Save Me (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-six

Rose’s mouth went dry. Melly slept in the passenger seat, and John snored in the back, but for a split-second, she forgot they were there, that they even existed, and she was transported back to another time. Everything came rushing back, conflating the days of her life, collapsing the past into the present, making them one and the same, as impossible to separate, one from the other, as waves in an ocean.

“Mrs. McKenna?” The young assistant district attorney was frowning, and so was the other man with him, older and taller, in hornrims, a dark suit, and a preppy striped tie. Behind them, one of her neighbors, Sue Keller, was walking down the sidewalk with her dog, an old gray poodle.

Rose blinked, recovering. It wasn’t the lawyers or the neighbor that snapped her out of her reverie, but the poodle. His name was Boris, and he’d growled at Princess Google last week, scaring her and Melly. The incident anchored Rose in time, and she came zooming back into the present, shaken and seared, as if she’d traveled through the atmosphere of Earth itself.

“Whoa, don’t be afraid.” The young assistant district attorney closed the billfold and slipped it into his back pocket. “We’re just lawyers. We just want to talk with you for a minute or two.”

Rose signaled to him with a jittery index finger, mouthing
hold on a sec.
She thought of Oliver and Tom, who’d told her not to talk to the prosecutors, but she didn’t want to look guiltier than she did already. She slid the key from the ignition, trying to get in control.

“Mom?” Melly started to stir, and Rose leaned over.

“Melly, go back to sleep. Everything’s all right.”

“Okay,” Melly said, drowsy, and Rose reached for the door handle, got out of the car, and closed it behind her.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you.” The young assistant district attorney backed up, deferring to his older colleague, who stepped forward with a confident air. Deep crow’s feet creased his eyes behind his bifocals, and a bald spot left him with a sparse fringe of grayish-brown bangs.

“Sorry, young Rick comes on like a carjacker,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Howard Kermisez, also an assistant district attorney with the county. Call me Howard.”

“Rose McKenna.” She shook his hand, managing a smile. Sue Keller eyed the scene as she walked by, with Boris sniffing the breeze.

“We didn’t mean to scare you. We thought you saw us. Sorry about that.” Howard leaned over, peering into the car. “And that must be Melly.”

“Yes.” Rose edged reflexively in front of the window, blocking his view.

“Welcome to Reesburgh. It’s great to see new folks moving in, especially babies. This is a great town, in a great state.” Howard smiled in a pleasant, if impersonal, way. “How are you and your husband enjoying it? He’s from Worhawk, I understand.”

“We love it, thanks. But excuse me, I have to get the kids inside.” Rose gestured behind her, as if that explained it all. She couldn’t go to jail because she had to make dinner, then there were fractions to practice, and another Flat Stanley to be pasted into the scrapbook, from a cell phone picture taken at the picnic. Melly had already thought of the caption: Flat Stanley Meets a New Newt.

“Of course, you’re busy now, I can see that. I have three sons. They’re older, but you know what my wife says? Little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems.” He smiled coolly, again. “So we won’t take long. We just have a few questions. You were volunteering at the elementary school last Friday, when the fire broke out, weren’t you?”

“No, wait, listen. I’ve been told not to speak with you. My lawyers are Oliver Charriere and Tom Lake.” Rose almost blanked on Tom’s last name, she felt so panicky. “You should call them if you have any questions for me. I have their card. Hold on.”

“I’m not sure we need to get formal about this.”

“I’d prefer it that way.” Rose opened the car door, grabbed her purse, extracted the card, and handed it to Howard. “Now, excuse me, but I should really get the kids some dinner.”

“Sure, okay.” Howard’s smile flattened. “I know Oliver well. I’ll give him a call, then get back to you.”

“Great,” Rose said lightly, as if it were a date, not an arrest. She opened the car door, and Melly was sitting upright in the seat, awake.

“Mom, who are those guys?”

“Just lawyers.” Rose reached in, unbuckled Melly’s harness, and let it retract. She wanted to get the kids inside and call Oliver, right away. “Let’s go, honey. Got your backpack? Get your backpack.”

“Like Leo?” Melly stretched slowly.

“Not as much fun as Leo.” Rose glanced over her shoulder, and the Assistant District Attorneys were getting back into their car. Sue Keller and Boris were on their way back, for the return trip. “Hurry up, let’s go.”

