Faulty premise. The shot missed.
“My grandmother was a nasty, bitter woman. She never let me forget that I was the cause of my mother’s death. My mother, who had the most beautiful golden hair and the brightest smile.” He faltered, then spoke again. “Getting pregnant totally freaked her out. She dumped me with my grandmother and disappeared into Haight-Ashbury.”
San Francisco’s infamous drug scene.
“When the cops told my grandmother her daughter had died of a drug overdose and asked her to claim the body, she refused. Her only child, and she refused. Said we didn’t have the money for burial, but she could gotten it. She was pure spite.”
I was horrified. “But if Rose or David ever knew, surely they would have helped—”
“You think you know them. You saw the side they wanted people to see—the successful business people, the community benefactors. They never forgave my grandmother for taking their son from them. They thought she forced him into the shady deals that cost them their home and business. But they forced him into it, pushing him to make them proud. To replace what was lost in Armenia and build their fortune in America.”
I didn’t believe that. I trusted what I knew of the Petrosian family. Not that good cookies can only come from a pure heart, but in my heart of hearts, I knew they were good people.
And if Betty’s heart had been so hard that she refused to claim her daughter’s body, then the source of Jake Byrd’s pain was his grandmother’s anger, not the Petrosians’ success.
“What about your father?” I tried to sip my coffee, acting nonchalant, but it was too hot. I popped the lid to let it cool.
“I have no idea. He gave me his name, and nothing else. It was up to me to reclaim my heritage. As a proud Armenian, who should have grown up with all the money, the fancy schools and trips, my dear cousin got instead.”
“So you lured Maddie to the building and shot her. And three years ago, you followed her to Pat Halloran’s house, then after she left, you shot him.”
“It was all his idea, her buying up the block then buying the corner lot out from under me. I wanted to show them I was just as smart as they were.” He glanced at the door again. No doubt he’d noticed, as I had, that the ICU desk was occasionally left unguarded. Ramon would be back any minute. His window of opportunity was closing.
“Show who?” I asked. “Your great-grandparents are long gone. Rose and David are gone. Betty, too, I imagine. I’m not sure Maddie knew what happened to your side of the family.”
“Oh, she knew. I’ve got to go.”
Inside and up to the ICU while the guard was away, to finish the job he’d started? “No, stay. We can talk this out, before it gets any worse.”
“Why do you care, anyway?”
“Because I care about Maddie, and Pat Halloran even though I never met him, because his wife is one of my dearest friends. Because you’ve hurt people, but you don’t need to hurt anyone else.”
“You don’t know anything about it. About all the hurt they caused me.”
“Jake, don’t make this harder on yourself.”
“What do you know about hard? You and Maddie, with your easy lives. Your fancy houses and cars. You don’t know how real people live.”
Clearly he hadn’t seen what I drove. He was tarring me with the same brush I’d used on Maddie, and I didn’t like the feeling.
“Nobody has it all easy, Jake. I know it looks—”
“She begrudged me everything, my grandmother. I was one of them to her, everything she hated.”
“If you’d been willing to work with Maddie—”
I reached for his arm. He put out his hands to push me away. Instinctively, I threw my coffee on him. Hot coffee splashed on his face and dripped down his chin, down that navy jacket. Fury raged in his eyes and he reached for my shoulders with both hands. I dropped the cup, made my hands into fists, and brought them up between his arms. Rammed my arms against his, forcing his arms apart before he could get a decent grip on me.
“You witch,” he said, his face a snarl, his feet off balance. I stepped forward and shoved him. He stepped backward, hitting the concrete trash can. He lost his balance and hit the wall, one foot flying up as he tumbled down to the sidewalk. I grabbed his foot and held on. He bent his leg, dragging me toward him, and I crashed onto both knees. As long as I had his foot in my hands, he couldn’t get away. I held on, for dear life, yes, but for Maddie, and so much more.
Sounds began to register. Voices. Footsteps. Radios.
Then I found myself face to toe with a pair of sturdy black shoes. Cop shoes. I stared up at Lovely Rita.
“Officer Clark,” I said. “Care to give me a hand? And call Detective Tracy ASAP. Tell him he owes me a badge.”
Twenty-Nine
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal.
— Irish saying
“MADDIE! You look like yourself again!” I dropped my tote and leaned in to hug her. Gently.
“Is it true?” she said. “What the liaison officer just said? They’ve arrested Jake for shooting me and killing Patrick Halloran?”
Liaison officer? Between the SPD and crime victim patients, or their families? So that was why Lovely Rita had been in and out of the ICU the last week. Holy saffron.
I’d waited with Officer Clark until the detectives arrived, then spent a good
