Robards, Karen (44 page)

“Why, that dirty dog!” Jessica said indignantly. “He never said a word!”

Wli-ile Grace stared speechlessly at her daughter, Jessica elucidated. “I asked him if he’d ever thought about dating you, and he said-he said-well, I can’t reniember exactly what he said, but he certainly didn’t say you were already dating!”

“Do you mind?” Grace asked, almost diffidently. “nat’s what he said,” Jessica said triumphantly, her memory apparently Jogged. Then, looking at her mother, she shook her head. “I think Tony’s great. In fact, I kind of asked him to marry you.-

“Mat?” “Hey, Mom, you can’t get too mad. I heard you tell him you love him, and I heard him say the same thing to YOU.”

Grace was still staring speechlessly at her daughter when Dominick walked in.

“Tony?” he asked without preamble, the moment he spotted Grace.

“He’s in surgery.” She stood up. “The doctors say it’s not life threatening, but he was hurt pretty badly. He had a gash on his head as long as my hand, and they think he might have a skull fracture, among other things.”

,’Jesus. What happened?”

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Grace told him, all of it, including the identity of the attacker. She reftised to live with any more secrets. This particular one had already cost one person her life.

Her son, now known as Matt Sherman, would be going to prison, or worse, after he was released from the hospital, she knew. The body found in her backyard had been identified as that of his mother, Sylvia Sherman. He had killed her, shot her at point-blank range in the face with a large caliber weapon.

He had killed his adoptive mother, and then come ifter his biological mother.

Grace knew that she would live with the horror of Lhat for the rest of her life, as well as the guilt that went along with it.

But she was thankful, so thankful, that he had not ;ucceeded in killingJessica and Tony and herself. They all three had so much to live for. A new beginaing, maybe, after tonight.

More Marmos walked in then, and after that, they .-ept con-ling until the whole gang, from Mary and P,osa to youngest brother Robbie, crowded the waiting area. The noise level was deafening. The comfort level xas immense.

When two other, unrelated, individuals entered, :;race felt almost sorry for them. Both men, a father ind son, she thought-although they did not really re;emble each other-were pale, and the son’s eyes were )uffy and red-rimmed as if he had been crying. The :ather wore a conservative navy suit, and the son, who cooked about twenty, wore jeans and a sweater. They cept to themselves, almost seeming to huddle together

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in one corner of the large room that no longer seemed large, filled as it was with Marmos.

A man in a white lab coat whom Grace assumed was a doctor came to the door about fifteen minutes after the newcomers joined them.

“Donald Sherman?” the doctor called. Grace realized who these two had to be and stared at them, transfixed.

The adoptive father and brother of her son.

The father stood up and walked to the door, and the son followed him. Grace’s eyes widened on the son. He rerumded her irresistibly of someone, though she could not, for a moment, think whom. He was tall and thin and athletic looking, unlike his adoptive brother. His hair was the kind of light brown that had once been blond.

The color of Jessica’s hair and her own before she had taken to highlighting it.

And the way he moved …

Grace stood up, leavingJessica deep in conversation with Dominick, and moved jerkily toward the pair, who were talkmg to the doctor.

just missed his aorta,” the doctor said. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

“It might be better if he wasn’t,” Mr. Sherman said heavily.

“Dad,” the son remonstrated, gripping his arm. “Oh, God, Donny, he killed your mother… .” “He’s sick, Dad. He couldn’t have been in his right mind.”

A nurse hurried down the hall and said something in a low voice to the doctor.

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“He’s conscious and asking for you, Mr. Sherman,” the doctor said.

Mr. Sherman shook his head. “I can’t talk to him.” “Dad”-Donny’s voice was urgent-“we can’t just abandon him. He needs us now more than ever.”

Mr. Sherman looked at Donny and shook his head again. “You were always a good brother to him. This isn’t your fault. You’re the best son a man could have.” “Dad, please …”

“All right. All right. For you.” He nodded at the doctor, and then, in response to a gesture from the nurse, father and son followed her down the hall.

Grace, fascinated, followed too.

