Love, Lies & The D.A. (53 page)

I read
the letter repeatedly. This is all I really have left of him. Life is cruel. I
will never understand the purpose of bringing Jonathan Kole into my life then
taking him away from me so soon after we professed our love to each other.

I miss
him. It’s been a few hours, and I miss him so badly. And the saddest part is,
he won’t ever be coming back. It won’t be like the weeks at Lake Tahoe or Big
Sur where, when Friday came, I’d see him. Now, all I have are memories, and I
wish we had shared more. I wish I got to take him to the beautiful island where
I was born, or we got to go visit Bobby and Val together in Florida, or we went
to Chile, Brazil, Australia, or France on vacation. Unfortunately, that’s all
they’ll ever be—wishes. Wishes I could never even attempt to make come true.

In his
letter, he said that some man would sweep me off my feet and give me the life I
deserve. But he was that man. I don’t want any other man. I want him. After
this last year, I don’t even want to think about being in another relationship
again. It’s too hard. I don’t think it’s meant for me. First Dad, then Richard’s
betrayal and death, then Charles, and now this… not ever again.

I slip
out of bed and quietly head into the kitchen. Val and Bobby are watching
continuing coverage on the news of Jonathan’s death, unaware of my presence.

I’m
curious as to who did this and why. I don’t know if anything they say could
ever justify Jonathan’s death. That being said, I’m not certain that I’m ready
to watch how this all went down.

Despite
that, I find myself walking towards the empty sofa. Val and Bobby are about to
shut off the TV and focus their attention on me, but I shake my head, sit, and
quietly watch.

“We
have reports that several members of the Rossellini crime syndicate were
arrested in the bust this afternoon. We have no proof that this is related, but
Jonathan Kole’s first major case as DA was the successful prosecution of the
head of this syndicate, Francesco Rossellini. He was found guilty of extortion,
racketeering, and seven counts of first-degree murder, among other felonies. He
was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.”

The
mob is involved in this.

“Breaking
news: We have confirmed reports that the FBI has arrested San Francisco Chief
of Police Donald Martel and Senator Nathan Rice. At this time, we are not sure
if this incident is related to the bust this afternoon, but other networks are
reporting that the two incidents are linked.”

I
guess it’s all coming to an end. It’s too bad that I had to lose the man I love
in the process.

“In
case you’re just joining us, it’s been a busy news day. Earlier this afternoon,
ex San Francisco District Attorney Jonathan Kole was shot and killed in an
undercover sting operation with the FBI in an attempt to rescue Jada McLean,
who had been kidnapped this past weekend.

Nine
men with connections to the Rossellini crime family were arrested during the
operation this afternoon. Since then, San Francisco Chief of Police Donald
Martel and Senator Nathan Rice were arrested. We have confirmed that both Chief
Martel and Senator Rice have been arrested in connection with the bust earlier
today. At this time, the condition or whereabouts of Jada McLean are still
unknown.”

The
words have all become a blur, and what’s on my mind are the images that flash
on the screen, including aerial footage of a body covered in a white sheet being
pulled out of a warehouse. He’s gone.

Through
my silent cries, images of us a few weeks ago at Lake Tahoe fill the screen. We
were completely unaware that they were taken. I want that night back. I want
our time together back. I can’t handle the images any more.

I
return to my room, wrapping myself in the T-shirt he wore the night before. I
want so badly to be close to him, to hear his voice, feel his touch, but he’s
gone, all gone…

I love
you so much…
His last words to me. Probably too
much. Maybe he’d be here if he loved me a little bit less. Maybe he’d be lying
next to me right now. Maybe he’d be holding me in his arms. I wish it didn’t
hurt so much. I wish I had paid the money they asked for. I cry myself to sleep
and hope for the pain to go away.

The
feel of
him stroking my hair wakes me. I’m happy I wake from this
terrible dream. I turn to look at him, but my mom sits in his place. Her
presence reminds me that this is reality; he’s no longer here. He being gone is
my reality.

“Mommy,”
I whisper.

“Sweetie,
I’m so sorry… I’m here for you.”

“I
still can’t believe he’s gone. I want him back. I keep hoping it’s a mistake,
and he’ll walk through the door.”

“I
promise you, Jay, it will get easier.”

I look
at her as the tears trickle down my face. She cries too, and I know no one
knows better than her what it’s like to have the one you love snatched away so
suddenly, unexpectedly, and in this case, cruelly.

Jonathan
was murdered. Someone intentionally shot him and took his life away, and that
hurts so much. It’s more difficult to accept. Some disease didn’t kill him,
neither was he accidentally struck by a car, nor did an earthquake cause a
building to collapse on him. Someone wanted him to die. Someone took his life
away…

I
close my eyes and think of him. I think of the last time I heard his loving
words, the last time I felt his kiss, and the last time I looked into his
beautiful piercing greys. With those thoughts in my head, I think, I cry, I
drift.

I wake
a while later. My mother is no longer beside me. I climb out of bed and head
for the shower. I let the water pound over my head for what seems like hours.
After, when I look at myself in the mirror, I still have a now more red than
black patch around my eye. A battered face is the least of my worries, though I
don’t know if I have anything left to worry about. The worst has already come
to fruition. I glance at my watch and notice it’s past noon. Over the last few
days, I’ve almost lost all sense of time.

I
think about Caroline, Megan, Pierce, and Daniel. I’ve been in my own world, but
I know this must be devastating for them too. I reach for my cell phone and see
several missed calls from Ian, Solace, and Caroline. There are others, but I
don’t recognize the numbers. I’m not in the mood to talk with Ian, but I send
him and Solace a message letting them know I’m fine. I’m not sure how or what I
should say to Caroline, but I proceed to call her.

