CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Caitlin
“And each man stands with his face in the light of his own drawn sword.
Ready to do what a hero can.”
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
“We have to talk.” Aoife’s voice is low, urgent, and her grip on my hand firm enough to make it obvious she hasn’t come here to mess around.
“I don’t have time right now.” I try to pull my hand free, but Aoife doesn’t let go. Her fingers dig into mine as she steps closer, until I can smell her gardenia perfume, the same brand she’s worn since we were little girls, and Gram gave her a bottle for her birthday.
The smell sends melancholy oozing through my chest. What would Gram think of us now? The little girls she always said were like two angels fallen from heaven, we were both so beautiful and sweet.
“You need to make time,” Aoife says. “Gabe’s dad came to the funeral today.”
“I know.” I lift my chin, meeting her hard gaze straight on, playing tough, though my pulse is pounding with fear.
“He asked me to stop by his office after we finished at the gravesite,” she says, her grip still firm on my hand. “He said he wanted to give me something that would make sure I got full custody of Emmie.”
I tighten my jaw, willing my expression not to falter. “And? Did he?”
“He did,” she says, her own expression unreadable. “He showed me footage of you breaking into someone’s house. At first I couldn’t be sure it was you, but the person who was filming followed the van and caught you taking off your mask.”
I close my eyes, not wanting Aoife to see me crumble. This is what Gabe and I were afraid of, this is why we were getting ready to run. But fearing something, and having the hard evidence shoved in your face, are two very different things, and it suddenly feels like all those concrete blocks are tumbling down on top of me, after all.
“He had a private detective following you and Gabe,” Aoife continues. “He caught you breaking into two different houses, but Aaron cut all the footage of Gabe out on the DVD he gave to me. He told me to use it to blackmail you into giving up Emmie. He doesn’t want this going to court because he knows you might testify that Gabe was your partner.”
I open my eyes, confused by the compassionate note in my sister’s voice. “So…are you going to blackmail me? Is that why you’re here?”
Aoife’s fingers tighten, until her grip on my hand is almost painful. “Aaron Alexander told me today that you are the reason his son started committing crimes, but I know that’s not true.”
“You do?” I squint into the sun turning my sister’s hair into a golden halo, trying to get a better look at her face. I would swear she looks upset, but I have no idea why. This is exactly what she wanted, handed to her on a silver platter.
“Because I know it’s my fault,” she says, her face crumpling. “And I’m so sorry.”
I blink in shock, but I don’t have time to speak before Aoife continues in a teary voice—
“I know how hard it was just looking after the boys without Mom around, and I left you with the boys and a newborn and nobody in the world to help you.” She releases my hand to swipe the tears from her cheeks. “At first I was so fucked up I didn’t even think about what I’d done, but then I talked myself into believing it was okay. You’ve always been so much stronger than me. I told myself you could handle it and—”
“But I’m not…I wasn’t,” I say, the words bursting from my chest though I know I don’t have time to hash through our family drama right now. “You were always the one I turned to, Aoife. Always. Ever since I was a baby. I would have died without you. I loved you and counted on you and I….” I press my lips together, but I can’t seem to stop myself from finishing my sentence. “I fucking worshipped you, Aoife, and you left me.”
I fight through the wave of emotion, refusing to cry, or let her see just how deep this goes. This is a wound that cuts through flesh and bone, slicing straight into the soft center of my heart, where all my feelings for the big sister I once loved so much have been locked away.
“I know,” she says, fresh tears spilling from her blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s my fault that you had to start stealing. I know if I’d stayed, or at least sent money home when I could, you might not have had to do what you did. You were right today, I can’t erase the past, no matter how much I want to.”
“Me either,” I say in a soft voice. “I can’t go back and undo what I did last summer, but I promise you it isn’t as bad as it looks. I did steal things, but I stole from criminals Gabe’s dad helped keep out of jail. That doesn’t excuse it, but I want you to know I wasn’t hurting innocent people. That’s not who I am.”
She nods. “I’m not here to judge what you did. I’m here to say I’m sorry, and to warn you that Gabe’s dad is going to turn the footage over to the police tomorrow morning.”
