Hemlock Veils (19 page)

“Let’s get this over with,” she said. It wouldn’t be long before a cop or security guard would be patrolling the area.

“Your bro told me all about you,” Juan continued, stepping closer. “That you’re a do-gooder. So I don’t think you have it in you.”

She briefly glanced at Willem before meeting Juan’s black eyes. The streetlamp gave his face a putrid orange tint. “I have what you want.”

“Let’s see it.”

“I don’t have it here,” she lied, the envelope burning a hole in her back. “I want your word he’ll be safe.” She looked at Willem, who appeared to be panicking at the direction this was headed. “And I want
your
word this is it. No more empty promises, Will. We’re leaving, far from here.”

“Beth—”

“See, Beth,” Juan cut in, now putting his arm around her own shoulders. Surprisingly, all she smelled on him was cologne. The expensive-smelling kind. “I don’t think I can let you take my boy Will here. He may be used up, but he’s my best boy. He’s got hookups—”

“That’s the deal,” she insisted, keeping her steely eyes on his. “I get my brother, you get your money.”

Juan laughed. “Beth, Beth, Beth. I
need
Will. You know why I need Will? I need him because he needs
you
. And for all this unnecessary grief you’re giving me, I’m upping the price.”

Will shook his head as though he’d expected it, and Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Like hell you are. I have what you asked for, far more than he owes you. That’s all you’re getting.” She grabbed Will’s hand, which resisted. “Will, let’s get out of here.”

In a quick movement, Juan pulled a hefty-looking gun from behind his back, at least a .40 caliber. He pointed it at her and she let go of Will’s hand. “Will, tell her what you told me,” he said, locking eyes with her.

“I—I…”

“Fine, I’ll tell her for you. Your brother sold you out, sis. See, just minutes before you got here, we were discussing our deal. He said you’re sitting fat with the rich man. I don’t think you have the stones to steal from him, but he says you’d do anything for him. Isn’t that right, Will?”

Elizabeth only swallowed. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

Juan chuckled. “He
promised
me you’d have the money here. But you don’t. And I
hate
”—he blinked heavily for emphasis—“being lied to, sis.”

“Juan,” Will jumped in, lifting his hands. “Just put the gun down, man. I told you she’s good for it.”

“You also told me she could get more.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shot to her brother. “What?”

Juan’s brow lifted in amusement. “He said we could make some kind of business deal. It’s simple. You pay me the hundred, plus a decent monthly fee, and I let Will here off his debts.”

Elizabeth ground her teeth. When she took another step, Juan shoved the barrel into her chest. In that moment, the gun meant nothing. “Who the hell do you think you are?
God?
He will be cleared of his debts with the money I have.”

“Oh, now you have it?” His eyes scanned her deliberately. “Where, sis?” He reached a greedy hand to her hip and felt up her ribs. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Here?”

She hit his hand away.

“Beth, just agree to the deal,” Will said. “I promise I’ll—”

“No more promises, Will!” In the distance, behind Juan, headlights appeared. She looked back to Juan. “You’ll get the money you wanted, but nothing more. It’s all I can get. But I won’t get it for you until you agree to leave it at that”

Juan stepped back and lowered the gun. He studied her, shifting his jaw, and for a hopeful moment, she actually thought he would accept her offer. But then, in an unfitting calmness, he said, “You didn’t come with the money, like you agreed. And now you think
you
can call the shots?” And before she even heard the last word, he lifted the gun and shot Willem in the chest. She jumped, feeling the vibration of the blast for what felt like hours.

She didn’t think it was real until Willem gasped and fell against the gazebo’s pillars. “Will!” she cried, catching him in her arms. The
warp-warp
of a police siren sounded somewhere in the distance, but she didn’t realize until later that it had come from the approaching vehicle she’d seen only seconds before, behind Juan. And if it wasn’t for that cop, she was sure Juan would have shot her next.

Instead he ran. Vaguely, she was aware of him cussing while leaping over the railing, just as the car flashing blue and red pulled sharply to the curb and two officers jumped out.

