Perhaps that was the reason he couldn't sleep, long after Katie went home and Kristen and Josh were asleep in their beds. Tossing back the covers, he went to the closet and opened the safe he'd installed a few years earlier. In it were important financial and insurance documents, stacked beside treasures from his marriage. They were items that Carly had collected: photos from their honeymoon, a four-leaf clover they'd found while vacationing in Vancouver, the bouquet of peonies and calla lilies she'd carried on her wedding day, ultrasound images of Josh and Kristen while each was still in her womb, along with the outfits that each had worn on the way home from the hospital. Photo negatives and camera disks, chronicling their years together.
The articles were heavy with meaning and memories, and since Carly's death, Alex had added nothing to the safe, except for the letters that Carly had written. One had been addressed to him. The second had no name on it, however, and it remained unopened. He couldn't open it-a promise, after all, was a promise.
He pulled out the letter he'd read a hundred times, leaving the other in the safe. He'd known nothing about the letters until she'd handed the envelopes to him less than a week before she died. By that point, she was bedridden and could only sip liquids. When he carried her to the bathroom, she was light, as if somehow she'd been hollowed out. He spent her few waking hours sitting quietly beside her. Usually, she would fall asleep again within minutes, and Alex would stare at her, afraid to leave in case she needed him and afraid to stay in case he might rob her of rest. On the day she gave him the envelopes, he saw that they had been tucked into the blankets, appearing as if by magic. Only later would he learn that she'd written them two months earlier and her mom had been holding them.
Now, Alex opened the envelope and pulled out the much-handled letter. It was written on yellow legal paper. Bringing it to his nose, he was still able to discern the scent of the lotion she often wore. He remembered his surprise and the way her eyes pleaded with him for understanding.
"You want me to read this one first?" he remembered asking. He pointed to the one inscribed with his name and she nodded slightly. She relaxed as he pulled the letter out, her head sinking into the pillow.
My dearest Alex,
There are dreams that visit us and leave us fulfilled upon waking, there are dreams that make life worth living. You, my sweet husband, are that dream, and it saddens me to have to put into words the way I feel about you.
I'm writing this letter now, while I still can, and yet I'm not sure how to capture what I want to say. I'm not a writer, and words seem so inadequate right now. How can I describe how much I love you? Is it even possible to describe a love like that? I don't know, but as I sit here with pen in hand, I know that I have to try.
I know you like to tell the story of how I played hard to get, but when I think back on the night we first met, I think I realized even then that we were meant to be together. I remember that night clearly, just as I can recall the exact sensation of your hand in mine, and every detail of the cloudy afternoon at the beach when you dropped to one knee and asked me to become your wife. Until you came along, I never knew how much I'd been missing. I never knew that a touch could be so meaningful or an expression so eloquent; I never knew that a kiss could literally take my breath away. You are, and always have been, everything I've always wanted in a husband. You're kind and strong and caring and smart; you lift my spirits and you're a better father than you know. You have a knack with children, a way of making them trust you, and I can't express the joy it has brought me to see you holding them as they fall asleep on your shoulder.
My life is infinitely better for having you in it. And that's what makes all of this so hard; it's why I can't seem to find the words I need. It scares me to know that all of this will be ending soon. I'm not simply scared for me, though-I'm scared for you and our children, too. It breaks my heart to know that I'm going to cause you all such grief, but I don't know what I can do, other than to remind you of the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place and express my sorrow at hurting you and our beautiful children. It pains me to think that your love for me will also be the source of so much anguish.
But I truly believe that while love can hurt, love can also heal … and that's why I'm enclosing another letter.
Please don't read it. It's not meant for you, or our families, or even our friends. I highly doubt that either of us has met the woman to whom you will give this letter. You see, this one is meant for the woman who eventually heals you, the one who makes you whole again.
Right now, I know you can't imagine something like that. It might take months, it might take years, but someday, you'll give that letter to another woman. Trust your instincts, just as I did on the night you first walked up to me. You'll know when and where to do that, just as you'll know which woman deserves it. And when you do, trust me when I say that somewhere, somehow, I'll be smiling down on both of you.
Love,
Carly
After reading the letter again, Alex slipped it back into the envelope and returned it to the safe. Beyond the window, the sky was filled with moonlit clouds and it glowed with an eerie incandescence. He stared upward, thinking of Carly and of Katie. Carly had told him to trust his instincts; Carly had told him that he would know what to do with the letter.
And Carly, he suddenly realized, had been exactly right, about half of it, anyway. He knew he wanted to give the letter to Katie. He just wasn't sure whether she was ready to receive it.
28
Hey, Kevin." Bill gestured to him. "Can you come into my office for a minute?"
Kevin had almost reached his desk, and Coffey and Ramirez followed him with their eyes. His new partner, Todd, was already at his desk and offered a weak smile, but it faded quickly before Todd suddenly turned away.
His head was throbbing and he didn't want to talk to Bill first thing in the morning but Kevin wasn't worried. He was good with witnesses and victims and knew when criminals were lying and he made lots of arrests and the criminals were convicted.
Bill motioned for him to sit in the chair and though Kevin didn't want to sit, he took a seat and wondered why Bill wanted him to sit because usually he stood when the two of them were talking. The pain in his temple felt as if he were being stabbed with a pencil, and for a moment Bill simply stared. Bill finally got up and closed the door before propping himself on the edge of his desk.
"How are you doing, Kevin?"
"I'm fine," Kevin answered. He wanted to close his eyes to lessen the pain, but he could tell that Bill was studying him. "What's up?"
Bill crossed his arms. "I called you in here to let you know that we received a complaint about you."
"What kind of complaint?"
"This is serious, Kevin. Internal Affairs is involved, and as of now, you're being suspended pending an investigation."
The words sounded jumbled, making no sense at all, not at first, anyway, but as he concentrated, he could see Bill's expression and wished he hadn't woken with a headache and didn't need so much vodka.
"What are you talking about?"
Bill lifted a few pages from his desk. "The Gates murder," he said. "The little boy who was shot through the floor? Earlier this month?"
"I remember," Kevin said. "He had pizza sauce on his forehead."
"Excuse me?"
Kevin blinked. "The boy. That's how we found him. It was horrible. Todd was pretty shaken up."
Bill furrowed his brow. "An ambulance was called," he said.
Kevin breathed in and out. Concentrating.
"It came for the mom," Kevin said. "She was upset, obviously, and she went after the Greek who'd fired the bullet. They struggled and she fell down the stairs. We called it in immediately … as far as I know, she was taken to the hospital."
Bill continued to stare at him before finally setting the pages aside. "You talked to her beforehand, right?"
"I tried to … but she was pretty hysterical. I tried to calm her down, but she went crazy. What else is there to tell? It's all in the report."
Bill reached for the papers on his desk again. "I saw what you wrote. But the woman is claiming that you told her to push the perp down the stairs."
"What?"
Bill read from the pages. "She claims you were talking about God and told her, quote, ‘The man was a sinner and deserved to be punished because the Bible says Thou shalt not kill.' She says that you also told her that the guy was probably going to get probation, even though he killed her kid, so she should take matters into her own hands. Because wrongdoers deserve to be punished. Does any of this ring a bell?"