Perfect Match Read online

  "We got the report back from O'Brien. You did a nice job, Nina. I'll leave it for you to look over ..."

  In the dark under here, I begin to hum, so that I can't hear him.

  "Well."

  I stick my fingers in my ears.

  "I don't think there's anything else." I feel a commotion to my left as he gathers his files. "I'll be in touch after Christmas." He begins to walk away from me, his expensive shoes striking the carpet like rumors.

  I have killed a man; I have killed a man. This has become a part of me, like the color of my eyes or the birthmark on my right shoulder blade. I have killed a man, and nothing I do can take that away.

  I pull the covers down from my face just as he reaches the door. "Fisher," I say, the first word I've spoken in days.

  He turns, smiles.

  "I'm taking the stand."

  That smile vanishes. "No you're not."

  "I am."

  He approaches the bed again. "If you take the stand, Brown is going to rip you to shreds. If you take the stand, even I can't help you."

  I stare at him, unblinking, for a lifetime. "So?" I say.

  "Someone wants to talk to you," Caleb announces, and he drops the portable phone on the bed. When I don't bother to reach for it, Caleb seems to think twice. "It's Patrick," he adds.

  Once, on a trip to the beach, I let Nathaniel bury me in the sand. It took so long that the hills enclosing my legs--the spot where he'd started--had dried and hardened. The weight of the beach pressed down on my chest, and I remember feeling claustrophobic as his small hands built a dune around me. When I finally did move, I was a Titan, rising from the earth with enough leashed power to topple gods.

  Now, I watch my hand crawl across the covers toward the phone, and I cannot stop it. As it turns out, there is one thing strong enough to seduce me away from my careful paralysis and self-pity--the possibility of action. And even though I have looked the consequences right in their yellow-wolf eyes, it turns out I am still addicted. Hello, my name is Nina, and I need to know where he is.

  "Patrick?" I press the receiver to my ear.

  "I found him. Nina, he's in Louisiana. A town called Belle Chasse. He's a priest."

  All my breath leaves my lungs in a rush. "You arrested him."

  There is a hesitation. "No."

  As I sit up, the covers fall away. "Did you ..." I cannot finish. There is a part of me hoping so hard that he will tell me something horrible, something I desperately want to hear. And there is another part of me hoping that whatever I have turned into has not poisoned him too.

  "I talked to the guy. But I couldn't let him know I was onto him, or that I was even from Maine. You remember going through this at the beginning, with Nathaniel--tip off a molester and he's going to run, and we'll never get a confession. Gwynne's even more cagey, because he knows his half-brother was killed due to an allegation of child sexual abuse that he committed himself." Patrick hesitates. "So instead I said I was getting married and looking for a church for the ceremony. It was the first thing that came to mind."

  Tears spring to my eyes. He was within Patrick's grasp, and still nothing has happened. "Arrest him. For God's sake, Patrick, get off this phone and run back there--"

  "Nina, stop. I'm not a cop in Louisiana. The crime didn't happen here. I need an arrest warrant in Maine before I can get a fugitive charge lodged against Gwynne in Louisiana, and even then, he might fight extradition." He hesitates. "And what do you imagine my boss will say when he finds out I'm using my shield to dig up information about a case that I haven't even been assigned to?"

  "But Patrick ... you found him."

  "I know. And he's going to be punished." There is a silence. "Just not today."

  He asks me if I am all right, and I lie to him. How can I be all right? I am back where I started. Except now, after I am tried for the murder of an innocent man, Nathaniel will be embroiled in another trial. While I sit in jail, he'll have to face his abuser, drag back the nightmare. Nathaniel will suffer; he will hurt.

  Patrick says good-bye, and I hang up the phone. I stare at the receiver in my hand for a minute, rub the edge of the smooth plastic.

  The first time, I had much more to lose.

  "What are you doing?"

  My head pops through the turtleneck to find Caleb standing in the bedroom. "What does it look like I'm doing?" I button my jeans. Stuff my feet into my clogs.

  "Patrick got you out of bed," he says, and there is a note in his voice that strikes off-chord.

  "Patrick gave me information that got me out of bed," I correct. I try to move around Caleb, but he blocks my exit. "Please. I have to go somewhere."

  "Nina, you're not going anywhere. The bracelet."

  I look at my husband's face. There are lines on his brow I cannot remember seeing; with no small shock I realize I have put them there.

  I owe him this.

  So I put my hand on his arm, lead him to the bed, have him sit beside me on the edge. "Patrick found the name of the bone marrow donor. He's the priest that came to visit St. Anne's this October. The one with the cat. His name is Arthur Gwynne, and he works at a church in Belle Chasse, Louisiana."

  Caleb's face goes pale. "Why ... why are you telling me this?"

  Because the first time, I acted alone, when I should have at least told you my plans. Because when they ask you in court, you will not have to testify. "Because," I say, "it's not finished yet."

  He reels back. "Nina. No." I get up, but he catches my wrist, pulls me up close to his face. My arm, twisted, hurts. "What are you gonna do? Break your house arrest to go kill another priest? One life sentence isn't enough for you?"

  "They have the death penalty in Louisiana," I shoot back.

  My response is a guillotine, severing us. Caleb releases me so quickly I stumble and fall onto the floor. "Is that what you want?" he asks quietly. "Are you that selfish?"

  "Selfish?" By now I am crying, hard. "I'm doing this for our son."

  "You're doing this for yourself, Nina. If you were thinking of Nathaniel, even a little, you'd concentrate on being his mother. You'd get out of bed and get on with your life and let the legal system deal with Gwynne."

  "The legal system. You want me to wait for the courts to get around to charging this bastard? While he rapes ten, twenty other children? And then wait some more while the governors of our states fight over who gets the honor of holding his trial? And then wait again while Nathaniel testifies against the son of a bitch? And watch Gwynne get a sentence that ends before our son even stops having nightmares about what was done to him?" I draw in a long, shaky breath. "There's your legal system, Caleb. Is it worth waiting for?"

  When he doesn't answer, I get to my feet. "I'm already going to prison for killing a man. I don't have a life anymore. But Nathaniel can."

  "You want your son to grow up without you?" Caleb's voice breaks. "Let me save you the trouble."

  Standing abruptly, he leaves the bedroom, calling Nathaniel's name. "Hey, buddy," I hear him say. "We're going on an adventure."

  My hands and feet go numb. But I manage to get to Nathaniel's bedroom, and find Caleb haphazardly stuffing clothes into a Batman knapsack. "What ... what are you doing?"

  "What does it look like I'm doing?" Caleb replies, an echo of my own earlier words.

  Nathaniel jumps up and down on his bed. His hair flies to the sides like silk. "You can't take him away from me."

  Caleb zips shut the bag. "Why not? You were willing to take yourself away from him." He turns to Nathaniel, forces a smile. "You ready?" he asks, and Nathaniel leaps into his outstretched arm.

  "Bye, Mommy!" he crows. "We're on an adventure!"

  "I know." Smiling is hard, with this knot in my throat. "I heard."

  Caleb carries him past me. There is the thunder of footsteps on the stairs, and the definitive slam of a door. The engine of Caleb's truck, revving and reversing down the driveway. Then it is so quiet I can hear my own misgivings, small susurrations in the a