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AMONTH LATER FRANCINE WASback in Williamsburg, in Gibson’s backyard, where the two women were watching Darby and Tommy playing. Agnes Langhorne sat in a wheelchair with her oxygen tank and seemed delighted with the kids’ antics. Doug sat next to his mother and seemed in better spirits than he had been. He had scattered Rochelle’s ashes over the lake; Francine had gone with him to lend her support.
Gibson and Francine were sitting on swings on a brand-new play set that Gibson had purchased with some of her finder’s fee. Part of the money had gone to fund the kids’ college accounts, and the rest had gone into the bank, until she decided what to do with it.
Francine had given half her finder’s fee to her brother. They had decided that Agnes would live with her son and that she would have round-the-clock care until the end. Francine had also provided funds to the other victims of Earl Beckett. And she and Gibson had both given monies to Sullivan’s niece to help her with her challenges.
As they slowly swung back and forth Gibson said, “Beckett and Enders did plea deals. But they’ll both die of old age in prison.”
“Hopefully, sooner rather than later,” remarked Francine.
“Sullivan is doing well and his sister has been avenged. He can just go on being a cop now, without having to move all the time to keep up with Beckett.”
“Nothing wrong with not staying in one place too long.”
“So does that mean you’ll be heading on soon?”
Francine glanced at her. “Why?”
“Just wondering. I was…sort of getting used to having you around.”
“You can go do anything you want, Mickey. Buy a big house. Travel the world.”
“All a little heady for a Jersey girl.”
“You can pull it off. You really can.”
“Not if the desire isn’t there.”
“So whatisyour desire, then?”
“You go first.”
Francine looked embarrassed. “I…I got through an entire day without writing something down in a notebook.”
“Hey, that’s progress.”
“The notebooks were important to me. The shrinks have a lot of fancy names for it. But it just came down to being afraid of losing the little I had.”
“They were also a wall for you, Francine.”
“What?”
“Your notebooks were a way for you to build a wall around yourself. And the different personas you used? That way no one could ever get to know the real you. And if they never knew the real you?”
“They could never hurt the real me,” Francine finished.
“Trust me, you’re not the only one who built walls or played roles because they were scared, or to keep from being hurt. You just took it to another level. But you had good cause to do so.”
“That does make sense.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you end up at Temple?”
“I wanted to get as far away from New Mexico as I could. And I’d been to Philly before, when I was a kid, before we went into WITSEC. I liked it. So I went there, and I got a job at the university. In the cafeteria.”
“Did you really serve me food?”
“I really did. But I looked a lot different back then.” She paused. “I guess I really became obsessed with you at that point, basketball star and all, and agirlon top of it. And when I found out you were in the drama program, it was like it was an omen. I mean, I had always dreamed of being a famous actress. And here was my idol doing that very thing. I also went to all the home basketball games.” She shot Gibson a glance. “You were one vicious point guard.”
“Had to be. I was a lot shorter than most of the other gals. Did we interact at all in the theater?”
