Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

After gathering myself, I realized everyone was looking at me. Most likely because I was talking to air. They could just deal with it. We had bigger fish to fry. But the look on their faces stopped me in my tracks. They’d seen me talk to air before. Well, everyone but Sienna. I couldn’t imagine that causing the level of shock they were displaying.

Sienna dropped the carafe. It landed with a thud on the floor, and coffee slushed over the sides, but not a single gaze wavered away from me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious. I looked down to make sure my boxers were in place. They seemed fine to me. I scanned the faces again. Even though Uncle Bob was holding a gun to my father’s head, he was looking at me. Just like everyone else.

Dad lowered the gun. The movement caught Ubie’s attention. He turned back to him. “Drop it, Leland.”

He did. The gun fell to the floor, but nobody seemed to care. All eyes stayed locked on me. Slowly, and with deliberate care, Uncle Bob kneeled down and picked up the gun, but he looked away for only the split second it took him to grab it.

This was getting weird.

“How did you do that?” Gemma asked.

“What?” I asked, completely confused. “Almost get shot by my own father?” When everyone continued to gape, I decided now was a good time for a rant. “It really wasn’t that hard. I just kind of stood here while a crazy man pointed a gun at me—”

“They were blanks.”

I refocused on him. “You tried to kill me with blanks?”

“Yes.” He nodded, then caught himself and shook his head. “No, I mean—”

“Isn’t that counterproductive?”

“The way you moved,” he continued, his voice thick with disbelief. “It wasn’t real. Nobody can move like that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, growing angry. Did nobody care that my own father just tried to kill me?

He walked up to me and tried to touch my face, but I blocked his hand and stepped out of his reach. He didn’t pursue it. Instead he asked, “What are you?”

“Besides pissed?”

“Charley,” Gemma said, her voice taking on that gentle therapist tone she was so fond of, “look where you are.”

I glanced around and realized she was right. I had been at the door, and now I was at the windows facing the alley. I shrugged. “So I lunged out of the way. So what? I was being shot at.”

“But you didn’t,” Gemma said. “You were here, then you were there. You—” She paused as though unable to come up with the right words. “You moved so fast. It’s like you disappeared, then reappeared. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I had to know,” Dad said. “I had to know you’d be okay. I knew you were different, but I had no idea just how different. Then when Caruso tied me up and went after you with that knife … the way you moved. It was like nothing I’d ever seen.” Caruso had been one of Dad’s collars. He’d sent the man to prison for a very long time. The minute he was parolled, he came after Dad, and in periphery, me. “That’s when I realized how special you really are.”

I was still fighting the effects of adrenaline rushing through my nervous system, and trying not to seize. “I cannot imagine how you thought that shooting me would be a good idea.” I turned to leave, but Uncle Bob stopped me.

“Charley, hon, I need to know if you want to press charges.”

A malicious smile spread over my face before I said, “No. Not today. I don’t want to have anything else to do with him.”

I shoved my way past Denise and plowed down the stairs.

“Charley, wait,” Gemma said behind me.

I kept walking. “I am writing a letter to Mom about this.”

“Good,” she said, trying to catch up. “That’s perfect, but there’s something you need to know before you get too carried away.”

I’d made it all the way to the front door of my building before she caught up with me. “I know,” I said, my throat closing in on itself. “I felt it the minute I walked up there.”

She took deep, even breaths and said, “He doesn’t know how much longer he has.”

I turned away from her, refusing to acknowledge the sting in my eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Couple of months. He wouldn’t let anyone tell you. He wanted to do it himself, but you wouldn’t take his calls.”

I crossed my arms, still unable to face her. “I’m still telling Mom.”

She stepped behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Tell her hi for me, too.”

After leaning my head on her bony elbow, I said, “Okay, but I don’t think she likes you as much as she likes me.”

Gemma laughed and squeezed me tighter.

* * *

Up at the penthouse, Cookie came barreling in as I stood pouring myself a cup of coffee, her eyes wide with worry. When she spotted me, relief washed over her. She walked up, panting with one hand on her chest. “I couldn’t find you,” she said between pants. “And all your stuff was here. I thought you got killed. Or abducted again.”

“Sorry. Here I am.”

She held up a finger, swallowed hard, then said, “Charley, I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I kill you? You work for next to nothing.”

She nodded. “That’s a good point.”