Unrevealed (10 page)

The bartender brought Jane's water and lime and walked away. Jane took a much-needed sip. “You believe in soul mates, huh?”

“
Absolutely
!” Courtney swept the lemon peel seductively around the lip of the martini glass. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Jane sucked a long sip through the straw. This conversation was not what she'd planned. “No. It's all I can do right now to deal with my job and…you know…not fuck up my sobriety.”

“Jane, look at me.” Courtney leaned forward. Jane obliged. “Don't
ever
turn your back on love. Without love, the world's a terrible place to hang your hat.”

Jane stared at Courtney. “Oh, Courtney…”

“What?” she asked quizzically.

“Courtney — ”

“Wait a second.” She strained to hear the song playing over the speakers. “Can you please turn that up?” she asked the bartender.

The bartender did as he was told. The warm, inviting opening strains of Etta James's “At Last” filled the bar.
Courtney smiled broadly and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Jane! This was our wedding song when we danced our first dance sixteen years ago! Isn't it
divine
?! ‘My love has come along…my lonely days are over…” Courtney softly sang along with Etta as she swayed on the barstool. “This song was my personal soundtrack for
so many
years.”

“Is that right?” Jane said, ditching her straw and gulping the sparkling water.

Courtney looked at Jane's drink. “You need more lime in that, don't you?” She leaned forward and grabbed a piece of lime from a dish under the bar. As she reached for it, the white sleeve of her jacket pulled up, revealing a series of bruises — some fresh and others fading. Courtney plopped back in her seat and handed Jane the lime. “There you go, honey.”

“Those are pretty bad bruises you got there,” Jane said carefully, squeezing the lime into her water.

Courtney pulled down the sleeve of her jacket and stared at her martini.

“You okay, Courtney?”

She forced a well-worn yet threadbare pageant smile and tilted her head. “Things aren't always what they seem, Jane.”

“Oh, I…I know that, Courtney.”

Courtney sang along with Etta again. “Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile…Oh, and then the spell was cast…” A grim sadness suddenly fell hard over her. She leaned forward, speaking to the bartender. “Excuse me? Would you mind please turning this song down?” Her voice was anxious.

Jane turned to the bartender. “How about shutting it off?” She regarded Courtney. “That okay with you?”

Sweat beads formed along the rim of Courtney's lips. “Yes. Thank you.”

The bartender turned off the music, leaving a stony silence in the place. Courtney took a generous gulp of her martini.

Jane gently spoke. “You know my story of why I started drinking…and I know yours.”

“I should never have gone to those damn meetings!” Her visage became agitated as she let out a weary sigh. “But the judge told me that it was either that or jail for the DUI. And Craig was able to work his PR magic to make the public forget about my transgression. But spillin' my guts like I did at those meetings was
so wrong
!”

“Talking is always good. Hey, I had to learn that one too.”

“Talk, talk, talk…What good did it do me?” She reached into her purse and removed an orange prescription bottle. “Nothing changed on the home front. If anything, it got worse.” Popping the cap with her chipped thumbnail, she slid a tablet into her palm and then slammed it into her mouth, washing it down with the martini.

Jane couldn't help but see the name on the pill bottle. “Hey, I don't think you're supposed to mix alcohol with antidepressants.”

Courtney tossed Jane a sarcastic smile. “Is that right?” She turned, staring straight ahead. Jane watched as Courtney momentarily detached from the scene and then re-entered her body. “Megan started preschool last year. But it hasn't been easy.… I've had
so
many calls from her teacher telling me that she wets the bed during naptime.” She cleared her throat. “They suggested I take her to a child psychologist to find out what was bothering her. Well, I wasn't about to go down that rocky path. Can you imagine if her visits got out to people? And what would happen if she revealed something
she shouldn't?” Courtney forced another tired smile, but this time it seemed harder to produce.

Jane knocked back her water. “You didn't need to take her to the doctor to find out why Megan was wetting the bed.” She treaded cautiously. “You already knew the answer to that one.”

