CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

 

Through clenched teeth, Jack said, "I didn't kill my family. And contrary to belief, there's no such thing as client privilege in my line of work."

"I paid you to do a job. You work for me."

"Worked," he emphasized. "Follow your husband and get some photos. I completed the work and you paid me, thus completing our contract." He glanced toward Caroline. "Put it this way, if the tables were turned and Caroline had a weapon on you right now, I'm not obliged to protect you."

Ginnie chuckled. "Shut the fuck up. Don't patronize me. We both know that would never happen. Deep down, I know you love me, Franklin."

"I loved the woman I married. In my own way, I did. And I know you loved me. But we're two different people now."

Jack noticed Ginnie's back stiffen. "You're saying you don't love me . . . that you never really loved me?"

Caroline nodded. "I loved you, just as a man loves a woman. For a long time, I struggled with my sexuality. I tried playing both sides of the fence—"

"You were fucking men during our marriage?" she screeched. Her hand noticeably trembled. Jack thought she might drop the weapon and waited for his chance to rush her.

Caroline glanced over at Jack. He saw sorrow in her gaze before she looked back at Ginnie. "Once . . . well, one person."

"When?" Ginnie's voice took on a guarded tone. "Who was he? You didn't fuck him here . . . in our bed. Did you?"

Caroline slowly reached for her whiskey and downed it in one swallow. "You don't know him. He isn't from the city. We only met when he was in town—at his hotel. I don’t even know his last name."

"You were fucking him, and you didn't even find out who he was? Jesus, Franklin!"

Jack thought Ginnie had a point.

"He didn't know who I was either, Gin. It was strictly on a first name basis. He had a family to protect too. But we were both going through the same thing and explored it together."

"That's how you justified your actions." Her tone was accusatory.

"I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. It just—"

"Don't even go there. Just happened. Bullshit! For how long did it just happen?"

Caroline shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."

"How long?" Ginnie insisted.

"A few months. And I don't regret it," Caroline said, shooting to her feet.

"I said stay where you are!"

"You're not going to shoot me and we both know it." Caroline carried her tumbler to the bar, poured herself another shot from the three-thousand-dollar bottle, and downed it in one go. She poured a double before turning back to face the room again.

Jack caught sight of a figure moving in the shadow at the back of the room. He knew the hall led to the garage door. They'd taken it on Sunday to see the cars. He also knew by the way the shadow moved that it was Ray. His silhouette told Jack his friend had his weapon drawn.

Jack focused on Ginnie. "Ginnie, why don't you tell me why you killed the other girls?"

Ginnie spun toward Jack. "Girls? More like little boys dressing in their mothers' clothes."

"Be nice, Gin," Caroline said.

"Tell me why you killed them," Jack pressed, not wanting to waste his breath trying to make her understand just how wrong her statement was. "Last count, there were eight victims who died because of you. The least you can do is explain your motives."

She waved the weapon at Jack. "Would have been nine if you had really been Bunny. And, to be honest," she gazed at Caroline, "I've really been contemplating ten. All this really is your fault . . . darling."

"Why did you do it, Gin? Tell me. Please. They were my friends."

"Friends? They weren't your friends. They were just people you used, like everyone else you use. Fuck 'em and leave 'em and move onto the next person."

"I wasn't sleeping with them. They were—"

"What, Franklin? What were they?"

"They were my friends," he repeated, "and they were teaching me—"

"Teaching you," Ginnie huffed. "Teaching you what? How to be gay? I thought that's what you used your out-of-town friend for."

"No, Gin, they taught me to be . . . me." Caroline waved a hand from head to toe. "Before, I struggled. I couldn't do it on my own, and it was painfully obvious you would never teach me to be as beautiful as you."

"Fuck you, Franklin!"

Jack heard Ginnie sniff, and by the sound of her breathing, he was sure she was crying.

As calmly as he could, Jack said, "It's true. They all had something Franklin needed to become Caroline."

"Like I said, he used them, then threw them away," she spat.

