Cynthia held Robby’s face in her hands. Light flickered from outside the walk-in closet from the opposite wall. Carrington’s flashlight beam. Robby could see Cynthia’s eyes, wide and insistent. Not as fearful as the tone of her voice.
“He knows,” she whispered.
“R.C.?” Carrington’s voice.
Robby ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, up her wrists until he reached the hands at his cheeks.
They call it the moment of truth, and it’s meant to define the moment when the decision is made, when the direction is ordained. Robby knew with certainty that he was standing at one of those defining moments. He had stood at important moments like this many times before in his lifetime. Before the pitch was delivered. Before he blew the ball by, or threw it precisely low and outside in the zone to force the grounder to the right side and get the inning-ending double play. Or the deep fly. His actions dictated the outcome. He was in command of what came next. Unless he blew the chance, made the mistake pitch, hung it, gave up the shot in the gap, got beat. More times than not he succeeded in those commanding moments in his life, his professional life. Thought through the options, made the choice, made the right choice, with skill, with smarts, with luck. Got the man. Moved on to the next one.
Sometimes the choices were wrong. Uncontrollably wrong.
He didn’t turn the boat around quick enough.
He didn’t call it a night and go to bed alone.
He didn’t wait for the sign from Pratt. He threw the ball up and inside and far out of the zone.
He picked up the bat. He picked up the bat. And he buried it in Boxley’s head.
A moment of decision when his ability to control the outcome was his alone. But the decision was wrong. And the outcome couldn’t be controlled.
It was out of his hands.
His hands. His hands touched her hands and his face pressed close to hers, and the flickering light was drawing nearer. He was standing between them, the two parallel actors in the tormenting play of this time in his life, and his moment then was to choose between them. And in the moment he considered all the reasons why she might be innocent and he might be guilty.
Was he swayed by her kiss, by her words? Or was he persuaded by her recent actions?
In the light it would all be revealed. In the moment that would reveal truth.
Robby tightened his grip on her hand and he turned to the light.
She knew and she pleaded, whispering, “Rob. Don’t.”
“R.C. Stop. Come on out. I’ve found it,” Carrington called behind the light.
Robby slid his hand down Cynthia’s wrist and dragged her out the door, her feet clapping on the plastic sheeting. Carrington’s flashlight beam shined in their faces as they emerged, Robby shielding his eyes with a hand across his brow in salute.
“It’s over…I…” Carrington started and stopped when he saw Cynthia. He backed away as Robby pulled her out of the closet and they stood in the center of the room.
“Looks like we both discovered something,” Carrington said and pointed a handgun toward Robby and Cynthia.
“Which one is more deadly?”
Cynthia tucked herself behind Robby’s back and held his hand with both of hers.
Carrington pointed the gun dramatically with one hand and darted the flashlight nervously on their faces.
“There’s been breakdown after breakdown in this plan, and it all started when you didn’t carry out your part of the deal, R.C.” Carrington’s voice rose. “It all could’ve worked fine. Venable would be out of the picture. The insurance money, the insurance money, WHICH WE FUCKING NEEDED, was there for us. We could cancel out on our debts. Yours, mine, and ours! I could go off with Christi. And my wife could go on with her life, her interests, without me standing in the way.”
Carrington stepped closer on the plastic, pointing the gun and the flashlight beam at Robby’s head. Robby released Cynthia’s wrist and shielded her.
“Okay,” Carrington continued. “You didn’t follow through. Fine. Plan B. I wait to see how things shake out. And I wait. But the money doesn’t come. It isn’t coming. It’s held up. Too many inconsistencies. The insurance lady starts muddying the water. That’s why I had to come back. To check up on things. You can’t depend on anybody else but yourself!” Carrington poked his own chest with the gun. Robby shifted his feet and Carrington quickly returned to pointing the gun at Robby’s face.
“I had to be sure I wasn’t being swindled out of my share. They needed the body to look like me…but did they have to put a bullet in him? Huh?” he screamed. “Whose idea was that? That’s not something we discussed. Not something that I planned!”
