Ray looks to me and lets out a laugh. It's cold, sending a chill through the air. "She certainly doesn't have a father now, does she, Vitale?"
He's usually not one to discuss these sorts of things in public, but he's trying to prove a point—a point that's clearly made when I see Karissa tense from my peripheral. Shaking my head, I look down at my plate. "No, she doesn't."
"Good thing, too," Ray says. "One less Rita means one less traitor in the world. Isn't that right?"
He's staring right at me. I can feel his eyes burning through my skull. My fingertips tingle, itching to wrap around his throat for him asking me these questions in front of her. But I have no choice but to respond, and to give him the answer he wants to hear.
"Right," I say. "One less traitor."
Ray laughs again, his voice barely loud enough for us to hear. "So many more to go."
As if dinner weren't strained before, it's practically torture now. They all go back to acting as if the exchange hadn't happened, and Ray drops the subject like he hadn't been about to address Karissa in the first place. His work here is done, his goal accomplished. He wanted to put me in my place, wanted to show her who called the shots, and she saw it. She's feeling it. I can tell from the way she's not looking at me, the way she's not looking at anything.
She's still here, but she's gone.
Dessert is on the table, Double Chocolate Biscotti being served with coffee. I know Karissa would love it, but she doesn't even acknowledge it's there. The others are laughing, but she's on the cusp of tears. I can see her hands shaking in her lap as she fights to hold her emotion in, but it's getting to be too much.
Grabbing my napkin from my lap, I toss it on the table and stand. Leaning toward Ray, I whisper, "We're heading out now."
He looks at me. "So soon?"
I don't have to respond. He doesn't give me a chance, anyway. He stands up the same time Karissa does and reaches for her. His hands clasp a hold of hers before she can pull them away.
"I'm glad you could join us," he says, pressing yet another kiss to the back of her hand. "Always a pleasure, Miss Rita. Always a pleasure."
She pulls away without responding and jets from the room. Ray turns to me, slapping a hand on my shoulder and squeezing before sitting back down.
"Thanks for dinner," I say, although he knows I didn't eat a bite of it.
"You're welcome any time, Vitale," he says. "Be in touch about that thing we talked about. After it's handled, you and I will talk about the girl."
Karissa is standing at the car when I step outside, resting on the back bumper, leaning against the trunk. My footsteps waver, my muscles tensing. I unlock the doors, and she pushes away from the car, walking the rest of the way to get in the passenger seat.
She says nothing to me on the drive home.
Says nothing to me once we get there.
I pull the car into the garage and cut the engine, sitting there for a moment in silence. Karissa gets out, wordlessly using her keys to go inside without me. I give it a few minutes before following, finding her upstairs, already in bed, blanket pulled up over her head.
I don't disturb her, staring at her for a moment before I walk back out. I go down to the den and sit there for a while in the darkness, my mind a flurry of thoughts, before I grab my keys again and head back out.
I have things to take care of.
I'm not sure what to say to her.
I drive through the boroughs, out of the city, to a small rural town to the north, heading down familiar roads I've driven dozens of times before. I pull up in front of the cabin situated on the edge of a span of woods. It's nighttime, and the windows are obscured with darkness, but the familiar Chevy Suburban parked out front tells me the one I need to see is home.
I bang on the door, impatiently, and listen as there's rustling inside. A moment later, locks jingle, the front door pulled open. The man is wearing a pair of pretentious silk pajamas, barefoot, his graying hair wayward, like I'd just wrangled Einstein from sleep. He rubs his eyes as he looks out, his expression falling serious when he sees me standing there.
Dr. Carter.
"Vitale," he says, his voice grave. "Uh, I wasn't expecting you."
"I have another," I say, foregoing greeting. "I need to use the facilities."
Him and I came to a sort of understanding years ago. I pay him handsomely and he hands over the keys to the small crematory out back. It's intended for animals, for the sentimental pet owners, but it works for what I need it for. The doctor's hands stay clean, relatively speaking… all he has to do is look the other way.
He hesitates before turning around and walking away. I step inside the open door, glancing around, as he retrieves the keys. I thank him with a nod and step out, getting in my car to pull around back.