lie of such grand proportions, all lies that had come before it were dwarfed in comparison. Nothing was over for Molly, except having a family.
Krystal, fragile in the best of times, had shattered under the pressure. She blamed her husband for what she believed had happened to Erin. The kidnapping, the rape. Landry told me she had suspected Bruce of sending Paris Montgomery to her to rent the Loxahatchee house where the whole drama had been staged.
She had reached her limit. In the end, one might have tried to put a nobler face on it and said Krystal had defended her daughter, had taken revenge for her. Sadly, I didn't believe that at all. I believed killing Bruce had been punishment not for ruining her daughter, but for ruining her fairy tale.
I only ever wanted a nice life.
I wondered whether Krystal would have stayed with Bruce if she had found out that what they had all been put through had been orchestrated at least in part by her daughter. I suspected she would have put the blame squarely on Erin and no one else. She would have found a way to excuse Bruce's sins and keep her pretty life intact.
The human mind has an amazing capacity for rationalization.
Landry sent Krystal to the Sheriff's Office in a cruiser, then drove Molly and me to Sean's farm. Not a word was said about calling Child Protective Services, which was standard operating procedure in a case like Molly's.
We rode in silence most of the way, drained of our emotions and our energies, weighed down by the magnitude of what had gone on. The only sound in the car was the crackle of Landry's radio. An old familiar noise for me. For a moment I felt as nostalgic for it as I ever had for any song from my adolescence.
As we turned in at the Avadonis gate, Landry used his cell phone to call Weiss at the airport. There was still no sign of Van Zandt, and the plane was ready to taxi onto the runway.
Exhausted, Molly had fallen asleep leaning against me in the backseat. Landry scooped her out and carried her into the guest house. I led the way to the second small bedroom, thinking what an odd family unit we made.
'Poor kid,' he said as he and I walked back outside onto the little patio. 'She'll grow up in a hurry.'
'She's already done that,' I said, sitting down sideways on a delicate iron chaise with a thick cushion. 'That one was a child for a minute and a half. Do you have kids?'
'Me? No.' Landry sat beside me. 'You?'
'Always seemed like a bad idea to me. I've watched too many people screw it up. I know how badly that hurts.'
I knew he was watching me, trying to read into me, into my words. I looked up at the stars and marveled at the vulnerability I had just shown him.
'Molly's great, though,' I said. 'Figures. She raised herself watching the Discovery Channel and A and E.'
'I was married once,' Landry offered. 'And I lived with a woman for a while. It didn't work out. You know: the job, the hours, I'm difficult. Blah, blah, blah.'
'I never tried. Go straight to 'I'm difficult. Blah, blah, blah.' '
He smiled wearily and produced a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.
'Car pack?' I asked.
'Gotta get that corpse taste out.'
'I used to drink,' I confessed. 'To cleanse the palate.'
'But you quit?'
'I gave up everything that could dull pain.'
'Why?'
'Because I believed I deserved to hurt. Punishment. Penance. Purgatory. Call it what you like.'
'Stupid,' Landry proclaimed. 'You're not God, Estes.'
'A welcome relief to all true believers, I'm sure. Maybe I thought I should beat Him to the punch.'
'You made a mistake,' he said. 'I don't believe the Pope is infallible either.'
'Heretic.'
'I'm just saying, you've got too much good in you to let one bad mistake shut it all down.'
The half smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. 'I know,' I said. 'I know that now. Thanks to Molly.'
Landry glanced back over his shoulder at the house. 'What are you going to tell her about Erin?'
'The truth,' I said on a sigh. 'She won't stand for anything less.'
The prospect drove me to my feet. As exhausted as I was, still I was restless, frustrated at the injustices of Molly Seabright's life and the inadequacy of my people skills. Crossing my arms against the damp night air, I walked to the edge of the patio.
'On the first day of this, I remember thinking Molly was about to get a lesson in life. That she would learn the way everyone learns that she can't count on anyone but herself in this world: by being let down by someone she loved and trusted. I wish now I could change that for her.'
Landry came to stand beside me. 'You can,' he said. 'You have. She trusts you, Elena. You haven't let her down. You won't.'
I wished I could have been that certain of myself.
His pager went off. He checked the number, pulled his phone off his belt, and returned the call.
'Landry.'
I watched his face, sensed his tension.
When he ended the call he turned to me and said, 'Erin and Chad were picked up on Alligator Alley, halfway to Venice. She's claiming Chad abducted her.'
59
You're eighteen,' Landry said. 'In the eyes of the law, you're an adult. You made bad choices that have big consequences, and now you're going to pay. The question is, are you going to take the big fall, or are you going to try to make life easier for all of us?'
Chad Seabright stared at the wall. A heavy gauze patch covered the socket where his left eye had been. 'I can't believe any of this is happening,' he muttered.
A state trooper had spotted Chad's pickup speeding on the highway known as Alligator Alley, the road that connected Florida's east coast with the Gulf Coast. A chase had ensued. A roadblock had eventually stopped them. The pair had been returned to the gracious accommodations of the Palm Beach County justice system, where both of them had been seen and treated in the infirmary.
Now they sat in back-to-back interview rooms, each wondering what story the other was telling.
Had Bruce Seabright survived, Landry did not doubt that Chad would have had a lawyer the caliber of Bert Shapiro sitting at his elbow. But Bruce Seabright was dead, and Chad had taken the first public defender out of the pool.
Assistant State's Attorney Roca tapped her pen on the table impatiently. 'You'd better start talking, Chad. Your girlfriend has been telling us quite a tale in the other room. How you kidnapped her to extort money from your father. We have the videotape of you beating her.'
'I think I should see that tape,' the public defender said.
Roca looked at him. 'It's quite convincing. She'll be a very sympathetic witness.'
'That's a lie,' Chad said, sulking, petulant, scared. 'Erin wouldn't do that to me.'
'Wouldn't do what?' Landry asked. 'Tell us how you grabbed her out of the hospital while the guard was trying to put out the fire you set?'
Chad shook his head emphatically.
'You don't think Erin would tell us how you raped her and kept her doped up on ketamine?' Roca said.
The public defender sat there like a toad, his mouth opening and closing, no words coming out.
Landry sighed and stood up. 'You know, I've just about had it with this,' he said to Roca. 'This little shit wants to take the fall. Fine. Let him rot. His father was an asshole. He's an asshole. Get him out of the gene pool. Go make a deal with the girl. You know a jury will get out the hankies for her.'
Roca pretended to consider, then looked to the PD. 'Talk to your client. The charges are going to be a
