Charly glanced at her watch. Well. I think Im gonna go see about that cup of coffee. Any of you-all wanna join me?
Caitlyns father smiled the kind of smile that probably came naturally to him no matter the circumstances, and shook his head. C.J. cleared his throat and said, I think Im gonna stick around here for a while.
Nobody asked Jake Redfield what his plans were; hed already gone wandering over to join the uniformed police officer seated in a chair beside the door to Caitlyns cubicle. Charly gave everyone a See you later, and went off to the elevators, and C.J. found himself alone with the man whose only child hed almost gotten killed.
Since hed been raised by a mother whod taught him to face up to the consequences of his actions no matter how painful they might be, he squared his shoulders and began with, Uh, Mr. Brown-
Before he could get another word out, Caitlyns father took hold of him by his elbow and said in a low but friendly voice, We might as well be comfortable, dont you think? and steered him toward the waiting area.
They took chairs at right angles to each other, with a square table topped by a lamp and an assortment of magazines forming the corner. Perched on the edge of his chair, C.J. leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on his knees, and tried again. Um, Mr. Brown-
Again he was interrupted. I wish youd call me Wood-most people do. I was given the name Edward Earl after my dad, but the only person who uses it is my sister, Lucy. His mouth tilted in a half smile. Only my students call me Mr. Brown.
Youre a teacher? said C.J., feeling dimwitted.
Used to be. Im a vice principal now.
C.J. tried a smile and he, too, only managed half of one. Guess that explains why I feel like Im sitting in the principals office.
Wood Browns smile was replaced by a look of dismay, then of compassion. He leaned forward, his pose almost a mirror image of C.J.s. Son-I know you feel responsible for whats happened to my daughter and that other woman, but youre not. Chris-Caitlyns mother-and I sure dont blame you, and I dont think Caty does, either. She put you in an impossible position, and you did what you believed was the right thing under the circumstances. Thats all any man can do.
Wood Browns smile was replaced by a look of dismay, then of compassion. He leaned forward, his pose almost a mirror image of C.J.s. Son-I know you feel responsible for whats happened to my daughter and that other woman, but youre not. Chris-Caitlyns mother-and I sure dont blame you, and I dont think Caty does, either. She put you in an impossible position, and you did what you believed was the right thing under the circumstances. Thats all any man can do.
If what I did was so right, C.J. said, looking at the floor and forcing words through clenched teeth, then how come I feel so damn-excuse me-darn bad?
Wood sat back with a sigh and ran a hand over his thick, iron-gray hair. His rugged features were somber. Its not always a matter of a choice between a right and a wrong. Sometimes its a matter of choosing the lesser of a whole bunch of wrongs. When that happens, you just do the best you can.
He sat silent for a moment, looking at nothing, then shook his head. I have-had-this great-aunt. She lived to be well over a hundred, but shes gone now, bless her soul. Aunt Gwen always believed if you wait long enough it usually turns out things happen the way theyre supposed to. Providence, she called it. He smiled in a remembering way. Take me, for example. I met my wife after I broke both my legs in a truck accident in Bosnia. At the time I thought it was the end of the world-the end of sports, my career, all the things I liked to do-but if it hadnt been for that accident I wouldnt have met my wife. And I wouldnt have been there when she needed me to save her life.
C.J. gave a snort of surprise, and Wood smiled. A long story and one for another time. I guess what Im saying is, its too soon to tell, yet, how this is all supposed to play out. Could be you were where you needed to be just so Caty could pick you to hijack. His smile slipped sideways, and he gave a one-shoulder shrug. You never know
Since C.J. couldnt think of a thing to say that wasnt going to sound rude, he kept his mouth shut. Thinking about it, though, it occurred to him that whether he believed in all that Providence stuff or not, it was a remarkable attitude for a man whose only child was lying in a hospital bed with a bullet crease in her skull and blinded maybe for life. He felt humble and grateful and undeserving, which brought him back to what hed wanted to say to Caitlyns father in the first place.
This time he plunged right in, talking fast so he wouldnt get cut off again. I appreciate your not blaming me for what happened to your daughter, but it doesnt change the fact that she wouldnt be where she is if Id done what she asked me to. Im not asking you to forgive me for that- he held up a hand to stop Wood interrupting him -but what I am asking is for you to let me have the chance to make it right.
He had to stop there and force his jaws to unclench, and into the pause Wood dropped a quiet How do you intend to do that, son?
