Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,82
than I planned.
Our eyes connected as I slipped through the sliding glass door.
He said, “I’ll call you back.” Then, he dropped the phone in his pocket.
I handed him a plate, stuck the now four-pack on the table, and joined him on the couch.
As kids, a bit of silence between us had never felt strange. It didn’t mean that we had run out of things to say. It had just felt comfortable.
It didn’t feel comfortable at all now.
We sat quietly and ate our pizza as questions started to fly through my head.
Why hadn’t he responded when I told him I didn’t blame him for the accident? Why hadn’t he even acknowledged what I said? Why hadn’t he softened at all?
“I won’t be mad,” I blurted out. “I promise I won’t take back anything that I said, but I have to know…”
He turned to face me. The Gulf of Mexico was at least twenty yards in front of us, but his eyes had taken on its color. They were deep blue, almost navy. I could feel their gaze penetrating my clothes.
“Did you know the person who hit us?” I asked.
One, two, three seconds passed. His face remained stoic. He said nothing.
Finally, he took a breath and looked back at the ocean. “No, Kyle, I didn’t.”
While I was in the hospital, I’d learned that it was a hit-and-run. Garin had given his statement to the police, and the investigation was open. The driver still hadn’t been found. But that didn’t mean it was a random accident.
“I just wondered if maybe you had seen his face, and it was someone you had a problem with or maybe someone the bosses had an issue with and—”
“It had nothing to do with them.”
“Then, why did you have security at the hospital?”
He took a bite of his pizza and washed it down with beer. “There’s security wherever I am. It’s part of my life now.”
I looked out to the empty living room and kitchen. Though I couldn’t see out to the front of my house from here, there weren’t any headlights shining through the windows. “The driver’s still out there?”
He nodded. “Listen, you were unconscious for eight days. I made sure that the only people who saw you were the ones who could make you better. Once you were awake, who you let in was your decision to make. But while I was in control, it was mine.”
That was why Anthony hadn’t been allowed in before I had woken up. I didn’t trust my brother enough for him to see me while I was unconscious. That made me appreciate the security even more.
But it didn’t explain why Garin was lacking the warmth I remembered.
I finished the rest of my pizza and then grabbed another beer. I wrapped the cap in my tank top to twist it. It took several tries before I found the strength to get it off. “I always wanted to bring Billy down here.” I sipped and stared at the water, surprised by the honesty that was surfacing in me. “Get him out of Atlantic City. Show him the Gulf. Let him feel the sunshine. Get him away from all those people.”
“What stopped you?”
“Fear.” Guilt was the real reason. “Fear that once he got here, he’d possibly only get worse.” More than that, I knew Anthony would have killed me if I’d brought Paulie’s brother down here.
“Florida wouldn’t have gotten him sober,” Garin said.
I looked at him. It had been a few days since he shaved, and his scruff was growing in thick, just like it had in the dream.
“You don’t think?”
“Only one thing could have helped that kid.”
I blinked hard and swallowed, trying to keep the emotion from showing on my face. That one thing…I knew what it was. I had a role in it. I could have given it to Billy, and he would still be alive. But I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth, to tell anyone the truth.
Garin took the beer out of my hand and placed it back on the table. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, holding out his fingers, waiting for me to grasp them.
Thirty-One
Garin
Thirteen Days Ago
Unknown flashed across my screen, and I answered the call just before it went to voice mail. “You’d better have news,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.
Azzo didn’t usually take this long to get back to me. He worked hard and fast and was the best PI in the business, which