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Chapter Twenty-Seven
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2024-10-29 19:42:56SYDNEY SAT ACROSS THE TABLE from Scott and stared down at her plate. She hated it when he mimicked her eating. If she lifted her fork, he lifted his. When she took a bite, he took a bite. She dropped her fork onto her plate and lifted her champagne glass. “What pleasure could you possibly get from doing that?”
He lifted his own glass. “Doing what?” His dark hair was overdue for a trim, hanging over deep-set gray eyes.
The eyes of a fox, she thought. Or a weasel.
Sunday brunch used to be their favorite meal together. They’d lay around in their bedclothes all morning, sip champagne, make love, eat a large breakfast around noon, and then spend the afternoon sailing.
But Scott had changed. He found more pleasure in tormenting her now and playing games with her head, making her feel stupid and clumsy, and Sydney’s love had faded.
She sipped her champagne and looked away at her cat, Tux, stationed on
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I WASN’T SURE I’D HEARD the waitress correctly. “She was here? You saw her?”“I was outside on break smoking a cigarette when she and the guy she was with pulled up.” She popped her gum again.“Are you sure it was the same girl?”She held the newspaper farther away and squinted. “I might not know it was her from that picture alone, but she had those hair beads.”“What kind of boat was it?”“It was small—just a workboat.” She pointed out the window. “Like that one down there.” She pointed to my rental and goose bumps broke out on my arms.“There was a man with her?”“I didn’t see him very well. He stayed in the boat. They were having motor trouble. Somebody else passing through was trying to help them.”“How old was he?”“The man? I don’t know. Young, I think.”
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DOWNTOWN, THE OFFICERS AGAIN led me up the concrete ramp into the holding area. And again, as the heavy metal door slammed shut behind me, a chill squiggled up my spine. The same desk sergeant shoved the same telephone in my direction, removed the cuffs, and repeated the same line, “You only get one, so you better make it a good one.”I needed to let Scott know where I was, but doubted he’d be at his office on a Sunday afternoon, so I called Sappy. I caught him walking out the door, explained what was going on, and asked him for two favors. The first was to post a note on the back door of the studio canceling rehearsal; the second being to find Scott McGillikin and let him know I was again in police custody and in dire need of his immediate presence.Parked in a hot room still wearing the layers of wet clothes, I became nauseous. I peeled off the jacket, two shirts, and the insulated underwear leaving them in a pile on the floor. Then waited.W
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FRANTICALLY, I CHECKED CALLER ID—Unknown Number—and the phone directory, but found no listing under Sydney’s name. Son-of-a-bitch! I jumped in the car and sped to her studio hoping to find some kind of emergency number listed on the front door, but there was nothing. Back at home I lay awake the rest of the night waiting for the phone to ring again. It didn’t.I fixed a pot of coffee and sat at the breakfast table watching the sun come up wondering if Sydney might be watching it as well, wondering what kind of night she’d had.I took a shower, dressed, remembered the shattered cassette Martha wanted, dug it out of the trash, and gave it to her when I picked her up. We arrived back at the hospital just before 8 a.m., and I noticed Winston sitting in the waiting room on Dad’s floor. His hat was tipped down over his face covering his scars. I supposed he was there to support Mom.“You think he’s bein
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I RODE TO MOM’S and found Martha sitting in her wheelchair at the desk in the corner of her room. She was hunkered over a sheet of newspaper with all the parts to the cassette laid out on it.“Hey, hey! How’s it going?” I asked spreading myself across her doorframe.She raised her hand. “Shhh. Mom’s upstairs asleep.”“Oh, sorry.”“What are you so excited about?”“I just had lunch with Sydney Deagan.”“A date?”“Sort of.” I browsed the bookcase in the hall, removed the oldest photo album, and carried it into Martha’s room where I sat on her bed.“Tell me everything,” she said without looking up.I opened the dark leather cover on the album. It crinkled as it folded back. “Not much to tell. I picked up a couple of wraps and met her at the gazebo on the back of Greenfield Lake.”“M
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My Sister's Keeper Chapter Thirty-Five
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THE FIRE NOW CONSUMED the barn and licked high into the air. The cold water slowly filling the barrel helped to cool our brains, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it would eventually drown us. Ten minutes tops. Our only hope was a gun that wouldn’t fire even if I could get to it. And what would I shoot to get us out? More holes and we’d drown quicker.My right arm was pinned, but I could move my left…slightly. Sydney’s legs were wedged back against her chest and I was squashed against them upside down. Our heads rested near one another, mine bent under with my abdomen pressed against the back of her calves. I worked my hand down my left side and tried to find a way to get around her legs to her waist. The water was now midway up my thighs. Sydney had gone quiet—passed out from pain, heat, loss of blood, or a lack of oxygen. But she was still alive. I could feel her expand…occasionally…to take a breath of the r
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