“It’s still good advice.”
“It’s not advice. It’s an aphorism.”
“Right.”
We arrived at the intersection of Glory View and Eastern Timber Roads.
To get to Paul Lansing’s house we needed to drive half a mile up Glory View, then jump onto an old logging road that terminated at his cabin. I slowed down, maybe more than I needed to, hesitated for a moment, then turned onto Glory View.
Tessa picked up the diary from the floor. Set it on her lap. She fingered it for a moment, then said, “So, ninety minutes. That’s all it took for them to decide?”
I was slow in replying. I knew this was going to come up, I just didn’t know when. “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” I said. “Some juries don’t need long to deliberate.” The news of this morning’s verdict had been all over the TV screens at the airport. And since my name and face were part of the Richard Basque saga, I’m sure it hadn’t even taken Tessa two seconds to connect the dots.
“So what happens now? He just goes free? Just like that?”
Emilio Vandez had filed for a mistrial, but for now the answer to her question was yes. “That’s the way the system works. Mr. Basque was found not guilty.”
“But he is guilty, though, right?”
“He was found not guilty,” I repeated, although I knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “According to the law, he’s an innocent man.”
A stretch of silence.
“According to the law,” she said.
We rumbled up Glory View Road.
I didn’t reply.
More clouds gathered overhead.
“He’ll go after other women, won’t he?”
“No. I won’t let him do that. I made a promise that I wouldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”
She stared at me. “How are you going to do that?”
I thought about it. “I’m not sure.”
The space between us seemed to widen, and after a few moments she said, “You knew, didn’t you? All this time? That mom was going to abort me?”
For a long time I considered how to answer her, finally opted for the truth. “Yes, I knew. It was a magazine ad. That’s what changed her mind.”
“Of a little girl. With a jewelry box in the background.”
I looked at her curiously.
“The story doesn’t end in pain,” she said softly, cryptically, then added, “But you never told me because you thought it would hurt me, right?”
This was an incredibly difficult conversation to have. “Tessa, sometimes to protect people you can’t be completely open with them.. . It’s… I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s hard to balance the truth with compassion.”
“Thank you.”
Her words caught me by surprise. “You’re glad I didn’t tell you?”
“No,” she replied. “But I’m glad why you didn’t tell me.”
We arrived at the entrance to the dirt road that led to Paul Lansing’s house, and I let the car idle.
“So,” I said. “Do you still want to do this?”
I hoped that she would say no, that sometime during the drive she would have changed her mind and decided that all of this had been a mistake and that things would be better for everyone if we just went back home.
But instead, she nodded and laced her fingers across the top of the diary. “Let’s go.”
A thousand questions curled around me.
And whether I liked it or not, the answer to the most important one lay just up the road.
As the sun slid behind a cloud and a few lonely raindrops plopped onto the windshield, I pulled around the corner and drove toward Paul Lansing’s home.
EPILOGUE
Time collapsed into nothingness.
A week might have passed. Or a month. Or more. There was no way to tell. In a darkness this deep, time meant nothing.
But eventually, Giovanni became aware of motorized sounds high above him in the shaft that he had blown shut.
Someone was digging him out.
And so.
More time slid by, hourglass sand he couldn’t measure.
Eventually the sounds became louder, clearer, as more boulders and rubble were removed.
At last, slivers of light began to pierce the shaft, sliding like glowing sabers through the thick, dark air.
Like rays of summer sunlight.
Then muffled voices.
Indistinguishable, but they grew more distinct as the pile of debris was cleared.
Someone called, “Hello? Are you there, sir? Are you all right down there?”
“I’m hurt,” Giovanni replied, working on his acting once again.
“Please, I need help.” He flicked out his straight razor and stepped to the edge of the shadows.
Within minutes, the last three boulders were removed, and two S.W.A.T. members rappelled down the shaft, each man heavily armed and wearing body armor. But that didn’t matter to Giovanni, because he could still get to their necks.
As soon as they dropped into view he introduced them to his blade.
Sunlight spilled and sprayed around him.
Wet screams echoed through the tunnel.
And the Knight began to tell a brand-new story to the curious, waiting world.