Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(2)

“I want Skittles!”

“Then Skittles it’ll be.”

The lights inside were so bright they burned her eyes, but she got him an orange Fanta and Skittles. She thought about sliding the candy into her purse, but she was too damn tired to bother.

It left her with less than a dollar in change, but she wouldn’t need money where she was going anyway.

As she crossed back to the car, she dug out a pill from the zipped pocket in her purse. Thinking of puppies and toys and her baby darling giggling with the angels, she popped the tab and slipped it into the can.

This was best for both of them.

He smiled at her—sweet, sweet smile—and bounced on the seat when she came back.

“I love you, baby darling.”

“I love you, Mommy. Did you get my Skittles? Did ya? Are we going on another ’venture?”

“Yeah, I got ’em, and yeah, you bet. The biggest adventure yet. And when we get there, there’ll be angels and flowers and puppy dogs.”

“Can I have a puppy? Can I, can I, can I? I want a puppy now!”

“You can have all the puppies.”

She looked back at him as he slurped some of the drink through the straw she’d stuck in the pop top. Her little towheaded man. He’d grown inside her, come out of her. She’d given up everything for him.

No one in her life had ever loved her as he did.

And she’d ruined it.

Windows open to the hot, thick air, she drove, not back to the highway, but aimlessly. Somewhere in Louisiana. Somewhere, but it didn’t matter. She drove, just drove with the sweaty air blowing around her. Away from the strip malls, away from the lights.

He sang, but after a while his voice had that sleepy slur to it.

“Go to sleep now, baby darling. Just go to sleep now.”

He’d be better off, better off, wouldn’t he be better off?

Tears tracked down her cheeks as she took a pill for herself.

She’d find a place, a dark, quiet place. She’d down the rest of the pills, then climb in the back with her baby boy. They’d go to heaven together.

God wouldn’t take her away from her baby darling or him from her. He’d go to heaven, so she would, too. The God in Bible study had a long white beard, kind eyes. Light poured right out of his fingertips.

That was the way to heaven.

And she saw a light instead of the dark. It seemed to shine above a small white church sitting by itself on a little hill. Flowers bloomed around it, and grass grew neat and smooth.

She could smell it all through the open window.

Dazed, half dreaming, she stopped the car. This was heaven, or close enough. Close enough for her baby darling.

She carried him to it like an offering to the kind-eyed God with his white beard, to the angels with their spread wings and soft smiles.

He stirred as she laid him down by the door, whined for her.

“You sleep now, my baby darling. Just sleep.”

She stroked him awhile until he settled. He hadn’t had enough of the drink, she thought, not enough to take him all the way to those angels and puppies. But maybe this was the best. Close to heaven, under the light, with flowers all around.

She walked back to the car that smelled of candy and sweat. He’d spilled the drink, she saw now, when he’d fallen asleep, and the Skittles were scattered over the back seat like colorful confetti.

He was in God’s hands now.

She drove away, drove and drove with her mind floating on the drug. Happy now, no pain. So light, so light. She sang to him, forgetting he no longer sat in the back seat.

Her head didn’t hurt now, and her hands didn’t want to shake. Not with the night wind blowing over her face, through her hair. And the pill doing its magic.

Was she going to meet her friends? She couldn’t quite remember.

What classes did she have in the morning?

It didn’t matter, nothing mattered now.

When she saw the lake, and the moonlight on it, she sighed. There, of course. That’s where she needed to go.

Like a baptism. A cleansing on the way to heaven.

Thrilled, she punched the gas and drove into the water. As the car started to sink, so slowly, she smiled, and closed her eyes.





NOW


Her name was Mary Kate Covino. She was twenty-five, an assistant marketing manager at Dowell and Associates. She’d started there straight out of college, and had climbed a couple of rungs since.

She liked her job.

She mostly liked her life, even though her jerk of a boyfriend had dumped her right before the romantic getaway she’d planned—meticulously—like a campaign.

Yesterday? The day before? She couldn’t be sure. Everything blurred. It was June—June something—2061.

She had a younger sister, Tara, a grad student at Carnegie Mellon. Tara was the smart one. And an older brother, Carter, the clever one. He’d just gotten engaged to Rhonda.

She had a roommate, Cleo—like another sister—and they shared a two-bedroom apartment on the Lower West Side.

She’d grown up in Queens and, though her parents had divorced when she’d been eleven, they’d all been pretty civilized about it. Both her parents had remarried—no stepsibs—but their second round was okay. Everybody stayed chill.

Her maternal grandparents—Gran and Pop—had given her a puppy for her sixth birthday. Best present ever. Lulu lived a happy life until the age of fourteen when she’d just gone to sleep and hadn’t woken up again.