Jane caught Courtney's reflection in the giant mirror behind the bar. She watched as Courtney's eyes narrowed, filling with pools of rage and sorrow. “Yes. I certainly
did
.” Her voice was disincarnate. “But if it ever got out, Craig would find a way to spin it, wouldn't he?”

Jane wasn't sure Craig could “spin” that kind of sickness. Then again, it was painfully clear to Jane that Craig Gardner, up until now, had been able to skillfully strategize his sorry ass around any number of obstacles that might impede the progress of those who weren't initiated into the private manipulations of public relations. “I…,” Jane hesitated briefly, “I offered to help you — ”

Courtney suddenly came back into herself. “Oh, my goodness, Jane! Do you know what I suddenly flashed on right now? I've been having dreams about
you
for so many nights.” She turned her body toward Jane. “Isn't that odd. Why would I be having dreams about
you
?”

Jane felt the knot tighten in her gut. “I don't know.”

“I can't remember all of them…but…” Courtney closed her eyes. “Yes…I do recall you standing in front of me with your hand reaching out toward me.” With her eyes still closed, she held out her hand, illustrating the pose. “And what was it you were saying in the dream to me? Oh, it's right there on the tip of my mind's eye; why can't I remember it?”

Jane checked the clock on the wall. 1:50. Ten minutes to closing time. She caught the eye of the bartender, who stared
back at her with growing anxiety. Courtney opened her eyes. Jane quickly turned away from the bartender.

“Isn't that just the craziest thing, Jane?” Courtney nervously played with the sliver of lemon, bringing it to her lips and biting off a bit. But as she did it, the lemon slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. “Oh, butterfingers!”

“Let me get it,” Jane insisted. She slid off the stool and reached down to pick up the lemon. Her eyes rested on Courtney's left pant leg, which was tucked into the fur-trimmed white boots. A scarlet swath of fresh blood encircled the section of her pant leg right above the boot. Jane uneasily sat back onto the barstool. “Courtney? There's a lot of blood on your pant leg. Are you hurt?”

Courtney casually took a sip of her martini. “Are you sure?” she asked, never looking down. Jane nodded. “That's odd. I don't even feel it.” She turned to the mirror that framed the bar. “You know what? I don't really feel anything.”

Jane gingerly touched Courtney's sleeve. “Did Craig do that? Is that how this night started for you?”

An unnatural glaze washed over her countenance. “Oh, Jane. It doesn't matter. Really, honey…it doesn't matter…”

Jane pressed Courtney's sleeve to try to create a connection with her, but it was useless. “But it
does
matter, Courtney. Is that how it all started?”

Courtney turned to Jane, still distant but harboring a layer of agitation. “How
what
started, Jane?”

Jane stared at her. “Would you walk outside with me?”

A suspicious glower crept across her eyes. “Why?”

“I gotta get some air.”

Courtney glanced down to the bar. “I'm sorry, Jane, but I can't go with you. I have other plans.” She slid her right hand into her jacket pocket.

Jane heard the distinct
click
of a handgun being cocked. Her heart pounded. “Oh, fuck. Courtney, come on. What are you doing?”

Courtney tilted her head. An errant strand of hair fell across her cheek; she allowed it to linger on her moist skin. “Jane…Jane…Jane. I have no choice. I can't play the game any longer.” She stopped, lost in thought. “My kids… my beautiful children — I know the son-of-a-bitch touched Megan. Not like he touches me. She gets the soft hand. I get the fist.”

“I'll get you help,” Jane urged. “You walk out of here with me, I'll get you help.”

“Dear, dear, Jane…” Courtney twisted her hand in her jacket pocket to force the butt of the concealed gun into her gut. “You have no idea.”

“No, Courtney, I
do
.” She carefully slipped off the barstool and stood next to the bar. “Look, I've had a shitty night so far. I don't need to cap it off with you…capping yourself off.”

Courtney momentarily looked blank, and then, as if a switch went off, she broke into uproarious laughter. “Oh, Jane! You enjoy such a humorous twist to the English language!”

Jane reached out toward her. “Please give me the gun, Courtney.”

