Patti’s blood ran cold. Feeling as if life had gone into slow motion, she turned her head. June had the gun. She lifted it, aimed at Yvette.
No! The word resounded through her head even as she mustered all her strength and threw herself on top of Yvette.
The gun went off. One shot. Pain. Intense, searing. She heard Yvette’s scream, the voices of others, shouts. Spencer.
And then silence.
77
Sunday, May 20, 2007
9:15 a.m.
Patti opened her eyes. Spencer sat beside her hospital bed. He was smiling at her. “Hello, sleepyhead,” he said.
She returned his smile, groggy from pain medication. “Hey.”
“Doc says you’re going to be okay. Bullet went through a fleshy spot, raised a little hell, but didn’t do any permanent damage. As for the scissors, you’re gonna have one ugly-ass scar.”
“Can’t kill someone as ornery as me.” She found the remote and, with his help, raised the bed until she was in a sitting position. “That’s better. How are Stacy and Shauna?”
“Dehydrated. Sick from the mold. Otherwise unharmed.”
She curled her fingers around his. “And you and Stacy?”
“We’re good, Aunt Patti. Really good.” He cleared his throat. “You were right about Yvette. And Franklin. And I was so wrong. If you hadn’t stuck to your guns, Yvette would most likely be dead and Franklin standing trial for a murder he didn’t commit.”
She had found Sammy’s killer. Stopped the Handyman from ever hurting another woman.
Yet she couldn’t rejoice. She had been betrayed by someone she had loved.
Seeing Patti’s expression, he curved his fingers tighter around hers. “I’m sorry, Patti. I can’t believe Aunt June…you know. I just…can’t.”
Neither could she. She might never be able to truly accept it.
“At least I know the truth about Sammy.”
She could let go now. Take the next step in her life.
Yvette tapped on the door. “Can I come in?”
Spencer smiled and stood. “Hey, Yvette. I was just leaving.” He kissed Patti’s cheek, then straightened. He walked to the door, stopped and looked back at Yvette. “By the way, peppermint salt scrub in the eyes? Good thinking.”
When the door clicked shut behind him, Yvette turned to Patti. “I’ve got something for you.” She was grinning, obviously pleased with herself.
“What?”
She crossed to the bed and plopped down on the chair. She held out a check.
Patti frowned. “A check? What for?”
“Take it and see.”
She did. It was made out to Patti O’Shay in the amount of ten thousand dollars.
The deposit to keep her from running.
Patti looked at Yvette in question.
“When I accepted your offer of fifty grand, I thought it’d be enough for me to start a new life. Give me a fresh start, a shiny clean slate. I’d go to school or start my own business.”
“You still could.”
“I’ve already started my new life.” She leaned forward. “It was never about having enough money. It was always about what was inside me.
“You took a bullet for me, just because you believed it was the right thing to do. This way-” she reached out and curved Patti’s fingers gently around the check. “-I’ll have stayed and helped you for all the right reasons.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Yvette smiled. “I could use a friend? A real one this time.”
Patti returned her smile. “I like the sound of that. Friends.”
About Erica Spindler
Erica Spindler's bestselling novels include Dead Run, Bone Cold, All Fall Down and Cause for Alarm. She lives in the New Orleans area with her husband, an advertising executive, and their two sons.
