Page 101 of Gone Tonight
“You made yourself memorable at the restaurant last night when you talked to the manager. So you can’t be seen around there again. They may think you had something to do with the fire. I have to be the one to retrieve the Cadillac.”
Luckily, Catherine parked it in the middle of the lot, far enough away from Pizza Piazzo that it might not have drawn any notice.
“I’ll drive it back to Sunrise and meet you there,” I remind her.
“Afterthat.” Catherine bites off the words. “Am I supposed to stay in hiding now, too?”
“Just until this afternoon,” I promise. “Tomorrow at the latest. Then this is going to all be over. You can go back to your regular life, Catherine.”
She gives a half laugh. “My regular life. Right.”
She’s silent for a long moment and my thoughts return to the phone call I’m going to have with James. He remembers me as a passionate,somewhat naive girl. I need to find a way to access that past version of myself, even though no part of her lives inside me now.
I brake at a stoplight and reach into my purse for my dark sunglasses.
“So what’s your big plan?”
The hostile tone of Catherine’s question jars me.
“I’m still figuring it out,” I tell her. The less Catherine knows, the better for her. “Just trust me this one last time.”
The light turns green and I press down on the gas.
Catherine shakes her head sharply. Her voice overflows with emotion as she says, “You’ve lied about everything. Now I’m supposed to trust you?”
I know Catherine needs to process this, but now isn’t the time. I have to focus every bit of my mental energy on what lies ahead. So many things can go wrong today.
I feel my old nemesis, anger, rising up.
“Yes, Catherine. The only times I’ve ever lied to you have been to protect us!”
She puts her feet up on the dashboard, a habit I hate. I’ve told her before that if we’re in even a minor accident, her legs could be seriously damaged by the airbag.
“Whatever you say,Ava.”
I flinch at the sound of my real name, but I quash my desire to react. I keep driving, the speedometer steady at forty-five, both hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead.
An hour from now, I’ll pull into a gas station or some other public place, and Catherine and I will switch spots in the Bonneville. She’ll drop me off a few blocks away from the Cadillac and immediately drive back to the safety of the Memory Wing.
An hour after that, James will be arrested.
Then I can try to repair some of the damage I’ve done to my daughter.
I turn onto the highway and press down harder on the gas, the tires thrumming easily over the smooth pavement. The sun is a bithigher in the clear blue sky now. It’s warming the left side of my face through the window.
We’re drawing closer to my hometown.
I review my plan again in my mind. There are two calls I need to make, both from the burner tucked in my purse. The first will be to James. The second is the one I almost made years ago from my parents’ kitchen, to 911.
Catherine moves her sneakers off the dashboard and sits up straighter.
“How did you end up with him—with James? You came from a normal family, and you were this popular girl in high school… what went wrong?”
As hurt and angry as she is, her curiosity is winning out. And I know I have to finally start answering her questions or I may lose her forever.
“None of that is true. The media likes to paint certain pictures because it makes a better story. But my family wasn’t normal.… My mother was an alcoholic, and she abused us.”
“You and your brother?”
