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  The truth of the matter was, I didn’t want the settlement conference. Deep down, I didn’t really want to end the marriage. That wasn’t fair to Ally, of course. We were casually dating, and I did really like her. But I hadn’t told her that I didn’t really want a divorce from Sarah. I never told anybody that I secretly hoped that there was a flicker there. That maybe marriage counseling and individual counseling for Sarah might bring us back together. I thought that I owed that much to Nate and Amelia to try to keep the family together.

  I owed it to myself, too. I never wanted to go through life wondering what if?

  “Sarah,” I said, realizing that my anger had faded away. “I still love you. But the trust is gone. Completely gone. I can’t forgive you for abandoning Amelia. I can forgive you for abandoning me, because I know that you were going through an emotional crisis. I know that Amelia being sick brought up a lot of awful memories for you about your brother Noah. I understand that, believe it or not.” I took a deep breath. “However, you owed it to Amelia to keep trying. To stand strong. I know that you didn’t agree with my decision to ask the doctors to keep treating her. I know that you felt that it was fruitless and that we were just torturing our daughter. I understand that. I’ve been to family therapy with the kids, and the therapist has told me that you were most likely experiencing some sort of PTSD about the whole thing.”

  Her blue eyes were becoming warmer, yet sadder, with every word I said. She swallowed hard and then hung her head. “You know why I ran away? You understand it?”

  “Yes. I do. I know that you couldn’t handle Amelia being sick because it reminded you of Noah. But Sarah, it was up to you to find the strength to be there for her. Even if you couldn’t be with me, you needed to be there for her. That’s what I can’t forgive.”

  “Right now? You can’t forgive me about that right now?” Her voice was hopeful. “Or is there a chance that we could find our way back, and you might forgive me in the future? Is there that chance?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. See, if it was just you taking time away somewhere, maybe going to stay with your mother in New York, I would be much more ready to let you come back. I would be angry, but I could get over it. But you didn’t just go and stay with your mother. You went into the arms of another man. That’s what gets me. You betrayed our vows. Remember how we promised to forsake all others? You threw that in the trash.” I was feeling the anger boiling up inside me again. “Why would you do that?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, Damien. I don’t know. John and I aren’t together anymore. I broke up with him, because I knew that I wanted you back. I wanted my family back. My life back. I was confused, Damien. I didn’t know where to turn. I couldn’t talk to you about Amelia. Your mind was made up, and all we did was fight about her. That’s all we did. I was able to talk to John about my feelings about our daughter. He listened to me and he made sure that he didn’t judge me. I felt safe talking to him about how awful I felt about wanting my own daughter to die. What kind of a mother was I that I would want that?” She bowed her head. “I was suicidal,” she said, in a very quiet voice. “And I couldn’t talk to you about that, either. I couldn’t put that on you, not when you were so focused on Amelia getting better.”

  Was she manipulating me with this talk about her being suicidal? She had never been suicidal to my knowledge. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you were suicidal.”

  She got up and went over to an accordion file that she had positioned on the floor. She reached into the file and silently brought out a document. She handed it to me, and I looked at it.

  It was a discharge document from Shawnee Mission Medical Center. She had apparently stayed there in the psychiatric ward for five days. I looked at the paper, and it did indicate that Sarah had appeared at the hospital one day, afraid that she was going to take her own life. She told the intake doctors that she had a plan for killing herself, and she was afraid that she was going to carry it out.

  “I was going to end it,” she said. “I was going to hang myself. I fantasized about doing it. I bought a rope. I tested it on a tree branch – I made a noose and ordered a doll that weighed over 100 lbs. I hanged that doll from a branch that was in the woods in Swope Park. I was ready to do it. That’s when I knew that I needed help. I went to Shawnee Mission and they held me inpatient for five days. I couldn’t tell you about that. That was right after I moved out of our house. John didn’t even know about it – I told him that I was staying with my mother during that time. I just needed to get mentally straight, completely on my own. That stay in the hospital cured me of wanting to commit suicide, but I’ve still been struggling with severe depression. I need to be back with you and Amelia and Nate. I know that I really screwed up, and you’re right, I need to be stronger. I’m in therapy, though, and I feel that I’m working through my issues.”

  She was in therapy. I felt that she was telling the truth about that. I could see it in her eyes.

  I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her. She clung to me and, in a matter of seconds, she was crying. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, over and over and over again. “I love you. I love our children. I can’t live without you and I can’t live without Nate and Amelia.”

  “I know,” I said. “Listen, here’s what I’ll do. I got a very nice settlement for a wrongful death case last year. I know that you know about it, because I told Olivia, my divorce lawyer, about it. It was marital property, so I had to disclose it. Anyhow, I would like to set you up in an apartment on the Plaza. And we can see each other a few times a week and see how it goes. I’m not ready for you to move back in. I’m not yet ready to trust you like that. But we can go to marital counseling and try to pick up the pieces. I’ll break things off with Ally and you have to promise me that you won’t see other men. I won’t make any promises, but, if we can rebuild, if it’s possible to rebuild, I would like to try.”

