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“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO do?” Father Hawk asked.
My fingers beat a restless rhythm against the worn church pew. “I don’t suppose you’d like to give me your thoughts.”
He bowed his head. “The logical solution I’m supposed to give you is to pray for a resolution.”
“But?” I asked.
His eyes drifted to the confessional. “But I’ve only ever known Gypsy to be honest with me.”
I knew she was honest with him. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I believed her too, and that meant someone else wanted us both dead.
The doors to the church opened, and footsteps echoed down the corridor. Nolan paid his respects by lighting a candle and saying a prayer before he dared to acknowledge me. In all the years we’d been friends, I’d only ever known him to be good. He was my mentor. The man who saved me from myself and set me on the path to righteousness. In my heart, I didn’t believe he was capable of hurting me, and it crushed me that I’d even considered the thought for a second.
He sat down beside me, and Father Hawk took his leave. Neither of us looked at each other. The silence that lingered between us was unfamiliar, and it reminded me of the first time he came to visit me in prison far too many years ago.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive and well,” he said.
“You knew I was alive and well. Why would you think otherwise?”
He looked at me, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “You were on death’s door when you left. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“So you decided it was best to let everyone think I was really dead?”
His head dipped forward, a subtle nod of regret. “I believed it was only a matter of time. I wanted to honor your wishes, and I knew if anyone realized you were still alive, they would try to find you and change your mind.”
The explanation was a plausible one. I hadn’t told Nolan I was going to get treatment. I hadn’t told him anything other than the fact I was leaving.
“If I’d known you wanted me to act differently, I would have,” he explained. “But you left in such a hurry, I wasn’t certain what I was supposed to do. We hadn’t planned for that.”
I studied him. “I don’t suppose you’d have any idea who was trying to kill me and my wife then?”
Nolan shook his head, his eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t imagine there was much of an investigation after you told your doctor the insulin was self-inflicted. If they did have their doubts, they never contacted me.”
I knew what he was getting at, and it was a point I didn’t want to argue. At the time, I believed it had been Gypsy. It was an automated response to cover for her, and my doctor already believed I was suicidal, given my constant rejection of life-saving treatments. There was little they could do but keep me under observation for the required amount of time.
“There was no investigation,” I conceded. “At least not to my knowledge.”
Nolan shrugged. “Then it’s anyone’s guess. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, and from my understanding, so has Gypsy.”
I considered his suggestion, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. There had been incidents over the years when my car was trashed, or the office had been vandalized. Death threats in the mail were part of the job, but nobody had ever taken it this far before.
“Have you considered that your ex could have anything to do with this?” Nolan asked.
My stomach roiled. “It’s crossed my mind.”
“She’s in prison, but she has contacts on the outside. Perhaps she managed to convince someone to help her.”
“It’s possible,” I admitted. “I’m going to look into it.” I couldn’t ever underestimate her ability to fuck up my life again.
Nolan nodded. “If you need my help, let me know what I can do. I’m available.”
“I will.”
I stood, and we walked out of the church together. It was early afternoon, and the sun was blinding in its intensity. I slipped on my sunglasses, and Nolan held a cupped hand over his forehead, squinting at me. “Are we going to talk about where we go from here? Has anything changed with your plans?”
“Nothing has changed,” I said. “My final wishes remain the same. But if everything goes accordingly, you won’t need to execute them for a long while now.”
He blinked at me as he processed my words. “You’re getting treatment?”
“I’m halfway through,” I answered. “Radiation starts on Monday.”
A smile broke across his face, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “That’s really good news, Lucian. I’m happy to hear it.”
“Death will have to wait for another day.” I stared off into the distance. “But for now, I guess I should probably let the world—and Gypsy’s publisher—know that I’m still alive.”
