Push (26 page)

Matt purses his lips and nods, letting out a small, understanding grunt. “I’m sure everything will be all right.” He pauses for a moment, then straightens the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, giving him a small smile.

Matt goes out the door, and I follow a few steps behind. I am nearly at the bus shelter when I see David’s car. He is double-parked in his favorite spot, leaning against the front fender. When he sees me, he lifts his hand in a small wave, and I stop in my tracks. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. We are only thirty paces away from each other, but instead of waking over to him, I send him a text.

Hi.

I watch him put his hand into his pocket and pull out his phone.

Hi back.

Thanks for the ride.

Does that mean you’ll accept it?

Yes.

Then why r u all the way over there?

Because I’m embarrassed.

About?

Last night.

Me too.

Thanks for coming back.

Yep.

Did you have to hold my hair?

Yep.

I’ll bet it was quite a sight.

Yep.

Are you mad?

No. R u?

Not anymore. But we have to talk.

I know. And I’m ready.

Okay.

Do u still love me?

When I read his question, I lift my head immediately and look over at him. His face is smothered with worry. He is holding his phone with both hands. Staring at it. Waiting for my reply.

Like an outta control circus freak.

His face lightens, and he looks up at me, smiling one big-ass smile. I close my phone and run to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body to his.

* * *

We ride back to the apartment building in silence, I think because neither of us knows how to start the conversation. We walk up to my apartment holding hands.

“I’ll be out in a second,” I tell him as I walk to my bedroom. “I just want to change. You can help yourself to something from the fridge, if you want.”

“Okay.” It is the first thing he’s said out loud to me since last night.

In my bedroom, there is a brand-new window where the plywood was, and I smile when I see it. After I change, I walk back out to the living room. David is sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, drinking a can of Coke. There is another one on the coffee table.

“Thanks for fixing my window,” I say as I sit down next to him and reach for the can.

“Yep.” Then, after a few seconds, he asks, “When did you do that?”

“Right after I saw Michael’s number on your phone. I wasn’t snooping, David. I went to call the Chinese place, and the number was right there.”

“Oh.”

“But after I threw the box out the window, I did snoop. I scrolled through your call log, and I saw that you called Michael before. And Ricky. The day that you took me to poker with you. And I just lost it. My mind was racing with reasons why you would call them, and I couldn’t rein myself in.” As soon as I mention David’s previous calls to Michael and Ricky, his face changes. His eyes start searching the room as his hand rubs his chin. It’s as if he is scrambling for the right thing to say. He closes his eyes and tilts back his head. A few seconds pass before he flips his head back down and looks at me again.

“I’m going to tell you why I called them, Emma, but I need you to promise me something first,” he says.

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out until you listen to everything that I have to say. Don’t fly off like you did last night. Okay? Can you promise me that?”

“Yes,” I say. My ears feel hot, and a boatload of anxiety sits on my chest like an enormous fucking anvil. David shifts in his seat and rests his elbow on the back of the sofa. His eyes look ignited.

“The moment I saw you sitting on the floor holding your dad’s cut-up dog tags I knew I had to do something about Michael. I went from being so fucking happy that you had just agreed to be my girlfriend, to a seething, bitter mess over that man and his motherfucking stunt. And then, hearing you tell me all the things that Michael did to you—it made me want to hunt him down. You spent your whole life on some kind of roller coaster, and I wanted to make it stop. I told him to stay the fuck away from you, and he didn’t. And so, while you slept that night and worked the next day, I found a way to punish him.”

“Jesus, David. What did you do?” I say quietly.

“I looked at the boxes in your closet, and I copied down his name and address. I went online to find out about him. And that’s when I saw an article about TruTimber Imports and the trial. I called Michael up and pretended to be from a collection agency. I told him that I was looking for his stepson, Richard Searfoss, and that this was the most recent number the agency had for him. He gave me Ricky’s cell number without so much as a second thought. And then I called Ricky.” David shrugs. He looks as if he wants to stop talking. As if I am not going to like what he has to say next.

