Never Alone (27 page)

“I did the one thing that you weren't able to do for your own mother,” Breton hissed. “She begged me. She begged me!” She fought against the straps and handcuffs. “She did everything for
me; I couldn't say no. I couldn't let her stay that way. I was not go
ing to let her down. It was terrible to see her, to see her lying there. She was in so much pain.” She turned her head away from Megan.

Megan closed the file and threw it on the tray table in front of Breton. “You smothered her with a pillow, didn't you? Just like you attempted to do to
my
mother. You fucking psycho bitch!”

Breton kept looking away.

“You don't have the right to play God, Ms. Daly. You don't have the right to decide who is too good for this dirty world and who isn't. And you didn't have a right to kill your grandmother.”

Breton's head snapped in Megan's direction. “Tell me, Detective McGinn, when that button's pressed, and the machine keeping your mother's pulse beating stops, what will you be then? Her savior … or her murderer?”

Megan walked closer to Breton's bed, spurring Nappa to go to her side.

“McGinn, no. No!” he said.

Megan bent over the guardrail of Breton's bed. She pressed her hand into the bandaged bullet wound to her shoulder until blood ran through the gauze. “Someday. Someday when a jury finds you guilty and you're issued the death penalty—and you'll get it, believe me—when that day comes, rest assured, Ms. Daly, you will not be reunited with Saint Bridget. Returning to God will be the last place you go.”

Just before Megan was out the door, Breton asked, “Detective? When can I get my grandmother's ring back?”

fifty-three

The door to Rose's
room was opened slightly. Megan could see her brother Brendan speaking with the doctors and then signing a clipboard. Nappa, Pearl Walker, Mike, and Maureen all stood nearby. Megan stared at her mother through the doorway. The life-support machine pushed fresh air in and suctioned old air out. It sounded like a clogged vacuum cleaner was doing the job for Rose's lungs. Her neck was heavily bruised, with pockets of broken blood vessels running up and down her skin.

“Momma, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Brendan heard her comment as she came into the room. “No, it's not, kiddo. It's not.” He walked over to his baby sister. They cried in each other's arms. “It's time, Megs. It's time,” he said.

One of the doctors stood in the doorway. Brendan nodded for him to come in. When he turned off the machine, Megan got up and held her mother the way she had one night before. She remembered that nagging feeling she'd had when Rose came to and held her: that the moment was going to be the last they'd share. Megan hated herself for being right. She let go of Rose, gently placing her head back on the pillow. She walked out of the room, heading toward the elevators. She glanced into other rooms—patients smiling at the receipt of flowers. One older woman was packing a bag, happy to be leaving the hospital. That would never be Rose McGinn, ever. Seeing the handful of smiling faces made Megan feel hollow, more than she ever could have imagined. Guilt capsized her very being.

“McGinn? McGinn?” Nappa called out after her. “Where are
you going?”

The elevator doors began to close between Megan and the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Nappa asked again.

“Away.”

about the author

C.J. Carpenter was born and raised in upstate New York. She has spent the majority of her life living in Manhattan and now divides her time between NYC and Philadelphia, where she is currently working on her third novel.