James Siegel - Derailed
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- Book:Derailed
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- Year:2007
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Derailed: summary, description and annotation
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For Charles Schine, it began as a quiet, ordinary day with a simple commute to work...until he meets the seductive, mysterious Lucinda Harris--an encounter that will irrevocably wreck his life. From multitalented writer James Siegel comes a highly charged, suspenseful tale of murder, betrayal, and revenge. Warner Books is proud to present Siegels newest thriller, featuring rich characterizations and a scintillating plot that builds to an explosive climax sure to stun readers.
Siegel, James
Lee Siegel
Jay Siegel
Siegel Larry J
James Patterson
James Siegel
James Siegel
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THIRTY-THREE
I was helping Deanna clean up the plates smeared with half-eaten cake and dollops of melting ice cream.
I was asking myself how it was possible.
The birthday celebration had been strained and awkward. Anna had invited just one friend, possibly her only friend these days. It felt more like a wake than a birthday celebration, but then I was kind of preoccupied.
I was thinking about that resident in the ER whod asked me about Annas eyes. I was thinking he shouldve asked me about my own. Are you having problems seeing? And I wouldve said, Yes, Doctor, Im blind. I cant see.
But not anymore.
My life had turned into a train wreck. I could hear the screams of the dead and dying. But all that time it had been Lucinda at the wheel. I knew that now. Lucinda. And him.
How was it possible?
A lie. A farce. A con trying to stick a label on something that was clearly out of my experience. As Anna waited patiently for us to stop singing Happy Birthday.
A setup. A hoax. As she opened her presents and read her cards. My card said: Cant you stay thirteen forever?
An out-and-out robbery. As Anna thanked each of us for her presents and even gave me a hug.
And this, too: That man at Penn Station.
He wasnt her brother, her neighbor, or her favorite uncle.
He was next.
Deanna and I had managed to put up a decent front. Wed smiled, wed talked, wed clapped our hands when Anna blew out her candles.
But now that Anna and her friend had been dropped at a movie and we were alone, it had grown deathly quiet again. Just the steady splash of the faucet and the sour clinks of plates and glasses being laid to rest in the dishwasher tub. And the awful shouting going on in my own head.
Well, I said, trying desperately to tug my thoughts in another direction, any direction, and at the same time cleave the silence, one year older.
Yes, Deanna said without much enthusiasm. Then she placed the last plate into the dishwasher, walked to the kitchen table, and sat down. And, for the first time in God knows how long, really began talking to me.
How have you been, Charles?
Okay. Fine." Liar, I thought.
Really?
Yes. Im okay, Deanna.
I was thinking, she said.
About?
I was thinking as we sang Happy Birthday to her. To our Anna.
Yes... ?
You said something once. About us, about being a parent. I wonder if you even remember it?
What did I say?
You saidshe closed her eyes now, trying to conjure up the exact wordsthat it was like making deposits.
Deposits? I dont remember...
Anna was three or four, somewhere around there, and youd taken her someplace she wanted to go the zoo, I think. Just you and her, because I was sick. I dont think you were feeling so hot yourself I think Id caught your cold. And you just wanted to stay home and lie down on the couch and watch football all day, but Anna pestered you and you gave in and took her. You dont remember?
I did remember now, vaguely, anyway. A Sunday long ago at the Bronx Zoo. Anna and I had fed the elephants.
Yes, I remember the day.
When you came back, I thanked you. I knew you were feeling shitty and you didnt really want to go. It wasnt a big thing, but I remember being really happy that you did it.
Deanna was looking right at me now directly at me, as if she were searching for something missing. I wanted to say, I'm here, Deanna. I never left.
You said something to me. You said that every day with Anna, every good moment you spent with her, was like a deposit. A deposit in a bank. If you made enough of them, if you diligently kept putting money away in that account, then when she was older and on her own, shed be rich enough to get by. Rich with memories, I guess. I thought it was kind of sappy. I thought it was kind of brilliant. Shes going to need dialysis soon, Deanna said.
No, Deanna. All thought of zoos and elephants, of Lucinda and Vasquez, immediately disappeared.
Dr. Baron did some tests. Her kidneys are failing one of them is barely there at all. Very soon our daughter is going to have to be strapped up to a machine three times a week so she can stay alive. Thats what he said.
When?
What does it matter? Its going to happen, thats all.
Then Deanna was crying.
I remembered wondering not too far back if Deanna was all cried out. But then Id learned differently that day in the garden. And now.
I think you were right, Charles.
What... Deanna... how do you mean?
I think we did okay with her. I think we gave her a very nice bank account. I think we never forgot to put something in. Never. Not once.
I felt something itchy under my eyes, something hot and wet on both cheeks.
Im sorry, Charles, she said. I never closed my eyes to what was going to happen. But I did in a way. Because I wouldnt let you talk about it. I didnt want to hear it said out loud. Im so sorry. I think that was wrong now.
Deanna... I...
I think we should talk about it. I think we should talk about what a remarkable daughter we have, for as long as we have her. I think thats very important.
And somehow, in some magical and unexplained way, we ended up in each others arms.
When we stopped crying, when we finally disentangled and sat across from each other, holding hands and staring out the window into the black-as-ink night, I thought that Deanna was about to ask me to come home now. I could almost see her forming the words.
I deliberately broke the mood; I got up and said it was time to leave, to go back to Forest Hills.
I couldnt come home. Not now. Not yet.
Something had just been made clear to me. Crystal clear.
I had unfinished business to take care of.
I was out of one job, fine. Now I had another one. An even more important one.
I had to get Annas other bank account back.
Somehow I had to find them.
Somehow I needed to get back my money.
THIRTY-FOUR
It was impossible to miss Lucindas legs.
I hadnt missed them that first morning on the train.
And I didnt miss them now when I saw them emerging out of the morning crowd at Penn Station. Striding forward from a sea of denim, serge, and English wool sleek and sexy and belonging solely to her.
Her and that man.
Id been waiting to see them for days. Id taken the 5:30 into Penn each morning. Id planted myself at approximately the same spot Id seen them the last time. Id diligently stood guard. When the morning crowd dissipated and they didnt show up, Id walked from one end of the station to the other.
Id done this day after day.
Id told myself it was my only chance. Id crossed my fingers and said my prayers.
But now that Id spotted them, I had trouble looking at them.
I felt naked and vulnerable and scared.
I couldnt help looking at that man, for instance, and seeing myself. Once at an office friends bachelor party, Id turned away from the nubile young stripper in a gold lam thong just long enough to see everyone else staring at her and thought with sudden dismay: I look like them.
This man was so evidently besotted with Lucinda or whoever she was. He kept grabbing for her hand and gazing lovingly into her eyes.
I hadnt been wrong about who he was. She was playing him just as shed once played me. He was next.
How pathetic, I thought. How pitiable.
How exactly like Id been.
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