  She looked at me, her eyes grateful. “Yes. Yes, I would like that. I don’t want to live apart from you guys, though I understand why you need that. I’ll do anything to make you realize that I won’t go off the deep end like that again. I won’t ever make the mistake of cheating or abandoning or anything like that. Just give me one more chance, and I’ll show you.”

  “Okay. Well, next week, let’s look for an apartment for you. Someplace close to here. And we’ll see how it goes. No promises.”

  She nodded her head eagerly. “You can’t imagine how much this means to me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

  “No promises,” I repeated.

  I looked out the window and saw that Gretchen was coming up the driveway with Nate and Amelia in tow. They each had shopping bags in their hands and they were laughing. They walked in the door and saw the two of us together and they all stopped dead. Gretchen’s mouth was hanging open and Nate and Amelia both looked stunned.

  Sarah plastered a smile on her face. “I was just leaving,” she said, in a sing-song voice. “But I’ll see you guys later.” She looked back at me and I nodded.

  Amelia looked at me when her mom left. “What was that? Why was Sarah here?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “A long story.”

  Chapter 3

  That Saturday, I picked up Heather at her apartment. It was in the Hyde Park area in a four-plex that had been built in the 1920s. It was a brick building with stone balconies, and the cornerstone in front of the apartment building read “1922.” The Hyde Park area was actually one of my favorite areas of town. It was a blend of turn-of-the-century mansions and small houses, all of which were built between the turn of the century and the 1930s. Her street was tree-lined and quiet.

  I went in the front door of the building and headed up to the second floor. I knocked on her door, and she opened it. “Dami,” she said. “Come on in.”

  I walked in and saw that Heather had a style all her own. Her couch was bright blue, her curtains were bright red, blu
e and yellow and she had a throw-rug that was made of white fake fur. The place was small, with hardwood floors and low ceilings.

  As for Heather, she was dressed in tight jeans and a long sweater layered over a black t-shirt. A colorful scarf was around her neck. I assumed that she wanted to wear scarves because she had to hide her Adam’s Apple. Harper told me that she always wore high heels, and today was no different, as she was in boots with three-inch heels. Her long black hair was up in a bun.

  “I’m almost ready,” she said. “I just gotta clean out Frisky Bun Bun’s litter box.”

  It was then that I noticed the black cat that was sitting on the window ledge, looking out. Her tail was twitching and she was looking at me suspiciously, as cats often do.

  Heather went over to the corner and sifted out some lumps out of the litter box and tossed them into the trash. “Now I’m ready.” She went over to her couch and picked up a leather bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  We walked down to my car and got in. “Okay,” she said. “Now, tell me who we’re seeing again and why?”

  “His name is Nick Savante,” I said. “And he’s one of my oldest and closest friends.”

  “And he’s a lifer?” Heather looked at me with a mixture of approval, admiration and subtle curiosity. “I don’t need to tell you that you look like the last guy who would have a good friend serving LWOP.”

  “He’s not LWOP. He’s up for parole this year.”

  “Umkay,” she said skeptically.

  I took a deep breath and told her my story.

  “Okay,” Heather said. “So, you were in prison and you grew up with these guys who are serving life sentences. Got it.”

  “Yeah. What do you think about that?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t believe you got to where you are, considering what happened to you when you were young. You’re kind of a bad-ass.”

  I smiled. “And you are too,” I said. “Harper told me your story.”

  “I guess. I mean, I killed my psycho adoptive mother with a butcher knife, because she was going to kill me first. But that doesn’t mean that I’m a bad-ass. I was just unlucky.”

  “Oh, but you are,” I said. “You’re getting your shit together. You went through a lot, too, and you’re putting it all behind you. That speaks volumes.”

  “Thanks for saying that.” She looked out the window. “Anyhow, I’m really excited about going to visit this prison.”

  I had to smile at her youthful effervescence. When I was her age, I was in prison, wasting away. In a way, it made me angry that I couldn’t experience the hopeful optimism that Heather was displaying. I never got the chance to capitalize on what it means to be young and feeling that the world was at my feet. I was just going to have to live vicariously through Heather.

  After about 45 minutes, we came up on the prison grounds. Cameron Prison is a medium security prison that was less than an hour outside Kansas City. We went in the prison, filled out a questionnaire, were searched and then were led into a room where inmates meet their visitors. All around me were tables with inmates talking to people. Guards stood around and made sure that nobody got out of line and nobody was slipping something to somebody.

  About twenty minutes later, Nick appeared. He saw me and smiled. I stood up and we hugged. “Buddy,” he said. “Man, I thought you were never coming around.”

  “Aw, come on, man. You know I would never ditch you. Womb to tomb, right?”

  “Right, right,” he said, still smiling broadly. “I told the guys you were coming. You gotta see them, too, you know. They’re all wondering about you.”

  “I will, I will. Anyhow, I wanted to come and see you and see how you were. I also need to ask you about a guy in here. His name is Joey Caruso. Name ring a bell?”

  Nick looked up at the ceiling and put his hand on his chin. “Sure, I know Joey.”

  He just then looked over at Heather, who smiled at him. “Who’s this?” he asked.

