“She won’t come out of the room,” said Nolan, pulling Jane and Cordelia aside as they entered the lobby of the hotel. “She’s got a gun, says she’ll use it on herself if the police try to break in.”
On the way to Bloomington, Jane had called Nolan to tell him that Freddy was involved, too. She gave him all the details. Nolan said he’d pass it on.
“Where’s Freddy?” asked Jane, glancing down a hallway and seeing a bunch of uniforms milling around.
“He broke a window and climbed out when he heard the sirens, but two officers caught him as he was making a run for it across a field just west of the building. Good thing the cops got here when they did. All thanks to you two.”
“How come Joanna didn’t go with him?” asked Cordelia, unbuttoning her football jacket.
Nolan shook his head. “No idea.”
“Where’s the room?”
“It’s a suite. Down the hall, across from the pool.”
“Are they married?” asked Jane.
Nolan nodded to a young man sitting in the hotel’s deserted coffee shop. He was talking to another, older man, probably a detective in
plain clothes. “That’s the guy who performed the service. They used two cleaning women for their witnesses. Now that they’re legal, they can’t be forced to testify against each other.”
“Is that why they did it?” asked Cordelia, her jaw dropping.
“You’ll have to ask Joanna. Freddy’s out in one of the squad cars. He refuses to talk until he has a lawyer present.”
“But what about Joanna?” said Cordelia. “Maybe I can talk to her, get her to listen to reason.” She turned and rushed for the hallway. A cop who was standing guard near the entrance stopped her. “Sorry, ma’am. Off limits. You shouldn’t even be in the building.”
“I’m the one who friggin’ called you! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. Joanna!” she shouted. “It’s me. Cordelia. I’m here for you, babe! Tell them to let me in and we’ll talk.”
The response was loud and clear. Through the wall, everyone heard Joanna scream, “If you let her in here, I’ll not only shoot myself, I’ll shoot her, too!”
Cordelia blinked. “I … I don’t understand. She must not be in her right mind.”
The cop pushed her back into the lobby.
“A uniformed neanderthal isn’t going to kick me out of here!” she sputtered.
“It’s okay, Cordelia,” said Nolan, holding up his hand and nodding to the cop that he’d take care of it. “We’re all cleared to be in here. We just can’t go back to the room.”
Two hours later, they were seated at one of the tables in the empty coffee shop when Dreashon Johnson walked up, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
He crossed his hands on the table, eyed each one of them briefly, then said, “We’ve been talking to Ms. Kasimir on the hotel phone, trying to get her to agree to let one of our people in. Unfortunately, she refuses.” He glanced at Nolan, then looked directly at Jane. “She asked if you were here, Ms. Lawless. Said she’d be willing to talk to you.”
Cordelia nearly erupted out of her chair. “Why Jane? Why not me?”
Johnson shifted his gaze to Cordelia, said nothing, then turned back to Jane. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even consider it, except that we spoke to Mr. Kasimir. He said he didn’t have a gun with him, and he’s almost positive Joanna didn’t either. I talked to him for quite a while. I could be wrong, but I feel like he cares about her, that he wants her out of there safely.” Fingering a sticky spot on the table, he continued, “We could fit you with a protective vest. Other than that, you’d be on your own. But we’d be right outside. What do you say? It might be the only way to get her out of there.”
Jane had worn body armor before, so it wasn’t something new. “Okay,” she said, feeling her palms begin to sweat.
As she started to get up, Johnson stopped her. “Even if she doesn’t have a gun, she could have some other kind of weapon. A fork or a knife from a dinner tray. Scissors. You’ll have to play it very carefully.”
“I intend to,” said Jane.
After being fitted with the vest, she slipped her jacket back on. As she was led back through the front lobby, she saw Cordelia sitting morosely in one of the chairs. There wasn’t much she could say to make her feel better.
Johnson accompanied her down the hall to Room 122. He knocked, then called, “Ms. Kasimir? Jane’s here. Open up.”
A few seconds later, the bolt was thrown from inside and the door eased back a crack. “Don’t try anything or we’ll all be sorry,” came Joanna’s voice.
Jane glanced at Johnson, feeling the blood pump hard in her chest. Nolan had taught her that in tense situations, she needed to slow everything down, stay focused. And that’s what she did. She breathed in slowly, let it out slowly. She did that a couple of times and then said, “It’s me, Joanna. I’m coming in.”
The room was pitch-dark. Jane could sense a body standing next to her.
“Walk away from the door,” said Joanna. Her voice held no warmth.
As she moved a few steps farther into the room, the bolt snapped back into place behind her.
“Sit down on the floor,” said Joanna.
It took a few seconds for Jane’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she noticed that a crack in the curtains let in a thin sliver of light. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Joanna was still wearing her wedding dress. She rustled over to a chair across the room. “Where’s the gun?” asked Jane. She sat down on the floor by the bed, leaned her back against the frame.
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to use it on you.”
If that was supposed to make her feel better, it didn’t. “How come you asked for me?”
“Because I wanted to talk to someone other than the police.”
“Why not Cordelia?”
Joanna laughed. “She having a fit about that?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her. But, like I said, I wanted a conversation, not an argument. Now that you’re here, I need you to do me a favor.”