My breath rushes out. “Why? I thought you said he didn’t want to risk me testifying against Gabe.”
“He gave me today to convince you to give me Emmie, break things off with Gabe, and leave town,” she says. “If Gabe isn’t home, and you on a plane to somewhere else by tomorrow morning, Mr. Alexander is going to the police. I think he thinks you and Gabe might run if he gives you too much time.”
He thinks right. And we might still escape if I can find Gabe, and get to the airport before it’s too late.
“He’s scared of his son ending up in jail,” Aoife continues, “but he seems more scared of losing him.”
“He’s scared of losing control,” I say bitterly. “That’s all he’s ever wanted.”
Aoife casts a glance over her shoulder before turning back to me. “You may be right, but whether he’s motivated by love, or something else, he seems determined. You and the kids should get out of here as soon as you can.”
My chest loosens, but I’m afraid to trust that I understand what she’s saying. “But what about the court date on Friday?”
“I’m dropping my suit,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to hurt Emmie. It’s going to kill me, but at least I’ll know I did what’s best for my daughter. She loves you. You’re her real mother. I’m just an egg donor, like you said.”
I wouldn’t have believed it possible an hour ago, but at that moment, all the love I ever felt for my big sister, my protector, my friend, comes rushing back, so big and strong, I can’t keep myself from leaning in and wrapping my arms around her. “You don’t have to lose her,” I say. “We can work something out. You can come see her; you can be close. Maybe…we can be close again, too.”
“I would like that.” Aoife’s arms go around me. She hugs me and her baby bump presses against my stomach, reminding me I have another niece on the way.
“The baby is going to be her half sister,” I say. “They should be close, too.”
“No, the baby will be her cousin,” Aoife says, smiling when I pull back to look in her eyes. “And I’ll be Aunt Aoife.”
I nod, but the smile teasing at my lips vanishes before it can fully form. “I have to go. I’m sorry, but I really do.”
Aoife gives my shoulders a squeeze before she steps back. “Okay. Call me when you can, and let me know when you get settled.”
“We aren’t going back to Hawaii,” I say, reaching for the door, knowing I need to go, but feeling I should at least give Aoife a heads up. “We can’t. Not with Gabe’s dad determined to do what he’s going to do.”
Aoife smiles that savvy, been-around-the-block smile I remember so well. “I figured. Just don’t go to Mexico. The actually do extradite people every now and then, if someone slips the police enough money.”
“Got it.” I capture her hand for one last squeeze. “And thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she says, voice trembling. “Now get going, before I start crying again.”
I get into the van and start it up. Aoife moves to stand in the grass on the parking median, watching me go with a peaceful expression on her face. I never expected her to do the right thing, but she did. It gives me hope that maybe—once I find Isaac and Gabe—it won’t be as bad a scene as I’m fearing.
Maybe Isaac just wanted to talk to Gabe. Or to apologize. I listened to all the messages he left. He seemed truly sorry, devastated that he’d hurt me, and willing to do whatever it takes to make things better. Maybe he wanted to make things better with Gabe, too.
“And maybe my dad’s going to come back as a leprechaun and tell me where he’s hidden his pot of gold,” I mutter to myself as I drive up and down the streets of downtown, hunting for some sign of Isaac and Gabe, and coming up empty.
Isaac doesn’t want to make nice with Gabe. Isaac is jealous of Gabe. He hates Gabe. He blames him for turning sweet, pliable Caitlin into a stubborn woman with hard edges, and no mercy for her enemies.
But Isaac hasn’t begun to see my merciless side. If he’s hurt Gabe, he’s going to get a very close, very personal introduction.
I drive past Isaac’s dad’s pizza place, but there’s no sign of him or Gabe through the front windows, or in the alley behind the restaurant. I drive by Isaac’s parents’ house and his old apartment, but the windows are dark at the house and the apartment is occupied by a young couple I can see watching television on the couch through the window. I drive by every other old stomping ground I can think of, until it’s after eight, and I’m genuinely starting to freak out that I won’t find Gabe in time.
