CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

 

When she got home, Beverly was exhausted and unsettled, but thankful to be alive. In spite of her ordeal, she saw no reason why they should not be able to enjoy their Thanksgiving meal.

Grant’s car was parked in the driveway. He had volunteered to pick up her father from the nursing home, while she busied herself with the meal. Beverly hoped Grant hadn’t found himself overwhelmed in trying to baby-sit her father and son.

Before Beverly could get to the front door, it was opened and Grant stepped out. “We were wondering if you’d gotten lost,” he joked. “We actually considered starting Thanksgiving dinner without you—”

He stopped himself short and furrowed his brow as she stepped into the light coming from the foyer. Only then did Beverly become consciously aware of her somewhat disheveled appearance. She had tried to make herself look presentable as best as possible, but found she was too upset to care.

“What the hell happened to you?” Grant put his hand under her chin, which had been slightly nicked by the knife and drawn blood that had dried.

“Where are Papa and Jaime?” she asked first, not wanting them to hear or see her like that.

“They’re in the den watching TV.”

“Good,” Beverly said. After sucking in a deep breath, she managed, “I was almost kidnapped—”

* * *

Beverly explained every frightening detail of her encounter with Manuel Gonzalez to Grant in the privacy of her bedroom, including being rescued by Stone Palmer and the Sheriff’s Department brigade.

“Good heavens!” Grant exclaimed, incredulity creasing his face in several places. “That bastard could have—”

“But he didn’t,” Beverly reminded him even as her pulse boiled at the prospect. “The police were after Gonzalez. They think he killed at least three other women. Thankfully the stolen car he was driving was spotted in the store parking lot.”

Grant was sure his blood pressure had risen after hearing that his girlfriend had nearly become a murder victim. He was familiar with the police investigation into Gonzalez, suspected of stabbing to death his girlfriend and two other women. But from what he understood, the victims were all living in his vicinity. But that didn’t mean the killer couldn’t have broadened his range and targets.

“Why’d the bastard choose you to go after you?” Grant asked, as if Gonzalez needed a reason.

It was something Beverly had asked herself more than once. She had no answer, except for maybe pure chance and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Even then she suspected that the question from Grant was really more rhetorical, since he knew it could just as easily have been any female Gonzalez happened to run into by accident or design.

“He’s the same man I saw at Burger King, Grant.” Beverly felt dirty in her clothes and wanted to take a shower. “Gonzalez admitted that he had followed us home that night and broke into the house.”

Grant’s gaze betrayed feelings of anger and regret.

Beverly broke down, as her emotions came to the surface. “I never felt so helpless as when he had the knife to my throat and wanted to take me somewhere. All I could think of was never seeing Jaime again. Or you—”

“It’s all right, babe,” said Grant, doing his best to comfort her and still his own ire threatening to boil over. I should have been there to protect her from that asshole. “The son of a bitch is never going to get the chance to ever hurt you again.” Not if Manuel Gonzalez wound up in his courtroom.

“He’s like the spitting image of Santiago,” Beverly told him. “Grant, the two could be twin brothers—if Santiago had a brother!”

Grant used the back of his fingers to gently wipe the tears staining her cheeks. “Doesn’t matter whether they’re kin or not,” he stated firmly. “The full weight of the law will be brought down on both of them so they get everything they deserve.”

Beverly sniffed and gazed up into his eyes. He had been every bit as strong and supportive as she had imagined. She was happy that he was there for her when she needed him most.

“I have everything I deserve,” she said softly, “in you.”

Grant relaxed his jaw, kissing her. “We’ll see about that. Right now, I suggest you take a quick shower, change clothes, and get back out there and feed your family. Otherwise they may stage a mutiny.”

Beverly laughed. “You’re right.” It was time to get back to the true spirit of Thanksgiving.

* * *

The meal was served in the dining room and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Beverly noted that even her father seemed almost like his old self, joking and laughing. But inevitably he would become disoriented and not know where he was or who they were.

“Why can’t Maria be here?” Alberto asked, his craggy face dreary.

“Grandma is in heaven, Grandpa,” Jaime said sympathetically, stuffing a buttered roll in his mouth.

“Heaven?” Alberto put his finger to his mouth, as if wondering where exactly that was.

“It’s a place where all the angels gather,” Beverly told him. “A place where you’ll be someday, Papa.”

“You think so?”

“Count on it,” declared Grant, forking a tender piece of roast beef. “And it’s a place where Beverly and Jaime will also be one day. Isn’t that right, Jaime?”

Jaime chuckled. “Yeah, but if it’s all the same to you, Your Honor, I’d rather stay here amongst the earthlings for a bit.”

Grant laughed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “Something tells me you still have quite a few of these delicious meals left to enjoy.” He scooped up some candied yams. “Frankly, I’m with you, Jaime. Let’s see if we can bribe Beverly into hanging around a lot more years herself, if only for her cooking.”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Jaime laughed boisterously.

Grant followed suit. Even Alberto joined in, prompting Beverly to burst into laughter also. She couldn’t help but think that this was about as good as it got: sharing a Thanksgiving Day meal and joy with her family. That included Grant, who had shown that he wanted to be part of the world she had created for herself. And she wanted him there every bit as much.

She savored the thought of there being permanency to what they had about as much as Beverly abhorred the thought of what could have turned out to be a disastrous Thanksgiving. She had the feeling that an angel was on her shoulder, protecting her from evil men like Manuel Gonzalez and Rafael Santiago. It was up to prosecutors like her to do their part in putting these men away. Or live with the consequences.