Page 37 of Little Last Words
A furious Angelica stormed toward him, coming to an abrupt halt when Dean removed a gun from his pocket and began waving it around.
“Don’t come any closer,” he shouted. “Don’t any of you come closer. You hear me?”
“How dare you!” Angelica spat. “How dare you ruin our day with this ridiculous stunt. What are you going to do—shoot me—shoot everyone else in front of your own daughter? Well, go right ahead! Let her see the monster you are.”
As Sadie began to scream, I grabbed her hand, rushing her outside to safety, as I grappled for my cell phone.
I lifted it out of my handbag and made a call.
It wasn’t answered.
I called again.
And again.
On the third try, I was greeted with, “Georgiana, what is it? I’m questioning someone right now. Can this wait?”
“No, Foley,” I said. “It can’t.”
CHAPTER15
As I stood on the sidewalk with a shaking Sadie clinging to my side, I noticed a woman staring at me from inside a sedan. After a few seconds, she stepped out of the car and headed our way. She introduced herself as Margot, Penelope’s cousin. She was similar in looks to Penelope. Similar build. Similar approximate age. But Penelope had blond hair. Margot was a brunette, and she had a full sleeve tattoo on her right arm.
Margot explained she’d left the chapel several minutes earlier during the pastor’s speech. Overwhelmed by it all, she’d retreated to her car to catch her breath. She asked who I was and why I’d rushed out of the chapel with Sadie. I gave her a brief rundown of what was happening inside. Her first instinct was to go back inside, and she told me her parents were sitting in the second row. After I explained who I was and my line of work, I managed to convince her to stay with Sadie until the police arrived, which I assured her would be soon.
I left Sadie with Margot, and as I walked away, I palmed the gun in my handbag, hoping I wouldn’t be forced to use it. Before I reached the chapel doors, I passed a classic Chevrolet Chevelle. It was blue with two white vertical stripes on the hood, and it had a personalized license plate that read: DEAN 1, leaving no question as to who owned it.
When I walked back inside, Dean was no longer waving the gun around. But all was not well. He’d turned the gun on himself, the shocked audience sitting there, unsure of what to do next.
Sergio was now standing next to Angelica, pleading with Dean to put the gun down and leave them in peace. He said things like, “It doesn’t have to be this way” and, “We understand your pain. We feel it too.”
An unfazed Dean began ranting about it being his right to attend Penelope’s funeral—a right he said no one was going to take from him.
I approached with caution, inching forward until I was close enough to catch Dean’s eye. He looked shocked to see I’d returned for a second helping of the turmoil he was dishing out.
“You again,” he said. “What do you want? Where’s my kid?”
“She’s safe,” I said.
“Safe where? Go get her. Get her in here. Right now.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“I don’t care what you think, lady.I’mher father. She should be with me, so go on—get her for me.”
He seemed to have mistaken me for his errand boy.
“No,” I said. “I won’t.”
“No? What do you meanno? I could shoot you. I could shoot you right now.”
“If you loved Penelope, take a moment to think about her and what she’d want on this day.”
“You don’t know what she would have wanted. No one does. No one except me.”
“Tell me, then,” I said. “If she was here, standing beside me right now, what would she say to you?”
He smacked a fist against his chest, like an unsettled gorilla. “How about we talk about whatIwant?Me. No one ever cares about hearing what I have to say.”