Judge & Jury - James Patterson [99]
For a second I thought he was dead. He was bloody and twisted and barely moving.
Then he stirred, clawing himself up to his knees. His eyes were glazing over. “You think you’re better than me? You’re done too, Pellisante. You’ll be lucky if you don’t spend the rest of your life in jail. You get the joke, Nick? You’ll give up the rest of your life, just to get me. So go on.” He spread out his arms. “Get it over with. Shoot! Better that than some wild animal. Make my day.”
I aimed the Glock at Cavello, ready to take this pathetic animal out. I was thinking that we were in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He couldn’t climb out. The smell of blood would act as a magnet and draw whatever predators were up here. Or maybe he’d just die of exposure during the night.
I lowered my gun.
“Y’know, Dom,” I said, “I kind of like your idea. I like it a lot. The part about the animals coming for you.”
“C’mon, Nick, do it,” he snarled. “What’s the matter, you don’t have the guts?”
“His name was Jarrod, Dom. He was ten years old.”
“C’mon, do it. Kill me, you sonovabitch. Shoot me!”
“You remember what you said to me that night in jail when I came to visit you, the day the juror bus blew?”
Cavello kept glaring at me.
“Well, I just want you to know—I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight.”
I watched Cavello for another minute or so, until I was sure there was no way he could get out of there. Then I left.
Chapter 125
ANDIE AND I landed back at JFK in New York two nights later.
I half-expected to be held by the police as soon as we got off the plane, but we breezed through customs and immigration. The terminal was crazy. Families and limo drivers, hands in the air, waving at everyone arriving. Some guy in a slick black suit came up to us. “Need a ride?”
Andie and I looked at each other. We hadn’t made a plan, didn’t know how we were going to get back to the city. “Sure, we could use a ride,” I said.
I gave the driver Andie’s address. For most of the ride into Manhattan we just stared at the familiar sights—the fairgrounds, Shea Stadium. I think we were both nervous and scared about what was going to happen next. I wasn’t sure I had a job anymore. I didn’t know if I would get arrested. And Andie—somehow I didn’t see her going back to auditioning for Tide commercials.
We crossed over the Triborough Bridge, and as we got closer to Andie’s neighborhood, she just looked at me. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Nick, I just can’t.”
“Can’t what, Andie?”
“I can’t get out of this cab. I can’t go back to my life without you.”
I put my hand to her face and brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. She held my hand tightly. “I can’t go back to my apartment and pretend I’m going to start my life over, and that I’m the same. Because I’m not. And if I walk through my door I’ll have to face what’s there, my stupid life.”
“Then don’t.” I held her by the shoulders. “Walk through mine.”
“I can’t forget my son, Nick, and I never will. But I don’t want the rest of my life to be just missing him.”
“Andie”—I put my finger to her lips—“walk through my door.”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I didn’t know if they were tears of anguish or joy. “You know what I earned last year?” she said. “Twenty-four thousand six hundred dollars, Nick. That’s all. And even that was mostly from residuals.”
“I don’t much care,” I said, holding her, caressing her. “I know the truth. You don’t have to prove it to me. The girl can act.”
Andie choked back a laugh. Her mascara was running. I called up to the driver. “Change of address.”
I gave him mine. We were going home, together.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Chapter 126
RICHARD NORDESHENKO SQUEEZED a look at his hole cards—a king and a ten of hearts. He decided it was worth it to stay in the hand. He was feeling lucky tonight. He had several stacks of chips in front of him, and he’d looked forward to this evening for a long time.
The American had been true to his word. Not a thing had happened after the abduction of his son.