Courtney's laughter quickly ceased as a realization surfaced. “It's like the dream, Jane. Just now, you standing there like that, with your hand reaching toward me. Remember the dream I told you about? This here,
right now
, is it manifested in real life.” She cocked her head. “Or is
this
a dream? I feel so very foggy, Jane.” Courtney slid the revolver from her jacket pocket and, using the business end of the gun, itched her temple. The bartender could be heard slowly walking
away in the background. “Huh…,” she said, her eyes losing focus.

“What is it?” Jane carefully asked.

“I just realized that I don't remember how I got to this bar.”

“Give me the gun, Courtney. Please?”

“How did I get here, Jane?”

“
Courtney
! Give me the gun.”

Courtney disappeared into herself. “I drove,” she muttered distantly. “How peculiar…”

“Please…give…me…the…gun,” Jane pleaded.

Courtney stared at Jane, her eyes housing the specter of chaos. “Are you my friend, Jane?” She traced tiny circles in her cheek with the tip of the gun.

Jane let out a soft sigh. “Sure.”

Courtney dove into Jane's eyes, searching for honesty. “I do believe you are being forthright with me, Jane Perry. Thank you.” Courtney lowered the handgun but still held onto it. She regarded it for a moment as if she were seeing it for the first time. “My, my…” With that, Courtney quietly rested the gun on the bar.

Jane grabbed a napkin and, gingerly lifting the weapon, ejected the waiting bullet in the chamber and dumped the clip into her palm.

Courtney turned to the clock. “It's after two. The bartender left.” Her voice was remote. “I guess we overstayed our welcome.” She patted the perspiration from her forehead. “Is it hot in here to you, Jane?”

Jane felt her heart race as she placed the unloaded gun back onto the bar. “No, Courtney.”

“Oh, it is to
me
.” With that, she removed her jacket and plopped it onto the bar. Underneath, her petal pink turtleneck
was covered with thick splatters of blood. Courtney let out a relieved breath. “Oh,
much
better!”

Jane drew Courtney's jacket toward her, placing it over the gun on the bar. “Courtney?” she said quietly.

Courtney's eyes drifted into another realm.

Jane moved her body so that she was in line with Courtney's gaze. “Courtney?” she repeated, this time with more urgency. Their eyes met. “You have to hear this. I processed a horrible crime scene tonight. The same one that Cynthia Taylor was reporting on the Channel 9 news? The one you saw on the TV when you came into this bar?” Courtney stared at Jane, nonplussed. “I found Craig in the living room. He was shot twice in the head and three times in the groin.”

Courtney furrowed her brow. “No…”

“Megan was in her bed, shot once in the forehead. The two boys were in their beds, both shot once.”

Courtney shook her head as her lip began to quiver. “What? It's a mistake…You are mistaken, Jane.”

Jane felt herself breathing shallowly. “No, Courtney. I'm not mistaken.” She weighed her words carefully. “It was graphic…and it was purposeful.…”

Courtney looked off to the side. First there was no visible emotion and then a single tear emerged from her right eye, drifting awkwardly down her moist cheek and disappearing into the pink turtleneck. “I…,” she paused, looking lost. “I couldn't leave the boys without a father or their sister. That wouldn't be right. So…I had no choice.…” She turned to Jane. “They were asleep. So was Megan. Craig was awake though. I made damn sure of that. I wanted to make certain he saw
me
. I wanted him to understand what was about to happen. I told him that he would never hurt me again and that Megan would never get hurt again either.”

“You didn't need to kill Megan.”

“Oh, yes, I did.” Courtney's voice was calm and blunt. “She was damaged goods. Just like I am. Who would love her, Jane? She was tainted by her own father.… I did what I did to her out of a mother's love.”

Jane regarded Courtney with cautious disgust. “Courtney, I came to this bar tonight to arrest you. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in the court of law.…”

“Silent?” Courtney's voice rose several octaves. “I don't want to be silent, Jane!
Silence
is what got me where I am right now. I want to scream, Jane!” She flung her arms in the air, moving erratically around the bar. “I want everyone to know what happened to me…what happened to my daughter.…”