Survivor: 1 (46 page)

He had met Elizabeth Robles in Santa Fe, New Mexico,
where he had stayed with an old college friend during
his two-year ramble around the greater North American
continent. Following Lisa's passing, he'd come dangerously close to following in her footsteps. He'd spent two
months in a drug and alcohol fog until he'd pulled himself out of it with William Grecko's help. William had gone
into rehab six months after Lisa was discharged from the
hospital-his sixth stint in twenty-five years-and he'd
emerged not only sober but with a sense of triumph, an
outlook that he admitted was one he never thought he'd
have. "I'm not going down that road again, buddy," Billy
had told him. "From now on, I'm choosing life"

William had helped Brad make that choice nine
months later, when Brad realized that Lisa's choice had
been that: her choice. It had been a hard one to make, but
he really couldn't see her taking the alternative. "She
would've been a mess for the rest of her life," he told Billy
later after an AA meeting, which Brad began attending for
a while and later dropped out of. He'd never had an addiction problem previously, and the meetings had merely been a form of support for him following his own rehabilitation and therapy. More therapeutic were his private
meetings with Billy, which the two lawyers had at least
weekly. And when Brad was on the road on one of his
rambles, he always talked to William via cell phone or
through letters, which he posted in whichever town he
was in-from Anchorage to Belize. By then, Brad had quit
his position with Jacob's and Meyers and was living off of
the money that had been recovered during the theft of
their life savings. He knew he would have to return to work
eventually, but for a time he couldn't. He had to find himself, had to find peace, and the only way he could do that
was to stay in motion. His travels by car were wide-ranging
and in some cases adventurous, and in seeing the natural
beauty of the country he began to feel beauty again in life.

But it was a long, slow process. And there were setbacks
along the way. More than once, Brad had gasped awake in
some strange hotel room in some state he had never been
in, alone, the memory of Lisa's voice, her touch on his
mind, and he would collapse in uncontrollable sobs.

"We're doing very well, Brad said, feeling in touch
now with Lisa's spirit. "We finally sold the house. Can you
believe I was able to sell it for almost half a million? I
mean, we paid two seventy-five for it when we bought it,
and five years later I get double for it. Elizabeth and I
were able to get a nice home outside of Santa Fe, where
we live now. You'd love it, Lisa. Ave bedrooms, on two
acres of land, with a little lake in the back. I mean, it's a
gorgeous house! Easily a two-million-dollar home in Orange County. And I paid three-fifty for it. A steal'

Officially, the FBI had kept the case quiet. With Lisa's
testimony they began monitoring Rick Shectman more
closely. And when he was finally caught in an undercover sting operation involving a worldwide child
pornography ring two years later, he was brought up and convicted on various charges that resulted in a life sentence. Brad regretted that Lisa never lived long enough to
see that happen.

In November of 1998, two months after Lisa emerged
from the hospital, she returned to work, but she was
never the same. For the six months that followed, she and
Brad lived lives mired in depression, grief, and uncertainty. Brad was able to pull himself out of his own quagmire of guilt to focus on helping Lisa, who continued to
beat herself up over Mandy and Alicia's deaths. They
both underwent therapy, individually and group. Life became a routine of work, sleep, visiting the grave sites, crying, and therapy. During the few times Brad was able to
get Lisa to talk about it, she told him that she didn't know
if she could ever forgive herself for what she'd done. Her
therapist was trying to work her through the guilt, but it
remained. "I feel like I'm a traitor," she told Brad on the
rare occasions when she did talk about the incident. "I
feel that no matter what I do, no matter what I try to do in
their memory that will somehow make it better, it will
never be better. They died because of what I did. And no
amount of money donated to charities in their names or
organizations founded for homeless women or whatever
is going to bring them back and undo the pain they suffered. They died because of a selfish act. They died because for a split second I decided I was better than they
were, that I deserved to live more than they did. And
once I got those freaks on that train of thought, there was
no stopping them, even though I did try to save Mandy
and Alicia. They were still killed."

