The site of my bare bosom stuns me for a moment, allowing Gina to reach for the gun. But before she can pick it up, I lunge forward again, crashing into her arm and throwing all my weight on top of it.
“Get off me, damn you,” Gina mutters, writhing beneath me. There is a tremendous crash behind us and I feel Gina grow still, then stiffen. “What the hell is that?” she screeches.
I roll slightly to the side and glance up. There, standing in the doorway, is a huge monolith of flesh encased in red spandex, replete with boots, gloves, and a long red cape. On the chest is a huge yellow letter H. The face of this mind-boggling apparition is partially hidden behind a red, Lone Ranger-type mask, but I know who it is.
“Joey, help me!” I shout. But he just stands there, his gaze transfixed on my bare chest.
“Damn it, Joey. She’s got a gun!”
Joey shakes off his reverie and springs to action, leaping toward us and falling on top of me, squishing all the air from my lungs. I hear a snap from somewhere beneath me and Gina screams out, “My arm! You broke my fucking arm, you bitch!”
I want to tell Joey to move, but I can’t suck in enough breath with his weight on top of me. So I reach up and hit him on his shoulder instead, hoping I can communicate my need to him some other way.
“What the hell is this?” says a different voice.
Hurley? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I crane my head around to peer over Joey’s shoulder and sure enough, Hurley is standing in the doorway.
Joey finally rolls off of me, reaches over, and picks up the gun.
“Hey!” Hurley yells, pulling his own weapon and aiming it right at Joey. “Drop it!”
“It’s okay, Hurley,” I say quickly, grateful I can finally breathe. “He’s one of the good guys. This one’s the one you want,” I tell him, gesturing toward Gina. Gina moans and I roll off of her, sitting up and exposing my naked torso to the world. “She’s the one who killed Karen and Mike. It wasn’t Sid, it was Gina.”
Joey carefully sets the gun he is holding on the desk. Then he gawks at my chest again, his eyes huge.
Hurley sheathes his own gun, then unbuttons his shirt and takes it off, tossing it to me on the floor. “For heaven’s sake,” he mutters. “Cover yourself up.”
Just as I pick up the shirt, Alison Miller appears in the doorway, her ubiquitous camera hanging from her neck. She looks at Hurley and his bare chest, then at me and mine. For a fleeting second, she allows herself to pout. Then the reporter in her takes over and in one swift motion, she raises the camera, aims it at me, and snaps a picture. “Does this have something to do with this nipple incident thing I heard about?” she asks, snapping a second shot. She moves deeper into the room and aims once more. “Ooh,” she says as the camera clicks. “I wonder if the paper will print these.”
Chapter 35
It’s seven o’clock on Friday evening and Izzy, Dom, and I are sitting in the Peking House looking over our menus. Actually I am looking over my menu, since Izzy and Dom knew what they were going to order before we ever got here. I can’t keep my eyes on the menu for long though. I keep watching the door instead.
“Are you sure this is where he said they were coming?” I ask Izzy.
“I’m just as sure now as I was when you asked me five minutes ago. And five minutes before that. Can we please order before I die of starvation?”
“Sorry.” I force myself to focus and choose a beef and broccoli dish, fried dumplings, and pork fried rice. When the waitress comes over to take our order, my eyes once again stray toward the door.
“Would you just relax?” Izzy says as soon as the waitress is gone. “They’ll either show or they won’t. Not much you can do about it now.”
“But you’re sure this is where he said—”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Izzy sighs.
“Okay, I’m sorry.” I pry my eyes away from the door and look at Izzy. “You’re right. I’m being stupid. Talk to me about something. Distract me.”
“Okay, you asked for it.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I got a call about the DNA results this afternoon right after you left.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“Oh.” I feel panicky all of a sudden. My worst fears are about to be either confirmed or laid to rest and I’m not sure which outcome I want. “Tell me about the test on Karen and Mike first.”
“Okay. Karen Owenby, or should I say Sharon Carver, and Mike Halverson were definitely brother and sister, just as we suspected.”
“Not a big surprise given what we know,” I say.
“Why the different names?” Dom asks.
“Sharon Carver was once Sharon Halverson,” I explain. “Arnie uncovered a Kentucky marriage license issued to a Sharon Halverson and a Nathaniel Carver. Apparently they divorced less than a year later but Sharon kept the name.”
Dom nods. “And do you know for sure that the woman you knew as Karen Owenby was Sharon Carver?”
“We do,” says Izzy. “We finally tracked down a dentist in Kentucky who treated Sharon Carver and got some dental films for comparison. It’s definitely the same woman.”
There is a moment of silence, during which I stare at the tablecloth, afraid to meet Izzy’s gaze. Finally he says, “Do you want to know about the DNA test regarding the baby or would you rather I keep that one to myself?”
I take in a deep breath and brace myself. “Tell me.”
“David was the father.”
I don’t know what to say. I expect to feel something—anger, disappointment, righteous indignation…something. But I don’t. Izzy watches me with a wary expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“What’s to say? It happened. It’s done. It’s time to move on.”
“You make it sound awfully simple.”
“It is,” I tell him with a shrug. “It took me a while to get past the emotional aspects of David’s betrayal. I’m still not completely over it, but at least I’m to the point where I can look at everything with a bit of objectivity. And I realize that by sleeping with someone else, David showed a total disregard not only for our marriage, but for my health, hell, for my life. I can’t forgive him for that. Nor can I ever trust him again.”
Izzy leans close and drops his voice to just above a whisper. “I do have one other bit of news for you,” he says. “But you can’t let it go beyond this table because I violated some rules to get it.”
“Okay.”
“You already know that the HIV test we ran on Karen came back negative,” he says, and I nod. “But I had Arnie run one on the blood sample from David, as well. It was also negative, so you don’t need to worry.”
I squeeze my eyes closed with relief. “Thank you, Izzy. I definitely owe you for this one.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Dom says, “What a mess this has been.”
“You’ve got that right,” I agree. “Though there is at least one person who benefited from it all. Alison Miller.”
Because Sid and Gina were both prominent figures and the sordid details of their secretive lives made for sensational coverage, reporters from all over the country have descended on Sorenson in the past week, hounding anyone and everyone they think might be able to give them any information. Izzy and I have kept our lips zipped, refusing to give a statement. But Alison Miller has been basking in her newfound celebrity, doling out tidbits as she sees fit, wielding her power with utter joy. Rumor has it she’s been negotiating with several sources for the rights to the pictures she snapped of me, so I called Lucien and had him threaten both Alison and the paper with a major lawsuit should the pictures appear in any form, anywhere.