In the months following Zachary Pierce’s arrest, those who didn’t like him—Patton especially—liked to say, “I told you so.” But the real truth was, when it came to Pierce, nobody told you, or me, or anybody so.
Most people found him mildly annoying, a little weird at the worst. He had his eccentricities—the gleaming head, the gym addiction, the strange fact that he never took his T-shirt off, even in the shower—but none of these seemed like warning signs, even to his seasoned, cynical colleagues. Every last one of them thought his mother’s death the previous year had been a suicide.
Before his arrest, there were only two people who knew the real Zachary Pierce, and that was Katia Stavros and her son, Nikolas—a sweet, smart boy who played chess for money in Washington Square Park, before realizing he could make a lot more money selling crack.
Pierce had been drawn to the building first, because it was the perfect place to stake out my classroom. The building led to Katia, Katia to Nikolas. Pierce knew a lost soul when he saw one, and pounced. He started leaning on Nikolas almost as soon as he met him, asking him to watch me, follow me, report back on what I did on a daily basis.
For that, Nikolas got a small, weekly stipend and the promise he’d never go to jail again, no matter how much crack he sold in the park where he used to play chess. As an added bonus, Pierce bought him a pair of binoculars.
But Nikolas saw the rages, which occurred when Pierce thought I’d looked at him the wrong way, or had shown too much affection toward Krull. Nikolas knew what had happened to Marla, and that scared him into action.
His mother had asked him to stop sending me those notes, to stay out of the policeman’s business. But he didn’t listen, and Pierce found out. Just like he found out about Jenna’s suspecting Nate and I had slept together. Just like he found out about Krull’s ex-wife and son. That was the irony—Pierce was a better detective than anyone ever gave him credit for.
He’s awaiting trial, with a hotshot female lawyer who’s already dropping hints about an insanity plea. For the time being, Pierce is living on Riker’s Island, separated from the rest of the prison population for his own safety; former cops are never popular in jail, especially when they’ve killed women. He hasn’t read the interviews with Katia in the Daily News and the New York Times because he’s denied access to all print and electronic media. But according to the Post, he’s been getting bags of fan mail.
A week after Pierce was arrested, Krull and I went to Nate’s funeral together, and sat alongside Jenna and Ezra. “Does Uncle Nate get to take all those flowers to heaven?” Ezra asked as the minister spoke and many of his beautiful costars—male and female—wept into handkerchiefs.
“Sure, honey,” said Jenna. “He gets to take his Emmys, too.”
Nate’s three older brothers were there, all of them handsome in that Nordic/Minnesota kind of way, but none so sparkling as their brother had been. As they lowered the casket into the ground, I watched Nate’s parents, staring at that closed box so raptly, as if they were still hoping, somehow, for a happy ending.
Sydney didn’t make it to the funeral. She flew out the next day. Yes, flew out, because she was living in California. She’d never left.
WLUV was broadcasting her via satellite, and the whole “live” thing was just a publicity stunt that entailed some sort of confidentiality agreement. “You should have told me,” I complained during her visit, over glasses of wine at the Stanhope’s bar. “I wouldn’t have said anything. And besides, I’m your daughter.”
“Oh, Samantha,” she said. “You of all people should know I’d never move to New York. You know what the humidity does to my hair.”
She’d never even thought about moving, as it turns out. Yet so many other changes have occurred in these two short months: Yale got the part in The Mikado, with the director’s caveat that he “Please lighten the hell up.” Shell broke down, said, “Screw the ring,” and started sleeping with En again. And, in a truly surprising turn of events, the actress who played Juliana left Shakespearean Idol to portray Blythe’s long-lost sister on Live and Let Live—and was replaced by none other than Tabitha—sorry, Tabs Meeks.
I’ve changed too, but on the inside and not really for the better. Here’s what scares me now: Sterling roses, The Wizard of Oz, polar bears, the color green, collages. Clowns too, but that’s an ongoing thing.
Also, if a stranger pays me a compliment, or if any straight guy, other than Krull, looks into my eyes for more than three seconds, I start to hyperventilate.
I know I’ll feel different someday. But when you’re bound to a bed with a bald killer straddling your chest, it’s going to make an impact. Right now, there’s love, and then there’s that other, awful emotion—the one you have to watch out for.
I haven’t met Ethan yet. Sheila thought we should take it slow—but that’s going to change today. Krull has him for the whole weekend, and I’m meeting the two of them at the playground on Twelfth and Seventh, where Sheila likes to drop him off. I have to say, I’m nervous. Before Krull left our apartment this morning, I asked his opinion on four different outfits, all of which he very unhelpfully called, “Fine.”
I’m heading west on Twelfth now, in my fifth outfit—a red hooded sweatshirt under a peacoat with jeans—which I’m feeling pretty good about, though my heart is pounding harder than it ever has on any date, even my high school prom. I really hope he likes me.
I reach the playground and spot them immediately: Krull standing at a distance as Ethan inches up one of the tallest playground slides I’ve ever seen.
“You can do it,” says Krull.
Ethan nods, then takes the ladder one step at a time until finally he reaches the top. From my experience as a preschool teacher, most kids want an audience when they scale a height like that. “Watch this!” they yell. “Look at me! Look how high I am!”
But when Ethan gets to the top, he just slides right down—no announcement, not even a pause. Just that look of pure joy, then completion, as his shoes hit the sand.
“One more time!” he says. His eyes are so much like his dad’s that it breaks my heart. Then Krull turns and waves and I think, Family.
As I start walking toward them, I feel a chill up my back—that unsettling sensation of being watched by someone, somewhere. But for now, I see Ethan smiling at me, and I’d rather ignore it.