Shoot from the Lip

Epilogue

Kate and I joined Emma and her brothers and sister on a chilly November evening to watch what Crime Time had done with Emma’s story. How would Christine O’Meara fare? Would the slant Kravitz took make HPD look bad? I sure hoped not, considering I got him that copy of Stu’s tape. The confession and Foster’s guilty plea to all the murders probably had more to do with that than my request.

I finally met Scott, Emma’s oldest brother. He seemed reserved with Kate and me, unsure whether he liked all that had gone on and our role in it.

The new home was spectacular, and there had been other gifts besides the landscaping and the houseful of furniture. There were college scholarships for the kids, enough money for Emma to finish her master’s in business, an apartment for Scott at college. Reality Check and Erwin Mayo had kept their word and didn’t skimp. I had to admit, I might have been wrong about them. Perhaps they did want to help people, even though they came across as fake and self-centered.

The place smelled like the new carpet and the lemon-oiled built-in entertainment center. Shannon and Luke were sitting on the floor, busy with their laptops-more of Venture’s generosity. Kate and I sat on the sofa to wait out the twenty minutes until showtime. My TiVo was set to record back home. Loreen and Doris had gone to a recently released preholiday animated film. Doris did not need to see or hear what had happened to her brother.

Jeff had insisted on returning to work, to desk duty that he hated, but it was better than the recliner he’d grown tired of. He and DeShay had plenty of paperwork piling up.

Scott paced in the space connecting the living and dining areas, a longneck Bud Light in his hand. With his mother’s history of alcoholism, I wondered if Emma worried about him. He wasn’t even legal drinking age yet.

Emma came into the living room with chips and salsa, set them on the coffee table and sat in one of the new tub chairs. I’d already grabbed a Diet Coke from the kitchen, while Kate stuck with water.

“One of my half brothers called me today,” Emma said. “Raul. He and Xavier Junior want to meet me.”

“How do you feel about that?” Kate asked.

“I feel wonderful,” Emma said. “I’d love to see my new dining room table filled with brothers and sisters.”

A short, awkward silence followed. We knew that might not include one sister. Beth Foster and the daughter her husband had stolen seemed to have disappeared. Probably fleeing the media, if they had any sense. I may have unearthed the truth, but I’d fallen short. Emma wanted to meet the child she’d help bring into the world, but Amy’s place at the table might never be filled.

“You look rested, Emma,” I finally said, wanting to change the dark mood that had descended on the room.

“I am at peace, because of you and Kate. Thank you again so much,” she said.

We spent the time until the show started talking about Shannon’s good grades, Luke’s successes on the football field and Emma’s plan to return to school. Finally Scott, a few minutes before showtime, came and sat with us.

He looked at me and said, “I want to thank you, too. For helping my sister. You and Dr. Rose risked your lives. I’m sorry I didn’t come here and, like, be here for everyone. I didn’t think she was doing the right thing.”

“Takes a strong person to admit they were wrong, Scott,” Kate said. “I believe that’s even more proof what a fantastic job Emma did raising the three of you.”

“The show is starting,” Shannon said.

We all turned our attention to the TV.

Kravitz began the narrative on an airplane, said he was heading to Houston, Texas, to cover an amazing and complex story of deceit, murder and a family who wouldn’t give up until they learned the truth about a sister lost to them years ago.

Truth, I thought, smiling to myself. You did do the right thing, Paul.

I hadn’t been aware of the tension in my shoulders, but once he spoke those words, I sat back and enjoyed every minute of Crime Time. He presented the story concisely and with plenty of those cliffhanging questions before each commercial break. The demolished house and the tiny grave made it on the air; so did much abbreviated interviews with Kate, Emma, Aunt Caroline and me. Don White spoke for the police and was more charming than I imagined he could be, maybe because his partner was amazing everyone in rehab. When the clips of the hostage situation were shown, Kate bowed her head, but then footage of a shackled Harrison Foster being transferred to court for arraignment followed, and she watched intently. But her back was ramrod straight, her hands joined a little too tightly in her lap.

We learned new information as well. Harrison Foster wasn’t his real name, and he did have a secret past, as Kate and I had suspected. He was Howard Nolen, and the unsolved murders of his parents in a small Nebraska town were added to his terrible resume.

I glanced again at Kate when this was revealed. She was blinking back tears. I hated this, hated seeing her in so much pain. I’d heard her pacing in the night one too many times and guessed she had delayed moving into her new house because she didn’t want to be alone. Not yet. The wounds Foster had inflicted were perhaps too fresh, too raw.

When the show ended, Emma said, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“They did a decent job.” I welcomed a chance to talk about their take rather than analyze Kate’s reaction in front of everyone. “Now you can talk to the Today show or Good Morning America. You said they’ve been calling.”

“Oh, no,” Emma said. “No more television for me.”

“I’ll do the talk-show rounds,” Luke offered.

“You will not,” Emma said. “None of you will. Haven’t you learned anything from my mistakes?”

Scott rose. “I’ve got to drive back to school tonight. Paper due.”

“Not after you’ve been drinking,” Emma said. “Get up early tomorrow.”

I thought I caught a look of relief on his face before he said, “Whatever.”

He started toward the hall that led to the bedrooms, but a knock on the door stopped him.

Shannon, who’d been lying on her stomach on the floor typing on her laptop, sat up. “More reporters?”

Emma sighed. “Probably.”

“I’ll get rid of them,” I said.

But when I cracked the door, I saw Beth and Amy Foster standing on Emma’s front porch.

“Is… is this where Emma Lopez lives?” Unlike Emma, Beth Foster looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Amy, Shannon’s clone, seemed dazed. These two probably felt like they’d been sitting in the middle of a stampede for weeks.

“Emma,” I said. “You’ve got visitors.”

She cocked her head, reluctant to go to the door. “Who?”

“See for yourself.” I widened the door and said to these brave souls who had come calling, “I think both of you are welcome here.”

Kate and I left an hour later, but Amy and Beth remained. They had begun to warm up to everyone only after awkward introductions. No one spoke about Beth’s husband, and I didn’t think they would. Not now, anyway.

“You did what you promised,” Kate said, once we were on the road. “You found their sister.”

“Yeah. That feels good. This case has been all about sisters, hasn’t it?” I was giving her an opening to talk.

But what she said surprised me. “I’m not running back to Terry, even if you and Aunt Caroline think I should. The safest option isn’t always the best.”

“You think that’s what I expect?” Her defenses were still up.

“I-I don’t know what you expect,” she answered.

“The answer is no, okay? You ready to talk yet? About… him?”

“Not really.”

I reached over, found her hand and squeezed it tightly. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

And I could.