Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,92
use it again after Labor Day. Or we could take a weekend and go down to the Jersey shore over the summer. How about that?”
“Sounds dreamy.” Everything about their stay out East had been dreamy. It had helped push away the nightmare of her mother’s death.
After dinner, they put Rachel to bed and sat on the deck, sipping wine in the cool night air. When she got up to stretch her legs, Eric pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, first softly, then hungrily. He led her into the bedroom and they got onto the queen-size bed.
They undressed each other and then made love. It had been a long time since they’d last done so. Eric’s hours at the hospital, her tiredness from running after Rachel all day, had conspired to keep them apart. Eric’s touch was gentle; he knew the spots to touch on her body to arouse her, and he expertly brought her to a climax.
Afterward, lying in Eric’s arms, Sunny felt her eyelids grow heavy. Before she drifted off to sleep, she realized how happy she was. She loved Eric, she loved Rachel, and she was loved in return. If only she had her mother, her life would be perfect.
CHAPTER
35
Thirteen Hours
Ten minutes after Tommy’s call, Melanie stood in front of the address she had for Sunshine Harrington Bergman. She rang the buzzer for her apartment but was met with silence. She waited outside for someone to leave the building, and when a man finally opened the locked door to the lobby, Melanie slipped inside. She took the elevator to the eighth floor and walked down the hallway to apartment 8-C. She pressed her thumb against the ringer and held it for two seconds. Still no response.
Melanie didn’t know whether Sunshine hadn’t heard the bell or was away. She didn’t have time to wait for the answer. Instead, she rang the bell at 8-D. For a long time she heard no response. Just as she was about to leave, she heard some shuffling inside and then the turning of several locks. A man standing at least six-four and weighing well over 250 pounds opened the door. “I know this sounds corny, but it really is a matter of life and death. Do you know if your neighbor next door is away from home?”
“You’re fucking waking me up to find some guy?”
Melanie looked at her watch. It was almost 11:40. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. And it’s not what you think. A man is hours away from execution and she’s the only person who can stop it.”
“Listen, lady. I just got to sleep two hours ago. I don’t care if it’s the fucking Queen of England that’s gonna die.” He slammed the door shut.
Melanie didn’t care if she woke up more people. She continued to knock on doors, beginning with 8-A, and worked her way down the row.
When she reached 8-F, a teenage girl with long brown hair and longer legs below her shorts opened the door. Melanie went into her standard opening, rote by now. “Sorry to bother you, miss, but I’m looking for Sunshine Bergman, who lives in 8-C.”
“Oh, sure. Sunny. I baby-sit Rachel sometimes.”
“You don’t happen to know where she might be, do you?”
“The whole family went away for the weekend. They might be back tonight, I think.”
Melanie stopped in her tracks. Each step of the way in this case, they seemed to come so close only to butt up against an obstacle. She turned back to the girl. “Do you have a cell-phone number for her? Or her husband?”
“Sure. I need it for when I baby-sit. You know, in case something happens.”
“Can you give it to me? It’s urgent that I reach her.”
The girl thought for a moment. “I … I don’t think I should. In fact, I’m not sure I should even be talking to you.”
As she started to close the door, Melanie stuck her foot inside to block it. She took out her HIPP identification and showed it to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Leanne.”
“Okay, Leanne. There’s a man who’s going to be executed in thirteen hours for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t know if Sunny Bergman here is the woman I’m looking for, but if she is, she’s the only one who can save his life. I’ve got to speak to her immediately.”
Leanne looked Melanie over. “I don’t know. I keep hearing about all these scams. How do I know you’re not some con artist? Or some kind of freak?”