I draw in a shuddering breath. Was that what happened? Did they break in looking for Gene? Was the robbery a punishment? The room swims in front of me. It has to be them. The people Raul and James get their drugs from.
‘I’m going to go to the police,’ Gene blurts. ‘I should have gone to them in the first place.’
‘No,’ I say, alarmed, turning to clutch his arm. ‘You can’t. They can’t know any of this. Your sisters are in danger. Everyone would be if we talked. You know who these people are. You just said they threatened to kill you!’
‘But Dad,’ he chokes. ‘I can’t let him go to jail because of me.’
I press my lips together hard and nod. I know. But what if the police can’t keep us safe? So far they’ve done a lousy job of protecting June. How can I trust them?
‘Do you think Dad will get off?’ Gene asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say, and then I close my eyes and take a deep breath. One thing at a time. When I open my eyes I see myself again – a stranger – reflected in the burnished circus mirror.
Beside me Gene signals the barman for another shot. I watch him down it. There’s so much of Robert in him, in his eyes and the set of his mouth, and for a moment my heart softens, but then I remember that he’s the reason Robert’s locked away and the iron shutters slam down before I can stop them. I turn away from him and back to my own reflection.
The problem is that if June dies I won’t ever be able to forgive him – or Dave or Robert for that matter. I will want to destroy each and every one of the people involved, for lying, for their complicity, for their stupidity, for not thinking of the consequences.
The door opens before I can get lost in any more dark thoughts. I don’t have to look. I know by the drop in noise that it’s Raul and James.
Gene, who has been playing with his shot glass, freezes. I still don’t turn around. I wait for them to come over to us, and only when they’re beside me do I swivel to look at them.
Raul’s shoulders are rounded, his nostrils flaring with every angry breath. Behind him James hovers, tense, eyes darting around as though he thinks maybe we’ve brought the cops with us.
‘We brought you the money,’ I say, handing Raul the plastic bag of cash. He can’t hide his surprise when he opens it.
‘It’s all there. You can count it.’
‘Nah, I trust you,’ he says, looking up now with a smile. ‘So, I guess we’re done then. Just tell your husband to keep on keeping his mouth shut.’ He nudges James and jerks his head in the direction of the door.
‘Wait,’ I say, before they can leave.
Raul pauses and turns back to look at me over his shoulder, the smile gone, a wariness descending as though he’s worried he’s stepped into a trap.
‘I need a favor.’
Raul cocks an eyebrow at me and glances at James. ‘You need a favor, from us?’ he asks, an amused look on his face.
I take a deep breath, then reach into my handbag. After paying them back what Gene owed, minus what he’d already pulled together, I’ve got seventy thousand extra dollars in my pocket. I don’t know how much it will cost, but I’m willing to pay whatever it takes.
Chapter 45
DAY 10
The media camp outside the hospital has whittled down. It’s less an army now and more a scrum. I can’t help but scan the parking lot as I walk towards the doors, holding my bag close to my body and preparing to use it as a battering ram if I have to. Before, I was terrified to run the gauntlet of all those journalists and news crews but now I barely notice them.
Elbows out, I shove my way through, tuning out the shouts and barrage of questions. There’s a blur of blue and white up ahead – a cop tunneling his way through the flailing arms and microphones to reach me – but I dig in and forge my own path forwards.
I’m almost in the center of the scrum when someone tugs sharply on my handbag strap. I whirl around in an instant, shoving them away. It’s a woman – a reporter. She stumbles and trips over a cable snaking along the ground, dropping her microphone. But another reporter rushes in to fill the gap, thrusting her mic in my face. ‘Is it true that June’s life support is going to be turned off?’ she shouts.
I turn to the camera. ‘No,’ I say, loud enough for them all to hear. Silence falls. It’s the first time any of them have heard me speak and so they hush, jostling to get their microphones nearer. ‘Her life support is not about to be turned off.’ I smile to the cameras. ‘She’s doing great. The doctors expect her to wake up any moment.’
The cop materializes right then at my side and takes my elbow, ready to accompany me out of the crush. I shrug him off. I don’t need him. The media have sensed that they’ve got all they’re going to get from me anyway – their morsel, their pound of flesh – and they’re already backing away, desperate to be the first to file a report.
The elevator is empty. I slip my hand into my bag and find my phone. It’s eleven already. There are five missed calls from Laurie, probably about the specialist she was trying to arrange to come and give a second opinion on June, but no new voicemails, which is strange. But then I remember Sam telling me my mailbox was full. I need to find the time to go through it