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, I just have to go to the bathroom. Let’s go, okay?” Rose hurried to the backseat, opened the car door, and unbuckled John’s car seat.

“Mom, don’t forget the bag from the bookstore.”

“I’ll get it later.” Rose slipped the seat belt over John’s head and lifted him up to her shoulder, where he flopped, staying asleep.

“But I want my books.”

“Then can you get the bag?” Rose checked over her shoulder. The sedan was still parked in front of the house. They hadn’t even started the engine.

“It’s heavy.” Melly had her backpack and was struggling with the bag of books.

“If you can’t do it, leave it. I’ll come back for it.” Rose glanced behind her, worried. Still, the sedan hadn’t moved. She felt her heart start to pound. Prosecutors, lawyers, charges. She had been here before. “Mel, please, hurry up.”

“Mom, you don’t have the Kristenburgers.”

“I’ll come back for the groceries.”

“Can we still have them for dinner tonight? You said.”

“We will, just hurry. I have to go to the bathroom, please.” Rose hurried down the sidewalk, reaching the sedan. The prosecutors were inside talking, and she slowed her pace so she didn’t look like a fleeing felon. “Mel, do you need help?”

“No. I can do it myself.”

“Okay, hurry.” Rose could see that Howard Whatever was pressing a number into his cell phone, and she wondered if he was already calling Oliver. Meanwhile, Sue Keller was catching up to them, with Boris yanking her forward. The cranky dog was getting close, so Rose hurried back to Melly. “Let me help, sweetie.”

“I was doing it, Mom. I can do it.”

“I know.” Rose bunny-dipped with John and picked up the plastic bag of books. “I don’t want Boris near you. Remember last time?”

Melly turned. “Oh, right. Norbert the dragon. Tried to bite me and Googie.”

“Yes. Come on.” Rose herded Melly up the sidewalk and past the sedan, where Howard was talking on his cell. The younger prosecutor sat in the driver’s seat, watching her. She turned with Melly onto their front walk and went up the flagstone path.

“Mom, we didn’t lock the car.”

“I will later. When I come back out.”

“
Colloportus,
” Melly said, anyway.

They reached the front step, where Rose set down the bag of books and handed Melly her purse. “Can you get the keys and open the door? I can’t with my hand.”

“
Alohomora!
”

“No unlocking spells, please. Use the key with the red thing on it.”

“I know, I see you do it, all the time.” Melly dug in the purse, found her keys, slid the key in the lock and twisted it, then pushed open the door. “Did it!”

“Good for you. Close the door. I’ll be right back.” Rose left Melly in the living room with the new books, went upstairs and put John down, then hurried into her bathroom with her purse. She got out her phone, and Oliver’s number was still in the text function. She highlighted it and pressed CALL. “Hello?” she said, as soon as a woman picked up. “I’d like to speak to either Oliver or Tom. I’m a new client. Rose McKenna. I was there today.”

“I’m sorry. Tom is in court, and Oliver is on the phone. May he return—”

“Is he on the phone with an Assistant District Attorney from Reesburgh?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not permitted to give out that information, but I can ask him to return your call.”

“Thanks.” Rose left her name and cell number, then hung up and dialed Leo’s cell. It rang and rang, then the voicemail came on. She told herself to calm down when the beep sounded, and she left a message: “Leo, I met with the lawyers, and two assistant D.A.s were here at the house. Give me a call when you can. Love you.”

Rose pressed END, then sank to the edge of the bathtub, her thoughts bounding back in time, a wild animal set free. She knew these woods. She had brought it on herself. She had it coming, truly. Her heart raced, she broke a sweat, and her gaze flitted around the picture-perfect bathroom, finding the his-and-hers pedestal sinks and the cornflower-blue accents in the shower curtain, which matched the hue of the thick bathtowels.

She had picked everything out for the new house, and seeing it all now, she knew she didn’t deserve any of it; neither the pretty Italian floor tiles, nor the overpriced shampoos on the rim of the tub. She’d wanted to start over, to have one last starting-over in a lifetime of starting-overs, of endless moving from apartment to apartment, and from base to base. The only difference in each place was the color of the bathtowels.

Rose blinked. Her mother lay on the bathroom floor in her robe, passed out again. She’d need to be awakened, picked up, washed off, sobered up. Long, dark hair hid her once lovely face. The bathtowels in that apartment were yellow. Then pink, then white. The bathtowels were the only thing that changed in the apartments where her mother lay on the floor, until one day, she couldn’t be awakened, at all.

