CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Chaz:
Sometimes the big, tough-guy image shatters. Like a fragile, handblown glass Christmas ornament, it slips through your fingers and tumbles to the floor; and suddenly everything is in slow motion. Therea€?s a second when you still see the world the way it should have been, the way it was just a moment ago. Then you see the destruction. Fragments of glass spray in every direction and you realize that ita€?s never going to be the same again. Ever. It doesna€?t matter if ita€?s your fault or not, doesna€?t matter if everyone in the whole world knows what happened or if youa€?re the only one.
At that point you just cana€?t pretend anymore.
For me it happened at about four oa€?clock in the morning, after a grueling night with Skellar, where we played party games with one of his latest interrogation drugs. That was when I learned that Russell and his wife, Marguerite, were still in custody. And I just about ripped the arms off a mug who said my niece would have to stay in some a€?safe housea€? until the authorities straightened everything out.
Lucky for him, he changed his mind.
I took Isabelle home with Angelique and me. I gave my niece my room, and tucked her into my bed. I planned on sleeping out in the living room, but when I headed out the door, Isabelle started to cry.
a€?Dona€?t leave me, Uncle Chaz, pleasea€”a€?
A tiny glass reindeer started to spin, tumbling down.
a€?I wona€?t go, sweetheart.a€? I went back inside, knelt beside her.
It hit the ground; fragments of light and shards of glass shot up.
She curled into my arms, pressed her head against my chest; her sobbing grew stronger and I suddenly realized how hard all of this had been on her. Up to this point all I had been able to think about was the fact that she was alive, that she was safe, I hadna€?t realized that to her, she wasna€?t safe. And maybe she never would be again.
A roomful of blackened, burned children. Dead on the ground. All of them her friends. Dead because they came to her party.
a€?Is he going to come back, Uncle Chaz? Is that bad man going to burn me too?a€?
a€?No, baby. No one is ever going to hurt you. I promise.a€?
But I could feel the world spinning even as I said the words, felt the pain in my chest tighten, felt my eyes sting as tears came. For the first time, I could actually imagine a world without Isabelle, a place where some evil monster could climb up a wall in the middle of the night. I didna€?t know if I was really going to be able to protect her from the people who had done this.
And the ache made me feel like I was being turned inside out.
?
I stood at the edge of the patio door, staring down at the street.
a€?Is she going to be all right?a€?
I turned, saw Angelique curled on the sofa, wrapped in shadows.
a€?Yeah,a€? I answered, trying not to think about the synthetic skin that now bandaged my niecea€?s hands. This was one of those times when everything had to be interpreted in black and white. No gray. a€?Maybe not today or tomorrow. But yeah.a€?
a€?Good. I mean, I wouldna€?t want anything to happen to her, shea€?s a good kid.a€?
I ran my hand along the door frame, finally settled on the handle, pulled the door open and let the cool, misty air inside. I didna€?t look at her. Didna€?t want to see her face, a chiaroscuro version of someone that I thought I knew yesterday.
a€?You saved her life,a€? I said when the air shifted around me. The silence between us turned heavy. a€?You might not remember it, but I wona€?t forget. Ever.a€?
Outside the music of another day was already beginning. Cars shuddered down crowded streets and a helicopter flew in the distance, silver-and-black choppy noise that brooded over smoggy midnight blue.
a€?My memorya€?s coming back,a€? she admitted, her voice soft, almost as if she regretted the things that were swimming to the surface.
I turned to face her. This was one of the things I hated most about working with Newbiesa€”they could be your best friend one minute and they could forget they even knew you the next. But it didna€?t matter. I had no right letting my emotions get tangled up in this mess.
At this point I just had to trust her and she had to trust me.
Because I had a feeling that if we didna€?t, neither one of us was going to make it.
a€?Did I say anything about a dog?a€? I asked. a€?When Skellar was interrogating me?a€?
She frowned. Searched her damaged memory banks. Shook her head. a€?No, you were talking some nonsense about an invisible rat.a€? A smile flickered. a€?By the way, if you pulled that rat thing to irritate Skellar, it worked. But no, you never mentioned a dog. Why?a€?
I avoided her question. a€?Why did you act like Russ might have killed somebody?a€?
a€?It was a red herring,a€? she said, flipping back to her lawyer persona, that safe zone where she knew all the answers, her matter-of-fact voice solid and sure, cutting like a knife through the fractured morning darkness. a€?I just wanted to give Skellar reasonable doubt. So he would let you go.a€?
She sounded like she was telling the truth, but there was something in her posture that said otherwise. Her lip quivered slightly and she kept her gaze on her lap.
a€?Youa€?re lying,a€? I said, challenging her to defend herself.
a€?Am I?a€?
I sat in a chair across from her, waited for her to look up at me, so I could see her eyes. Ia€?d know if she was telling the truth or not if I could only see her eyes. But she didna€?t look up. Instead she stood, headed toward her bedroom. Left me alone in the living room. Enveloped in a muggy, uncomfortable silence.
I knew I should get some sleep. That drug of Skellara€?s was still coursing my veins and part of me wanted to rip the skin off my face. It felt like my skull had suddenly grown too big, like my flesh had stretched beyond its capacity. I wished I could pound Skellara€?s face through the wall.
Instead I lay on the sofa, my legs hanging off the end. Before I had a chance to analyze how uncomfortable I was, I fell asleep. For some reason my familiar nightmare gave me the night off. Probably for good behaviora€”after all, I hadna€?t flattened Skellara€?s nose, like I wanted.
Instead I dreamed I was in the bayou, wearing waist-high boots, wading through murky swamp water. I was looking for something lost, something important.
At the same time, I was wondering how many alligator eyes were watching me from the darkness.