Page 117 of Kill For Me Kill For You
Dolly Parton’s Greatest Hits.
‘You like Dolly?’ she asked.
‘Who doesn’t?’ said Farrow.
They listened to ‘Islands in the Stream’ and said nothing while Farrow drove her south through the city.
‘Have you seen Ruth since that night?’ she asked.
‘No, I suppose I’ll see her at her trial. Have you been asked to attend as a witness?’
‘No, not yet anyway. I read about it in the paper. She really was dangerous if all of that is true.’
‘It looks cut and dried to me,’ said Farrow. ‘The gun she had that night was registered to a former security guard named Gary Childers. Her fingerprints were on his garage door and from what I’ve seen of the phone messages between them she was coming to pay him a visit. Poor bastard. She shot him in the face with his own gun while he was watching TV.’
‘She’ll never get out again, will she?’
‘No,’ said Farrow, ‘she sure won’t.’
They fell into silence then. Amanda gazed at the track list on the back of the CD cover, and fast forwarded to one of her favorite songs.
‘It’s All Wrong, But It’s All Right’.
They listened, and hummed along, and Amanda gave him directions to the gallery. He pulled up at the curb.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ said Amanda. ‘Thank you for everything. You’ve been there for me more than anyone else. And you never gave up on Jess and Luis. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.’
‘I did what any cop would do,’ he said.
‘No, you did so much more. And you never gave up on me, either.’
‘I think you’re doing just fine, now. Keep it that way. I’m getting older and my back isn’t going to hold up forever. I don’t suppose we’ll ever really know who killed Quinn, or Crone. I guess Hernandez is right. I just have to let some cases go. Take care of yourself, and enjoy the new job,’ he said, before speeding away.
When his car had turned a corner, Amanda reached into her jacket pocket and took out the letter she’d found in her mailbox. She opened it, and read it.
Dear Amanda,
I hope you enjoyed the concert. My apologies, I couldn’t be there, but as you will no doubt learn I was otherwise engaged. I wanted to thank you for all your help in finding Ruth, and I wanted to return the favor. I’m sorry I lied to you. I never had a wife, never mind one who was murdered. It is my hope that you might forgive me.
I already knew Ruth’s real identity before I even met you, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, you understand. I needed a buffer between me and the police. And a person that Scott would trust. Someone to help cover up a few things. It was better that I had someone with me for the ride. I would like you to burn this letter, if you don’t mind, after reading it. But I want you to know that before Crone died, he admitted to killing your little girl. I thought you deserved that closure. It’s unlikely that we’ll meet again.
Good luck, and enjoy the rest of your life, sweetheart.
X
Amanda left work at five thirty, got home, picked something up and went right back out again. She hopped on the subway, changed to the N train at Atlantic Avenue and rode it until she hit the Stilwell Avenue station at Coney Island.
She loved seaside resorts in winter. There were always few, if any, people and there was a cold stillness to the place. As if it was sleeping. Waiting for the sun. It was dark when she stepped onto the boardwalk. Slippery too. Carefully, she made it to the beach and then removed her shoes. The sand was cool to the touch. Jess had loved this beach. They had come to this beach after Jess won Sparkles at the fairground. Luis had made sandcastles for Jess and they all ate ice cream together. There were no lights from the Ferris wheel behind her now as she walked out further toward the sound of the ocean – the Atlantic licking the beach. Both beach and sea were coal-black in the night.
Amanda sat down cross-legged, and using her hands she scooped out a small basin in the sand. The wind was picking up, and she had to cradle the flame from her Zippo as she lit Billy’s letter, then placed it in the bottom of the sand pit. Amanda took Sparkles from her bag, and placed the toy on top of the burning letter. The flame ignited the toy almost instantly, turning the sand around it from slate gray to gold once more.
She sat for a time on the beach, warming her hands over the tiny flames, knowing she had finally crossed that great black sea.
There was no one else on the beach.
Amanda did not feel afraid.
And she did not feel alone.
The wind hurled the sea at her, but it could not touch her. It could not touch her fire, either. Whatever kind of stuffing was in that toy changed the color of the flames from time to time. The odors it gave off changed too. For a second, but only a second, she thought she caught the faint smell of oranges. The wind brought sounds to her ears. Waves curling into rolling hills and then smashing down into the water.
And something else.
She couldn’t tell if it was the wind whispering over the boardwalk, or through the sand, but she thought that in the air she could hear a child’s voice. Playing. Laughing. Happy.
At peace.