  “Heather Morrison,” I said. “She works for our firm as an investigator and researcher. She’s wanting to learn the ropes. I agreed to bring her along. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure, why not?” Nick shrugged. “Now, about Joey. Who is he to you?”

  “Nobody. I just got a client, her name is Gina Degrazio and she hired me to represent her. She told me that you gave Joey my name as somebody who should represent her. What can you tell me about him?“

  “He’s a good guy. He was a transfer from a maximum security prison, got here because of good behavior. He’s a lifer, in for Murder One. Killed his wife when he caught her in bed with another man. Can’t say I blame him for killing her, but he probably should have killed him, too.”

  At that, he smiled at Heather. “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t say things like that around a young lady.”

  “Trust me, Heather has heard it all at this point,” I said. “Right, Heather?”

  “Oh, God yes,” Heather said. “I’ve been working for Harper for about a year now, meeting with people, doing research and all sorts of stuff. You don’t have to police your language around me.”

  Nick nodded his head. “Thanks, then. So, yeah, Joey is a good dude with a bad rap. You know, he’s not really a violent guy. He didn’t beat on his wife or anything like that. He just lost his shit when he caught his wife in bed with another dude. That’s all. Now, why were you asking about Joey again?”

  “I have this new client-“

  “Yeah, yeah, Gina Degrazio. Right. Joey talks about Gina all the time.”

  “Now, tell me about Joey and Gina. Why does Joey talk about her all the time?”

  “Gina’s his girl,” he said. “She’s been his girl for quite a few years, according to Joey.”

  “Really? Joey doesn’t mind the fact that she’s married and sleeping with her husband’s identical twin?”

  “I don’t know about all that. Joey did tell me that Gina was married, but he said that Gina and her husband are name only, you know? I don’t know about her sleeping with her husband’s identical twin, though. I never heard about that one.”

  “Okay. What else do you know about Joey Caruso? After all, you told him that I was going to be a good lawyer for Gina. You wouldn’t just tell anybody that, so you must know something about him and something about Gina. By the way, I’m thinking Gina is going to be one of my pain in the ass clients. You know, I’m always telling you about how 20% of my clients produce 80% of my work. I have a feeling that Gina is going to end up being part of that 20%. A sneaking suspicion.”

  “Well, let’s see…Joey tells me that he’s one of those guys who’s kind of low-level on the crime scene. One of those guys who runs robbery rings and burglary rings, but who never got caught for shit like that. At least, that’s what he tells us guys inside. He swears that this is his first time down, and that if he hadn’t been yanked for killing his wife, he would still be on the outside, making his living by knocking off liquor stores and running underground gambling rings. But, between you and me, I think that he’s full of shit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, I think that Joey is more connected than what he lets on. There’s some other guys in here that are more connected in the Italian mafia world, and Joey runs with them inside. He seems to know them all pretty goddamned well. They’re not the hit men and the soldiers, they’re more like the capos, the guys who have men under them. The ones who order the hits, not the ones who carry them out. They’re not the guys who get their hands dirty. The only reason why they’re inside is because they’re taking the fall for guys who are even higher up than they are. I’d expect that if Joey was as two-bit as he lets on, these guys literally wouldn’t even know him in here. So, yeah, I think that Joey has some connections.”

  “That’s interesting. So, you think that Joey has connections in the mob, more than he lets on.”

  “Yeah. I mean, he doesn’t even let on that he’s connected with the mob at all. He lets on that he’s un
affiliated. That he leads his own low-level crime ring, and doesn’t mess around with the big boys. I don’t know about that, though.”

  “Maybe it’s just that he’s Italian and the mob guys are Italian, and they all have things in common?”

  “No, it’s not that. Joey’s from New York, he’s not from the old country. He speaks perfect Italian, though. He said that his parents were from the old country and spoke not a word of English, so that’s why he’s bilingual. When he’s with those guys, those mob guys, they all speak Italian to each other, even though they all know English. Drives the guards crazy. The guards keep telling them to speak English to each other, but they won’t do it. Because of that, one of them is always in the hole at any one time, but they don’t care. They say that it’s a free country and they have a right to speak a foreign language if they want to.”

  “And you can understand what they’re saying to each other when they speak Italian, right?”

  “Yeah. My Italian is kinda rusty, but I remember it well enough to keep up.”

  “What do they talk about when they speak Italian?”

  Nick rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “They’re planning their escape.” Then he smiled again. “Nah, really, I don’t think that they talk about anything important. They talk about what they got when their ladies came in to see them, and two of the guys are with each other. They’re not gay or nothing like that, but they’re lonely, you know. But they’re like two old married people, bickering constantly, back and forth. Like cats in a bag.”

  “But there’s not really anything that they talk about that’s important?”

  “Depends on what you think is important.”

  “Well, anything that you can tell me about what Joey says about Gina would definitely be considered to be important.”

  Nick looked up at the ceiling. “Well, he talks about how Gina and her husband, they’ve been married for twenty years, but that the husband isn’t interested in her and never has been.”

  “He ever talk about Vittorio beating on Gina?”