All that looking over his shoulder would stop the moment he sold the last three Pollocks. Despite what he’d told Jessica about how the money was being split, the truth of the matter was that, with James now out of the picture, Reid’s take would be nearly a million dollars. Enough to keep the sharks at bay for a while.
He spied Owen in the front row, beside his mother. Poor kid. Despite what Reid had said to Jessica and to Allison, there was no way that he was going to share a nickel of his take with anyone.
Midway through the service, it occurred to Owen that, for all his preoccupation with his own death, this was the first funeral he had ever attended.
He couldn’t help but wonder what his own would look like in comparison. How many kids from school would show up? Would Mr. Taubenslag have the orchestra perform something? A requiem, perhaps? Would any of the girls cry?
His daydreaming ended when the minister called his name. “On behalf of the Sommers family, James’s stepson, Owen Fiske, would like to say a few words.”
His mother kissed him on the cheek, and he made his way to the podium. Once there, he looked out on the crowd and swallowed hard.
“Thank you all for coming here today,” he said, his voice sounding squeaky even to him. “I don’t like public speaking, so I’m not going to be up here very long, which I hope is okay.” The sea of faces before him seemed to be trying hard to smile. “I just wanted to say that James was my stepfather. And I don’t think I’m saying anything too controversial when I say that it’s tough being the stepfather of a sixteen-year-old, which was how old I was when I met James. I think my dad would say it’s tough being a father to a sixteen-year-old, period. But a stepfather? That’s got to be even harder because James didn’t know me at all. The only thing we had in common, really, is that we both loved my mom. And I kind of thought that James would leave me alone, and I wouldn’t talk to him much, and that would be our relationship. But it wasn’t that way. He actually wanted to get to know me. To be a part of my life. And I thought that was cool.”
Owen lifted his eyes from the paper containing his remarks. His mother was smiling at him. He looked back to his prepared speech.
“Some of you may know that I have a type of leukemia. I got it before my mom met James. The doctors thought I was cured, but I wasn’t. It came back, which is why I stand before you today bald once again. I’m going to have this transplant thing, and hopefully that will cure me.”
The smiles he had seen only moments ago were now all gone. Only a kid with cancer could make a funeral sadder.
“I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me, though. I’m telling you because James was there for me. One hundred percent. I’m not going to bore you with a rant about how expensive medical care is, or that treatments like mine aren’t covered by insurance. But James . . . he saved my life. There’s no other way to put it. He saved my life. So I guess that’s another thing we had in common. Not just our love for Mom. But . . . my whole life.”
After the service ended and James had been interred in his final resting place, Jessica saw Haley walking toward her. She’d noticed Haley in the church and wondered about the etiquette of her attending. Then again, Jessica would attend Wayne’s funeral, so maybe it wasn’t so odd after all.
At the graveside ceremony, Haley had stood next to Reid. A little too closely, Jessica thought, but then again, perhaps those two deserved each other.
“Jessica!” Haley called out.
Jessica stiffened. “Hello, Haley.”
Haley stopped a foot before her, the distance from which someone else might have leaned in for a hug, or at least extended their hand. Neither woman did either.
“I know that this isn’t the time or place,” Haley said, “but I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.”
Jessica had intended to be friendly, but already she couldn’t spend another second looking at this woman. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this, Haley.”
Jessica turned away but made it only a single step before Haley’s hand on her elbow pulled her back.
“Make time for it, Jessica. I know who killed James.”
PART FOUR
17
So much for the procedure being akin to giving blood, with the doctors doing all the hard work. After the transplant, Owen felt like death warmed over. Not even that warm, in fact.
Eight days had passed since James had been laid to rest. During that time everything had followed just the way Dr. Cammerman had said: myeloablation was completed, Owen rested for two days, and then the transplant. As each day passed, Owen could feel his mother’s shift from the all-consuming grief she’d experienced at the loss of her husband to an equally overwhelming fear of losing her son. The look in her eye before the surgery told Owen that his mother simply would not survive losing him too.
He must have been wheeled from surgery to a hospital room, because when he woke up, that’s where he was. His room had a single window, and from the bed he could see a patch of sky. It looked to be a clear winter day. The kind he usually liked.
Dr. Cammerman was still wearing hospital scrubs when he entered. He looked first at Owen’s chart, then at him.
“How are you feeling, Owen?”
“I’ve been better.”
“The procedure went very well,” the doctor answered as if he hadn’t heard Owen’s response to his first question. “Now we’re at the stage where
