Chapter 43: Chapter 43
Aunt Genevieve was sitting on the floor in her bedroom, her cell phone in her hand, tears streaming down her face as she screamed, “My baby! My boy! Tim! Timothy!”
“Aunt Gen, calm down!” Ella begged her, dropping down and wrapping her arms around her aunt’s shoulders, trying to figure out what had happened. “What’s going on?”
Between gasps for breath, Aunt Genevieve began to explain, “That… was… Tim’s… friend… Cody. He said… Tim… drowned. He’s… dead.”
Ella fell backward onto the floor, landing on her bottom, all the blood draining from her face. “What? Tim… drowned?” How could that be possible? She knew Tim wasn’t a strong swimmer. When they were younger, and she’d wanted to play with him in the pool at either her house or his, he’d always stayed in the shallow water, afraid to go too deep. He always said he didn't feel safe in the water, that he was afraid he’d drown. “What happened?”
Genevieve shook her head, swiping at her eyes and trying to regain her composure. Ella glanced over at Henry who was standing in the doorway, not sure what to do with himself. She ignored him as her aunt started to speak again. “It was that awful… Rome Verona. He did this. He killed my son!”
Now, Ella truly couldn’t believe a word coming out of her aunt’s mouth. That simply wasn’t possible. “Rome… no! Why would he….”
“He’s always hated, Tim!” Genevieve blurted. “He was so jealous of him. Then, when Tim got the part Rome wanted, he couldn’t handle it anymore. Cody said Tim got into a fight with Rome’s friend, Mark Hutio, and Rome tried to get them to stop fighting. Then, Tim accidentally shot Mark. Rome was so mad, he pushed Tim over the side of the boat and then jumped in with him and held him under until he died!”
Ella felt her own lungs constricting. How had any of this happened on what should’ve been a fun boat ride out on the ocean? “Why did Tim take a gun on the boat?” she asked.
Genevieve was bawling again. Her answer was labored. “He was afraid… of Rome and his friends. They snuck into my birthday party! He thought they might try something! And they did! And now… Tim’s dead! And that awful Rome needs to pay!”
There were no words Ella could say to make her aunt feel differently. She needed to speak to Rome, to make sure he wasn’t hurt, and to find out what had happened. She knew her husband would never purposely kill her cousin, even if Tim had just shot Rome’s best friend. Why had Tim brought the gun? Had he lost his mind?
“I’m going to the morgue,” Genevieve said, attempting to pull herself up off of the floor. “I don’t know if he’s there yet or not, but I need to see him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ella said, standing and helping her aunt up.
Henry was there now, offering each of the ladies a hand. “I can drive you if you’d like,” he said.
Ella was going to tell him no, that he should go home. They had a driver for that, after all, but Genevieve said, “Oh, Henry. I forgot you were here. Thank you, dear. That would be helpful.”
Taking her aunt by the arm, Ella headed out to the car, praying whatever had happened, it hadn’t gone down the way Genevieve said it did. And if there was a chance that Tim was still alive, she’d prayed Cody had been mistaken about his death, too, because she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose him. He’d been her only friend for so long, it would be so difficult to go on without him, especially if Rome were accused of murdering him. What if Rome went to prison--or worse?
No, that couldn’t have been what happened. She wouldn’t believe it until she saw her husband for herself, and he could explain what had gone on.
Numb, Ella slid into the car with her aunt, and Henry took off for the morgue, the last place in the world Ella ever thought she’d be going on a beautiful, summer day.
The police station was just as cold and impersonal in real life as it was on television. Rome sat in a stark white room, with only a desk, a few metal chairs, and a Styrofoam cup full of water someone had given him when they first brought him in. He’d refused medical treatment after the Coast Guard had torn him out of the water. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. At some point, Bart had gotten his shirt and shoes to him, but he didn’t know where his phone was. All he knew was that Mark and Tim were dead, and the police were trying to figure out whether or not Rome had killed Tim or if it had been an accident.
He was hoping Bart would have called Ella by now, but he might not if it meant he’d be the one to tell her about her cousin. Every time he thought about her losing Tim, tears came to his eyes. He knew how much Ella loved her cousin. Whenever he thought about Mark, he wanted to cry because he was missing his friend so completely. Mark was a good person, and he didn’t deserve to die that way. How did all of this get so out of control?
Two detectives came in. One was older, maybe in his mid-fifties. The other was probably in his early thirties. He could tell immediately that the older one would be playing the role of a bad cop. He had a scowl on his face that was only partially hidden behind his bushy mustache. They both sat down across from Rome, and the old man shuffled a stack of papers loudly before he cleared his throat and said. “Mr. Verona, I’m Det. Michael Bassett. This is Det. Terry Short. We’re, uh, sorry about your friend. You were good friends with Mark Hutio. Is that right?”