Eyes Wide Open Part 34

The woman he knew as Mags's eyes bore in on him. "I gave up my life for him. For Russell. What did you give up? You gave up nothing, Charlie. So you had to pay."

"What did you do to my son?" Gabby said, glaring at her.

"What did I do to your son?" Susan laughed and looked as if she was talking about a dying insect. "Your son was a confused little child who didn't know whether he was alive or dead."

"No, he was innocent," Gabby said, standing up. "He was sick."

"He was crazy, you stupid b.i.t.c.h. I learned more of what was in his heart in an hour than the two of you knew about him your whole lives. He wanted to kill himself out of spite just for the pain it would cause you. He hated the two of you-you both! But he was afraid, just like you were always afraid, Charlie. The little coward didn't have the guts to do what had to be done."

"What did you do to him?" Gabby's face became twisted with horror and rage. She took a step toward her, and Maggie raised the gun to her face, aiming it at her with two hands.

"Gabby, please . . ." Charlie tried to stand and go to her, but Dev lifted his foot and kicked him back onto the couch.

"You'll have your own turn, Charlie boy."

Gabby stared into Susan Pollack's impa.s.sive face. Tears suddenly glistened in her eyes, the moistness slowly trickling down her cheeks. "What did you do to him?" she pressed.

Susan Pollack merely smiled.

"Please. You were there with him. Tell me. I need to know. Do what you want to me, I don't care. But I need to know. It's all that matters to me now." She took another step toward Susan, not menacingly, more like imploring her. "Somewhere in your heart you are a woman too. Can't you see? Our lives are over. They were over the day he died. So tell me, I beg you, please. It's all that matters now. What happened to my son?"

Susan Pollack raised the gun and aimed it at Gabby's face.

Charlie's chest flooded with fear. "Gabby, no!"

Susan gave her a smile. Then she lowered the gun, eyes bright with delight. "You really want to know? He said I was his angel. So I did what an angel does." She grinned. "I showed him the way."

Chapter Seventy-Six.

He stepped out on the ledge once again, trembling. He gazed at the million lit candles far below, heard the whoosh of the surf crashing onto the rocks.

"Just fly, Evan . . ."

"You mean like this?" He spread out his arms.

"Yes," his angel said, "just like that."

He wanted to, he told himself. He really did. He wanted to end it, end the pain and hurt; end the confusion and the voice and all the disappointment that he knew he caused. His mom and dad had turned him over to the police. They had abandoned him. Put him away. How can people who love you betray you? This was the way . . .

He took another step, leaning forward.

But he couldn't. He just stared out at the lights and started to cry. He realized how mistaken he had been. The things he'd done. His part in the hurt he had caused. He flashed to his mother and father. He imagined what it would be like, their hearing the news, and instead of relief and joy, he saw how devastated they would be. How, through it all, they still loved him. Through the cursing and the anger and the fights, that's what he saw there.

They loved him.

And he loved them.

This wasn't the way.

"I can't," he said, stepping back from the edge. "I can't."

"Just let G.o.d take you, Evan. I'm your angel. You know that, don't you?"

"No." He shook his head. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You cowardly little s.h.i.t," the voice said, her tone hardening. "Do what you're f.u.c.king up here for. Do what you have to do."

"No!" He turned and stared, and suddenly saw an ugly, foreign face, a woman he had never seen before. Not his angel. Not his inner voice. "Who are you?"

"I'm not your little angel, you ignorant s.h.i.t." The woman's face was now twisted in disgust. "I'm your h.e.l.l, boy! And your h.e.l.l is here. Now do it! You want to die? Well, I'm here to bring you to the promised land. There's no turning back. Your parents don't give a s.h.i.t. They hate you just the way you hate them. Now do what you came here to do."

"No-I see it now," he said, the moon illuminating his face, slick with tears. "I came up here to see G.o.d. And now I've seen him." He turned to the panoply of lights, the millions of candles a.s.sembled before him. "Look, I understand it now. I see-"

"You see nothing, you stupid, drugged-out worm! You wouldn't know G.o.d if he was with you now."

"He is," he said, ignoring the taunts. "I can feel him. He's-"

"Then let him save you," the woman said. She threw her weight against him, forcing him toward the edge. His heart started to race. He tried to gain his balance, stumbling over a rock, his right foot coming out of his shoe.

"Dad!"

"Your daddy isn't up here," the woman said. "Just me. That's all." She pushed him again. This time he tried to grab on to her and spun his arms, teetering.

"You want your parents, little boy? You'll be with them soon enough. Tell him that, Evan. When you see G.o.d. Tell him Mommy and Daddy are on the way."

She taunted him again. He tried to latch onto her, the angel he had trusted, but found only air.

He stared down at the bottom, terrified. "Mom!"

She pushed him one last time, and he spun, seeing clearly now that the lights weren't candles at all, but streets, homes, cars, and that the choir below wasn't angelic voices, but waves crashing, hitting the rocks.

Yet, instead of fear, something else entered his heart as his arms fluttered, unable to stop his fall.

Something welcoming. For the first time, a kind of attachment.