Her depression affected her work performance, but
she wasn't let go: George Brooks put her on light duties,
and when she wasn't at work or therapy, she slept. Brad
constantly worried that she would turn to self-abuse, and
he monitored her medication and was hesitant to leave her alone. Gradually, when it became apparent that she
wasn't a danger to herself, he began to allow himself
brief sojourns out of the house to cope with his own
problems and issues. During the spring of 1999, Lisa began to show strides in her therapy. It appeared that she
was making great progress; she spoke less of her guilt, began entertaining thoughts of the future. There was something about the way Lisa carried herself, the look in her
eyes, her demeanor, that told Brad she was getting past
the worst of it. "I may never forgive myself, but I can try to
move on, right?" she said one evening while they lay in
bed talking about their individual therapies. Encouraged
by this, Brad began pulling himself out of his own funk.
They began doing the kind of things they used to do together shopping at Thangle Square and taking in movies
(light comedies, mostly), followed by dinner. They even
went out with friends one night.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun turning good, it
nose-dived. One balmy June Saturday afternoon when
Brad returned home from running errands, he entered
their bedroom and found Lisa in bed, the two urns that
contained Mandy and Alicia's ashes clutched to her
bosom. An empty box of her sleeping pills was on the
nightstand, along with a note, which Brad didn't read
with any clarity until three days later. No matter what I do
now to make it better, it will never be better. Even though
I made a horrible mistake, and my actions were deplorable and I don't deserve forgiveness for them, the fact
of the matter is I fought for them. 1 fought for us when we
were pulled over in Ventura, and I fought for my life back at
that cabin. / fought for Alicia and Mandy even after my
own selfishness took over, and 1 fought for my life again in
Nevada because after being dragged all that way I didn't
want to go down without a fight. I wanted to hurt those
who had hurt Mandy and Alicia. And I hurt them. I hurt them bad, and I'm glad they suffered before they died. But
I can't live knowing the one who is the cause ofAlicia and
Mandy 's deaths is allowed to live her life, be happy, possi.
bly have children and see her babies grow That was denied Alicia and Mandy, and I know that I would be a
miserable wife and mother and human being for the rest
of my life if 1 continue on. Therefore, it is with great sadness that I leave. Know this, Brad-I love you, and I will
always love you. Go forth and do what I will not be able to
do. Live life . Enjoy life . And more importantly, appreciate
the beauty in life. Do this for me. Don't beat yourself up because of what your father did. Your father was the
monster-NOT you. He did this, NOT you. Don't let him
drag you down. I only wish I could be strong enough to resist the urge to end it all, but I can't. I've tried to look at
things from a different perspective the past few weeks, but
I can't stop thinking about them and what I did. There is
no other way for me. My path has led me to here, and /
would rather chose this path than the one of life, which I
know will be wrought with pain for the rest of my life.
Maybe I deserve that, but I don't deserve the possibility
that I can rise above my grief and misery and be happy
once again. I don't deserve the possibility of happiness
and all that can come with such happiness, such as our
love and marriage, our getting pregnant again and having
children. I don't deserve it, and I know this and accept it.
Please understand Brad. And please remember that I will
always love you. Love, Lisa.

He still had that suicide note, and he read it again as he
sat at the grave site, the paper it was written on now lined
and creased from constant handling. Brad folded the paper again and wiped the tears from his face. "I understand
now," he said, as he held the note in his hands. "I understand.*

He paused for a moment, eyes dosed. The late afternoon sun was warm, and the breeze that blew in
from the ocean was tinged with salt spray. Brad sighed,
feeling in touch with himself again. Ready to go on. "You
know, the past year I've never felt better," he said. "I mean,
I'll always miss you, and Elizabeth knows that you'll always remain special in my heart. In fact, it was her idea
for me to come out here and tell you this, so ... well, I
better get to telling you."

