“A plus sign. Does that mean it’s—”
She nodded. “Positive.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as these things get. They’re pretty accurate.”
“It’s real?” He put his hands on her stomach, joy blazing in his eyes.
“Are you happy?” she said.
“So happy I’m speechless. C’mere.”
He kissed her hair, her eyes, her mouth.
“Let’s have a toast,” he said.
In the kitchen, he poured Sanpellegrino into champagne glasses. They toasted the future over the roast chicken dinner at the kitchen table. Normally, she found it impossible to appreciate life while she was living it. Her mind was always either ahead or behind. But for the space of that dinner, for once, she knew she was happy.
Afterward, sitting at the island, watching Matthew load the dishwasher, she shuffled through the day’s mail. A circular from the local garden center. Something from the ABA. The cable bill. And a plain white envelope addressed in block letters to “JUDGE CONROY,” with no return address.
It was heavy. There was something inside other than a letter.
“Did you see this?” she said, her voice rising.
He took it from her and held it up to the light.
“There’s something in there.”
“No, don’t open it,” she said, but he was already tearing off the end.
He spilled the contents onto the island. They rolled around, glinting in the light. Two bullets. One for her. One for him.
“What is that?” he whispered.
“It’s a message. A threat.”
Whoever sent that envelope could be charged with multiple crimes. Threat by mail. Threatening a government official of the United States. Obstruction of justice. They could wind up doing ten years in jail, but only if Kathryn called in the FBI. Matthew begged her to, but she was terrified.
“If I report it, they’ll start digging. And they’ll find things about me. They’ll reopen the investigation into Brad McCarthy’s death.”
“From what you’ve said, you did nothing wrong.”
“I passed information to my half brother, who passed it to the mob. Including where we were going for dinner the night they killed him, and the make of his car. That’s enough to charge me with the murder conspiracy.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“I knew enough. I knew what they were capable of. Any jury would convict me. Our baby will be born in jail. I can’t bear that. Can you?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You told me so. You said there’s a way to get them not to prosecute you.”
“Right. I flip. On Ray. On Charlie. Doug Kessler. The mob. They’ll kill us both.”
“Not if we ask for witness protection.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to go into hiding? The feds give us new identities and send us somewhere random. It’s like living a stranger’s life. You’ll never see your family again. I’ll never see my mother. Our child will grow up with no family. And besides, it’s not foolproof. These people are relentless. They’ll never stop hunting us. And they have moles everywhere. Somebody someday will leak our location, I guarantee you. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”
“Like we’re not doing that already? I watch the rearview mirror when I drive. I hesitate to answer the door, and now I have to worry about opening the mail. I can’t live with the constant threat of violence, and I don’t want to bring our child into this situation. Do you?”
“There has to be a solution. I’ll talk to Ray.”
“No. You already tried that—on our wedding day, remember? And he told you to play ball. Which you haven’t, and now we get this threat. He’s no savior, Kathryn. He’s the one holding you captive, and no matter what you say, he won’t let go.”
She rubbed her temples, struggling to think clearly. Is he right?
“But he’s a sentimental old bastard. What if I told him I was pregnant? Maybe—”
“Jesus, are you crazy?” he said. “Absolutely not. You can’t tell anyone, not even your mother. Once they know about the baby—”
The terror in his eyes was catching. Her heart clutched.
“Oh my God, you’re right.”
“I am right. You know I am.”
“I can’t tell them. He won’t be safe.”
His face crumpled as he touched her belly. “He. You think it’s a boy?”
She nodded. “I have a feeling.”
“That makes him seem so real.”
“I know. A person, growing inside me. Our person.”
“It’s our job to protect him. Don’t you see? For his sake, we have to get away from here. Take the down payment money and run. We’ll do it ourselves, so there are no leaks, no one who can give us up.”
“Yeah, there’s a problem with that. Not only will we have the bad guys on our tail, we’ll have the FBI.”
“I agree it would be tough to pull off. We’d have to plan carefully. Identify a place to go. Find a secure way to get false documents. It could take months, and nobody can know. But we’re smart and resourceful and determined. And we have the greatest motivation in the world now. We can do it. I know we can.”
He took her in his arms, stroking her hair. She listened to his heartbeat and thought about a life far away. A backyard, a swing set, a little boy with Matthew’s eyes. In that moment, she believed it was possible.
* * *
Kathryn stood in the dim light of the funeral home, her hand on Matthew’s casket. It was the first time she’d seen him since identifying the body. He’d been found shot dead in the driveway of their rental house in Wellesley, not by Kathryn, but by a neighbor who’d heard shots fired and called the police. The neighbor didn’t see much. Just a car speeding away. There was no description of the killer, no license plate, not even a reliable model on the car. But Kathryn knew exactly what happened. The people who pulled her strings, who sent those bullets in the mail, made good on their threat. They murdered the man she loved to send the message that there was no escape.
That was two days ago, and she hadn’t slept or eaten since. The service was tomorrow. This was her last chance to be alone with him. Soon Matthew’s parents would arrive. It might even become contentious. They wanted a closed casket, but Kathryn preferred to show the world how they’d murdered her beautiful love. The bullets shattered his skull so badly that no amount of sutures or putty or pancake makeup could hide the wreckage. She had to look past it, to see the familiar lines of his face, so they could talk. She told him about visiting the graveyard where he’d lie, and how she wanted to join him there as soon as possible. The ground is hard at the moment. It smells like snow is coming. But we can handle seasons, right, babe? In spring, I bet it’s pretty there. Daffodils, robins. In summer, the sun will be warm on the grass, like on the Common when we’d walk, do you remember? I want to come with you so bad. I hate that you’ll be alone. It’s only Ollie holding me back.
Oliver. Ollie. Their son. They’d taken to calling the baby that even though it was too soon to find out the sex, picking Grace for a girl just in case. How to protect Ollie should be at the forefront of her mind right now. But all she could think of was Matthew.
Hearing footsteps, she turned, composing her expression for Matthew’s mother. But it wasn’t her.
“How dare you show your face,” she said, spitting with rage as she advanced on Ray. “Get out of here before I fucking kill you.”
She picked up an empty vase from the table where the guestbook was displayed, hefting it in her hand, ready to smash it into a cutting blade. She would slash his throat with it and laugh while he bled out.
He backed away, raising his hands defensively.
“Whoa, whoa, Kathy, this is not on me. You must know, no matter how you disappoint me, I couldn’t do that to you. Or order it, or even know about it advance. They kept it from me.”
“Who did? I want names.”
“What good would that do?”