Beautiful Lies

faces on the back of mailers and milk cartons. Those awful age-graduated composites, what they’d look like five, six, ten years after they’d gone missing, showing up in mailboxes, in cafeterias. Maybe some of those people deserved to lose their children, maybe some of them didn’t. But I’m willing to bet that for every Project Rescue baby out there, there’s a haunted soul. For Jessie, it was Christian Luna. For Charlie, it was Linda McNaughton.

If I had done as Harriman asked, the people responsible for that pain would have continued on with their days; people like Zack and Esme would continue making judgments and playing God with strangers’ lives, never having a moment of guilt or pain. But my life would have been populated with the ghosts of the people I’d failed to help, Jake chief among them.

Speaking of helping people, it was Gus Salvo who saved us that night in the condemned building. He’d had a tail on Angelo Numbruzio because of the shell casings they found at the scene of Christian Luna’s murder. When the cop watching Numbruzio discovered that he had contacted Zack and was headed for my building, Detective Salvo put the pieces together…a little on the slow side maybe, but just in time at least.

In the fall, Jake had broken his right leg and left arm and punctured his lung. He’d severely strained his back but all the vertebrae were intact. The bullet that had pierced my thigh had missed the major artery. It’s the little things, remember? A fraction of an inch and I wouldn’t be here to tell you what happened to us.

When I regained consciousness at St. Vincent’s Hospital, Gus Salvo was the first thing I saw. Not pretty, but better than a lot of things I’d seen recently.

“Where’s Jake?” I asked, my heart filling with panic, remembering the last moments we were together.

“He’s fine,” he said kindly. “Well, he’ll be fine.”

He pulled his chair close to me and held my hand. He told me the extent of Jake’s injuries and that he was within hopping distance of my hospital room.

“Don’t worry, Ridley. It’s all over now.”

I looked at him and knew it wasn’t true.

“Then why are you here, Detective Salvo?”

He sighed and looked past me. “I should wait till you’re feeling better, Ridley, I know that. But…”

“But?”

“I have to know where you come down on this. The men who chased you tonight are in custody. I believe that one of those men killed Christian Luna. Remember I told you about Angelo Numbruzio, how I was able to tie him to the shooting at the diner? We have him on a surveillance tape from the gun store in Florida that sold the assault rifle that killed Christian Luna.

“We can’t prosecute him without your testimony, not effectively. And if we move forward with it, everything about your past, about Project Rescue, is going to come out. I know you’re afraid for your family, but I have to tell you Zack and Esme Gray are making a deal with the DA. It’s all coming out, anyway.”

I didn’t say anything, just looked past him to the hallway. Alexander Harriman was dead. Obviously, the deal I had with him was not going to be honored by the people who killed him. They’d already tried to kill me. I knew I didn’t have any power to protect anyone any longer. Maybe I never did.

“I’ll testify, Detective Salvo. I’ll testify for Christian Luna. But I can’t testify about Project Rescue.” We looked at each other. “I can’t testify against Max or Esme.”

He nodded. “Ridley, you were only a baby. You shouldn’t have to testify if that comes to trial. You’re the victim in that case, not a witness.”

The fact hit home hard. Detective Salvo held my hand and let me cry. I cried for Teresa Stone. I cried for Christian Luna. I cried for Max. And, yes, I cried for all the pieces of myself that I had lost.

Later that night, I hobbled from my room trailing my morphine drip (which was probably the reason I was able to hobble at all) to find Jake. The duty nurse was helpful rather than mean and officious. She put me in a wheelchair and took me to him herself. He was groggy but lifted his good hand to me as soon as he saw me.

“You’re beautiful,” he said to me, his words slurring a bit. Doubtful. I could taste my own teeth.

“You’re high,” I said, and started to giggle. I was a little high myself, but through it I was starting to feel the dull throb of my leg.

His right leg and left arm were both in casts. His face was bruised, his muscular chest wrapped tight with bandages. I’d never seen anyone more gorgeous in my life.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, taking my hand.

“I will,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that you weren’t alone anymore. I’m with you.”

I kissed his hand then and he touched my face. He smiled and I could see one tear trapped in the corner of his eye, but he blinked away at it hard.

“I love you, Jake…or whatever your name is.”

He started to laugh and then groaned at the pain it caused. I stayed with him until he fell asleep, which wasn’t long. And then the nurse wheeled me back to my room.

thirty-seven

You might remember I made a promise to Linda McNaughton. But it was more than a month before Jake and I had our legs under us again. And a bit longer after that before I was able to convince Jake to help me keep it. Jake’s leg was still in a cast when we rented a car and headed out to Jersey. The Firebird was gone; it never turned up again. The guy who’d probably taken it and then tried to kill me with it—or scare me, as Alexander Harriman had said—had a bullet in the back of his brain. There was no way to know where he had dumped it.

“Come with me,” Jake said, looking pale when I pulled in front of the trailer.

“You don’t want an audience,” I said. “Give yourself a few minutes alone with her and then wave me in.”

He nodded and left me listening to “Roxanne” by the Police on the radio. I watched as he made his way on crutches up the walk, as she opened the door for him and he disappeared inside. I closed my eyes and imagined him surrounded by turtles, telling Linda McNaughton that he was Charlie, her grandson lost so many years ago. I could see her, gray hair and matching sweat suit, covering her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. I could see her throwing her arms around him and him holding her awkwardly. I wanted to be there with him. But it was their moment, alone. I wanted them both to have that.

About a half hour later I saw him in the doorjamb waving for me. I looked for joy on his face and I didn’t really see it there. But he looked happy enough, a little flushed as I approached. It was bitterly cold outside, the ground frozen hard, the trees black and dead around the trailer park. But it was warm inside. Linda sat teary on the couch, clutching the photograph I’d taken from her and sent Jake to return. She stood and embraced me.

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” she said. “Either of you.”

We stayed for a while. What can I say? It was awkward. They were strangers to each other. She talked about his parents and he listened, attentive and present. She told him a bit about his early years, how he’d walked and talked early, how he’d had a plush frog that he carried with him everywhere. He smiled and made the appropriate responses. There wasn’t much he could share about his years growing up that wouldn’t have caused her pain, so he glossed over it, gave her vagaries about his life. We drank tea with her. Then:

“Mrs. McNaughton,” he started.

“Please call me Grandma,” she said, looking shy. “Or at least Linda.”

I could tell he wasn’t comfortable saying it but he did. “Grandma,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh, “we have to go now.”

We didn’t really but I stood with him and nodded.

“Oh, of course,” she said, and I detected a little relief there. “Perhaps you two could come this Sunday for dinner. We don’t have much family, but I have a sister who’d love to see you.”

“I’d like that,” he said. He hugged her and I saw her tear up again as she held on to him. She stood in the door and watched us leave, the same way she’d watched me when I left her the first time, her arm suspended in the air in a wave. Back in the car, he was quiet as we pulled away toward the highway. I placed a hand on his thigh. “How was that for you?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Not like I expected. I guess I hoped to feel more connected to her.”