He paused; he had been rehearsing what he wanted to
say all day, and now that he was here he felt awkward. In
a way, he felt the same as he did in the months after
meeting Elizabeth on a stop in New Mexico and falling in
love with her. He felt a slight edge of betrayal that he was
stepping out behind Lisa's back. But he also felt that Lisa
was smiling down on him, was telling him ft's all right,
Brad. She's wonderful, and you deserve her. Be good to
her. Be good to each other. And hearing her voice whisper those words in his mind brought a smile to Brad's
face. The two years he had taken off of work after Lisa's
death had been dark years, and many times he wondered why he even bothered to continue living. But it
was his travels, meeting new people, keeping in touch
with Billy and his mom, and Danielle Kwong and George
Brooks and the rest of their friends, that had kept Brad
going. In their own way, they had helped Brad find
beauty and wonder in life again, and when he and Elizabeth Robles fell in love two months after meeting at a
dinner party given by an old college friend, Brad finally
felt he could end his solitary rambles and try to appreciate life again.

That had made it easier to uproot from California to
New Mexico. Orange County held too many memories of
Lisa, and the trips he made back to visit his mother and
Billy became less painful as the months flew by. When he and Elizabeth wed in September of 2002, their wedding
was held in the foothills that surrounded Santa Fe, the
city he now called home.

"You know, I understand now why you did what you
did," he said, fingering the note. "Checking out, I mean.
It's taken me the past five years to come to peace with
that, and I suppose that if I'd been put in the same situation I would've done the same thing. I would've checked
out too.

"Because life's worth living. You don't forfeit others'
lives for your own. You fight for life. For your own, for others. You made a horrible mistake, and you regretted it
and..." The tears came again. "I still wish there were
some way you could take it back, but you can't. You can't
take it back, and I can't take it back, and life has to go on,
you know? So I'm going on and it's been hard. But as you
know.. " He sighed. 'The past year or so has been great,
considering all that's happened. I've gone on with my
life. I have a new life, a new home. I'm working for a
small firm in Santa Fe now, and Elizabeth is a journalist
for the local paper. We do pretty well, you know?"

He took a deep breath, looked down at Lisa's suicide
note, then at her grave. "Elizabeth's pregnant " he said,
sobbing as he spoke those words. He was sobbing out of
a mixture of pride and regret that it wasn't Lisa who was
going to bear his child. "We're already past our first
trimester, the hardest part. When we found out, I was so
scared. I mean, I couldn't believe that it could happen,
and it did, and I didn't want anything bad to happen, you
know? So we kept quiet about it and hoped and prayed
everything would be all right, and we're past the first hurdle. The last two ultrasounds we've heard a nice strong
heartbeat." Tears blurred his vision. "We're gonna be
okay."

The breeze died down. The sun felt warm on his face.
Brad wiped the tears from his cheeks and thrust the suicide note into his pocket. He'd thought about destroying
the note for the past few months; it was the only thing he
had that represented that horrible time in his life. He
had gotten rid of other personal things that brought the
memories back to that fateful weekend, and even now
he tended to avoid the news and he no longer enjoyed
psychological thrillers the way he used to. He'd kept the
note because he felt he still needed that connection
with that part of his life, despite how awful it had been.
He never wanted to forget it despite wanting to. He
didn't want to forget it because he didn't ever want to
forget Lisa.

Brad shuffled to his feet, brushed the grass off his
jeans. He looked down at the grave sites, reflecting on
Amanda and Alicia briefly, wishing them well and hoping they were at peace, hoping they knew that he loved
them and would always love them. He straightened himself up and turned to Lisa's headstone, swallowing a dry
lump. "I know I'll be back soon. My mom's still in Orange
County and ... well ... she'll want to see her grandchild.
Maybe someday ... if it's okay ... we can come up? If it's
okay?"

A light breeze rustled the leaves of the oak trees and
whispered over his hair, caressing him. Brad closed his
eyes, feeling comforted in what he knew was her positive
answer.

"I'll never forget you, Lisa," he said. "And I'll always love
you. I love Elizabeth ... I never thought I could love another woman, but you helped me to love her. You ...
helped me to see the beauty in life again. If it weren't for
you, I never would have made it this far. This baby is as
much yours as it is Elizabeth's and mine."