Jack shook his head. "That's not true. As friends, they gave him . . . her . . . their help when she needed it the most. The only thing thrown away was their lives. At your hands."

"Liars. You're both liars," she shouted.

"Tell her, Caroline. Tell Ginnie what your friends gave you."

Caroline sipped her whiskey then looked at Ginnie, her gaze remaining focused as she explained each of the Indian Spicy Girls' roles in the transformation from Franklin to Caroline.

"That's it? You and the girls were sharing hair and makeup tips like a bunch of schoolkids? You expect me to believe that?" Ginnie asked.

Caroline nodded. "Yeah, I do, because it's the truth."

"What about the others? How did you use them too?"

The weapon in Ginnie's hand shook again. She was getting tired. Jack folded his arms in front of him, as if trying to get comfortable. He slowly slid a hand under his lapel and grasped the Beretta. Outside, he hoped he gave the impression he was calm and collected. Inside . . . squirrels fighting in a sack.

"There was nothing there, Gin. Minger . . . Mike . . . offered me some coke. It had been a while, so I followed him home for a couple lines. Pepper . . . Bob. He was in the city for the event. At that hour, taxis are hard to find, so I offered him a ride back to his hotel. Just a ride," Caroline explained.

"And what about that boy? He looked like he was twelve, for Christ's sake."

Caroline went back to the sofa and sat. She never took her eyes off Ginnie as she moved. "Since we're being honest here, he was like the son you never gave me. You knew I wanted a family when we married. You said you did too. But every time I suggested us trying for a baby, you always had an excuse." Even in near darkness, Jack saw that hit a nerve. A big one.

"Damn you!" Ginnie spat.

"I wanted a family. With you. But you were always too concerned about your body and the scars pregnancy would leave behind. Aaron was a sweet boy who was trying to find himself. When I was his age, I needed someone like me that I could trust to show me the way. I wanted to be that for him. I was that for him. Until you took him away from me. Like you do everything." Caroline burst into tears. Jack thought she was doing so well keeping her shit together.

Ginnie chuckled. "Maybe you should have competed in that contest because you're such a big drama queen."

"Hey now," Jack interjected.

"I'm just being honest. He's always been a drama queen. It's only taken this," she waved the weapon at Caroline, "for me to realize what it was all about."

"You still haven't told us why you killed those people," Jack pressed. "If Caroline was using them, as you said, it was between her and them. It had nothing to do with you."

"Oh, but it did. Every step closer to that world was another step away from me. I had to eliminate the competition, as it were," Ginnie confessed.

"You thought by killing my friends it would send me running back to you?" Caroline's voice rose with incredulousness.

Ginnie fidgeted a moment, her gaze ping ponging between Jack and Caroline. "Well . . . yeah. I thought if you saw how unsafe it was, it would change your mind. You'd stay home and we could go back to life as usual."

"How can you not see the pure absurdity of what you just said? Do you honestly think I'd want to be with a murder?" Caroline's voice rose in pitch as she spoke.

Jack sidled closer to the window to keep Ginnie's focus on him, distancing him from Ray if she suddenly saw him. "It's obvious you two aren't getting back together. And you've just confessed to killing eight innocent people. I think we all know that the only way you'll be walking out of this house is in cuffs. None of what you've done can be ignored. Why don't you tell us what you want so we can end this now?”

"Please, Gin. Don't let things end this way," Caroline pleaded.

"It's already ended, Franklin. You ended it the moment you put on that goddamn dress. You ended our marriage and now I'm going to end you." She raised her weapon at Caroline.

In that moment, Jack withdrew the Beretta from under his jacket and stretched out his arm, taking aim. Across the room, Ray appeared from the deep shadows, his weapon directed at Ginnie too. Jack was conscious of Caroline being stuck in the crosshairs. Who would get off the first shot?

Ginnie spun and fired her weapon. True to her reputation as a crack shot, Ray dropped to the floor with a loud grunt then stilled.

