Paul’s actual response—or I should say, responses—to my text telling him that he’d better drop the charges, or I’d tell the Mercedes King the truth about him and Debbie, had been less gracious than that.
El Diablo Fine. But I want you to know that animal cracked my jaw in two places.
NOV 19 12:40 AM
El Diablo And now you’ve seen it with your own eyes, Simon. He’s not the saintly good doctor he pretends to be. There’s a devil inside him.
NOV 19 12:41 AM
El Diablo When you need to be rescued from him, call me. I MIGHT come get you.
NOV 19 12:42 AM
El Diablo But probably I’ll just let him crack YOUR jaw so you can see what this feels like.
NOV 19 12:43 AM
Harsh. But very Paul-like. I thought it was interesting that he considered Jesse the devil when it was very clear to me, between the two of them, who was the real prince of darkness.
Of course I didn’t share the details of Paul’s texts with David, but what little I did say alarmed him anyway.
“Suze! Isn’t that intimidating a victim? You could get in trouble.”
I had a nice laugh at the idea of Paul being a victim, though truthfully I wasn’t finding anything about the situation too funny.
“David, you have no idea of the stuff I’ve done this week alone that I could get in way worse trouble for.”
“Well, what about the house? And the curse? I’ve been talking to Shahbaz—we’ve met a couple times, actually—and it really doesn’t look like there’s any way to break it. At least, not any way written about in ancient Near East culture. I’ve read about a few Wiccan curse removal practices that you could try, though. I know Father Dominic wouldn’t approve, but—”
“David,” I said, pausing with my beer midway to my lips. “You haven’t told this Shahbaz guy anything about my gift, have you?”
“No,” David said, in a voice that sounded so guilt-stricken I knew he was lying. “Well, not in so many words. But I think he’d understand if I did. He’s actually very astute, and he’s really concerned about our old house being torn down. He understands how unsettling it might be for someone to see their childhood home destroyed to make way for a subdivision, regardless of whether or not there’s a curse involved.”
“Aw,” I said, touched by the wistful note in David’s voice. “That’s really sweet of him. But I think the house is going to be saved.”
“Really? How?” David was so surprised his voice cracked.
No way was I going to tell David about Paul being the true father of his nieces—especially if he was that upset about the house—so I said only, “It looks like the demo plans have been delayed. So we’ve got time to work on some alternative strategies.”
“How did you manage that, Suze?”
“David, it’s really late here, so it must be even later there. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I told you before, Suze, I’m not a child anymore. I want to help!”
“I think you’ve helped enough,” I said. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Really, David, I don’t know what I’d do without you. But I’ve got to go to bed. Good night.” I hung up before he could say another word.
“God.” Gina passed me the bowl of buttered popcorn that had been sitting on her lap. “It sounds like you’ve had a spectacularly shitty night.”
“Tell me about it.” I shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth. It tasted like salty ash, but that was due to the day’s events, not Gina’s popping skills. “I just need to decompress for, like, an hour.”
“Fine.” She lifted the remote. “What do you want to watch?”
“Anything but The Bachelor. I’ve had enough of bachelors for one night.”
“Your wish is my command.” She aimed the remote at the screen and flicked through the channel guide. “Uh, looks like our only palatable choices are your favorite, Ghost Mediator, or one of those budget bridal gown shows.”
“Good God. Budget bridal gowns, please.”
She grinned. “I thought so. Budget bridal gowns it is.”
We watched until we fell asleep—well, one of us, anyway. I got up quietly so as not to disturb her, then padded to my bed . . .
. . .but was still wide awake an hour later, unable to get one image out of my mind:
Stop. Wait. Don’t.
There was a lot of blame to go around for the evening’s events, but Jimmy Delgado’s death was squarely on me. That was one soul I’d failed to save . . . not that it had been a soul worth saving.
Jesse, though. What was he doing now? Was he, too, lying awake in his cell, thinking of me? Was he warm enough? What if he didn’t have a blanket? Was he getting along with the other prisoners? What if Paul did not, in fact, drop the charges like he said he was going to? Could I really tell anyone the truth about the triplets?
These were the thoughts with which I was torturing myself when I realized I was not alone in my room.
I knew who it was before I opened my eyes.
I rose up on one elbow and stared at her. Even though I’d sensed her presence, my heart was still thumping.