Jane waited.
“Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Yes.”
“Mine’s dead. And they won’t let me call out on the hotel phone. I want you to call Abbott Northwestern Hospital. Give them my name and tell them you were there last night to see Hillary Schinn or no, ‘Cordelia.’ She was in the emergency room. I need to know how she’s doing.”
Jane held up both hands. “The cell’s in the pocket of my jacket.” “Go ahead,” said Joanna. “Get it out.”
Jane pulled it free and flipped it open. “Hillary. She’s the woman we met at Flying Cloud the day you arrived. The one who’d tried to commit suicide last night.”
“I see the real Cordelia’s filled you in. Make the call.” She switched on the light next to her.
Jane punched in the number for directory assistance and had them connect her.
Joanna watched steadily, her hands busily kneading the fabric of
her skirt. She looked like a wreck of a human being, her eyes too bright, her skin impossibly pale.
It took a few minutes, but Jane finally got the information Joanna wanted. “Looks like she’s doing much better. The nurse expects her to make a full recovery.”
Joanna exhaled, bowed her head. After nearly a minute of silence, she looked up and said, “This may sound strange to you, Jane, but I don’t know what I would have done if she’d died.”
“But you hardly knew her.”
“Doesn’t make any sense to me, either. After I saw her last night, I couldn’t get her face out of my mind. There’s no logic to it. If Gordon were here, he’d put it in some larger philosophical context.”
“Gordon?”
Her head fell back against the chair. “Yeah. He was always good at throwing around big words like he understood them. ‘Redemption.’ ‘Freedom.’ ‘Meaning.’ ‘Love.’ Sometimes I think he did understand them—at least, better than I did.”
Jane prayed that Joanna would leave the light on. It was easier to track her mood if she could see her face, watch her eyes.
As if reading her mind, Joanna switched the light back off. “I like the dark. Gordon said we all lived in the dark. That’s why we needed to find a star to navigate by. Gordon said he’d be that star for me. I wanted so badly for that to be true.”
“Are you saying that you actually loved him?”
Her voice had softened. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve felt like something huge and vital was missing inside me. Like I had only one lung. Or half a heart. I thought if I just pursued my dreams, when I achieved them, they would fill the void. It never happened. Maybe religion fills that need in some people. Maybe what I craved was a sense of safety—or certainty. Whatever it was, those first few days I spent with Gordon, that feeling went away. I was happy in a way I’d never been before or since. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. How can the man who ruined my life also be the only one I ever loved? Because I think that’s what it was, Jane. Love. What’s worse, what I loved wasn’t even real.”
In the darkness, Jane could just make out Joanna’s body huddled in the chair, hands in her lap. She was a crumbling soul trying to understand her past.
“Freddy’s a good man. He says he loves me, that he never stopped. It’s funny, but I believe him. The only problem is, I never loved him. I still don’t. But he’s a good man. More than that, he’s funny, smart—everything I’m not. He doesn’t see that I’m really a very average person. I just happen to have an attractive façade, one that others have used to project images on.” She paused, then said, “Do you think I’m shallow, Jane?”
“Of course not.”
“No, I want your real opinion.”
“I’m not sure I want to play this game with someone holding a gun.”
Joanna laughed. “I see your point. But I’m serious. I respect you. I always have. And I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d just like an honest answer.”
Jane didn’t like being put on the spot. There was something she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure this was the time.
“Come on, Jane. Do you think I’m shallow?”
“I’m not sure I’d use that word.”
“What word would you use?”
“Well.” She drew her legs up to her chest. “It seems kind of strange to me that I’ve been in here for over ten minutes and you haven’t asked once about David. You knew he’d run away. You killed Luberman, but you let the police think David had. How could you do that?”
The words seemed to startle her. “But they know the truth now.”
“Yes, but couldn’t you see that David’s in terrible shape? Have you got any idea what it’s been like for him these last few days? He thought he might go to jail, Joanna. Do you know what that can do to a guy who’s already living on the edge?”
“I never would have allowed it.”
“He didn’t know that. He’s sick. Has been for months. If you weren’t so fixated on yourself, you might have noticed it.”
“I … I did,” she countered. “He and Diego are having problems. Diego’s been sleeping around.”
“No he hasn’t. You don’t have a clue what’s going on with your brother. And I think that speaks volumes.”
Joanna sat up straighter. “I’m selfish? Uncaring?”
Jane didn’t answer. She prayed that Johnson was right, that Joanna didn’t have a gun.
The quiet that replaced their conversation felt thick and corroded.
Finally, Joanna stood. “You’re right, Jane. I’m a selfish bitch. Incapable of love.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did. I’m not sure I disagree.” She stepped away from the chair. As she passed Jane, she paused and dropped the gun in her lap. “Will you do me one last favor?”
“Anything.”
“Tell Cordelia how glad I am that she has Hattie in her life now. For a long time, I thought she might be suffering from the same malady as me—that she had lots of lovers but didn’t know how to love in return. Gordon was right about one thing. You do need a guiding star in this dark, dark world.” With that, she turned and, head held high, crossed to the door and walked out into the arms of the waiting police.