“What about the A on the bottom of the chair?”
She gave a stuttered laugh. “That was an arrow. I assumed that the crime scene techs would find it. I wanted them to know that the main culprit was sitting on the couch. Caleb must’ve left hair, fiber, fingerprints.”
Will wondered if Ahbidi Mittal’s team would’ve figured out the message. Will had certainly botched the job.
She asked, “Tell me, did they really dig up my backyard?”
Will realized she meant Caleb’s crew, not Ahbidi Mittal’s. “You told them the money was there?”
She chuckled, probably thinking about the boys running around in the dark with shovels. “I thought it seemed plausible, inasmuch as it’s happened in the movies.”
Will didn’t confess that he’d seen too many of those movies himself.
Abruptly, Evelyn’s demeanor changed. She looked back at the ceiling. The tiles were stained brown. It wasn’t much of a view. Will recognized an avoidance technique when he saw one.
She whispered, “I keep struggling with the fact that I killed my son.”
“He was going to kill you. And Faith. He killed countless more people.”
She kept staring at the tiles. “Mandy told me not to talk to you about the shooting.”
Will knew that Caleb Espisito’s death was being reviewed by the police, but he assumed Evelyn would be cleared in a few days, just as Faith had been. “It was self-defense.”
She let out a slow breath. “I think he wanted me to make a choice between the two of them. Between him and Faith.”
Will didn’t confirm that he shared this opinion.
“He could forgive his father. Hector had a nice life, but he never married and he never had another child. But when Caleb saw what I had—what I had struggled to build back with Bill and the children—he resented the hell out of it. He hated me so much.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I remember one of the last things I told him before all of this happened was that holding on to that kind of grudge was like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”
Will guessed this was the kind of advice mothers gave their sons. Unfortunately, he’d had to learn that lesson the hard way. “Do you remember anything about where they kept you?”
“It was a warehouse. Abandoned, I’m sure. I yelled enough to wake the dead.”
“How many men were there?”
“At the house? I think eight. There were only three at the warehouse, counting Caleb. Juan and David were their names. They tried not to use them, but they weren’t very sophisticated, if you get my meaning.”
Juan Castillo had been shot outside of Julia Ling’s warehouse. David Herrera had been shot in cold blood right in front of Evelyn and Faith. Benny Choo, Hironobu Kwon, Hector Ortiz, Ricardo Ortiz. In all, eight people were dead now because of one man’s twenty-year grudge.
Evelyn must have been thinking the same thing. Her voice took on a desperate tone. “Do you think I could’ve stopped him?”
Short of killing Caleb before it happened, Will didn’t see how. “Hate like that doesn’t burn out.”
She didn’t seem comforted. “Bill thought what happened with Faith was my fault. He said that because I was with Hector, I took my eye off my children. Maybe he was right.”
“Faith is pretty determined to do her own thing.”
“You think she takes after me.” She waved away Will’s protest. “No, she is exactly like me. God help her.”
“There are worse things.”
“Hm.” Evelyn’s eyes closed again. Will stared at her face. Her features were almost obscured by the swelling. She was about Amanda’s age, the same kind of cop, but not the same kind of woman. Will hadn’t spent a lot of his life feeling envious of other people’s parents. It was a waste of time to think about what could’ve been. But talking to Evelyn Mitchell, knowing the sacrifices she had made for all of her children, Will couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.
He stood, thinking he should let her sleep, but Evelyn’s eyes opened. She pointed to the pitcher of water. Will helped her drink from the straw. She wasn’t as thirsty this time, but Will saw her hand clench around the morphine trigger.
“Thank you.” She put her head back on the pillow. She pressed the trigger again.
Will didn’t take his seat. “Can I get you anything else before I leave?”
She either didn’t hear the question or chose to ignore it. “I know Mandy is hard on you, but it’s because she loves you.”
Will felt his eyebrows shoot up. The morphine had started working fast.
“She’s so proud of you, Will. She brags about you all the time. How smart you are. How strong. You’re like a son to her. In more ways than you know.”
He felt the need to glance over his shoulder in case Amanda was laughing from the doorway.
Evelyn said, “She should be proud of you. You’re a good man. And I wouldn’t want my daughter partnered with anyone else. I was so happy when you two got together. I only wish it had turned into something more.”
He checked the door one more time. No Amanda. When he turned back around, Evelyn was staring at him.
She asked, “May I be honest with you?”
He nodded, though Will wondered if that meant she hadn’t been honest so far.
“I know you’ve had a difficult life. I know how hard you’ve worked to turn yourself into the right kind of person. And I know you deserve happiness. And it’s not going to come from your wife.”
As usual, Will’s first impulse was to take up for Angie. “She’s been through a lot.”
“You deserve so much better.”
He felt the need to tell her, “I’ve got some demons of my own.”
“But yours are the good demons, the kind that make you stronger for having them.” She tried to smile. “ ‘If I got rid of my demons, I’d lose my angels.’ ”
He took a wild guess. “Hemingway?”
“Tennessee Williams.”
The door opened. Amanda tapped her watch. “Time’s up.” She waved for him to leave.
Will looked at the clock on his cell phone. She’d given him exactly an hour. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Walk and talk.” She clapped her hands together. “Our girl needs her rest.”
Will touched Evelyn’s elbow because that was the only place that wasn’t bandaged or hooked up to something. “Thank you, Captain Mitchell.”
“Take care of yourself, Agent Trent.”
Amanda gave Will a shove as he left the room. He almost knocked down a nurse in the hallway.
Amanda said, “You tired her out.”
“She wanted to talk.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“Are there going to be any problems on her shooting Caleb Espisito?”
Amanda shook her head. “The only person who should be worried is Roz Levy. If it was left to me, I’d have her up on obstruction charges.”
Will didn’t disagree, but Mrs. Levy had perfected her old lady act. No jury in the world would ever convict her.
“I’ll get the old hag eventually,” Amanda promised. “She’s like a stick—always stirring up shit.”