Infinity + One (44 page)

Bonnie Rae Shelby, arrested alongside her husband, Infinity Clyde, was released from LA County Jail Monday evening, and there has been no statement from her or from her lawyers regarding the arrest, her release, or her involvement in the ongoing investigation which, again, is now being focused on Hank Shelby, Bonnie Rae Shelby’s older brother.

HE WAS FREE. At eight am Wednesday morning, he was called into interview and Detective Kelly informed him, with very little apology, that the entire case against him had fallen apart. The DA in Missouri had contacted them and told them all charges had been dropped against him. According to the detective, Finn’s numbers had added up to a whole lot of reasonable doubt, but most importantly, Bear Johnson had been cogent enough to talk to police, and he had corroborated Finn’s story.

It had taken a few hours for the paperwork to be processed. Then they’d given Finn his property—his suit and his wallet, along with his shiny black shoes—and he’d signed a bunch of forms. To his surprise, his dad had come and was waiting for him in the reception area. Apparently he’d been waiting inside for hours. Neither of them were prepared for the crowd outside.

“
Mr. Clyde, have you talked to your wife?”

“Is Bonnie Rae here, Finn?”

“How does it feel to be cleared of all charges?”

“Are you going to press charges of your own?”

“What do you think about reports that Bonnie’s brother was behind the attempted murder?”

“Does your wife have a drug habit like her brother?”

“We’ve heard rumors of an annulment—can you comment on that?”

“Why isn’t Bonnie here, Mr. Clyde?”

Rapid-fire questions came from every direction, and there were microphones in Finn’s face and cameras surrounding him.

It was like the Academy Awards on crack. He was jostled and bumped, and the questions became more persistent as his dad took his arm, and they made their way to a grey sedan in the parking lot.

“I have nothing to say,” Finn kept repeating, shaking his head and plowing through the assembled reporters and onlookers, moving with determination until he reached the car.

“
What happens next for Bonnie and Clyde?”
someone shouted right in his ear.

Finn halted, the question reverberating in his head, ricocheting off blank walls and bare floors like he was alone in an empty room, instead of in the middle of an impromptu press conference. He lifted his face to the midday sun, sun that was too bright for early March. It was the kind of day that made people keep coming back to California. You couldn’t help but forgive her for the fog and the rain when she stood in all her glory, sunshine pouring down on you, making you forget you were ever cold or alone. Like Bonnie. Bonnie was just like that.

Finn took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the rays. And he stood, hands over his eyes, waiting for the grief to ebb.

“Mr. Clyde? Are you all right?” someone asked.

“What happens next for Bonnie and Clyde?” the same reporter repeated, clearly aware that her question had affected him.

“Bonnie and Clyde died a long time ago,” Finn said, and pulled the door of his father’s rental car open, managing to create just enough space to wedge himself through the opening. His dad did the same, started the car, and they inched their way out of the parking lot, until they were finally clear of the media circus.

“IS THAT ALL you have?” his dad asked after they’d been driving aimlessly for a while. His dad was sure they were being followed, and he was probably right. So they just drove.

“What?”

“Your clothes. You’re wearing a tux. Is that all you have?” Jason Clyde pointed to his suit.

Finn pulled at the hanging curl of his bowtie, still wrapped around his neck and held in place by the collar. It came free easily, and he wadded it up and stuck it in his pocket with his wallet. He had his wallet. That was something, he supposed.

“Yeah. This is it.” Everything else he owned was either in the Blazer or scattered across several states. Everything except the stuff in room 704 at the Bordeaux Hotel—his leather jacket along with the boots Shayna had given him, his jeans and the T-shirt Bonnie had purchased for him in Oklahoma. His shaving kit and toothbrush were there too. And Bonnie’s things—her red boots and her puffy pink coat. He was sure all of it had been gathered up by housekeeping. Maybe the maid had kept it, and maybe it was all being auctioned on eBay at that very moment.

“So you married that girl?” His dad kept looking at the ring on Finn’s finger. He should take it off. It was over. An imaginary love affair. But he didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone—I don’t know, Dad.”

His dad looked at him, his brow creased, one hand on the wheel, one hand rubbing his chin, the way he did when he was trying to unravel something incredibly elusive. It was a look Finn knew well, a look he understood, a look he hadn’t seen in years. He and his father had talked since his release, but that was all. He was still tall and thin, and he had always rounded his shoulders, stooping slightly, as if the weight of his brain had bowed his back. He had bright blue eyes and thinning brown hair. Finn had the same bright blue eyes—Fish had had them too—but they’d inherited their Norse blondness from their mother’s side of the family—and probably their brawn as well, considering his mom’s father and her brother both looked like Vikings.

“Why are you here, Dad?” Finn asked.

His father’s hand fell from his chin and joined the other hand on the wheel.

“Bonnie called me. She thought you might need me. I thought you might need me.”

Finn nodded once, ignoring the way his heart leaped at the sound of her name. She had cared enough to call his father. “I’ve needed you before now.”

“Yes. I know. But I didn’t have any answers. Not then. This time . . . I thought I might.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn laughed, but it sounded more like a sob, and he turned and stared blindly out the window at the palm trees and green bushes and businesses that hugged the streets they wandered.

“I have the Blazer back in St. Louis. I thought about driving it here, thinking you might want it right away. But it would have taken me too long to get here—and I wanted to be here when you were released. I flew in this morning and came straight here. I’ve just been waiting for you to be processed.”