Jack's heart shoved its way into his throat, his gaze ricocheting between Ginnie and his friend. Without thinking, he rushed to Ray's side. "You bitch!" he shouted as he moved. "Ray. Ray! Talk to me, partner." He spun toward Caroline who now stood before the sofa, one hand at her throat and the other arm wrapped around her middle. "Turn on the lights. Dammit, Caroline! Turn on the lights. Now!" The lights came on as Jack felt around Ray's body for the radio he knew his friend carried. He punched the PTT button and shouted into the mic. "Officer down. I repeat. Officer down."

Looking up, he saw Ginnie had disappeared. He had to go after her, but his friend could be dying. His heart pounded so hard he thought it would explode from his chest. Within seconds of the call, the room filled with officers.

"I'm all right." Ray's voice was barely audible above the sudden noise. "I'm just winded. Go after her."

Jack stripped back Ray's jacket and saw the vest. "Thank God, Ray!" He clapped his friend on the shoulder. Nodding, he set off through the house, taking the stairs by twos until he was in the lower room of the house. The patio door was wide open and he assumed Ginnie had gone that way.

He stood in the near dark, the Beretta held close to his chest, and listened for any noise that sounded like it didn't belong this early in the morning. The fog was so thick that even if it hadn't been dawn, he would still have trouble seeing through the haze. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. But he heard the sea below and tasted the saltiness of it on the dew settling on his lips.

There. Something cracked to his right. He sidled that direction, past the steps into the infinity pool, and found a set of timber railings. Between them, steps descended to the beach. The fog clung heavily to the cliffside, but he saw far enough ahead to make out the stairs leading onto Baker Beach. The Beretta in both hands and aimed downward in the direction he traveled, he took the steps sideways, keeping his ears trained for any movement other than his.

Ahead was the sound of feet on the steps. Ginnie wasn't moving as quickly as he'd expected, considering she knew the path better than he did.

Through the mire, he saw her silhouette. She pivoted then disappeared below him. The switchback stairs looked to have been carved out of the granite hillside. He followed, picking up speed.

At the next switchback, Ginnie stopped just long enough to take a shot in his direction. It missed, but not by far as he heard the round whizz past his head. Swearing under his breath, Jack watched her climb over the rail and scramble up the rocks. Below, he saw the tide was in and had flooded the beach. The only direction she could go was back up the stairs, and he blocked her path.

"Come on, Ginnie. Don't do this," he called to her. "There's nowhere to run."

To Jack's surprise, she stood at the top of a rocky outcrop, her weapon still in her hand but at her side. "I missed before, Jack. I said I liked you and I meant it. But if you come closer, if you try following me, I won't miss the next time."

Jack lifted his arms and aimed the Beretta at her. Even in the hazy fog, he wouldn't miss if he were forced to shoot. Her neighbor's patio light cast her in dark relief. "You know I can't let you go. You killed eight people. You held two people hostage at gunpoint. And you shot a cop." He paused for a moment, then added, "If he dies, that's nine murders. A good lawyer could get you life without parole, but killing a cop? That's definitely death penalty stuff right there." She didn't move. "Come back with me. If you cooperate, it'll go a long way to keep the needle out of your arm."

"Catch me if you can," Ginnie shouted as she raised her weapon toward him and fired.

The flash was diffused by the haze as the Imura revolver exploded. They were usually only good for one or two shots. This had been number three. There was no mistaking Ginnie's sudden roar of pain and her fall from the cliffside. Her painful cry ended abruptly. Jack couldn't see through the foggy soup, but he heard the distinct crunch of bones.

Alone now on the stairs, silence enveloped him. It was as if the Earth had suddenly stopped rotating and time stood still. There was no sound of the sea on the rocks below, no breeze in the bushes on the upper cliffs, not even the sound of his heart screaming in his ears. The heavy fog seemed to thicken and block out everything within a few feet of him. And for a long moment, he felt he stood in a vast nothingness.

The sharp intake of salty sea air told him he'd stopped breathing. The sound of the world crashed over him like the waves below and blew him backward onto the steps. He laid back and felt the steps bite into his back as he gulped for each breath, trying not to puke.