Chapter 17

Answers

Abby

This is either very stupid or very brave, I think, as I look around Dennis’ Brooklyn apartment.

How did I get here? I asked Dennis if I could come, saying that I wanted to see his place and to have another talk – a sequel to the catch-up dinner we had. He was more than happy to give me directions and so here I am.

Why am I here? I’m here to find answers to my questions, of course. I know Grant hired a private investigator who’s probably ten times more competent than I am but I just can’t wait to know the truth and put my mind at ease.

Even if it means putting yourself and your baby in danger?

I know it’s risky but I’ve promised I’ll be careful. I even brought a small can of pepper spray that I have in the back pocket of my pants, though I hope I don’t have to use it. Who knows? I might find something here in the apartment right now while Dennis is out buying pizza.

I start searching, beginning with the drawer of the nightstand in his bedroom. I don’t really know what I’m looking for. A bloody shirt? A matchbox with the name of the motel where my mother was killed that puts him at the scene of the crime? Something tells me I’ll know it when I find it.

Well, it’s not in this drawer, which only has a bunch of receipts, some change, a pack of chewing gum, and a cell phone charger.

I move to the other drawers in the room, frowning when I find nothing but clothes. I search the closet and under the bed, doing so as fast as I can in my condition, but there’s nothing there, either.

Where else do I look? Under the pillow? In the bookshelf?

Still, I find nothing.

I sigh. Maybe I should just give up and leave it to the investigator to find the answers I’m looking for?

That’s what I’m planning to do but suddenly, I feel the need to go to the bathroom, which has been happening frequently lately – normal for a pregnant woman, I’m told. I go there, washing my hands after I flush the toilet. As I do, I find myself staring at the mirror and something occurs to me.

Medicine cabinet.

Some people keep their secrets in their medicine cabinets.

I open it, finding a lot of stuff inside – cotton balls, bandages, antiseptics, facial products, pill bottles, the usual.

Yup. Just an ordinary medicine cabinet with no secrets. Or so I think until I notice something strange with one of the orange pill bottles – it doesn’t look like it has pills inside.

What is inside?

I take the bottle, managing to twist the lid open after several tries. I pop its contents into my hand to find a necklace inside. Not just any necklace. My mother’s necklace that she wore the day she married Dennis, a present from him. She always wore it, even after Dennis left, and when I asked her why, she simply said it was hers, not his, and that she had grown used to having it around her neck.

Come to think of it, I didn’t notice if she was wearing it at her funeral. Then again, I didn’t really look at her coffin and even when I was, my thoughts were far away.

Why does Dennis have it?

I hold the necklace with the gold chain and the gold heart pendant up, examining it closely just to make sure it is the same as my mother’s. I know the pendant of my mother’s necklace had two smaller hearts engraved at the back.

I gasp, finding the hearts there.

It is my mother’s necklace.

That’s not all I find, though, also finding one of the tiny hearts stained red.

Blood.

Shocked, I drop the necklace, which clatters as it falls to the tiled floor.

So, Dennis did see my mother again. Worse, he was there the day my mother died. And there’s a good chance he…

“Abby?”

Oh, shit. Dennis is back.

My heart pounding, I scramble to pick up the necklace.

“Abby? I got a pepperoni pizza. I seem to remember you liked it.”

I slip the necklace inside the pocket of my pants then hurriedly put the lid back on the now-empty pill bottle, shoving it back into the medicine cabinet before pushing the door shut.

“Abby?”

I open the door, trying my best to stay calm when I see him standing just a few feet away.

“Sorry.” I try to keep my voice from shaking. “I just needed to go to the bathroom. You know, bladder issues.”

“Oh.”

Does he suspect anything? Can he see how nervous I am? I don’t know. I just walk past him, heading to the kitchen.

Act normal, Abby.

I open the box of pizza and inhale the aroma. “Mmm. Pepperoni.”

Dennis just stands there, staring at me.

“What?” I ask him.

His eyes narrow. “What do you have in your pocket?”

I freeze. Did he notice?

Calm down, Abby.

“You mean this?” I take the can of pepper spray out. “I take it with me wherever I go, you know, as a weapon of self-defense.”

Really?

“You know, against muggers and thugs out there. I mean, this is New York.”

He grabs the can, glancing at the label before throwing it into the trash can.

Great. Now, I don’t have anything to defend myself with.

“Now, hand the necklace over.” Dennis extends his arm.

“What necklace?”

Dennis chuckles. “You can’t fool me, Abby. I’ve always known if you were hiding something, whether it’s the cookie you got from the jar or a present you were making for your mother or a bruise from being pushed down the stairs at school.”

Shit.

“Now, hand me the necklace.”

“No.” I shake my head.

Even if I give him the necklace, I’m sure he’s not going to let me go. And if I do give it to him, then it’s over. I have nothing.

