The Perfect Mother(85)
“Hello? Francie?” It’s a man’s voice.
She steps closer to the door. “Who is it?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel?” Her head is spinning. That name. It’s familiar. Daniel.
She closes her eyes and presses her temples. The article she read. The interview Winnie gave after her mother died. I’ve been relying on Daniel. He’s the only thing getting me through the grief.
He’s banging harder.
Winnie’s boyfriend? He’s here, at her apartment? Did Winnie send him? Perhaps with a message—something to lead her to Midas?
“Francie, open up. Please. I have to talk to you.”
She turns the dead bolt and opens the door an inch, peering into the hall. The word comes out in a whisper.
“Token?”
“You were her boyfriend?”
“Yes,” he says. “A long time ago.”
“And now—you’re together?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Will lets out a cry, and Francie stands, but Token gets to him first, lifting him from the swing. He cradles him to his chest and begins to pace her living room.
She sits back down on the armchair, keeping her eyes on her baby. “But the two of you—”
“We’re just very good friends.” His gaze is on the floor, avoiding hers. “After her mom died, she ended it. She withdrew from everyone, including me. I did everything I could to change her mind, but she refused to see me.”
“I don’t get it. Why are you here?”
His laugh sounds strange—bitter even. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just wanted to see you. You may be the only person who sees what’s going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Winnie didn’t do this.”
Francie is so tired; her mind is cloudy. She doesn’t like him holding Will, but she feels lightheaded. “Your arrest. What—”
“How did you find out about it?”
“We saw your mug shot.”
“I figured. You found it online. But why did—”
“No. Not online. It was mailed to us.”
He stops pacing. “Mailed to who?”
“Us. Me, Nell, Colette.”
“What do you mean, it was mailed to you? By who?”
“I don’t know. It arrived in the mail. Someone sent it to Colette at the mayor’s office. There was no return address.”
“At the mayor’s office?” He closes his eyes. “I don’t get it.”
“What did you do?”
“I almost killed someone.”
Francie stands and takes Will from his arms. “Leave. Right now.” She turns her back to him, shielding Will from him. “I’ll call the police.”
“No, Francie, listen to me. It wasn’t like that. It was to protect Winnie. She was in danger.”
She turns around. “Danger?”
“She had a stalker.”
“Yes, I know. Archie Andersen. I read about it.”
Token nods. “It was after Winnie and I broke up. She didn’t know I was doing it, but I followed her to rehearsals, when she went back to work, making sure she arrived safely, that he wasn’t following her. Winnie thought he’d lost interest, but then he showed up at Audrey’s funeral. It terrified her. I wanted to make sure she was safe.”
“And?”
“It was her third day back at work after her mom died. He was waiting for her on the corner, after she got off the subway. I wasn’t sure it was him at first, but I stayed close. He followed her inside, and then he grabbed her and forced her into the stairwell. I was on him in a second. He didn’t even see me. Banged his head into the ground so hard I cracked his skull. He was in the hospital for weeks.”
“Did you go to jail?”
“Nine months. I pled guilty to a misdemeanor assault in exchange for a lighter sentence. One year in prison, got out early for good behavior. The judge sealed the case, at the request of Winnie’s lawyers, and we were able to keep the whole thing out of the press. Winnie quit the show after that. Did everything she could to fade from the public eye.”
“He recovered? Archie Andersen?”
“Long enough to move to West Virginia, where he killed an elderly couple in a botched robbery attempt. He’s been in prison for eleven years.”
Francie shakes her head. “That wasn’t reported.”
Token glances at her. “No?”
Francie’s mouth goes dry as she presses her lips to Will’s forehead. He’s in jail. “Why didn’t you just tell us that you and Winnie are friends?”
“Winnie’s very private.” Token sits on the sofa. “You may have noticed? After our kids were born, she encouraged me to come to a May Mothers meeting. But she asked me not to share our history. It would just force questions. She doesn’t like to talk about those years.”
“I can’t believe this. You went to jail for her.”
“I did.” His face is darkened by a passing shadow. “And I’d do it again in a second. I’d do anything to protect her.” He lowers his eyes to the floor. “And Midas.”
Francie watches him for a few moments. “Listen,” she says, taking the seat beside him on the couch. “I have an idea. Something that occurred to me yesterday. Something I believe can help.”