“So you came to take me back to St. Louis?” Finn reached for the button to roll the window down. He couldn’t breathe.

“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “If that’s what I want?” He laughed again, the same rattling sob that he didn’t recognize. It hurt coming out of his chest, and he placed a hand on his heart to make it stop. “When have I ever gotten what I wanted, Dad? I can’t think of a single, damn time.”

He had wanted Bonnie. He had wanted her more than anything else. And he’d gotten her for a few precious days. For one perfect night. But she wasn’t his anymore. She really never had been, if he was being honest with himself. But he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her so badly.

“Why?” His dad looked from the road to Finn’s face and back again.

“Why? Why what, Dad?” He threw up his hands and brought them down heavily on the dashboard. His wedding ring caught the light and he swore.

“Why don’t you ever get anything you want?” Jason Clyde’s brow was wrinkled in confusion, and Finn was reminded just how irritating his dad could be. So simple, yet so intelligent. So focused, yet so unaware. So smart and yet so damn dumb.

“Because I keep chasing after things . . . after people . . . I keep chasing the wrong things,” Finn finished ineptly, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“So you want the wrong things?”

“This isn’t a goddamn paradox, Dad! This isn’t math. This is my life. I’m talking about people I love. And there is no magic formula or unknown number that can make the equation work. ”

“You’re right, Finn. But to people like you and me, everything is a paradox. We overthink everything. It’s what we’re good at. But sometimes the answer is very simple. Both in math, and in life.”

“Really? And what is the answer, Dad? I am in love with a woman who is as gone to me as Fish is. That doesn’t seem simple at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Her grandmother paid me a visit. Told me Bonnie didn’t want to see me, that the whole thing was a huge mistake. Marriage over. Call it temporary insanity. She said Bonnie’s sick. She said the last two weeks were evidence of a nervous breakdown. She even offered me money to go away and stay away.”

Jason Clyde frowned. “I talked to Bonnie. She didn’t seem crazy.”

“Oh, she’s crazy.” Finn tried to laugh and couldn’t, it hurt too damn much. So he continued on. “She’s crazy . . . but not in a bad way. In the best way. She’s impulsive and unpredictable. And she’s sad.” Finn’s gritted his teeth against the ache in his chest, thinking about the way she’d looked that night on the bridge, her face tear-stained and her hair in ragged blonde spikes. It was amazing to him she was as sane as she was, considering the family she was raised in.

“But in spite of that sadness, she still laughs. She still loves. She’s kind and way too generous for her own good.” He shook his head helplessly. “She’s also completely impossible, and I want to wring her neck half the time.”

“That’s not bipolar. That’s just a complicated woman. She sounds like your mom.”

“Yeah.” Finn’s smile was pained. “She’s a little like Fish too.”

“And that’s hard for you. Because you’re afraid she’ll end up like Fish. You’re afraid you’ll lose your other half, just like you did before.”

“So I’m afraid? That’s the simple answer?” Finn said, exasperated.

“Yes.” His father nodded. ‘Yes. That’s the simple answer.”

Finn felt the anger burst in his chest like a bomb had gone off—a ticking time bomb, set and counting down since the day his dad had moved far, far away from his family, from his sons who had needed him.

“I need to get out, Dad.”

“Finn—”

“I need to get out, Dad!” Finn shouted, his hand on the door handle.

Jason Clyde pulled into the parking lot of a Chinese Restaurant with a quick squeal of tires and a tap on his brakes, and Finn was out before the car was completely stopped.

His father followed him, the doors to the grey rental hanging open, the car parked haphazardly, chiming insistently that the key was still in the ignition. It reminded him of the morning he’d kissed Bonnie in the Motel 6 parking lot, angry, frustrated, confused—already in love and unable to find a rational explanation for it. The memory made his legs weak, and he walked to the curb and sat abruptly.

His father sat beside him, leaving a few feet between them, but he reached out and touched Finn’s shoulder tentatively.

“Finn. You’re scared. Scared doesn’t mean weak. You’re not weak. Don’t misunderstand. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. You’re loyal. You’re steady. And I am in awe of you, son.”

Finn wanted to shake his father off, but he held himself still, waiting.

“I am in awe of you,” his father said again, emphatically, and Finn fought the rising flood inside of him with all his strength, feeling the cracks that raced and widened, threatening to break him open.

“But you are afraid, Finn. And as long as you’re afraid, you won’t ever get what you want. Take it from someone who has been afraid his entire life.” His dad’s voice broke. “You’re afraid of being like me. You’re afraid of losing yourself in the numbers, of not being there for the people who need you. You’re afraid of being who you are . . . and you’re afraid that who you are isn’t enough.”

Finn flinched, panting at the effort it took to keep his defenses in place. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, but his dad wasn’t through chipping away, though he did so softly, sympathetically, his hand never leaving Finn’s shoulder.

“You’re afraid you love Bonnie too much. You’re afraid that she’ll tell you to go, the way your mother told me to go. From the moment I married your mom, I was afraid of losing her. I fed that fear with the focus of a true mathematician. Mind over matter, they say. So when she told me she wanted a divorce, I wasn’t even surprised. I was almost relieved that I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.” Jason Clyde smiled sadly. “And if I know you, Infinity, you’ve been expecting this result from day one. You’ve been anticipating the end from the beginning.”