What happened in the background faded as Elizabeth fell to her knees and cradled Willem in her arms. He couldn’t inhale without choking and she laid his head in her lap. “
Shh
,” she hushed, holding one hand firmly on the hole in his chest and running her other over his moist, velvet-feeling head. “It’s all right. I’m here.” Her heart hammered at a rate she didn’t think was possible, making everything spin. Her stomach rose again, but she held it back. She had to be strong. Always strong.

“Beth,” he barely managed, that same panic in his eyes. Blood began pooling in the corners of his mouth and he coughed. The swelling in her chest began, telling her she was going to lose it—that she was going to explode from years of built-up tears. But a strange and almost maddening peace came over her instead, calming her. Calming her for Will. “Beth, I’m—”

“
Shh
.” Her voice cracked and she put more pressure on his chest, where blood appeared to drown them both. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“No one cou—” He choked on blood, coughing more into the air. “No one could save me.”

“Ma’am.” She twisted to find an officer.

“Get help!” she shouted at him.

“An RA unit’s already on its way.”

“Beth,” Willem started, bringing her eyes back to him. He blurred, but not from tears. Her head spun, viciously. “I know I never—” He couldn’t get anything out.

“Will, don’t talk, okay? Someone’s coming to help and you’ll be just fine. You need to save your breath. You need to be strong. For once, I need you to be strong for
me
. Can you do that?”

His eyes began losing focus and she shook him. “Willem, look at me.”

He barely shook his head.

“Willem Ashton, don’t you dare give up!” She pressed so hard on his chest he grunted.

“Move!” Two medics shoved her aside as they surrounded her brother. She tried inching her way back in, but the woman pushed her aside again, exchanging a look with the officer, and before she knew it his hands were on her, pulling her back.

“No!” she shouted, fighting him. She couldn’t see Willem’s face anymore, only a limp hand. “Willem! You fight, Willem!”

“We’re losing him,” one of the men said.

“Willem, no!”

“Ma’am,” the police officer said in a gentle hush, hands firmly on her arms.

Her chest collapsed as though a sob wracked her, but nothing came out. They lifted him onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the back of an ambulance with a great hurry, and that was when she found the strength to break free of the officer. She ran after them, just as they were closing the doors. “You have to save him!”

The woman, the other medic, nodded with hesitation and closed the door, and they sped off. In the ambulance’s wake, a handcuffed Juan was being led to the police cruiser. The officer leading him was out of breath and blood dripped from a gash on his forehead. Juan Paddock, who up until shooting Willem had been invincible—untouchable by the cops. Juan Paddock, who was caught by a mere case of bad luck. Or had it been?

She shot toward him. “I had the money!” she yelled, just as the officer grabbed her from behind again. “I had it!” She clawed at the officer’s arms, taut around her waist.

Juan half-smiled. “You know why I didn’t shoot him in the head?”

She grunted, still struggling.

“I wanted you to be able to say goodbye, sis.”

She screamed, the skin of the officer’s arms accumulating beneath her nails, and then Juan was safely in the car.

***

White Memorial Medical Center in Boyle Heights was a place of many memories for Elizabeth. She’d trained here, spent nights with Willem here after overdoses and even one stabbing, and now she’d lost her brother here.

She sat in a maroon vinyl chair in the hall just off the emergency room waiting area; she’d pulled the chair here, away from the rest. It wasn’t long after she’d arrived that Doctor Gates had come out to greet her. Back when she trained here, she’d been close to Doctor Robert Gates. He wasn’t much older than she, but had been divorced twice. He’d been one of her closest confidants in the beginning, even stayed late with her one night when Willem got stitched up. He’d asked her out soon after, and though she’d never had time to date, she’d agreed. He was charming and charismatic, and made her feel important. She liked him, more than she’d liked anyone as an adult.

But they hadn’t even made it halfway through dinner before Willem called, arrested on minor charges, and needing her to bail him out. She’d left the date on the spot. Anytime she’d run into Doctor Gates since then, with his short, blunt answers and avoiding eyes, she was reminded of the night she had tried to have a normal, happy life.