Mommy!

“Mom?”

It was Melly, at the door. The door knob was twisting.

“Yes, honey?” Rose asked, coming out of her reverie.

“Why is the door locked?”

“Here I come.” Rose got up and caught sight of her reflection, but didn’t recognize herself. Her eyes, dark and blue, looked haunted.

“
Alohomora.
” Melly giggled, on the other side of the door.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Rose was cleaning up the dinner dishes when her phone rang, and she dried her hand hastily, reached for the cell phone, and tucked it into the crook of her neck. “Hello, yes?”

“Rose. It’s Oliver. I heard you got a visit today.”

“Yes. Did they call you? What did they say?” Rose peeked around the corner and double-checked that Melly was out of earshot in the family room, sitting at the computer desk and printing the Flat Stanley picture. John was in his high chair in the kitchen, mashing his rotini, his hand a small starfish. His palm made a
bum, bum, bum
sound when he banged the tray.

“They want a meeting tomorrow. Our offices, at ten in the morning. Can you make it?”

“My God, so soon?” Rose felt stricken. “What’s going on?”

“Remain calm and carry on, remember?”

“Does this mean they’re thinking of charging me?”

“It means they’re investigating the facts.”

Rose’s gut tensed. “But why so soon?”

“The sooner, the better for us. We want to meet with them while Amanda’s still alive.”

Rose shuddered. “Why?”

“As we discussed, now there’s less public pressure to charge you, and less pressure from the Gigot family. At present, the worst-case scenario is still a hypothetical. Understand?”

“Yes, but why are they moving so quickly?”

“Lots of reasons. They could be following up when your memory is fresh, or trying to show how responsive they are and how hard they work. Or they want to have their ducks in a row, in case Amanda dies.”

“Do you have to talk that way?”

“What way?” Oliver paused, his voice warmer. “Sorry. I really am a nice man. You recall.”

Rose didn’t smile. She eyed John, banging the tray.
Bum!

“Rose, be of good cheer. I’d like them to hear your side of the story before they get entrenched. If we put on a strong enough case, I hope we can back them down.”

“We have to put on a case?”

“Not in a strict sense. I’ll explain when I see you. Can you come in around nine, so I can prepare you before the meeting?”

“Yes. Sure.” Rose thought a minute. “What if I can’t get a sitter that quick? What do we do?”

“Melly’s in school, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t get a sitter. I want Howard and his lackey to see what the jury will see. Bring the baby.”

“You talk like he’s a prop.”

“Well said. He’s a prop.”

“Oliver, he’s my son,” Rose said, upset. It was getting worse and worse.

“Did you speak with Leo yet?”

“No.”

“By way of housekeeping, am I correct in assuming that you’d like us to represent you, on both the criminal and the civil side?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. We’re delighted, and I know I speak for Tom. If you tell me your email address, I’ll email you an engagement letter and when you get a second, send us a check for the retainer, which is five thousand dollars.”

“Okay.” Then Rose remembered. “Wait. I disabled my email.”

“Get a new account, and we’ll keep it private. What do you want to do about the press release, or me talking to one of my sources? May I go forward?”

“I’m not sure. Let me think and talk to Leo.”

“Sure. Let me know. See you. Take care.”

“Thanks.” Rose pressed END, then L to speed-dial Leo, and waited while it rang, then went to voicemail. She composed herself before leaving another message: “I’m meeting with the D.A. tomorrow morning. Please call.”

She pressed END, and her gaze fell on John, happily sucking his fingers. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to him or Melly, if she had to go to jail. Leo would have to hire a full-time caretaker, and even if John could adapt, Melly would be devastated. She’d already lost her father, now she’d lose her mother. And there’d be no backstop for her at school, now that Kristen was gone.

Rose felt a wave of sadness so profound that she had to lean on the counter until it passed. It killed her that her children, and Leo, would have to pay for what she’d done, and even so, she sensed that she was entering eye-for-an-eye territory, the ultimate payback. She pressed the emotion away, trying to stay anchored in the present. There were dishes to rinse, counters to spray-clean, and a baby to bathe; the tasks of home life, the very stuff of being a mother. She had always taken satisfaction in the tasks, because she knew that each one mattered; it was the little things that made a house a home, and moms did all the little things.

