“I’m sorry.” The apology gasped out of me, my lungs struggling for breath, his weight on my sternum a vice that barely allowed movement. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt me. Maybe he just wanted an audience, recognition.
“Me too, Ty.” I wished he would stop saying my name, his mouth caressing the short syllable. He leaned forward and brought the knife down, just under my ear. “I thought you were different. I thought you were such a good wife. I thought that, with Tobey behaving, you two could finally be happy. Now, it looks like you never will be.”
And I saw in his eyes, that this was the end.
110
“Run away with me,” Chase whispered, his leg wrapped around me, my body tucked into his chest, my cheek against the smooth muscle of his chest. The hotel room was dark, the sounds of the Bronx subdued.
“I can’t,” I said quietly. “You know I can’t.”
“He doesn’t love you like I do. He can’t.”
“It’s been four years, Chase. I was here that whole time.” And he hadn’t come. I had waited, in Tobey’s parents’ home, listening to every ring of the bell, every call on the phone. I had waited for Chase, and he had never come for me.
“I didn’t know about the baby, Ty. I thought—I thought you had just left me. Chose him.”
“I would never have chosen him.” I looked up at him, surprised to see his eyes wet with emotion.
“Then don’t choose him now.”
There was so much blood. All over the front of my shirt, the wet smear of it worsened by his hands, gripping at me, claws of contact, the knife swinging at me, wild, red, wet motions that were suddenly farther away, space between us as he was pulled away. Horace. I recognized his face, one of our security guards. Mitch. Another familiar face. There were more, the stairwell getting crowded, a glimpse of Dan’s face, eyes frenzied, through a space between black uniform and a pinstriped shirt. I held onto those eyes for the split second that was allowed. Then someone moved in front of me, said something to me, hands gentle as they raised my feet.
“Ty?” Dad’s voice, through the blood, through the pain. “TY!” he shouted at me, and I reached out for him, unsure of where he was, everything going dark.
111
Chase sat in the locker room, his hands on his head, trying to clear his head, to say a prayer of thanks, the weight of the last season, of the last decade, suddenly gone. They had won. He had her. Champagne sprayed, cold mist showering, and he was pulled to his feet, pushed into the center of the room, hands everywhere, on his back, his head, his arms. Smiles all around, love in the air. For the first time, since high school, he really felt the love, the bind, the feel of family. Funny how quickly hearts warmed when championships were won. Or maybe he was just now open to it, everything rosy when he had her in his future. He was gripped tightly and he smiled, a smile that hurt in its stretch. A chant started, and he tilted his chin back and yelled, a belt of joy that joined in on the chorus.
She was right. This team was a family. One she was leaving for him. The depth of the sacrifice warmed his heart, his devotion to her aching in its ferocity. All the more reason to start their own family. Together, with their love, they could have it all. Together, they would build it all.
For a moment where everything had finally come together, something felt off.
112
I had pictured the end of Tobey and I so many times. Early on in our marriage, I had contemplated running away. Everyone would wake, on Tuesday morning, and I’d be gone. There were times in our relationship where I didn’t think he’d even notice. Then later, our friendship weaving tighter and tighter with strands of love, it became harder. I didn’t know how difficult it was to leave a husband. But my business partner, my friend … over the years, it had become impossible. Until Chase.
I knew the minute our eyes met beside that plane, that I would leave Tobey. In that moment, it was no longer a choice, but a necessity. Regardless of whatever happened with Chase. Staying with Tobey when I loved another man so fiercely—it wasn’t fair to him.
In the months since that decision, I’d pictured the end of our marriage a handful of different ways. I’d rehearsed what to say. I’d pictured his reaction. I’d dreaded it all.
I never thought the end would come in a police station.
We sat next to each other in a small room, Detective Thorpe across the table, the case files spread out between us. The images I’d seen before, paper clipped to thick reports, thousands of words that captured none of the girls’ lives but every detail of their deaths. I took a deep breath, my chest burning, the stitches along my collar itching, a pile of gauze preventing my scratch. Twenty-nine stitches. Overkill for a surface wound, my blackout most likely caused by shock. Being cleared by the doc had taken two hours in the Yankees’ infirmary, my insistence at avoiding the hospital met with a fair amount of opposition. But, I couldn’t drag this out. I couldn’t lose focus. All I wanted, in my first minutes of rescued life, was to end the one I was living.
“We’ve gotten a full confession from Dan Velacruz,” Detective Thorpe said, his voice hard, no pride in the tones. “He says that you had relationships with each of the women.”
I shouldn’t be there. The detective had wanted to question Tobey privately, but he’d insisted I be present. Now, his hand tight on mine, I only wanted to run. I didn’t want to hear the details of Tobey’s affairs. I didn’t care. Maybe another wife would. Maybe another wife would feel hurt and betrayed. But that all seemed a little hypocritical when all I wanted to do was burst from this seat, sprint through the station, and out into the night. I wanted to find Chase, jump into his arms and escape. I didn’t want to see the guilt in Tobey’s eyes, hear the pain in his voice.
“Relationships is a fairly strong word, for some of the women.” Tobey swallowed, his hand tightening on mine. “For the first girls, yes. Rachel … I was in love with her. And April and I had a thing … for a while. Mostly sexual.” He turned to me, and I pulled my hand away, his eyes dropping to it before he returned to my face. “Ty, I stopped. Julie was nothing and after Tiffany, I swear to God, I stopped everything. I never even slept with Tiffany. I took her to lunch twice—nothing else. That man was crazy. I saw that after Tiffany.”
“Do you realize, had you shared this information with me earlier, years ago, how we could have saved their lives? Maybe caught the son-of-a-bitch?” Thorpe interrupted us, the hard edge of his voice caused Tobey’s face to stiffen.