What Have We Done (53)
Simon picks up on the first ring. He sounds breathless. “Oh thank god,” he says.
“I’m fine. How are things at the cabin?”
“I have a teenager with no internet, TV, or cell phone, how do you think?”
Jenna loves that he’s being light, trying to sound normal, which she knows is for her benefit.
“We’re fine. Where are you?”
Jenna doesn’t answer. “This will be over soon, and we can go home.”
There’s a long silence on the other end. Then a series of sentence fragments: “Whatever you’re going to do, you don’t have to. I have friends at DOJ, they can help us get—”
“I know what I’m doing. And this is probably the only way.”
“Probably.”
“If we’re right about who’s behind it all, yes.”
“You’re not sure?”
That is an excellent question from her analytical husband. Is she sure? The pieces of the puzzle fit. Who else would want all of them dead? No one from Jenna’s past jobs would have any reason to take out her foster mates. It’s been twenty-five years since Jenna had spoken to any of them, so it has to be someone from Savior House.
Yet something doesn’t feel right. She can’t pinpoint what it is, but something’s causing that tingle at the nape of her neck.
“I’m as sure as I can be.”
More silence on the other line.
“I’m going to take care of the problem and will be home soon.” She can’t help but think of Michael’s words: You can thank me by taking care of your problem without it taking care of you.
“I love you,” Simon says, words that send a surge of warmth through her. “I should’ve said it before you left the cabin, but I was in shock, scared for the girls, and I—”
“I love you too, Simon Raines, and I’m coming home to you.”
Back on the motorcycle, Jenna rides to an area near the Delaware riverfront in Chestertown. She gets a Xanax-inducing wave of anxiety at the smell of that river, but she shakes it off. Her phone told her the congressional office is on Seaport Drive. She finds a place to park and locates a bench with a view of the office. She’ll wait to see if he comes out for lunch. The file Artemis compiled said Derek Brood is a first-term congressman—one with ambition. He inherited his family’s sanitation business and has done well for himself. Artemis’s file says he goes to the same place for lunch every day, a steakhouse five minutes from the office.
It’s a good hour before Derek emerges from the glass doors of the ’70s-style government building. The sight of him takes her breath away. In the photo she noticed the resemblance to his father, but in person it’s more startling. He has the girth, the gait, of the head of Savior House. Derek was always clean-cut, like his father, which was helpful in hiding their menace. He has an entourage walking with him: an Asian woman, a younger white guy in a suit, and two body men walking behind him. Why would a Pennsylvania congressman from a poor district need muscle? It’s uncanny how much he looks like his father.
He was a mean-spirited kid, a bully. Could he have changed after being raised by someone else?
She thinks back to a day at the park when she’d intervened when Derek was beating up Nico.
Nico. She smiles, thinking of how lovestruck he was with Annie. Following her around like a puppy. Annie didn’t act like she was into him, but she was. She proudly wore that cheap necklace Nico bought for her, talked about how sweet he was. Annie had been in the system so long that she simply didn’t know how to show love.
And then Annie was gone. Vanished. Jenna remembers the feeling of helplessness. Only one of them didn’t lose hope after that day on the riverbank. Their knees still dirty from kneeling in the muck, thinking they were going to be executed, Ben had marched them to the public library. The incident had only hardened his resolve. The law is how you dealt with bullies like the detective, he told them.…
Jenna watches Ben as he scribbles notes on the scratch paper, his eyes glued to a lawbook he’s
yanked from one of the library’s shelves.
Donnie has slipped out to the convenience store to swipe a bottle. He’s not made for more trauma. None of them is, but it’s the sweet-hearted who it hits the hardest. But even Nico holds a vacant stare now, going to the bathroom every few minutes, probably to empty his guts.
The detective warned them in no uncertain terms to back off. Jenna’s instincts tell her that’s what they should be doing. Not stopping at the library trying to find out how to go after the very man who threatened to kill them. But Ben is on a mission.
“Can I help?” Jenna asks Ben.
“Yeah, go get me this book.” He hands her a scrap of paper that’s been folded like a star. She’s noticed that he has the unusual habit of folding paper. There are three stars and two scraps folded to look like flowers near where he’s been reading. She looks at the star he handed her, sees he’s written a library call number on it, and heads off to find the book.
On the way, she sees Donnie stumble into the library. His lips are blue from that Mad Dog 20/20
wine he drinks.
“We gotta let this go,” Donnie says. “We gotta go to the house, pack our shit, and go.” His words are slurred and tinged with fear and hurt.
“Come sit.” She leads him to a lounge chair that has frayed arms and cushions.