Rose went to John, pulled out his tray, picked him up, and hugged him close, breathing in his damp baby smells and feeling his reassuring weight. He looped his fleshy arm around her neck, and she rocked him, told him she loved him, and nuzzled his warm neck with her nose, trying not to think about how much longer she’d have him, or he’d have her.

“Let’s go say hi to your sister,” she whispered into his ear, swallowing her emotion. She carried him into the family room, where Melly looked up from the computer printer, her blue eyes expectant.

“Mom, was that Ms. Canton on the phone?”

“No, sorry.”

“When is she going to call?”

“I’m not sure, but soon, I hope.”

“She said she would.”

“She will,” Rose said, uncertain.

After the kids were in bed, she went back down to the kitchen, cleaned up, and sat down in front of the laptop, logging onto the web and checking philly.com for news of Amanda. The earlier stories hadn’t changed, which meant that she was still alive.

Thank you, God.

Rain fell outside the window, and the sky had grown dark, a backdrop like a final curtain, of dark velvet. She could see the peaked roof of the house next door, which had in-ground floodlights that shone upward at its brick façade, lighting the place like a stage set. The tall trees in the sideyard were shedding leaves, but night and rain had obliterated their colors, so they looked black and shiny.

She wondered which leaf would fall next, playing a waiting game with herself, which felt uncomfortably familiar. She’d been waiting to see what would happen to Amanda. Waiting to see if she’d be charged with a crime or sued. Waiting for decades, since it had happened.

It had been a night just like this, and the rain was a slow, steady downfall. Her downfall. Rose could call up the memory of that night, without thinking. In fact, it took thinking
not
to call it up. She could see it now as if it were in front of her. It had happened around this time of year, too, but at the end of October. Halloween night, the leaves fallen, dead on the street.

Rose blinked, and the memory vanished. The kitchen was dim, the halogens under the counter working their suburban magic. The only sound was the patter of the raindrops on the roof and the thrumming of the dishwasher, which shifted gears. The blue digits glowed on the door, counting down until the end of the cycle. She watched the number change, 36, 35, 34, finally permitting herself to have the thought she’d been suppressing, almost constantly since the fire.

I need a drink.

She got up, went to the side cabinet, and reached into the wine rack, sliding out the first bottle she touched, then closing the door. The label read LOUIS JADOT, which would do just fine. She went into the drawer for the corkscrew, peeled the metal wrapping off, and did the honors with difficulty because of her bandaged hand. She poured herself a glass of merlot, and still standing at the counter, drained the glass like she used to, in the bad old days. It tasted more bitter than she remembered, but it could have been her state of mind.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, when Princess Google looked up.

She grabbed the bottle by the neck and set it on the table, then took the glass over to the laptop and sat down. She poured another glass, drank it, and her gaze fell on the laptop through the glass, an alcoholic wash of the newspaper’s front page. HERO MOM? read the sidebar, and underneath that,
New Viewer Videos
!

She set down the glass, palmed the mouse, and muted the volume on the laptop. She clicked on the link for the videos, and it brought her to a list in bright blue, each one titled: School Fire, Cafeteria Fire in Local School, First Responders Arrive, Ambulance Leaves with Amanda Gigot, and so on, the list reading like a chronological description of her nightmare. Luckily, she was starting not to feel anything.

She poured another glass, drank it, and clicked one of the links, of the kids running from the school and onto the playground. She watched them come, numbing to their stricken faces, racing into the camera. The video ended, and the arrow froze, and she clicked and watched it again and again, until she felt absolutely nothing. She clicked on another video, titled Copter Shots, and watched the roof of the cafeteria smolder, then flare into flames. She slid the bar back and forth, forward and back, moving time backward and forward, so the past became the present, then they traded places and the present came before the past, her life a palindrome.

Rose came out of her reverie, realizing the cell phone had been ringing. The screen read LEO, so she reached for it and answered, “Hello?”

“Babe, is that you? You sound funny.”

“I was sleeping. I went to bed early.”

“Sorry. You wanna go back to sleep? How are you with this D.A. meeting?”

“Fine, but I need to go back to sleep.”

“Sure, okay. Oliver’s a great lawyer, so don’t worry. Just listen to what he tells you when you meet with the D.A. Don’t let them rattle you. If you wake up, call me, no matter how late. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Rose hung up, set the phone down, and reached for the bottle.