Time spun out. In those final minutes a fireball of thoughts burned through my mind. I pictured Franklin Borden waiting on the other side of that door—for me. How stupid he was. Did he really think with one phone call, after I’d seen Jerry Brand kill two of my friends and try to kidnap me, I’d just walk past the men guarding me and put my life in his hands?
But he hadn’t sounded stupid on the phone. And the Gary Donovon Mom had loved hadn’t either.
The lead policeman reached the door. He checked over his shoulder to make sure that the other officers were ready.
And in that split second it hit me. My father wasn’t stupid in his head. He knew better. He was just foolish in his heart. Because he so wanted to believe.
Like me. After all the years, even after seeing Tom and Bruce dead, after hearing Mom’s story, right up to now—I still wanted to believe.
Gun ready, the officer planted his legs apart and reached for the door handle.
You didn’t believe in someone like that, you didn’t hold on to a dream that hard, when you wanted to hurt that person.
He just wants to see me. That was the truth. He meant it.
And I’d betrayed him. He was going to die.
The policeman threw open the door.
“No!” The scream tore from me, and I leapt forward, running, running. Knowing I wouldn’t make it in time. Everything happened so fast. The first two officers rushed in, shouting, “On the ground, on the ground!” My father yelled. I screamed louder, barreling toward the door. The officer closest to me pivoted and jumped in my path. He held his gun low, away from me, and shoved me back.
More shouts from the room, all at once:
“On the ground!”
“He’s got something in his hand!”
“Throw it down! Throw it down!”
I darted around the policeman. He scrambled to holster his gun so he could catch me. Too late. I rammed into the door jamb and ricocheted into the room.
“Stop! Don’t kill him!”
My father struggled on the floor. Four officers crowded over him, capturing his legs, pulling out handcuffs. Everyone was shouting.
“Stop!”
“Be still!”
“Give me your hands!”
The last officer caught up with me and yanked me back. “Get out of here.”
I burst into sobs. “Please, please, don’t hurt him.”
My father stilled. One officer snapped cuffs on his wrists. They hauled him to his feet.
He gazed at me.
Through blurry eyes I drank in the sight of him. He looked just like my mother had described. Still handsome. But his face had a hardness, as if life had worn him down. On that face I saw shock and betrayal. I also saw something else. Desperate hope.
“Shaley—”
“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I didn’t want to do it.”
A red-faced and puffing officer clutched my father’s arm. “When you went for that box you almost got yourself killed, man.”
A gun. He did have a gun.
A flash went off behind me, and I jumped. Feet pounded away. I swung around to look out the door. Cat was running down the hall.
Stunned, I swiveled back toward my father. I didn’t want to leave him. Then I thought of Cat and the photo—and what he’d do with it. Everyone in the world would see my father in handcuffs, surrounded by police.
“It’s the photographer!” I tore out after Cat.
My feet sprinted down the hall, breath chugging from my open mouth. Cat veered around a corner.
“Shaley, stop!” a man behind me cried. A second later two policemen passed me. They sped around the corner, and I started to follow. Someone caught me from behind and pulled me back. I jerked my head around to see Officer Tripton. “Let me go, I have to catch him!”
“They’ll get him, Shaley.”
“Let me go!”
Shouts and scuffles sounded from around the corner. I yanked my arm away from Officer Tripton and rushed around. Three feet away, Cat struggled with the policemen on the floor. His camera lay on the ground. I couldn’t stop in time. My foot caught one of Cat’s flailing arms, and I went down on top of him.
All the fury I’d felt at Cat and all the anger and disappointment and hurt churning against my father poured out of me. I pounded Cat’s head and face with both fists, screaming. “That’s what you get for chasing me! For trying to blackmail me! That’s what you get for hurting my mom! Stop it, just stop it!”
Strong arms pulled me off Cat and to my feet. Still my fists swung. Somebody pinned them to my sides. “It’s okay, Shaley, we got him.”
My chin dropped low, my chest heaving. I wanted to burst into tears but held them back.
Out the corner of my eye I saw Cat’s camera by my feet. I kicked it as hard as I could. It skidded across the floor and smashed into the wall.
One of the policemen handcuffed Cat and yanked him to his feet. His eyes met mine, and he sneered. Hatred rolled off me in waves.
The policeman holding Cat’s arm pulled him away. “Come on, buddy, let’s go.” He guided Cat toward the elevators some distance away.
Multiple footsteps filtered from around the corner. My father and the two other officers appeared. They were leading him away too. One of the officers held something in his hand, but I barely registered it. I could only stare at my father.
I’d done this. I’d sent him back to prison. Even though he deserved it, I just couldn’t …
My vengeance against Cat melted. In its place all I could feel was deep, terrible sadness. I focused on the floor, tears flooding my eyes.
“Shaley.” My father’s voice shook. “It’ll be okay.”
I looked up at him in surprise. How could he say that?
He gestured with his chin toward the policeman’s hand. “I brought something for you and your mom.”
My gaze dropped to see a long, white box.
With a tight smile, the policeman held it out toward me.
For the longest time I could only stare at it, remembering Mom’s story. Remembering Gary Donovon as she knew him. I thought of French class, and their first date. The day she sneaked over to his house. The night he got beat up. The gifts he’d sent her every month for the next eight years.
As if in a dream I reached out my hand and took the box. It felt smooth. Inviting. My throat choked up.
Blurry-eyed, I held the box in one hand and lifted off the lid.
Inside lay two white roses, each wrapped in green cellophane and tied with a red ribbon.