But not tonight. Tonight he had faced her with the look of bad news. She had expected as much. Willem was gone, she felt it. He’d been gone since before they’d arrived at the hospital. Emptiness lingered where his ties used to bind her. When Doctor Gates had opened his mouth to speak, Elizabeth had raised her hand. “Don’t,” she said. “I know.”

With her head down, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Beth,” he said. And he was gone. That was when she’d caught her reflection in the large blackened window. Willem’s blood bathed her sweater and pants, stained her hands, and even speckled her cheek.

With that, she had sunk to the chair. She’d sat there for countless, unmeasured minutes, her vision focused on the multi-toned linoleum. Then on her bloodied hands. Could she have saved him if she’d given the money to Juan from the start, instead of denying she had it with her? She wanted to think if she’d done it differently, he’d still be here. But the truth was, even if she had, Juan still would have asked for more, she would have refused, and the end scenario would still be the same. Only then, Juan would have Mr. Vanderzee’s money, too.

A figure entered through the swinging doors at her left, but her vision remained on the crusty, bloodstained tips of her shoes.

Then a chair scratched across the floor, jarring enough to grab her attention.

Mr. Vanderzee, in a sweater and slacks. She straightened as he sat in the chair he’d pulled beside her. What was he doing here at two a.m., and how did he know where she was in the first place? Her stomach turned and she folded her arms across it.

She looked back to the floor, keeping her eyes indifferent. “Mr. Vanderzee,” she said.

He cleared his throat, something he did a lot recently. “They told me he’s gone.”

She closed her eyes. At that moment, hate and love were smeared together inside her, indistinguishable from each other. “I’m done, Mr. Vanderzee.”

He sighed, a sound of expectance, not surprise. “I imagined you would say that.”

Her heart pounded, but her soul remained numb as she reached behind her, under her shirt, and retrieved the envelope that had been safely tucked away beneath the band of her bra. Her eyes fixed on her knees as she handed it to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it. “It’s all there.”

“All $100,000?”

She looked at him. Blinking, she swallowed deeply. “How…?”

“I knew you were going to take it before you knew yourself.”

“But…?”

“You know I’m not a merciful man. You know what you did was vile and unforgivable, so I’ll spare you the lecture. But let’s get one thing straight, Elizabeth: I won’t be taken advantage of.”

The maroon, almost brown residue beneath her fingernails matched the color of the emergency-room chairs and accents. “I accept every consequence of my action.”

“Here’s the consequence.” His fierce tone demanded she meet his gray eyes. “I want you to run away, far from this place. You ever so much as step foot inside Southern California again, I’ll see to it that you’re put away for what you did.”

“But, Mr. Vanderzee, I
want
to be put—”

“Are we clear, Elizabeth?”

She stared, unblinking.

“I never want you near my money again, and this will be the last time we meet. As soon as your sorry excuse for a brother’s funeral is at its end, you are to pack up your things and leave California, do you understand?” He handed her the envelope of money, heavy and bulky.

“No, I
don’t
understand.”

He stood. “You spend it on you, Elizabeth, on starting a life. Not a life for anyone else—a life for
you
.”

“You’re not making sense, Mr. Vanderzee. You said you don’t want me near your money again.”

“It’s not my money.” He adjusted his pants and shifted his jaw as he looked at her with a hatred that seemed born of love. Perhaps the same hatred with which she’d looked upon Willem. “That account was yours. I was putting it aside for you so that one day you could make your own way.”

Her heart sank, deeper inside her than it ever had. Her eyes burned with such intensity she was sure they’d spill over. But her self-hatred kept them from doing so.

“I still intend for you to make your way, Elizabeth. More than ever now.”

“Why?” she barely managed.

“You were good to me. You were good to those who didn’t deserve your goodness. It’s your turn to be good to yourself.” He walked away, hunched over as usual, but before reaching the doors, he turned back, lifting a finger. “And don’t think this generosity leaves you off the hook, Elizabeth Ashton. Mark my words, I won’t hesitate to throw you in prison for what you’ve done if you ever come back here again.”

Desperate to get the money out of her hands, she shot to her feet. “But Mr. Vanderzee, please. Take it. I don’t want it.”