Unbelievable (46 page)

“Johnson’s a known hitman,” Booker said. “Your father handed over a copy of a check made out to Clive for five hundred thousand dollars. The check was signed by you.”

“There’s been a mistake. Where would I get that much money?”

Booker took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “Lilah, your father also gave us the number to a secret bank account in Mexico that he claims is yours. He said the only reason he knew about it was because you’ve been paying for him to get treatment at the clinic and he inadvertently saw the number written in his chart one day.”

Cole stormed over to Booker. “And he just happened to memorize it. Please tell me you’re not buying this load of bull—”

“It’s common for criminals to feed the police false leads in hopes of messing up the investigation. There are a lot of holes in his story, but those holes will buy him time until his lawyer can come up with a better one. The
Laraso police agreed to hold him for two weeks. If we can come up with convincing enough evidence, they’ll extradite him. Otherwise he’ll be set free.”

“I’ll come down to the station. When do you want me?” It felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut. My own father willingly lied about me so he could be free. Birdie had it right.
Spawn of Satan.

“It’s five o’clock now,” Booker said, looking at his watch. “We want to start building a case against his claims as soon as possible. How about early tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” I said weakly, sitting down at the table.

“We have him, Lilah. He won’t get away this time. Also, for the record, I don’t think he believes these charges against you will stick. He’s just trying to buy time, remember that. Don’t internalize this,” Booker said. Then
, to my surprise, he gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Nice ring,” he said as he left.

“Lilah,” Cole said, sliding up next to me.

“I need to go home. Alone,” I added. “I need to write down everything I can remember from when I lived with him. I don’t have much time.” I also needed to get my plan ready. Daddy was not going to remain behind bars for long, no matter how confident Booker was. And when Daddy came for me, I needed to be ready. I kicked myself for thinking I could have a life with Cole.
What a fool I am.

Cole tried protesting, but I insisted. He let me go, like I knew he would. Cole would never force me to stay.

My lovely gentle giant; so unlike my father.

Chapter
37

This time Booker conducted the interrogation much differently. He never once raised his voice or glared at me, wishing I’d evaporate into thin air. After three hours, he ended it despite the other officer’s protests.

“She’s told us everything. Now we’re only repeating things.” He shut the file and turned off the tape recorder. “Come on, Cole’s waiting for you.”

Over the next week I spent my alone time writing and rewriting my farewell letter to Cole. My time
with
him was spent making plans about how to decorate the upstairs after Booker finished his part. I knew Cole hoped to keep my mind off everything, but it only made it harder knowing in detail all that I would lose if my father got out of jail. Maggie stopped by on Wednesday and we planned a picnic in Applegate Park to celebrate Booker passing the bar.

When Saturday arrived, I was
more than ready for the picnic. I needed a major distraction. Since I had almost two hours before I had to be at the park, I decided to take a bath instead of a shower. I added a handful of herbs to the water and sank down until it touched my chin.

I laid my head back against the edge and allowed myself a short nap. I woke up an hour
and a half later, cold and shivering with shriveled fingers. Quickly drying myself off, I pulled on my jeans and a red, white and blue t-shirt. I got a text from Cole telling me he was running behind and would be a few minutes late. Should two people who always run late really marry? I wondered.

Five minutes before I was supposed to be at the park, the phone in my apartment rang. I had no idea who’d be calling me on it since I’d only given the number to . . . Birdie. I leapt for the phone.

“Hello?” I said nervously, sinking into a chair.

“Oh, child, it’s so good to hear your voice again. Listen to me. I can’t talk long. Your father paid his way out of jail. He’s coming to Port Fare. It’s time to put the plan in motion, child. Please tell me you made one like I told you to.”

“Yes. But are you sure? How do you know?” My hand shook violently as I held the phone to my ear.

“Maria called me. She said they estimate it will take two weeks to get there because they have to travel at night to avoid being seen.”

“Birdie—”

“Did you get a gun? I warned
you that you’d need to.”

“You know I hate guns.”

“Child, I’d feel much better knowing you had one,” she said, sounding desperate. “Is there a waiting period in New York?”

“I don’t know the gun laws here.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t use a gun on my own father. I just couldn’t.

However, what if I had to protect Cole? Could I then?

Suddenly, an idea hit, and I shot up straight. I may not be able to shoot my father, but there was something I could do to stop him.

“A change in plans, Birdie. And I know exactly where I can get a gun.”

“Wonderful. Put the plan in motion. I love you more than anything. Please be careful. Your father’s very angry with you, Lilah, because he feels you’ve betrayed him. You know how to do this.” She hung up before I could ask anything more.

Waves of fear rolled through me, gripping my heart, piercing my gut. I stumbled past my bed, wanting to curl up into a little ball and cry.