Everything seemed to reach out to him in a friendly way.

Mom, Dad . . .

He reached out, trying to grab on to them.

But it was only the night he held, the endless starry night.

Chapter Seventy-Seven.

"You killed him!" Gabby stared uncomprehendingly at Susan, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You killed my son."

"I merely did what the gutless little s.h.i.t didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to do himself," Susan Pollack replied. "I showed him the way."

I heard this, pressed against the front door, having crossed the courtyard to Charlie's apartment. Susan Pollack's spiteful re-creation of Evan's death, and Gabby's heartbroken reply.

I had the dead officer's gun with me.

The curtains were drawn, but the door was still slightly ajar, and I could hear what was happening inside. I prayed that the cabbie had done what I'd begged him to and called the police. Through a slit in the curtains, I saw Dev and Susan Pollack holding guns on Charlie and Gabby.

I was the only one who could help them now.

"You're not an angel," Gabby said, her gaze blazing like a furnace bursting with hate. "You're a monster. You killed him. You're the one who should die. This monster killed our son, Charlie . . ." She was starting to lose control. "I cannot live with that."

"Dev, please!" Charlie turned to him. "You've got what you came for. Here I am. Can't you see she's suffered enough? She's done nothing to you. Let her go."

"Let her go?" Dev c.o.c.kily wagged his gun. "That's where you're wrong, old friend. She's done everything to me. She's your wife, Charlie. She's the mother of your son."

Helpless tears ran into Charlie's gray beard. "Please."

Dev just shook his head. "Sorry, mate. No can do."

"I waited thirty years," Susan Pollack said with a gleam in her eye. She raised the gun to Gabby's face. "You want your little boy so bad . . ." She c.o.c.ked it with both thumbs. "Be sure and tell him h.e.l.lo from me."

I couldn't wait any longer. I burst through the door.

Susan Pollack spun, surprised.

I trained my gun on Dev, who sat there with neither shock nor real concern on his face. More like amus.e.m.e.nt.

In front of the hearth, Susan Pollack's gun had fixed on me, her hands shaking.

My problem was, I couldn't just start shooting.

They had Maxie.

"Drop the gun," I said to her, the dead policeman's gun trained on Dev.

Dev just sat there, his gun dangling nonchalantly against his thigh, actually facing Charlie. "Gonna kill me, doc? Bad policy, wouldn't you say, all things considered . . . ?"

"Get out of here, Jay," Charlie said. "Please. Get out now. This is our fight."

"It is my fight, Charlie. They've got Maxie. The police are on their way." I looked at Susan, not knowing if she would respond to reason. "There's no way out. You shoot me, I shoot him."

"Loosey-goosey, huh, doc?" Dev grinned. "That's how you want to play it? Well . . ." I saw him firm up his grip on the gun. "Just the way I like it, I guess . . ." He shifted toward me. "Though I was thinking, surely a guy with such a fancy degree would be smart enough to have been a long ways from here by now . . ."

There was a kind of chuckling, almost fatalistic quality to his tone, and it made me worry. Almost as if he sensed he had the upper hand.

We both knew I couldn't shoot him dead.

That was when Gabby turned to Charlie, her cheeks tearstained, a kind of finality on her face. "I am sorry, my husband . . ."

Fear in his eyes, he suddenly realized what she was thinking.

"I am sorry . . ." She shook her head. "But I cannot live in this h.e.l.l anymore."

"Gabby, no, no!"

She lunged, surprising Susan Pollack, who brought her gun back in a defensive gesture. Gabby barreled into her, driving her back into the stone mantel with the fierceness of an enraged animal.

Susan uttered a horrific, garbled scream as she went backward. Her mouth parted in a frieze of disbelief and horror.

Her throat impaled on the jagged neck of Charlie's guitar.

I heard the m.u.f.fled blast of a gun firing, Susan's gun, but not before Gabby wrapped her hands around Susan's throat, forcing her harder and harder against the hearth, the splintered wood ripping through her larynx like a sharpened lance.

The gun fell to the floor amid her twitching, guttural rattles.

"You killed my Evan!" Gabby kept her hands on Susan, her eyes ablaze, squeezing the remaining life out of her, looking directly into her face.

We all just stood there frozen.

Gabby finally let go, Susan remaining upright for another second or two against the fireplace. Then she slid, her rattles ending, to the floor.

Gabby turned, holding her abdomen, blood on her fingers.

That's when everything went crazy.

Dev whirled and the next thing I knew, his gun went off, and I felt a scorching pain in my abdomen.

I looked at a b.l.o.o.d.y, jagged hole in my shirt.

I spun against the wall, my gun seeming to fire on its own. Three times.

One bullet tore into Dev's shoulder. Another found its way into his thigh, causing him to double over and cry out. The last shot shattered the mirror behind him.

He looked at the hole in his thigh, blood seeping through. His wounds seemed only to make him madder. He looked back up at me, his eyes ablaze. "You f.u.c.king sonovab.i.t.c.h!"

He raised his gun toward me.

I heard Charlie yell out, "No . . ."