Chapter 16
M ARIA SIMPSON CROSS DIED in my arms ? which was something I told almost no one, except Sampson and Nana Mama.
I didn’t want to talk about our last few moments together; I didn’t want anyone’s pity, or their prying. I didn’t want to satisfy some people’s need for petty gossip, the latest dramatic story to whisper in hushed tones. All through the murder investigation over the next several months, I never discussed what had happened in front of St. Anthony’s. That was between Maria and me. Sampson and I talked to hundreds of people, but nobody gave us a lead on her killer. The trail went cold fast and stayed that way. We checked out the crazy mob killer but discovered he’d been on a flight back to New York the previous night ? apparently he left town shortly after he left my kitchen. The FBI helped us there because a cop’s wife had been shot. The killer wasn’t the Butcher.
At two o’clock the morning after she died, I was inside our apartment, still wearing my holster and gun, pacing the living room with a screaming Janelle in my arms. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that our baby girl was crying for her mother, who had died that night just outside St. Anthony’s, where Jannie had been born six months before.
Suddenly tears were rolling from my eyes, and I felt overwhelmed by what had happened, both the reality and the unreality of it. I couldn’t deal with any of this, but especially the baby girl I was holding, and whom I couldn’t get to stop crying.
“It’s all right, baby. It’s all right,” I whispered to my poor girl, who was being tortured by the insidious croup and who probably wanted to be in her mother’s arms rather than mine. “It’s all right, Jannie, it’s all right,” I repeated, though I knew it was a lie. I was thinking, It’s not all right! Your mama is gone. You’ll never see her anymore. Neither will I . Dear, sweet Maria, who had never hurt another person that I could remember and whom I loved more than my own life. She had been taken away from us so suddenly and for no reason anyone ? not even God ? could ever explain to me.
Oh, Maria , I spoke to her as I walked back and forth carrying our baby, how could this have happened? How can I do what I have to do from now on? How can I do it without you? I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just crazed right now. I’ll get it together. I’ll get it together, I promise. Just not tonight.
I knew she wouldn’t answer me, but it was strangely comforting to imagine that Maria could talk back, that maybe she could hear me at least. I kept hearing her voice, the exact sound of it and the words. You’ll be fine, Alex, because you love our kids so much.
“Oh, Jannie, you poor baby. I do love you,” I whispered against the top of our baby’s damp, overheated head.
And then I saw Nana Mama.