But I couldn’t. I had to act. I had to put my plan in motion, laying false trails. Going to my desk, I pulled out the maps I’d gotten at the bus depot on one of my morning jogs. I stuffed one under the bed, hoping it didn’t look planted. I needed Daddy to think it was left behind accidently. I took half of my summer wardrobe and stuffed it into a suitcase, setting it by the door. The other half I folded up neatly and put back in the drawers. I took out a cute pair of winter gloves I’d gotten on sale, adding one to my suit case. The other I wedged in between the couch cushions, with half a finger sticking up just enough so Daddy wouldn’t miss it. I also took my art supplies, and with two trips I filled my little orange bug with all that no longer mattered to me.

I made one last trip around the apartment, tipping over a bottle of shampoo and setting a quart of milk out on the counter. I wanted it to look as if I’d left quickly, without much warning. Slowly, I walked over to the desk and drew out my letter to Cole, and then sat down and rewrote the last page with my new plan. Pressing it to my chest, I allowed a few tears to fall.

“Enough, Delilah. You’re a Dreser. Do what needs to be done.”

I started to shut the door, deciding to leave it unlocked, adding to the illusion of a quick exit.

Now for the hard part: getting Cole’s gun.

Even with the A/C on high in my car, sweat poured down my back. Nerves. Trying to balance leaving a false trail for Daddy and getting him to follow it was not easy. I needed the gun, just in case. It would be a last resort. A shiver rippled through me as I thought about the plan again. Would I really have the courage to do it when the time came? I pictured Cole’s face. Yes, I’d have the courage.

First things first. I had to create an excuse. “Hi, Cole. I’m running late
,” I said into my phone.

“Me
, too. As a matter of fact, I just got here. I know,” he laughed, “shocker, right? Didn’t you get my text?”

“Yes.” I laughed. It sounded pathetic. “I’ll be about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes. Get started without me.”

“That long? Do you need my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.” I pinched my thigh to keep from crying. It didn’t work. The tears rolled down my cheeks. “How’s your head today?”

“Really good. Three days pain free now. I’ll see you soon.”

“Cole, wait. I-I just wanted to say I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said with a chuckle, knowing what I was going to say next.

“Impossible.” I ended the call and pulled off the road to regain my composure. My eyes were too clouded to drive. Finally I gathered myself and drove straight to Cole’s.

Slowly, I dragged myself from the car and made my way to his door. I slid the key into the lock for the last time before nudging it open. Entering the kitchen, I discovered a notebook on the counter. Cole’d been drawing again. A sketch of a brain, with intricate details. He’d made notes along the side about size and surgical instruments, along with suggestions. I pressed it to my chest before setting it back.

I took a kitchen chair and hauled it over to the cupboard and climbed up, removing the plastic container from the top shelf. I opened it, fingering the
brass bullets before removing one. Only one. That’s all I’d need. I put the container back on the top shelf, climbed back down, and returned the chair to its place under the table. I slipped the bullet in my purse, before removing the letter to Cole. After rereading it one last time, I put it back in the envelope beside the drawings I’d made up for Booker. I also inserted the ring Cole had given me as sorrow choked me. “Stay focused,” I lectured myself. I paced into the living room and set the sealed letter on the half wall in the entry way, along with my purse.

I took in the house on my way to the bedroom. It still smelled of paint and new furniture. I didn’t look up at the portrait I’d painted, fearing the tears would begin all over again. Walking into the bedroom, I went straight to the closet for the gun. It was on the top shelf and I had to stretch to
reach it. It was gone. Frustrated, I blew air through my tight lips. “Where did he move it to?” I mumbled to myself.

I turned and stopped dead.

“Hello, Delilah. Looking for this?”

Chapter
38

Booker stood next to the bed, wearing a filthy t-shirt, holey jeans, and unkempt sneakers, looking very much like the cat that swallowed the canary. Cole’s gun swung back and forth on his index finger.

“Booker, this isn’t what you think.”

“It never is, Delilah.” He tucked the gun into his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Let me guess. You were framed. Or maybe you’re going to play the
my Daddy made me do it
card. I’ve heard them all.” He stepped toward me and said, “Turn around,” signaling me to put my hands against the wall.

He smelled horrific. I coughed at the gag-worthy odor of sweat and garbage bin. He quickly searched me for a weapon. Since I only wore jean shorts and a t-shirt, it didn’t take long. He then began reading me my rights.

“Booker, please let me explain.” As if I’d not spoken, he continued reciting my rights. Panic welled up inside me, my mind spinning in tight little circles. I had to convince him to let me go.

When he finished he asked, “Do you understand?”

“Yes, but—”

He pointed toward the bedroom door. I glanced over my shoulder as we headed into the living room, noticing he walked with a limp. “Booker—”

“You know where I’ve been all night?” He spoke over me. “I’ll tell you. My team and I were down by the canal, a couple blocks from Applegate Park. Seems some local drug dealers feel homeless people make good guinea pigs for their latest venture.” We marched straight to the pillar in the entry way, and he had me wrap my arms around it before slapping the handcuffs on my wrists.