes...

Oh, God, how had they missed this? She was on
something.

“Erica?” He reached for her arm.

Clutching her purse to her chest, she shrank
back. “Don’t touch me.”

“All right. Come in.”

She stepped inside and he closed the door.
She stood facing the windows, her back to him.

“Were you hurt in the accident?” he
asked.

“Accident?” Her shoulders slumped inside the
leather coat she wore.

“You hit my car, Erica.”

Still, nothing. Kurt considered carefully how
to respond. He didn’t want to spook her, but she’d obviously come
here for a reason.

“Erica, do you want help?”

“Help?” Still her back was to him. He could
see her fishing in her purse for something, probably a tissue.

“Do you want me to help you?” he
repeated.

She spun around. “No, Dr. Lansing. I don’t
want you to help me. I want you dead.”

It was then that he saw the gun in her
hand.

THE REVOLVER TREMBLED in Erica’s hand and the
man before her blurred. The headache came back in a blinding flash
and the dizziness returned.

“Erica, you don’t mean that.” Dr. Lansing’s
voice was calm, the way it got when he was dealing with an
overwrought patient.

“It’s the only way.”

“To do what?”

“To stop you from hurting other people.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You mean
Zoe?”

“Yeah.”

Watching her, he began edging toward the
desk.

“Don’t move!”

He stopped.

“I know how to use this,” she warned. “My
father taught me. He made me go shooting at the conservation range
forever to learn how.” She scowled. “I loaded it with six shots
before I left our house.”

Fear flared in Dr. Lansing’s eyes. “Where is
your father, Erica?”

“At his club, where else? It’s Saturday
night.”

“Shall we call him?” He nodded at the phone.
“He could come over, help you deal with this.”

She laughed, an ugly sound. “He wouldn’t
come.”

“Of course he would. If we told him you were
in trouble.”

“I don’t get in trouble, Dr. Lansing, don’t
you know that? I’m a good girl. The best little girl in the
world.”

“What are you on?” he asked softly.

Her eyes narrowed on him. It didn’t matter.
He was going to die, anyway. It was necessary. “Amphetamines.”

“Where did you get them?”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t get them from your
precious clinic. I tried, though. Your security’s pretty good.” She
thought about it. “That’s ironic, isn’t it? You let me in here with
a gun, but your drugs are safe from me.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me with that
gun.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Tell me why again?”

A streak of pain shot through her head. Her
chin jerked up. “Ohh.”

“What is it?” He moved forward.

“Stay where you are! I mean it.”

He stayed. But he said, “You’re ill, Erica.
The drugs are making you do this.”

“I don’t care why I’m doing this. I just
am.”

“You’re going to throw away your whole
future. If you stop now, we’ll get you help.”

“No.” She couldn’t stop now. Her heart
pounded hard. It was too late. She’d never go to Georgetown now.
Never become the CEO her father wanted her to be. The minute she’d
pulled the gun out, it was all over.

Finally.

The phone rang, startling her. She jumped.
Dr. Lansing reached for it.

“Don’t!”

The answering machine picked up. His message
played short and sweet. Then a voice came on. “This is the
supervisor for 911,” a female voice said. “We received a hang-up
call from you and I decided to follow up on it. Do you need
help?”

“I’m going to answer that, Erica. You really
want me to. I’m going to put my hand out like this and—”

The shot was so loud it hurt her ears. She
recoiled back, gripping the gun. Her eardrums rang.