“I made up a bullshit story. I told Ricky that I was involved in his stepfather’s illicit business dealings and that he and I had something in common—we both stood to benefit greatly if Michael was no longer in the picture. I said that if word got out about my dealings with the company, it would cause my family a lot of embarrassment and probably incite criminal charges against me. Ricky asked me what all of this had to do with him and why he should even care. I told him that if Michael was removed from the equation, he and his siblings would inherit a whole lot of money, but if Michael’s case were to go to trial, I would be exposed, and if he was found guilty, there would be nothing left for his stepchildren to inherit.”

“What did you do, David?” I am starting to feel sick to my stomach.

“I told Ricky that I would pay him to get rid of Michael, either by doing it himself or by hiring someone.” There is a complete lack of remorse on David’s face.

“What?” There is panic in my voice.

“He asked me why I came to him instead of just hiring someone else. I told him that he was my insurance policy simply because he had the most to gain from Michael’s death. If the crime was traced back to Ricky, he would never see his inheritance, so, essentially, it was my way of ensuring that it would be done cleanly and anonymously. If Ricky made a mistake, he would lose everything—but if he did it right, he would be set for a long, long time. Paying him to get rid of his stepfather made perfect sense.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” I shout at him, my panic morphing into a full-blown conniption. “I understand wanting to protect me, David, but what the fuck were you thinking? What if this comes back to you? And me? What if the police find out about all this? Jesus Christ.”

“You promised,” he says softly. “You promised that you wouldn’t freak out. I’m telling you the truth, and I’m not finished.”

“Yeah, well, I had no idea it was going to be this fucking messed up when I made that promise.” I slouch back on the couch and cross my arms over my chest. I can’t even look at him.

“Please. Just let me finish.”

“Fine,” I snap at him, “but you are completely out of your mind.”

“I know that’s what you think, Emma, and I probably am, but then something happened that I didn’t expect. Ricky told me that he had to think about it. He said he wanted to see if he could access Michael’s will. He needed to make sure you three would actually be the ones to inherit all of Michael’s money. He said he would let me know by Monday night.” David runs his hand through his hair and then drops it back down on to the arm of the couch. “But then we came back here on Monday, and that letter was in your mailbox. Evan had beaten us to it, taken Michael down with a baseball bat the day after I made my offer to Ricky. Only at that point no one knew it was Evan. But I knew that Ricky wouldn’t have gone through with the plan unless he had his money first. I had no clue what the fuck was happening, and I don’t think Ricky did either.”

“So then, you had nothing to do with Michael’s death? You didn’t end up paying Ricky to do anything?” I ask.

“Well, not exactly. It turns out that Ricky is smarter than I thought.” His eyebrows raise, and his mouth presses shut.

“How? What happened?”

“He showed up here on Tuesday morning.”

“What?” I snap. “Ricky was
here
last week?” My mind is racing, and my eyes are darting around the room. “He must have found my address at Michael’s house. Fuck. Why would he come to see me?” I am blabbering now, thinking out loud.

“Actually, he wasn’t looking for you. He was looking for me. He used my cell number to find me. I came back home after dropping you off at work, and Ricky was sitting on the steps of the building.”

I give him a what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking face.

“I know,” he says quietly. “It was stupid of me to use my cell phone. It wasn’t my finest moment. I don’t make mistakes like that, Emma. Ever. I was just so desperate to fix this. To get Michael out of your life. And I had a very small time frame in which to do it.”

“Jesus.” I am disgusted with all of it.

He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Ricky had no idea who beat Michael in that parking garage but said it had nothing to do with him. He assumed I found someone else to take care of it, but I assured him that that was not the case. Then he told me he wanted forty grand to keep his mouth shut about our potential arrangement.”