Robby shifted again and turned his head to regard Cynthia. The windows rattled from the storm outside.
“But now,” Carrington softened. “Now we are fine. My wife. My partner. We regrouped. We had our little pre-conference meeting, we pre-ambled. And we’ve worked it out. Haven’t we, Cyn?”
Cynthia stepped from behind Robby and her heels stabbed the plastic on the floor as she joined her husband on his side of the room, leaving Robby to stand alone.
“We’ve cleared up everything. That’s how a relationship is supposed to work, Robby. You don’t let simple…misunderstandings…ruin your long-term plans. That’s how a marriage, a partnership, works. No more doubts.”
Carrington relaxed and kissed Cynthia on the cheek. Robby shifted to make a run for the door, but Carrington emphatically shifted his weight and held the gun steadily.
“Uh-uh. Don’t be jealous. We’ve kissed and made up. We’re married after all. I had to come back to find out what was going on…my dependable jock friend. As predictable as the weather. I knew I could count on you, Bullet, to keep quiet. Suspicions fall on you and you know it.” Carrington laughed. “You’ve come to expect it. You were implicated and you’re an obvious troublemaker. Cyn was brilliant. Wasn’t she? She kept you cozy…and doubtful.”
“Carr—,” Robby started.
“—I don’t care,” Carrington interrupted. “I don’t. Not about you. I never did.”
Carrington altered his stance and twitched the flashlight beam just above Robby’s head so it didn’t play directly in his eyes.
“What was your record, by the way? Do you remember? Did you keep track? Your won-loss?”
Of course Robby remembered. Though he would never admit it.
“Playing a kid’s game into your forties. More successes than failures. More failures than a regular man could tolerate. Occasionally capable of keeping your temper in check…but rarely long enough. Too late now for behavior modification, isn’t it? And because of your ultimate failure to control those damned emotions there will be no end-of-career rewards. No World Series rings. No calls from Cooperstown. Except for Boxley’s bat. How...insignificant…you turned out to be.”
Carrington handed the flashlight to Cynthia. Without expression she pointed the beam at Robby’s chest. Carrington wrapped his free hand around her back.
“Now the only thing we have to do, dear, is put our old mutual friend out of his misery. And get us back on track.”
Robby thought of nothing else but his daughter’s face as Carrington tilted his hand.
The gun blasted.
Robby recoiled, grabbed at his chest.
But felt no pain.
Carrington was thrown backwards on the floor, his gun smacking against the covered plastic.
A hand grabbed at Robby’s shoulder and pulled back. He turned.
Mateen.
“It’s over Bullet Train. It’s all right. Don’t believe a word he said. Cynthia knew I was standing in there all along.” He pointed at the walk-in.
They both looked down at Carrington’s body in the flashlight beam held by Cynthia, his face soaking in wet, dark blood. The gunshot wound where his right eye had been.
Mateen touched Robby who was breathing hard, doubled over, unable to think straight, or breath right.
“It’s settled man. It’s settled. You can calm down. Avila planned the whole thing. Cynthia played him…and I bailed you out. Did you see it? Did you see that shot? Damn!”
Mateen stepped forward to admire his work. Robby spit onto the plastic, his mouth watering up, about to retch.
“You all right, baby?” Mateen said to his sister. She nodded and bent down over Carrington’s body.
“You know what? Now that he’s dead for real,” Mateen said. “His body can turn up and we can collect on the policy.” Mateen looked back at Robby, still bent. “All’s I’m saying is, can you go along on that? I mean are you willing to go along on that? Whatchya think, sis?”
Robby shook his head and stood up. He watched Cynthia pick up the gun that had fallen out of Carrington’s hands. But something was different about her right hand.
It was covered in a black glove.
(Read Chapter Thirty-Five and catch up on previous episodes of Blacksmith's Girl, including Chapters Thirty-Three and Thirty-Two and the rest.)