Chapter 7 - THE HUSBAND I BURIED
“Stay inside!” David shouted.
Mercer struck him across the head with the gun.
I screamed.
The diner waitress turned.
“What’s happening?”
“Call 911!”
David looked at me through the rain.
“No police!”
Mercer laughed.
“That’s right, Catherine. Listen to your husband.”
He pushed David toward a black sedan.
My brain raced.
I couldn’t let him disappear again.
But Logan was beside me.
I had to choose.
David saw the choice on my face.
“Take care of Logan!”
Mercer opened the car door.
Then tires screamed.
A black SUV slammed into the sedan.
Metal crunched.
Mercer fell.
The diner windows shook.
Alessandro Romano stepped from the SUV.
Hospital gown beneath an expensive coat.
Bandages visible at his neck.
A gun in his hand.
“You really are hard to kill,” Mercer shouted.
Alessandro smiled.
“I get that a lot.”
David rushed Mercer.
They hit the pavement.
I covered Logan’s eyes.
Gunshots erupted.
The waitress screamed.
Customers crawled beneath tables.
A second SUV arrived.
Matteo jumped out.
Alive.
He pulled David away.
Mercer fired toward Alessandro.
The bullet struck the diner window.
Glass exploded.
I dropped over Logan.
“Back room!” the waitress yelled.
We crawled behind the counter.
Outside, tires screamed again.
Mercer escaped.
Seconds later, David burst into the diner.
“Catherine!”
I stood.
For two years, I had imagined that moment.
David coming home.
David walking through a door.
David saying my name.
In those dreams, I always ran to him.
I didn’t.
I punched him.
Hard.
Right across the face.
He staggered.
Then I hit his chest.
“You were alive!”
“Cat—”
I hit him again.
“You were alive!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You let me tell our son his father was dead!”
Tears streamed down my face.
“You let me sleep alone beside his crib while I thought you were rotting in the ground!”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t!”
Logan’s voice came softly behind me.
“Daddy?”
Everything stopped.
David looked past me.
Logan stood holding his torn bear.
He stared at the father he only knew from photographs.
David’s face broke.
“Hey, buddy.”
Logan looked at me.
“Is that really Daddy?”
I couldn’t speak.
David crouched.
“I’m your dad.”
Logan studied him.
Then asked, “Why didn’t you come home?”
David closed his eyes.
That question hurt him more than my fist ever could.
“I wanted to.”
“You know my birthday?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
David answered immediately.
Logan asked another.
“What cereal do I like?”
“Chocolate dinosaur cereal.”
“What’s my favorite cartoon?”
David smiled through tears.
“Space Patrol.”
Logan’s lip trembled.
“You know me?”
“I’ve watched every video your mom posted privately for family.”
My head snapped toward him.
“You watched us?”
“From a distance.”
For two years.
Every birthday.
Every fever.
Every Christmas.
He had been somewhere.
Watching.
Not coming home.
Logan moved forward.
David opened his arms.
Logan stopped just short.
“I’m mad at you.”
David nodded.
“You should be.”
Then Logan hugged him anyway.
David collapsed around our son.
I turned away because I couldn’t watch.
Alessandro entered with Matteo.
“We need to move.”
David stood with Logan in his arms.
“No more running.”
Alessandro stared at him.
“You have the card?”
I held it up.
David’s face changed.
“We expose Mercer tonight.”
Matteo shook his head.
“We need someone clean.”
“There is someone,” David said.
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“My sister.”
I frowned.
“Rachel?”
David nodded.
“My sister isn’t a federal agent.”
“No.”
“What is she?”
David answered quietly.
“Assistant United States Attorney.”
I stared at him.
“Your sister sells real estate.”
David gave me a sad look.
“Catherine…”
My rage returned.
“Is anyone in your family who they said they were?”
Nobody answered.
Then David’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
All color drained from his face.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward us.
A photograph of Rachel tied to a chair.
Below it:
BRING THE CARD TO PIER 19.
May you like
COME ALONE.
OR YOUR SISTER DIES.
