Lisa Gardner: Alone

"Do you still dream about him?"

"Sometimes."

"How often?"

"I don't know." His own voice had grown soft. He no longer looked at her, but studied her framed diploma on the wall.

"Maybe three, four times a week."

"That's better than it was."

"Yeah."

"Are you sleeping?"

"Some. That road… it's gonna be a long one."

"Do you think there will be a time when you won't think of Jimmy Gagnon?"

"I killed the man. That's a heavy burden to bear. Especially knowing there might have been mitigating circumstances. Especially… well, you know, that's precisely the problem. Even after two months, I'm still not sure what happened that night."

"The police aren't pressing charges against Catherine?"

"No evidence."

"I thought you said they found a gun in the dresser in the bedroom."

He shrugged.

"But what does that prove? She fired two shots in her own home? There's no law against that. The decision to kill Jimmy was mine and mine alone. I'm the one who saw his face. I'm the one who pulled the trigger."

"Do you hate her?"

"Sometimes."

"And the other times?"

He smiled wryly.

"The other times I'd just as soon keep to myself."

Dr. Lane shook her head.

"She's a dangerous woman, Bobby."

"No kidding."

"Well, I think we're all set for now. I've signed off on the paperwork and sent it over to Lieutenant Bruni. Of course, you're always welcome to call me."

"I appreciate that."

"Good luck to you, Bobby."

And he said genuinely, "Thanks, Doc. Thank you very much."

He was at the end of Newbury Street now, arriving at the Public Garden. Children were running through the maze of trees, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Adults were out, too, bundled up against the cold. Some watched the kids. Others walked an assortment of exuberant dogs.

Bobby didn't see them right away. When he finally did, he was pleasantly surprised.

He crossed to Catherine, beautiful as always in a black wool coat and deep purple scarf and gloves. Nathan wasn't sitting beside her. For a change, he was chasing after two other kids, the puppy hot on his heels.

"I almost didn't recognize him," Bobby said as he took a seat.

Catherine glanced up at him, flashed a smile, then went back to watching her son.

"Two weeks suddenly makes a big difference."

"I take it the new diet is working out."

"The power of high-fructose corn syrup. Turns out glucose and galactose are processed by the GLUT2 gene, which in Nathan's case is mutated. Fructose, however, is transported by GLUT5, so his system can absorb it much more readily. Now he's not only getting more calories, but he's finally getting an energy source his body can use to grow."

"Catherine, that's excellent." She smiled again, but then her expression, as it often did these days, grew more somber.

"He'll be on a restricted diet all of his life, and even then, he's going to have issues. His body doesn't absorb nutrients the way it should. He'll always have to monitor his health, and God knows all the complications still to come."

"But the two of you are pros."

"I wish I would've found the cause sooner. I wish I would've gotten him better help earlier. I wish… I wish so many things."

There was nothing to say to that. Given the past two months, they both had their share of regrets.

"Any word on the house?" he asked at last.

"Already sold."

"Jesus, that was fast."

"There's a waiting list for Back Bay. Even at these prices."

Bobby shook his head. Catherine had listed her residence at four million. He'd never understand where people got that kind of money.

"So what's next?"

"I'm thinking of Arizona. Someplace warm, where Nathan can play outside every day. Someplace where no one has ever heard of James Gagnon or Richard Umbrio. Someplace where Nathan and I can both start fresh."

"And Maryanne?"

"She's devastated about what James put us through. I think she'd like a fresh start, too, and more time with Nathan. On the other hand… you know, she really loves James. Even after everything, I don't think she can bring herself to leave him."

James was in a coma. Between the blood loss and damage to his internal organs, his system had shut down. Doctors didn't think he'd ever regain consciousness. Mostly, they were surprised the man was still alive.

"Maybe someday," Bobby said.

Catherine nodded.

"Maryanne likes Arizona. She mentioned they'd always talked about buying a home out there. So maybe, afterwards…"

His turn to nod. Now they both watched Nathan. The boy's cheeks were flushed, his breath coming in frosty pants. Trickster nipped at his heels and all the children laughed.

"The nightmares?" Bobby asked quietly.

She smiled wanly.

"Only half a dozen a night."

"You or him?"

She smiled again, but the look was sad.

"Both. You know what's funny? I don't dream of Umbrio. First time in my life, I no longer fear a stranger turning down the street. I dream of Jimmy. That last look on his face. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, I hear Nathan calling out for Jimmy, as well."

"Ouch," Bobby said.

"Ouch," she agreed. She paused.

"When we get to Arizona, I think I'm going to find a specialist. Someone who can help Nathan with the trauma. And maybe someone who can help me, too."

"I think that would be a great idea."

"You could come with us."

"What, and give up all this cold?"

Her hand clutched his.

"Bobby, I'm scared."

"I know."

"Do you not want to work? I can support you-"

"Don't."

She turned away, immediately embarrassed, but he softened the blow by stroking her cheek.

"You're the most special woman I know, Catherine," he said.

"You love your son, you finally stood up to Umbrio. You're going to be okay. Both you and Nathan. It just takes time."

"If I'm so special," she challenged in a muffled tone, "why don't you come with us?"

Bobby smiled. He pulled his hand away from her, clasping his fingers on his lap. He looked at Nathan, running and laughing with the other kids, and then he said the only thing left to be said: "Got a call from Detective Warren the other day." Beside him, Catherine immediately stilled.

"She's been working the connection between Judge Gagnon and Colleen Robinson-looking for phone records, financial transactions, anything to tie the two together. The judge was a smart man. D.D. can find records of cash withdrawals but no indication of where the money went. And when it comes to phone records, D.D. can't find evidence of a single call. Not from the judge.

"But she found two calls from you."

Bobby turned and looked at Catherine. In her cool gaze, he saw a wariness that told him more than any words. "Turns out, Colleen Robinson had a bad time of it in prison. Getting out, she joined a female support group for post-traumatic stress syndrome. You might know the group, Catherine. According to the counselor, you attended some of the meetings."

"I tried out group therapy once," Catherine said levelly.

"But that was ages ago. Before I met Jimmy. Surely you don't expect me to remember one woman from so many years ago."

"Maybe you didn't. But maybe she remembered you." Bobby shook his head, bouncing his fingertips off one another.

"I've been turning over the pieces in my mind all week. On the one hand, I don't think you had the connections to get Umbrio out of prison. But once you knew he was out, that the judge had pulled those strings… Did Colleen give you a call? Is that how it worked? Maybe she wanted some sort of payoff, or maybe she was just trying to be helpful, give you a warning. Of course, a warning wouldn't help you, would it? Umbrio was legally paroled. And the police were too busy suspecting you of murder to be interested in offering you protection. No, you were all alone, backed into a corner. Is that when the idea came to you, Catherine? That you could use the judge's own weapon against him?"