Finally, I steer the van back toward my old side of town, on the off chance that Isaac has decided to take Gabe to his piece of shit brother’s house on Cooper Street, but I’m not optimistic about my chances of finding him there. Isaac hates Gabe, but I’m pretty sure he hates his brother, Ian, more. Ian did time in prison, and has mooched off their parents ever since he got out, not even making an effort to find a job. He’s stolen money from Isaac, wrecked Isaac’s first car that he worked an entire summer to buy, and refused to go to his own grandmother’s funeral because he was too hungover.
I feel pretty confident saying that Isaac would rather ask for help from the devil himself than his little brother, but when I pull up in front of the dingy duplex on Cooper Street, the lights are on inside, and two shadows are moving back and forth behind the curtained windows.
One of them is tall and broad, and the other is even taller and broader because the Ronconis make big, meaty boys.
I slow the van. I don’t see a Gabe-shaped shadow, but something instinctive tells me he’s inside. All the hairs on my arms stand on end, my heart starts beating faster, and I just know he’s close.
And that he’s in trouble.
I continue down the street for another two blocks before I pull over and cut the engine. Ian doesn’t live in the best neighborhood, but I decide to leave the keys in the ignition, anyway. Hopefully, I won’t be away from the car very long, and I may need to make a swift getaway. If Ian and Isaac both try to stop me, my only advantage will be speed. They’re both big enough to lift me over their heads with one arm tied behind their backs.
I hurry down the street, clinging to the shadows, wishing I were wearing my blacks. My tee shirt is black, but I’m sure my pale hair is glowing in the soft moonlight and my bare legs stand out in the darkness, despite my tan. But hopefully Ian and Isaac won’t be looking out any of the windows when I creep by.
When I reach the yard, I bend over, moving quickly and quietly past the window, and the front porch, where a collection of empty beer bottles litters the stoop. I figure it’s best to be careful though, from the looks of things, Isaac and Ian are still standing with their backs to the window, in the middle of an animated discussion. Now that I’m closer, I hear raised voices, though I can’t make out what they’re saying. But Ian doesn’t sound happy, and neither does Isaac.
Still, that’s nothing new. Ian and Isaac have been arguing since the day Ian learned to talk. It doesn’t mean that Isaac has brought a hostage to Ian’s house, and asked his brother to help him pound his girlfriend’s ex into a bloody lump of flesh. This could be a normal Ronconi brother fight, and I could have misjudged the entire situation.
I let the thought temper my nerves, but I don’t believe it, and when I reach the side of the duplex and stand on tiptoe to gaze through the window above the kitchen sink, I’m not surprised to see Gabe sitting in one of Ian’s kitchen chairs, with his hands tied behind him. His back is to me, so I can’t see his face, but he’s sitting up straight, and his shoulders are square. It looks like he’s still okay. For now.
My heart does a giddy flip in my chest. I want to call out to him so badly it hurts, but I don’t say a word. I can’t risk attracting Ian’s or Isaac’s attention until I have a plan for getting Gabe out.
I let my eyes trail back and forth from one end of the dingy kitchen to the other, and into what I can see of the living room beyond. It looks like the front door must open into the living room, but there is a hall leading out of the kitchen to the left. I suspect it leads to the bedroom and bathroom, and that there must be a back door somewhere. I’m about to go hunting for it, when Ian strides into the kitchen, a furious look on his face, and a gun in his hand.
Heart pounding, I spin to my right, gluing my back against the side of the house and peering into the kitchen over my shoulder. But I can’t see much from this angle, and all I can think about is that gun in Ian’s hand. That gun, Gabe tied up and helpless, and Ian and Isaac free to do whatever they want to the man I love.
I would never in a million years have dreamed that Isaac would try to kill Gabe—threaten him, beat him up, throw our relationship in his face, yes, but not kill him. I don’t know if the gun is Ian’s and things have gotten out of hand, or if Isaac planned to bring Gabe here and eliminate his competition forever, but I know that I can’t wait for the ideal moment to present itself. I have to act fast and think even faster, if I’m going to be sure Gabe leaves this house in one piece.
Remembering the collection of beer bottles on the stoop, I move swiftly away from the window, adrenaline dumping into my veins as I put my barely formed plan into motion.