For what seemed like an eternity she hovered in the hallway outside the room they were shown into, but in reality it could have been no more than twenty minutes. The occasional passing nurse cast her a curious glance, but no one bothered her. When Mr. Sherman and his son emerged at last, she was studying the room charts posted on a bulletin board just down the hall and trying not to hope for the impossible. The physical resemblance inLight be just a fluke… .

“Mr. Sherman.” Grace walked up to the father before she lost her nerve. He looked shaken, she saw, while the son was white as a ghost, “I’m Grace Hart. Judge Grace Hart. The boy in there-that is, my house is where-where he broke in. Where they found your wife.” She took a deep breath. Donny’s eyes, she saw, were blue. And his nose was long, with a bump in the rmiddle of the bridge. She tore her gaze from his face. “I’m-I’m very sorry,” she finished lamely.

For a long moment the three of them simply stared

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at one another. Grace’s heart was racing. She felt almost sick with hope.

“It is I who must apologize to you,” Mr. Sherman said heavily. “Matt-my son in there-tried to kill you and your daughter. I don’t know what to say.”

“He did it because he was jealous of me,” Donny said in a stunned tone. “He said so.”

Mr. Sherman grimaced as though in pain, then looked at Grace directly.

“I believe you must be the biological mother of my son,” he said.

Grace almost gasped. To have the truth that she had striven so long to hide spoken aloud so matter-of-factly was-unsettling. But the question remained-which son?

Donny was staring at her. Her gaze met his, and it was all she could do to pull it away to focus on his father.

“If-is-I was under the impression that it was my son who attacked my daughter and me,” Grace could not bring herself to ask the question directly.

Mr. Sherman shook his head. “To my neverending sorrow, Matt is my biological son. My wife and I had decided not to have children, because of … of certain psychiatric problems on her side of the family that we feared might be passed on genetically. We adopted Donny here as an infant, and a year later Sylvie accidentally got pregnant with Matt.” He let out his breath in a short, bitter sigh. “She thought it would be nice for Donny to have a younger sibling. When she found out the second child was a boy, she was ecstatic. She wanted Donny to have a little brother.”

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Grace barely heard the last few sentences. She stared into the eyes of her son. For a moment she could not speak. He appeared to be similarly affected, because he in turn stared in silence at her.

“Hello, Donny,” she managed after a moment. He said nothing, and Grace braced herself to be snubbed. But then he held out his hand. “I … don’t know what to call you,” he said.

“Grace,” Grace said swiftly, taking his hand. Mom was too intimate and, for a child, could belong to only one person in the world. Donny’s mom was dead, under dreadful circumstances that very day, and he must be heartsick with horror and grief But Grace was his mother, and he was her son, and he was alive and well and she was holding his hand.

“Grace,” he said.

One of the hardest things she had ever had to do was let his hand drop. But she did it.

Dominick andjessica appeared around a bend in the hallway and came toward them.

“This is my daughter,” Grace said when they reached her. “Jessica.”

The physical resemblance between Jessica and Donny was striking. Even Jessica noticed it, blinking at the young man in apparent confusion.

“Hi, Jessica,” Donny said, and Grace realized that his adoptive parents-no, his parents-had taught him excellent manners. “It’s mice to meet you.-

“This … this is …”-Grace almost said your brother, but again, that suggested a relationship beyond the biological tie that connected the two. She didn’t want to take anything for granted, or seem to go too

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far, too fast-“the baby I was telling you about. The one I gave up for adoption nineteen years ago.”

“My brother?” Jessica gasped. Grace almost had to smile. Trust Jess to get to the heart of the matter. She glanced at Grace. “You mean-the guy who broke in wasn’t? …”

As Jessica broke off, apparently afflicted with belated delicacy, Grace shook her head.

“Thank goodness,” Jessica said devoutly-It was all Grace could do not to clap a hand over her daughter’s irrepressible mouth.

“Mr. Sherman,” Dominick said, interrupting the awkward moment, and offering a hand first to Mr. Sherman and then to Donny, “I’m Detective Dominick Marino, Franklin County Police. First, let me express my condolences on the loss of your wife. I know that this is a very difficult time for you and your son.” His glance flicked to Donny and back. “I understand that you were able to talk to your other son. Did he tell you what prompted his actions? Why he killed your wife?”

