The Road to Boston
Chapter 18 - The Road to Boston
They drove to Boston as if speed could bargain with God.
Diane sat in the back of Ravi’s SUV with her phone pressed so tightly in her hand that her fingers cramped. No answer from Mrs. Vale. No answer from Lily. No answer from the private nurse Sabine had arranged.
Every unanswered call became an image Diane could not bear.
Lily alone in a hospital corridor. Lily frightened. Lily punished because Diane had refused to hand over a ledger, because Margaret had refused to stay silent, because men in wealthy rooms had spent decades treating women’s lives as acceptable costs.
Ravi sat beside Diane this time instead of in front.
He did not tell her it would be all right.
She was grateful. Lies, even gentle ones, would have broken something.
His hand rested on the seat between them, palm down. Not touching her. Available.
For twenty miles, Diane refused to take it.
At mile twenty-one, she did.
His fingers closed around hers with a steadiness that made her throat ache.
“I hated you last night,” she said, staring at the blur of highway lights.
“That was reasonable.”
“I still might.”
“That is also reasonable.”
She let out a broken little laugh. “You’re terrible at comforting people.”
“I have been told.”
“By who?”
“My mother. A priest. Three lawyers. Once by a dog trainer.”
This time the laugh was real enough to hurt.
Then her phone rang.
Lily.
Diane answered so fast she nearly dropped it. “Lily?”
“Di.” Her sister’s voice was weak but alive. “Don’t freak out.”
“That is a stupid way to start.”
“I know. But Mrs. Vale says you respond badly to vague comfort.”
Diane covered her eyes with her free hand. “Where are you?”
“In pre-op.”
Diane sat up. “What?”
“The Boston team moved the surgery earlier. There was a security concern, and the surgeon said waiting was riskier.” Lily’s voice trembled. “Mrs. Vale is here. Sabine too. And a terrifying woman named Elena keeps yelling at people through speakerphone.”
Diane looked at Ravi. “Alistair?”
A pause.
“Caught in the parking garage,” Lily said. “He tried to bribe a hospital security guard. The guard was apparently a former Marine with daughters.”
Diane began to cry then.
Not dramatically. She had no energy for drama. Tears simply slipped down her face and would not stop.
Lily started crying too. “Don’t do that. If you cry, I’ll cry, and they put wires on me.”
Diane laughed through it. “You are so bossy for someone in a hospital gown.”
“I learned from you.”
The nurse called Lily’s name in the background.
Lily’s voice changed. Smaller. “Di?”
“I’m here.”
“If something happens—”
“No.”
“If something happens,” Lily repeated, stronger now, “you don’t get to turn my life into another reason to stop living yours.”
Diane could not speak.
“You hear me? You find out who you are when you’re not just saving me.”
The words went into Diane deeper than fear.
“I love you,” Diane whispered.
“I love you too. Now hurry, but safely. And tell Ravi I said if he hurts you, I will haunt his expensive house.”
Ravi leaned toward the phone. “I accept the terms.”
Lily gave the faintest laugh.
Then the line ended.
Diane held the dead phone to her chest.
“She’s alive,” Ravi said.
“For now.”
“For now is where all of us live.”
She looked at him.
He seemed surprised by his own sentence, as if tenderness had escaped while he wasn’t watching.
By the time they reached Mercy St. Clare, Lily was already in surgery. The waiting room was small, quiet, and painted an unfortunate shade of green. Mrs. Vale sat with a paper cup of coffee gone cold. Sabine stood near the window. Elena Morales, finally in person, leaned against a wall in a leather jacket, silver streaks in her dark hair, looking like a woman who had survived by refusing to become pleasant.
Diane went straight to Mrs. Vale.
The older woman stood and opened her arms.
Diane went into them.
For the first time since the ballroom, she let someone else hold her weight.
“I thought you were part of it,” Diane whispered.
“My daughter was,” Mrs. Vale said. “And I was part of that pain long before tonight.”
Diane drew back. “Mara?”
“Elena has her in custody. She cooperated.” Mrs. Vale’s face folded with sorrow and relief. “Catherine paid her, but she also promised to erase charges from years ago. My Mara has been running from herself for a long time.”
“Does running ever work?” Diane asked.
Mrs. Vale looked past her toward Ravi, Sabine, Elena, all the damaged witnesses gathered beneath fluorescent lights.
“No,” she said. “But some people do not know that until they are very tired.”
Hours passed.
Coffee cooled. Phones buzzed. Statements were taken. Edward Greedy was charged. Alistair Voss tried to claim ill health and was examined by a doctor unimpressed by wealth. Catherine surrendered the recording and agreed to testify, though her lawyer arrived wearing outrage like cologne.
Diane sat beside Ravi, not touching now, but close.
At 4:17 in the morning, the surgeon entered.
Diane stood so fast her chair tipped backward.
The surgeon removed his cap.
“The operation was successful.”
Diane heard the words.
She understood them.
Then her knees gave out.
Ravi caught her before she hit the floor.
As she clung to his coat, laughing and sobbing against him, Elena’s phone rang.
She listened, and her face changed.
When she hung up, she looked at Ravi.
“Edward is talking,” she said. “And he says Joseph Greedy left one final confession. Not in the bank. Not with Margaret.”
Diane lifted her head.
May you like
Elena turned toward her.
“He left it for you.”
