Lisa Gardner - The Survivors Club

When he came back out, Waters had finished off the H 2O and cracked open both beers. He held out the red-and-white can of Bud to Griffin as he took his seat.

“I see you still only buy the best,” Mike said.

“Absolutely.”

They lapsed back into silence. Finally, ten, twenty, thirty minutes later, it didn't really matter, Mike said, “You still miss her?”

“Every day.”

“I miss her, too.” Mike looked at him. “It was hard, you being out. It was as if I'd lost both of you.”

Griffin didn't say anything. He and Mike went back fifteen years now. Mike had been there for Griffin's first promotion to detective. He'd been there when Griffin came back from a hiking trip raving about this woman he'd just met. He'd served as best man at Griffin and Cindy's wedding, and then one bright spring afternoon, he'd been a pallbearer at her funeral. It was hard sometimes for Griffin to remember that the pain was not his alone.

“David Price was a piece of shit,” Waters said abruptly. “And he hid it really well, not just from you. It's over, though. He took enough. Don't give him any more.”

“I know.”

“Good. She'd want you to be happy, Griffin. She never wanted less for you than you wanted for her.”

“It wasn't fair, you know,” Griffin said.

“I know.”

“That's the hardest part. If I think about that…” He spun the can of beer in his hands. “If I focus on that, I start to go a little nuts again.”

“Then don't think about that.”

Griffin sighed heavily. He went back to studying the dark depths of the ocean at night. “Yeah. Things happen as they happen. People who think they're in control of life-they're just not paying attention.”

“Amen,” Waters said. He went back inside and fetched them both another can of beer.

Later, Griffin said: “Did you follow up with Corporal Charpentier?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“David Price doesn't know anything.”

“You're sure?”

“Corporal Charpentier tracked down Como's former roommate Jimmy Woods, the guy now serving time in Steel City. According to Woods, Eddie Como was a first-class whiner even behind bars. All he ever did was go on and on about how he was innocent, and this was all some horrible mistake.”

“This is what Woods said?”

“That's what Woods said. Just for the sake of argument, Charpentier followed up with Price. Price said Woods was lying, but Charpentier wasn't impressed. Charpentier even asked Price if he knew who had done Sylvia Blaire. You know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said Eddie Como. And then he laughed.”

NIGHTFALL. MEG SAT ON THE FLOOR OF HER LITTLE SISTER'S room, ostensibly braiding the hair on her sister's new Barbie doll, but really trying to pretend she didn't notice the thick darkness gathering outside the second-story window-or the sound of her parents' voices, arguing down the hall.

“The pink dress,” five-year-old Molly announced. She'd been going through her shoebox of Barbie clothes for the past ten minutes, trying to pick the perfect outfit for Barbie's upcoming wedding. Molly didn't own Ken, so Barbie was going to marry Pooh Bear. Pooh seemed very excited about the whole thing. He was wearing a new pink cape for the occasion. Molly loved the color pink.

Molly handed over the long, sequined dress, more appropriate for receiving an Oscar than, say, a wedding, but Meg dutifully tugged it up over the doll's feet.

“Maybe we should tell someone,” her mother was saying down the hall.

“Absolutely not!” her father's muffled voice replied.

“What about Jillian-”

“No.”

“Sergeant Griffin?”

“Dammit, Laurie, this is a family matter. We've made it this long, we're not getting strangers involved now.”

“Shoes,” Molly declared. She looked at Meg and promptly frowned. Matching shoes were hard to come by for the real people in this house, let alone the tiny plastic pairs that went with Barbie.

“She could have a barefoot wedding,” Meg said.

“No!” Molly was shocked.

“Pooh doesn't have any shoes,” Meg pointed out reasonably.

Her little sister rolled her eyes. “Pooh is a bear. Bears don't wear shoes, everyone knows that.”

“Bears wear capes?”

“Yes, pink capes 'cause pink is Barbie's favorite color and her husband has to know that her favorite color is pink.”

Purple, Meg thought idly. The color of royalty. His favorite color. Who was he? How did she know that?

“I'm worried…” Her mother's voice was rising down the hallway.

“Now, honey-”

“No! Don't honey me! For God's sake, Tom. The doctors told us her memory would come back shortly. Trauma-induced amnesia isn't supposed to last this long or be this complete. But she doesn't seem to remember anything. Anything . What if she's doing worse than we thought?”

“Come on, Laurie. You've seen her. She's happy. So what if she doesn't remember anything. Hell, maybe we're all better off that she forgot.”

“Or maybe she hated her life that much. You ever think of that, Tom? Maybe what we did… Oh my God, maybe we scarred her that badly!”

“Shoes!” Molly squealed. She triumphantly dumped out her box of Barbie clothes and fished out a pair of bright red platform heels that had probably come with Barbie's flower child outfit or a killer pair of jeans. Now Molly took Barbie out of Meg's hands and used the shoes to finish up Barbie's hot-pink wedding ensemble. Outfits that would not be appearing in a Mattel commercial anytime soon, Meg decided. But Molly was very pleased.

“It's time for the wedding,” Molly said with a big smile. “Dum-dum-de-dum, dum-dum-de-dum…”

“I'll marry you.”

“No… no…”

“It's them, isn't it? Well, fuck them! I'll take you away. I'll make you happy. Come on, Meg, sweet Meg, my precious little Meg…”

“I'm scared.”

“Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you, Meg. Not anyone. Ever.”

“I'm scared,” her mother was saying. “What if one day it suddenly comes back to her? Bang. Just like that. What if she's not ready?”

“The docs said if she did remember, then she'd be ready.”

“Oh please, the doctors also said there was no reason for her to have forgotten this much. Face it, Tom, they don't know anything. It's amnesia. A brain thing, a mental thing. They're making this up as they go along.”

“Laurie, honey, what do you want?”

“I want her to be happy! I want her to be safe. Oh Tom, what if we were the ones who had come home today to find Meg passed out from an overdose of sleeping pills? If the trauma of being so viciously raped is too much for a grown woman, what do you think it must be doing to Meg?”

“Meg?” Molly asked.

Meg blinked her eyes. Her sister's pink-painted room came back into focus. She was sitting once more on the floor. Her little sister was beside her, peering up at her anxiously.

“Meg doesn't feel good?” Molly asked. She was still clutching Barbie in her right hand.

“I'm, uh, I'm…” Meg touched her cheek. Her face was covered in sweat. Her skin had grown cold and clammy. “Just a little headache, I guess.” She smiled at her sister weakly, trying to get her bearings back.

“Marry me.”

“I can't-”

“Marry me.”

Her stomach rebelled. For a moment, she thought she might be sick. And then suddenly, in the back of her head:

“Fucking brat. Run home to your mommy and daddy. Go hide behind their narrow little minds and fucking suburban panacea. You don't want my love? Then I take it back. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…”