“Jada?”

“Hi. I’m
so sorry,” I whisper.

“I’m
sorry too.”

I’m at
a loss for words, and besides my sniffing, I fall silent.

“Jada,
I know this is hard. Know we’re here if you need us.”

“Have
you seen him?”

She
hesitates. “He was shot in the face. DNA testing was used to identify him.”

I feel
a mixture of emotions all at once. Anger, hurt, fear, hatred. I hate the person
who did this.

“Jada.
I think we’re going to have his body cremated then we’ll take the ashes to Lake
Tahoe and say goodbye there. I think he would have wanted that.”

“I’m
sorry, Caroline… I’m… I’m not ready,” I break down. “I don’t know how to say
goodbye. I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“I
understand.”

“I can’t…
I can’t talk anymore. I’ll call you later.”

“Sure,
Hon. Remember, we’re here for you.”

I don’t
want to continue feeling like this. I feel like I’m falling into a well so
deep, I don’t know that I will ever be able to find my way out.

I don’t
want to deal with any of this. I can’t or don’t want to handle the day-to-day
responsibilities of my life. I want to get as far away from San Francisco as
possible. I blow my nose, dry my tears, then head to the living room.

Bobby
embraces me, followed by Mom, then Val. I truly appreciate their support and I
love them for being here, but I wish I were alone.

“Let
me fix you some lunch,” Mom says.

“I’m
not hungry,” I reply.

Val
walks over and squeezes my hand. “Jada, you’re going to have to eat. Jonathan
saw to it that you got your dinner last night. At least have the pumpkin soup?”

“He
thought of every detail in case things went wrong. I feel so—” I pause. “I’m
responsible for this.”

“No,
you’re not,” Bobby says. “The mob and Richard are responsible for this. Richard
was laundering money for Francesco Rossellini and his son, Giorgio. He stole
from him so Giorgio had him killed. That’s why he tried to get the money from
you. Then when he found out that you and Jonathan were involved, he thought it
would be the perfect revenge for Johnny putting his father behind bars. He
intended to kill you so Jonathan would understand how he felt when he lost his
father. He killed Jonathan. This was not your fault.”

“I
hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life.”

The
room falls silent.

“What
is it?” I ask.

“I’m
going to heat up that pumpkin soup,” Val says, walking towards the
refrigerator.

“Tell
me? What’s going on?”

“Giorgio
Rossellini and one of his henchmen escaped. There’s a man hunt for them going
on right now.”

“This
is crazy. So the man who actually pulled the trigger is free?”

“For
now, yes,” Bobby replies. “The good news is, all charges should be dropped
against you by this afternoon.”

“Wow.
Good news. Jonathan had to die for that to happen,” I reply sarcastically.
“Good news would be finding out this is all a mistake and Jonathan is fine.
That would be good news.”

“I’m
sorry,” he replies.

By the
next
day, I’m a free woman. Bobby wants to take me out of the state immediately
because neither he nor the FBI are sure about my safety. I want to go on a trip
somewhere and be alone, but not before Jonathan’s memorial in a few days.

His
family has chosen to scatter his ashes in a private event and hold a public
service after. I don’t think I will be present for the latter.

I feel
the need to say goodbye to him in my own way. I thought of going to the funeral
home to see his body, but I don’t want my last memory of him to be bloody and
gruesome with half his face blown off.

I ask
Bobby and Phillip to escort me to his house. I need this for my own closure, if
any such thing exists.

“Do
you want me to come inside with you?” Bobby asks.

I
shake my head. I’d prefer to do this alone. They give me my privacy and wait in
the vehicle, parked in the garage.

The
last time I was here, I was kidnapped. I walk up the stairs and things are so
different, so quiet. The dogs would have been whining with excitement by now,
under normal circumstances. It seems so long ago. However, in reality, it’s
been five days since I was last here.

Everything
seems in place. The dog’s water bowls are tucked neatly, as usual, in the
corner of the kitchen. The jazz records I pulled out still lie on the coffee
table—a harsh reminder to me of how I intended for that night to end. The
reality, so vastly different.

I head
up the stairs and to his room—the last place we made love on our return from
our camping expedition. We never quite made it to the bed that morning.

The
images of our last few happy days before the kidnapping flicker in my mind,
reminding me once more that they are times we will never share together again.
I continue into his room. The bottle of champagne that was once on ice now
slightly floats in water. The tux he wore that night is slouched over one of
the chairs. I slightly smile when I see his bowtie. I fold it neatly and slip
it into my jeans pocket.

The
once candles are now all melted wax. The red satin sheets haven’t been touched,
and I’m reminded that I’ll never get to make love to him again. We never made
love in his bed. That Saturday night would have been our first time, if only I
wasn’t kidnapped—that night was the beginning of our end.

If I
had my way, I’d probably keep his house both here and in Lake Tahoe. Leave them
the exact way they are, at least for a while, so I could return when I wanted
to be near him. However, I don’t feel like I have the right or a say in what
happens to him or his belongings.

Jonathan
and I hadn’t even labeled our relationship to the outside world. What we’ve
shared was mostly between our families and us. To feel like I even had some
right would be completely outrageous on my part.

I curl
up on his bed and lie in silence. His scent is all around me. I take some
comfort being surrounded by his things, but everything is now lifeless, like
him. I weep. Being in his space probably for the last time reminds me that he
is no longer here.

Two
days later,
escorted by the FBI, we leave for Lake Tahoe.
When we arrive, Delores is there to greet us. I’m not sure what the sleeping
arrangements are, but Caroline said we could all stay at the house.