Part 37 (1/2)
She kneed him in the groin, and shot her elbow hard into his solar plexus. The air flew out of him, and the gun came free. She pushed off of the gasping man, and pointed the gun at his head. ”Move and you're dead.”
James Cyrus struggled to get his breath; flat on his back, he stared up at her; he blinked. ”I'm sorry,” Jimmy said, in his little boy's voice. ”I love you. I'm sorry.”
She felt her finger tighten on the trigger; it would be so easy. ”Justine,” she called out, ”get away from the cage ... You ... in it. Now!”
Jimmy cowered, his eyes wide and innocent, ”I love you. You love me. I'm sorry.”
”Get in the cage Jimmy or I pull the trigger.”
He blinked; his tongue licked lewdly across his upper lip, ”I don't think you would, Doctor.”
Repulsed, her grip tightened. ”You have until three. One ... two ...”
”This isn't over,” he said, crawling toward the cage, while keeping his eyes fixed on the gun. ”You married the boy, and a wife must perform certain duties. You have a responsibility to the community. To the family ...”
She tuned out his prattle, watching for the moment he was fully inside. She moved fast, slammed the door and clicked the lock.
”Justine, go upstairs and call for help. Then get yourself out of here ... Go to mom's. I'll meet you there.”
”I'm not leaving without you,” her sister replied, as Jimmy's father persona continued to ramble.
”Please don't argue,” Barrett said, keeping her eyes on Jimmy as she knelt next to Ellen's unmoving body. With two fingers she felt for a pulse; there was nothing. ”Good, go Justine ... I'll be fine.” She sat cross-legged in front of Jimmy's locked cage, holding the gun steady, and listening to the sound of her sister running up the stairs. Help would come soon. And this time there'd be no slip-ups; she'd stay until the cops arrived; she'd make sure that everything was done by the book, and that Jimmy Martin would get locked away-and never, ever come out.
THIRTY-SEVEN.
Four weeks later, Barrett was back in her office, trying to get through her work, but unable to focus. She was pregnant. She'd done a home pregnancy test immediately after her escape, and was shocked to see it was positive. Of course, as her gynecologist told her, that could have been from the fertility drugs they'd been giving her. What complicated matters was that, if in fact she was pregnant, it could quite possibly have happened that last night she was with Ralph. She'd been ready to have a baby, they'd not used protection, but now ... she was waiting for the results of the DNA test. Was the fetus inside her Ralph's or Jimmy's? And depending on how that got answered, she either would-or wouldn't have- some hard options to consider. In her entire life Barrett had never contemplated abortion. She firmly believed in a woman's right to choose, but that was other women; it had never been this personal, this immediate. It was hard to breathe, and she wished the d.a.m.n call would come. Her doctor had said it would take at least a week-the week was up.
The phone rang, her stomach lurched and she picked up.
”Hey Barrett,” it was Hobbs, calling from his hospital room.
”How's it going?” she asked, glad for the intrusion, and remembering how relieved she'd been to discover he was alive, but shocked when she'd gone to visit him that first day in the hospital. He'd been heavily sedated and lucky to be alive. He'd been covered in gauze, and what exposed skin she could see was red and slick with antibiotic dressing-more than 30 percent of his body had second- and third-degree burns. Ed was facing months in the unit, and had tried to crack jokes about the mind-numbing series of skin grafts he was facing.
”It's going. Although I just got word that Jimbo's attorneys are going to shoot for the not guilty by reason of mental defect c.r.a.p.”
”No surprise there,” she said.
”You think he'll get it?”
She pondered the complexities of the case, and of Jimmy, ”Hard to know. It could go either way.”
”Yeah,” he admitted, ”they'll try and pin the actual murders on Ellen, and make him out as some crazy-a.s.sed accomplice. Either way, he ain't ever coming out.”
”You sure of that?” she said.
These calls with Hobbs helped. Even with the burns that covered his face, hands, scalp, and torso, he'd insisted on following the case, and keeping Barrett up-to-date. The Martin mansion was sealed off and thoroughly searched, as was the carriage house and the elaborate reproduction of Barrett's condo. Each day had revealed fresh horrors that stretched back through decades.
In the dirt-floored bas.e.m.e.nt of the mansion, bone fragments and ancient blood-spatter were discovered in the area of the coal-burning furnace. Jimmy's story about the nanny was probably accurate, although the exact ident.i.ty of the nanny, Maylene, wasn't known. When they brought in a small excavator and dug up the courtyard they found additional bone fragments, the DNA matching that of James Cyrus Martin and Vivian Alfort Martin.
He also told her how the investigating team had been besieged with calls from distant Martin relatives, all wanting to know what would happen with the Martin fortunes.
”They have two detectives and a forensic accountant working on just that,” he'd told her. ”You can't imagine how rich these people were.”
”So have you heard?” he asked.
”Not yet,” she admitted, glad that Hobbs knew everything, and she didn't have to explain how she might be pregnant with Jimmy Martin's child.
”Can I make a horrible joke?” he asked.
”Yes, but only you at this point.”
”You know if it is his kid ... and don't shoot me ... but he'd be the natural heir to all of that money.”
”I know,” she admitted. ”And don't think I haven't thought about that, and don't think I hate myself for even mulling it over.”
”It's human, Barrett. Don't beat yourself up over it. Whatever decisions you have to make, you'll do the right thing.”
”I wish I was so sure, she said, feeling the tears that were never far off. ”I wish I had the f.u.c.king test results ... Ed?”
”What?”
”There's something else...when Jimmy showed me all that c.r.a.p about you, I shouldn't have listened. I should have trusted that you would have told me-or not-I should have just trusted.”
”Water under the bridge, considering what you've been through ... what we've both been through ... all that seems kind of small. Any chance I'll be seeing you? I could use the company. This place is boring as h.e.l.l.”
”Sure ... I'll pick up Chinese. Although, if I get the results, I could be a total basket case.”
”Is that the clinical name for it?”