‘Look,’ said Mary. ‘Let’s hook up tomorrow night, OK?’
‘I can’t keep this up for twenty-four hours.’
She smiled. ‘From what I saw…’
A waiter came over with a beer and a glass of white wine.
‘Cheers,’ said Jonny.
‘One mouthful,’ said Mary, reaching for her wine.
Mary didn’t make it to her final exam. She didn’t graduate. And after months of partying with Jonny Tewkes, she moved in with him to the apartment above the bar and took a job as a waitress. But alcohol-fuelled sex and constant conversations about having it, could sustain her only so long. And Jonny didn’t have much more to offer.
Mary left. She moved to New York. She opened a small office in SoHo that David paid for. The plaque on the wall had read Mary Burig, Psychologist. It sounded right to her. Her friend reproduced a University of Boulder Certificate and created a Masters certificate to go alongside it. He knew she was bright. She’d helped him get off drugs in his sophomore year. He knew she could help other people. David didn’t agree with what his sister was doing, but he covered for her then and right through their first meeting with Julia Embry.
Mary stared at Blake. One word flashed into her mind: CORRUPT, a mnemonic from college for the symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder: Cannot follow law. Obligations ignored. Remorseless. Recklessness. Underhandedness. Planning Deficit. Temper. Mary realized she also ticked some of those boxes.
Blake raised his voice. ‘Did you hear me?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Mary. ‘I was thinking.’
‘I wonder how your brain works now,’ said Blake.
‘So do I,’ she said. She looked away. ‘Did it make a difference?’
‘What?’
‘Killing those people. Did it prove to you what you wanted it to prove? That you’re normal, that everyone else is just like you, that you’re not… a freak?’
‘Everyone is just like me,’ he said. ‘Everyone lies. Everyone who told me I was a freak was wrong.’
‘Why am I here?’ said Mary.
‘Because I wanted to see you. Because I want to get away with my crimes now. Because I think it might be too late.’
‘You can’t blame me for what you’ve done,’ said Mary.
‘I want to give you something,’ he said.
Mary started to shake. She was watching the gun in his right hand.
‘And what I will give you is time,’ said Blake, standing up. With his left hand, he started to pull something from his pocket. She could see a flash of silver in the moonlight through the window. He was handing her back her phone. Giving her a lifeline. Letting her go. She reached out and took it from him.
Suddenly, the door behind him flew open and he jerked around. Mary shut her eyes tight, aware of an explosion of light and gunshot. The window behind her shattered. She flung herself flat on the floor and clawed her way towards the door. Screams, more gunshot, footsteps, a terrible smell. She could feel something warm on her face, something trickle down her cheek. She wiped it away before it could reach her mouth. As soon as she got into the hallway, she ran. She could hear the random workings of the building that went on all day and all night, sounds she would never notice, only that now she was alone and it was dark and she was afraid. She cried quiet, desperate tears.
She made it to the elevator bank. A sign told her it should not be used in the case of a fire. She thought about how quickly it would get her down to the first floor, to the lobby, to the outside. Then she imagined being trapped in there. Anyone could push a button on any floor and step into that tiny space with her. She turned her head and knew the only way to go was back towards the emergency stairs, back through the half-finished renovation. She ran, under the eerie black void of missing ceiling tiles, exposed wires, conscious that all around her were doors to empty apartments.
She burst through onto the landing and decided to go up a floor instead of down. She gripped hard to the banister, dragging herself up. She could hear her name being called urgently, over and over, echoing up the stairwell. She pressed her hands against her ears. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Everything was closing in on her. She didn’t know what she’d seen. She could add it to all the other jumbled up thoughts and images her mind could no longer process. She hated it. She hated it so much.
On the third floor she found a vacant apartment and closed the door gently behind her. She was confused by its orientation; as she made her way to the window, she didn’t know what view she would see. But what was there made her heart want to burst – the room overlooked the flower-bed she had planted with David. She never knew what memory could take root, why one memory could stay and another would not. Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away and in the dark, couldn’t see that they were mixed with blood. She stayed at the window, thinking of her brother, his kindness, his smiling eyes, his A shadow crossed the wet grass and Mary slammed herself back against the wall. Her chest was tight with panic. She slid down the wall, then gripped the window sill and slowly pulled herself up to take another look out.
She slumped back down and stayed that way for over an hour before she decided she had to do something.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The banquet hall was a sea of pink balloons, floating out of the centre of round tables with bright white cloths. The tables were starting to fill with women and young children. The older teenagers and men gathered at the bar.
Rufo stood alone near the buffet table, dressed in a three-button tuxedo, drinking a vodka.
‘Boss,’ said Danny, slapping his back, ‘now’s the time to get that “after” picture taken for the slimming magazine.’
Rufo cupped a hand around his ear. ‘Is that a compliment I’m hearing?’
Joe walked over, ‘Jesus, Sarge. Nice threads. New hair cut.’
‘See?’ said Rufo turning to Danny. ‘That’s the way to do it.’
‘Brown-nose one-oh-one,’ said Danny.
‘You got to admit that’s a great tux,’ said Joe.
‘Get a room, you guys,’ said Danny.
‘This,’ said Rufo, ‘is Armani. Two thousand dollars, I swear to God. This guy I was doing security work for? When he saw me drop all the weight, gave it to me as a gift.’
‘Sure,’ said Danny. ‘No strings attached. Rrrrring rrrring, rrrrrring rrrring.’ He put an imaginary phone to his ear. ‘Hello? Sergeant Rufo? Hi, yeah, listen I got a few parking violations, first degree murder charges I could use your help with…’
‘No-one can just do a nice thing for someone in your world,’ said Rufo.
‘I’m going to the bar,’ said Danny. ‘Drink? That’s a nice thing.’
Joe nodded.
‘I got one on the way,’ said Rufo.
‘Maddy’s a sweet little kid,’ said Joe. ‘I hope she’ll make it.’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about otherwise,’ said Rufo.
Danny was surrounded on all sides by oversized college kids gripping their ID, their golden ticket to getting wasted. He was grateful only when they hid him from someone he really did not want to see. He grabbed his drinks and rushed back from the bar with his head bowed.
‘I just saw one of my exes,’ he said, handing Joe his beer.
‘Yeah?’ said Rufo.
‘It happens all the time,’ said Joe.
‘Someone from when Gina and I were on a break,’ said Danny. ‘This girl was nuts. Every night out with her, she would end up, a drink in each hand, dancing on a table. You could be at a wake, she’d find a table to dance