Mr. Sherman cleared his throat. “Donny, why don’t you take this young lady here-jessica?-for a little walk up the hall, okay?” He waited while Donny, frowning but obedient, did as he was asked. The two moved out of earshot, but remained visible just up the hall. Mr. Sherman looked from Dominick to Grace and back. “There’s no need for him to hear all this. Matt did … talk about that. He and my wife never got along, never. They were … alike in every way, too much so. Matt said he was jealous of Donny, because he thought my wife and I loved Donny better

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than him. He meant to kill my wife and me, and judge Hart and her daughter, and blame it on Donny, whom he also meant to kill after making him write a note confessing to the crime. Apparently he planted some evidence at your house—he glanced at

Grace— implicating Donny. And he meant to plant more. He was wearing Donny’s shoes, so the footprints would be consistent with Donny’s, and meant to leave a glass Donny had drunk from and some of Donny’s hair and a few other things like that at the scene of the crime.”

“Oh, my God! The gum!” Grace gasped. When Dominick and Mr. Sherman looked at her with incomprehension, she waved their inquiring looks aside. “Never mind. Tony knows.”

“There is one other thing,” Mr. Sherman said grimly. “And this is the part I didn’t want Donny to hear. He was in the rest room when his brother told me, thank God.” He took a deep breath. “Apparently Matt also killed Donny’s girlfriend, who disappeared fi7om her house last weekend. Her name is-was-Caroline Staples. You’ll find her body in a freezer in the basement at 327 Maple in Upper Arlington.”

WEEK LATER, Tony was released from the lc/thospital. It was about 5:30 P.m., and Grace had swung by to pick him up after work. Jessica had basketball practice until six, and after that she was spending the n ght with Emily Millhollen.

So they had the whole night alone. Unfortunately, Grace thought, Tony was still too weak to make it worth their while.

His head was covered by a wrap-around white bandage that looked, Grace told him, like a turban. Beneath it was a hairline skull fracture and two deep cuts, one requiring twenty stitches and the other thirteen. He had two broken ribs, which were taped, and huge, intermittent bruises frorn the top of his head to his ankle on the right side of his body.

His face, which had been swollen to the size of a basketball the day after the beating, now looked fairly normal, if one discounted the gash on his right cheekbone, which had required six stitches, and a blackened

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right eye that was now fading toward normal in shades of purple and yellow.

“So you’re having lunch with Donny next Wednesday?” Tony inquired. He was leaning back in the passenger seat of her gray Volvo, looking perfectly content.

“Yes. He called me.” Grace beamed at him with transparent delight. “He said he wants to get to know Jessica and me.”

“Things have a way of working out, don’t they?” “I feel like this enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. He’s a nice boy, Tony.”

“He seems to be. Wait, you’re missing the turn!” They were heading toward his house so he could pick up some things, as he would be staying with Grace and Jessica untiI he was completely recovered. Grace whipped the car down the street Tony indicated, and grinned as Tony hung onto the armrest with an alarmed expression.

“Chicken,” she teased when the maneuver was completed.

“Are you ever going to let me drive?”

She pretended to consider. “Probably not.” He shrugged. “Just asking.”

Grace pulled up in front of his house.

“You sure you don’t want to wait in the car while I go in and pack you a bag?” she asked anxiously, turning to look at hirn.

“I may not be up to full strength, but I think I Carl manage to waJk in the house,” he said, his voice dry. “Fine.” Grace got out of the car, and so, more labo—

riously, did Tony. Dusk was falling, and Grace watched

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the streetlights flicker on in the alley behind his house. Here on the street, long purple shadows stretched across the leaf-strewn lawns as the last remnants of daylight faded away.

Tony stood beside the car, one arm testing on its top, and Grace hurried unobtrusively to his side. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he permitted her to help him up the walk.

“Hey, there, Tony! You feelln’ better?” From her front window, Mrs. Crutcher must have seen them pull up, because she came hurrying out onto the porch.