“
What?
”

“I told him he was fucking nuts. And then he smiled at me, and I knew instantly that he knew more than he was letting on.” David stops and takes another deep breath. He rests his elbows on his knees and his head is in his hands, looking at the floor. “Ricky said he knew that I had no involvement with TruTimber Imports and that I was trying to get rid of Michael for a very different reason. He said he came here wanting twenty grand to keep his mouth shut, but then he saw you and me get into my car together that morning. Everything clicked, and when he realized why I
really
wanted Michael gone, he decided to double his money. You said your brothers were assholes, Emma, but I had no idea.”

“That fucking cocksucker.” I stand up and start pacing the living room.

“I told him that you didn’t know anything about all this and that if he ever so much as looked at you again, I would take him down. I was so fucking pissed off at myself for underestimating him, and I needed it all to go away, Emma, and so I told him that I would get him the money.”

“Was he
here
when I called him on Tuesday night to confirm that Michael was really dead?” I am repulsed by the thought of Ricky being so close to me. And with the idea that David was the one who made it happen.

“Yeah,” he says, looking intensely ashamed. “And he was upstairs on Wednesday night when you came home from work.” He flinches when he says it because he knows what is about to happen.

I stop pacing and turn toward David. “He was in your apartment? Jesus fucking Christ, David! Is that why you were counting that money? To give it to Ricky?” I press my fingers into my eyes. I am boiling with anger. I pull my hands away from my hot skin and stab my finger at him as I talk. “You mean while we were down here fucking on my couch, my motherfucking brother was upstairs in your apartment waiting for you to pay him off?” I didn’t think it was possible for me to be as angry with David as I was yesterday, but right now, I am about to explode.

“Brad and a couple of other guys were up there with him. Ricky left with twenty grand that night. And then on Saturday night, when he called to tell you about Evan’s involvement, I knew it was really meant as a reminder to me. A reminder that I still owed him money and that he was still in control. That’s why I made that phone call to Michael’s house after you fell asleep. Ricky is living there now, and I called to tell him to leave you the fuck alone and to find out where and when he wanted me to deliver the rest of the money. He insisted I take it to him that night. He was worried that by Sunday morning, the cops would be all over him because they had just arrested Evan. I left to take him the money right after he and I hung up, knowing that I wouldn’t be here when you woke up.” He pauses for a second and draws in a long, steady breath. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

“You’ll be even more sorry when Ricky comes back asking for more money. Because he will do that, you know. He’ll be back for more.” I am livid, and my voice is crackling with sarcasm aimed right at David’s stupidity.

“No, he won’t. I made it completely clear to him that if he ever contacts you or me again, I will shoot him in the goddamned head.” He says it with so much force that I can’t help but believe him.

I am furious that David did all this behind my back and that he let my dickhead of a brother blackmail him out of forty grand. How could he be so stupid?

“You were never going to tell me about this, were you?” I say bitterly.

“No. I didn’t want you involved. I should have deleted those phone calls, and I am mad as hell at myself for not. But I did all of it to protect you, Emma. And I would do it again.”

I sit down at one of the chairs around my little table. We are quiet for a long time.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this last night when I asked you?” I sound calmer now, even though inside I am still seething.

“Because I needed time to think,” he answers.

“You were going to lie to me about it, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but again, I was only trying to protect you. But then tonight, when you mentioned the earlier phone calls, I knew you wouldn’t settle for the lie I had conjured to cover my ass.”

“I want you to leave now, David. I want you to go home.”

I watch his chest fill up with air. When he exhales, his head snaps around, and his eyes meet mine. His face looks worn. He stares at me for a few minutes without moving.

“I mean it, David,” I say. “I need some time to think about this. Just give me till Wednesday. You have poker tomorrow night anyway.” His expression drops even farther, and his eyes close for a brief second. “Just let me breathe, David. Give me till Wednesday. Please,” I add.

“Okay,” he says, standing up and wiping his palms down the front of his thighs. “But all this is over, Emma. I just wanted you to stop hurting.” He walks to the door and puts his hand on the knob. “Call me if you need anything, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat. You know that.”