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Authors: William Casey Moreton
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anything out.”
I spent the next thirty minutes recapping the past twelve hours. The doorbell at midnight. Special Agent Chapman and his henchmen. The arrest. The interrogation at 26 Federal Plaza. The mess I found at home. The intruder.
She listened intently, mostly without interrupting. Finally she said, “Darling, I’ve known Tom longer than you, and I can assure you that he killed no one.”
“Why would they arrest him?”
“Because they are idiots.”
“Why would he try to escape?”
She sipped her drink. “A moment of panic maybe.”
I thought about that. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Of course.”
“He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She shrugged. “Obviously.”
“The arrest freaked him out,” I said. “You should have seen his eyes. I’ve never seen him like that. And when I talked to him in that room with Clive and Chapman, he said the strangest thing to me.”
“Strange in what way?”
I looked down at my drink. “It was like he was babbling nonsense. I think he was in shock.”
“The Tom I knew was cool under pressure.” Karly swirled bourbon in the bottom of her glass. “I can’t imagine what it would take to shock him.”
I nodded. “He was talking gibberish.”
“Where are the kids?”
“With friends.”
“What now?”
“I need to find Chapman. I deserve some answers.”
“What if he won’t talk?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’s a fed.”
“So? My husband is dead.”
“The feds don’t care. As far as they are concerned Tom saved them a lot of taxpayer money by jumping in front of that train. They’ve avoided an expensive trial.”
For a moment I was offended.
Karly is, if nothing else, blunt. If a filter exists between her brain and mouth, well, I’ve never witnessed the evidence. She’s one those people in your life you’ve known so long you can’t remember how or when you met, you’ve simply known them forever. She knows everyone, rich or poor, famous and not. She’s hot, but more hip and chic than beautiful.
Karly migrated to LA from London when she was seventeen to be an actor but quickly changed her mind and hitched a ride to New York City. She scraped and clawed and saved every penny and never accepted a handout and never complained. She started with nothing and never looked back.
“I can’t just sit,” I said.
“Do you still want to see the body?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Don’t do it. You won’t get closure and it will give you nightmares for the rest of your life.”
“That’s the same thing Clive told me.”
“Well, he’s right. There’s nothing to be gained.”
I spoke through tears, “I’d just like the chance to tell him goodbye.”
“Just tell him. Anytime, anywhere.”
Then it hit me that eventually I’d have to tell the kids.
“My poor boys,” I said. I put my face in my hands and slowly shook my head.
She said nothing.
In the movies you grow old together. Hollywood sells happy endings, and I wanted mine. I’d been denied my goodbye kiss. There had been no last embrace. Instead, my final moments with Tom had been in an FBI interrogation room.
Something pinged in the back of my mind. Had Tom being trying to tell me something? I set my glass on the floor beside my chair and stood. Clive and two agents had been in the room with us, and there were others behind the two-way glass. Perhaps Tom hadn’t wanted them to hear.
I walked around behind the chair.
“Oh my God,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“He was trying to tell me something.”
“Who?”
“Tom.”
“When?”
“In the interrogation room last night.”
“You said it was nonsense.”
“Exactly.”
“I think maybe you’re losing it, Brynn. You’re grasping at straws.”
“It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I was pacing now, my energy building. I could feel my pulse rising. I had my hands
I spent the next thirty minutes recapping the past twelve hours. The doorbell at midnight. Special Agent Chapman and his henchmen. The arrest. The interrogation at 26 Federal Plaza. The mess I found at home. The intruder.
She listened intently, mostly without interrupting. Finally she said, “Darling, I’ve known Tom longer than you, and I can assure you that he killed no one.”
“Why would they arrest him?”
“Because they are idiots.”
“Why would he try to escape?”
She sipped her drink. “A moment of panic maybe.”
I thought about that. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Of course.”
“He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She shrugged. “Obviously.”
“The arrest freaked him out,” I said. “You should have seen his eyes. I’ve never seen him like that. And when I talked to him in that room with Clive and Chapman, he said the strangest thing to me.”
“Strange in what way?”
I looked down at my drink. “It was like he was babbling nonsense. I think he was in shock.”
“The Tom I knew was cool under pressure.” Karly swirled bourbon in the bottom of her glass. “I can’t imagine what it would take to shock him.”
I nodded. “He was talking gibberish.”
“Where are the kids?”
“With friends.”
“What now?”
“I need to find Chapman. I deserve some answers.”
“What if he won’t talk?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’s a fed.”
“So? My husband is dead.”
“The feds don’t care. As far as they are concerned Tom saved them a lot of taxpayer money by jumping in front of that train. They’ve avoided an expensive trial.”
For a moment I was offended.
Karly is, if nothing else, blunt. If a filter exists between her brain and mouth, well, I’ve never witnessed the evidence. She’s one those people in your life you’ve known so long you can’t remember how or when you met, you’ve simply known them forever. She knows everyone, rich or poor, famous and not. She’s hot, but more hip and chic than beautiful.
Karly migrated to LA from London when she was seventeen to be an actor but quickly changed her mind and hitched a ride to New York City. She scraped and clawed and saved every penny and never accepted a handout and never complained. She started with nothing and never looked back.
“I can’t just sit,” I said.
“Do you still want to see the body?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Don’t do it. You won’t get closure and it will give you nightmares for the rest of your life.”
“That’s the same thing Clive told me.”
“Well, he’s right. There’s nothing to be gained.”
I spoke through tears, “I’d just like the chance to tell him goodbye.”
“Just tell him. Anytime, anywhere.”
Then it hit me that eventually I’d have to tell the kids.
“My poor boys,” I said. I put my face in my hands and slowly shook my head.
She said nothing.
In the movies you grow old together. Hollywood sells happy endings, and I wanted mine. I’d been denied my goodbye kiss. There had been no last embrace. Instead, my final moments with Tom had been in an FBI interrogation room.
Something pinged in the back of my mind. Had Tom being trying to tell me something? I set my glass on the floor beside my chair and stood. Clive and two agents had been in the room with us, and there were others behind the two-way glass. Perhaps Tom hadn’t wanted them to hear.
I walked around behind the chair.
“Oh my God,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“He was trying to tell me something.”
“Who?”
“Tom.”
“When?”
“In the interrogation room last night.”
“You said it was nonsense.”
“Exactly.”
“I think maybe you’re losing it, Brynn. You’re grasping at straws.”
“It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I was pacing now, my energy building. I could feel my pulse rising. I had my hands
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