By getting the guy who did this to her. C.J.s voice grated with rage.
I think I know how much you want to do that, Wood said after a moment. I think about it myself. But thats a job for the police and the FBI, isnt it? Realistically, do you think theres anything you can do?
Not by myself, no. C.J. was surprised at how calm and confident he felt. How certain. But Id have a whole lot of help. That man you met in there, hes FBI, true-Special Agent Jake Redfield-but he also happens to be married to my brothers wifes sister. He paused, and for the first time in a long while felt his dimples showing. And I do know how awful Southern that sounds. The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. The point is, we-and that means the FBI included-believe we can get the man responsible for all this. We have a plan, but it involves He sat back and sucked in a breath. We need Caitlyn. Well lay it all out for her, once shes up to it, and if shes willing-
Wood let out air in a rush and once again ran a hand back through his hair. He shook his head, and for the first time C.J. saw the lines of tension and strain in his facethe deep shadows around his eyes. For the first time he looked like a man staring unthinkable loss in the face. Shed say yes, of course. His tone held more than a touch of irony. Thats just Caty.
He leaned forward, his hands rubbing against each other making a faint sandy sound, and gazed at the carpet as he spoke in a soft, slurred voice. Its been hell, these past months. Especially for her mother. Right now all Chris wants to do is get Caty home so she can take care of her. Shes been counting the hours He looked up at C.J. You have any kids? C.J. shook his head and so did Wood. I dont know if you can understand, then. Your child is always your child, even if shes grown-up. In fact, that makes it worse because you dont have control over what she does anymore. She makes her own decisions.
He slapped his knees and stood abruptly. He looked down at C.J., forcing a smile. Well. Thats it, I guess. In a nutshell. Its her decision to make, C.J., not ours. If Caty wants to go along with your plan, we wont try to stop her. We couldnt anyway, no matter how much we might want to.
C.J. got to his feet and mumbled, Thank you, sir. He held out his hand.
The older man shook it briefly but firmly. Moving in the jerky, uncoordinated manner of a man distraught, he turned and began to walk rapidly away, but after a few steps he whirled and jabbed a finger at C.J. Promise me one thing, he said, and his voice grated with emotion. Just get him, you hear me? You get that SOB.
Caitlyn drifted in a twilight zone that was not quite sleep yet not full consciousness, either. Her mind wandered, as it does in dreams, but with her permission; she knew she was dreaming and took comfort in knowing she could wake up anytime she chose.
Images crowded into her mind, people and places and events-mostly people. One after another they clicked by, too quickly, like a slide show on fast-forward-her past in reverse order, beginning with the last image she remembered: the landscaped mall in front of the courthouse; a sea of reporters and video cameras; the sun glinting on their lenses and the windows of TV trucks; a brilliant blue September sky.
Back inside the courtroom a few minutes before that: the judges face, fleshy Southern jowls, soft, smooth-shaven and unsmiling; Mary Kellys face, gaunt and pasty, with blue smudges under her eyes and freckles standing out like blotches, trying hard to smile.
In the days and weeks before: Mom visiting her in the jail, her hair like sunshine in that drab and dismal roomfrightened eyes looking out at her from the serene and lovely mask of her face; and Dad, calm and reassuring as always, but swiping at a tear as he turned to leave her.
Further back: a sultry April night; a big blue truck, powerful diesel engine idling away behind her; a man with a face like a Norman Rockwell painting, hair soft and thick, sun-streaked blondeyes dark as chocolate and just as seductivea sweet and dimpled smile; big hands gentle on her shoulderslips moving, saying words hard and heavy as hammer blows. I cant do it-Im sorry.
The same face in a rapid montage of swirling, overlapping images, like a kaleidoscope: eyes twinkling, smiling and flirtatious with her, nodding with good-ol-Southern-boy courtesy to Mary Kelly; gentle and kind with a traumatized child; angry, hard as pewter in the bluish light of a yard lamp on an empty concrete apron; anguished, drawn and shadowed in the dimness of the truck cab as shed seen them the last time. As hed watched them walk away.
Mary Kelly againthen back through the faces of all the fearful and damaged women shed known, all the way back to the first and most beloved-her own mothers faceso young, so beautifulso haunted.
There were childrens faces, too, and even a few men among the victims-her cousin Eric and his precious baby, Emily, in their desperate dash for safety, bundled against the Iowa winter coldcould that only have been last Christmas?