Sing (Songs of Submission #7)(43)

“Hey!” I tapped on the window.

She lowered it. “Yes?”

“Thanks.” That felt ridiculous, thanking her for telling me how to kill someone. “For helping.” Still ridiculous. “I got a call on the way out and I put the tube back the way it was.”

She just looked at me like I was nuts. “He have a heart or not?”

“He’s in surgery. Do you want to stay? I mean, not for me, Lord knows. The family? They kinda consider you one of them.”

“No, but thank you.”

The window crawled up, and I stepped back as she pulled out.

I heard the squawk of police radios behind me, shocking me out of my reverie. Close. Coming for me. I turned around and found three uniformed cops running toward me, laden at the waist, fists on holsters.

I put my hands up.

A black and white came for me, sirens on. I put my palms on my head and got on my knees. Okay, they knew. I’d tried to kill Paulie Patalano. Fuck. Okay. Okayokayokay. Just submit. Just shut up and let them take you in and call Margie and let her work on it.

Right.

The car stopped, and the three cops blew past me, practically knocking me over. I cringed. There was yelling. Get out of the car.

I wasn’t in a car.

Obviously.

I slowly took my hands off my head and opened my eyes.

One cop had his gun trained on the driver’s seat of Jessica’s Mercedes. Another opened the door. More stood behind car doors. One cop stood over me, the woman who had guarded Paulie Patalano’s hallway.

“Not today, girlie,” she said.

“I was just—“

“Save it. Nothing to see here.” She shooed me.

I got up and backed away slowly, then quickly, walking fast, head down, navigating a newly-formed crowd when I ran into a man who grabbed my biceps. It was Will Santon.

“What was that about?” he asked. “You kneeling.”

I didn’t want to tell him. I wanted what I almost did in that room to disappear forever.

“I grew up in the ghetto. That’s what you do when the cops run after you.” He seemed to accept this, and released my arms. “But it was Jessica,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “What could she have done? My God.” Maybe they thought she’d been the one who twisted the catheter then fixed it. Maybe she was going to take an attempted murder rap for me. It made no sense, and I had to consider for a moment, would I let her?

“We’ve been working on this for weeks.” He whispered it and smiled. “Once we stopped having to follow you around.”

“It wasn’t her,” I whispered back.

“Yes it was,” he said with satisfaction all over his face. “She killed Rachel Demarest.”

“But...?”

“Swapped out her antibiotics. Trust me. We’ve been chasing her for weeks.”

I watched as Jessica had her hands cuffed behind her.

CHAPTER 47.

MONICA

More waiting.

I felt like I’d spent the past weeks doing nothing but waiting.

The cafeteria was quiet, for once. I stared at my tea, trying to absorb Jessica’s arrest. That had been Jonathan’s plan. it had been what my curiosity had kept him from executing. It seemed so petty now. I looked at my watch, checked my texts for word from Margie, and took out my notebook.

I opened it to the last page, the only one left blank. Much of what I had in there wasn’t even suitable to be put to music. I had drawings and staff notes, compositions for multiple instruments with no idea if there was even a possibility of matching words.

“Monica,” Brad sat down across from me with a prepackaged yogurt cup and toast wrapped in plastic.

“Brad.” I folded my notebook closed. “Thank you for that text. It was...it saved my life.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” He unwrapped his toast. “You’re off the hook for dinner, you know. But I hope we can still be friends?”

“Of course. And you still need to yell at me for what I did.”

“I’ll give you an earful.” He bit the toast, wrinkled his nose and went for the yogurt. “What are you doing here?”

“Margie said she’d text me when he got out.” I looked at my phone, checking to make sure it was on for the hundredth time.

“How long has it been?”

“Six hours, give or take.”

He stirred his yogurt slowly. “That’s long.”

I took a second to absorb what he said, then snapped up my phone and texted Margie.

—any word?—

“If she forgot to text me I’m going to beat her senseless,” I said more to myself than Brad.

A text shot back immediately.

—Dr came out an hour ago. Issues with the aortic valve. Bad—

“Fuck.”

I didn’t say good-bye to Brad.

CHAPTER 48.

MONICA

That f**king waiting room, same as every other I’d seen when they wheeled him from unit to unit. As I exited the elevator I realized what a home they had become, with their greyed colors and worn seats. And I knew that no matter what happened, it would likely be the last day I spent in a waiting room, worrying about Jonathan.

They were all there, like a red-haired baseball team. Even Fiona had stopped blowing by long enough to hold her mother’s hand. They looked at me, eyes shaded from green to blue and back, and I stood by Margie’s seat.