“Abby.”

“It’s mine,” I tell him. “It belonged to my mother, so now it belongs to me.”

“It wasn’t hers. It belongs to me.”

“You gave it to her, remember?”

“Which means I can take it back.” He takes a step forward. “Give it to me, Abby.”

I take a step back, panicking as I realize the sink is right behind me.

I have nowhere to go.

My fear rises as Dennis grabs a knife. “I don’t want to hurt you, Abby, but I will if you don’t give me the necklace.”

Shit.

Calm down, Abby. Think.

“Why did you kill her, Dennis?” I ask him, hoping to distract him. “Why did you kill my mother?”

He laughs but at least, he lowers the knife. “Fine. I’ll tell you why since you figured it out, though that also means I’ll have to kill you, but not before I get a fortune from your rich boyfriend. I wonder how much he’ll pay to get you and your baby back.”

I suppress a shudder. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Wrong place, wrong time? I was in that motel, too, you see, and I saw her. I hadn’t had a woman in a long time so I thought I’d go have some fun with her. She was still my wife, after all.”

“You left her,” I remind him. “You had no right to call yourself her husband.”

“But she was still wearing that necklace. Plus, the moment I saw her, I just missed her. I suddenly wanted her back, you know.”

My hands clench into fists. “How dare you.”

He ignores me. “So, I went to her room and would you believe she had the gall to try and throw me out, saying she was done with me?”

“She only did what was right.”

“Maybe, but I was pissed. So, I killed her with that Swiss knife I saw on the table then took the necklace. And when her boyfriend came out of the bathroom, I killed him, too, but made it look like he killed her first and then himself. I didn’t like him. I took something from him, too, you know.”

“His glasses.”

Dennis shakes a finger at me. “You’ve always been smart. I took his glasses, crushed them and threw them away somewhere.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t like them.”

I square my shoulders. “You’re not going to get away with what you did, Dennis.”

“Ah, but I already have and if I’m correct, you helped, right? You didn’t want any further investigation.”

Sadly, he’s right. I did help him get away, which means it’s my duty to help put him away. I have to get justice for my mother’s death.

I have to escape. But how?

“The necklace, Abby.” Dennis extends his hand again.

I take it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

I pretend to hand it over but at the last second, I grab the plate behind me, throwing it at his head.

“Fuck!”

While he’s distracted, I run to the door. I can’t run that fast, though, and Dennis catches up to me, pulling me by the hair.

Shit.

At that moment, the door crashes down on the floor, Grant standing where it used to be with a gun in his hand.

“Grant!” Relief wells in my chest, though it vanishes as Dennis pulls me close to him, holding the knife in his hand against my neck.

“Let Abby go,” Grant demands, pointing the gun at Dennis.

“Drop the gun or she dies,” Dennis threatens.

Grant doesn’t move.

“Drop the gun,” Dennis orders impatiently, lowering the knife so that it’s against my belly.

No. Not my baby.

Grant raises his hands, kneeling slowly to put his gun down.

I can’t breathe. One way or another, I feel like someone is going to get hurt.

This is all my fault.

“Good,” Dennis says when the gun is on the floor. “Now—”

With one quick motion, Grant grabs Dennis’ hand that is holding the knife, twisting his arm. I run to the doorway but watch fearfully as they fight. Dennis kicks Grant’s leg to free his arm.

“Fuck,” Grant mutters.

I place my hand over my heart. “Grant!”

Dennis tries to cut him with the knife. Grant evades the first few attempts but the fourth succeeds, leaving him with a gash on his arm.

“No!”

Oh, where is Roger when we need him the most?

I glance at the gun on the floor. Should I get it?

But if I do, I’ll be close to them again. What if Dennis cuts me instead? What if he hurts me or my baby?

Suddenly, as Dennis lifts the knife to cut Grant again, Grant crouches, kicking Dennis off his feet. As Dennis falls, Grant grabs the gun, pointing it at him.

Quickly, Dennis throws away the knife, his expression changing.

“Please don’t kill me. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I swear.”

Grant’s expression, however, doesn’t soften. “I don’t care. You tried to hurt my family. There’s no forgiveness for that.”

He cocks the gun.

Wait. Is he going to kill Dennis?

“Don’t kill him, Grant,” I tell him.

As much as I want Dennis dead, I don’t want his blood on Grant’s hands. I don’t want any more bloodshed.

“He’s not worth it,” I add.

For a moment, Grant doesn’t move. I hold my breath, fearing that at any second, the gun will off. It doesn’t, though.

“Abby, call the cops,” he tells me without taking his eyes off Dennis.

I obey, grabbing my purse that I set down on the couch and fishing out my phone from inside it, calling 911.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“Hello. My name is Abby Gomez.” I glance at Dennis and take a deep breath. “I’d like to report an attempted murder and a murder.”