And Then There Was One (40 page)

The pigs had him. He had only one chance. Spanky pulled the .44
Magnum out of his cargo pants. Stepping down from the cabin onto the deck, he took his aim. A direct shot at the head of the operator, but before he got the shot off, a rogue wave knocked him off his feet.

Spanky felt his body, in one prolonged motion, slide across the smooth, wet deck, under the rail, and into the lake. He was going to drown. He knew it. Even so, he struggled to keep his head above water in the powerful wave action. As he took his last gasp of air and his bulky body started its descent to the bottom, he thought of the babies, his half sisters, Jennifer and Jessica. So this is what it must have been like for them.

The nightmare over, Katie didn’t care what happened to Marge Spansky. In a way she felt sorry for her, a woman unable to recover after the drowning of her eight-month-old twin daughters. And now, her son, however evil he may have been, a victim of drowning. If asked for her opinion, Katie would advocate a plea of insanity, followed by psychiatric care. That woman had caused her indescribable pain, but she bore her no ill will. She had not mistreated Sammie and Alex, and in the end she had protected Alex. Truthfully, had she lost any one of her daughters, Katie wasn’t sure if she’d be able to cope with reality and lead a normal, sane life.

Katie had received a letter of apology from Ken Franklin. Poor guy, said he was sorry for involving her in a crime twenty-five years ago and for stalking her recently. He would always love her, but he promised never to try to see her again — unless she wanted him to — like that would ever happen. He wanted her to know that he was living with his mother, just in case.

The Yankee connection had finally been resolved. Of that she was glad. Now Scott wouldn’t have to second-guess some unidentified enemy out there. What would happen to the buff, blond guy that Scott had suspected and later identified in the surveillance video surrounding the ransom drop site in Birmingham, she didn’t know. Cliff Hunter was a bitter, vindictive man. In a way she was relieved that all the crazies that had surfaced could not be traced to her psychiatric practice.

Her sister-in-law, Monica Monroe, had resumed her tour for her new CD release, but only after writing four one hundred thousand dollar checks. One to Sheila Gladsky, who’d described Marge Spanky;
one to the Talbotts, who’d led them to the Spansky home; one to Rudy Conover, who’d led them to the state park; and the fourth to Adam Kaninsky. But Adam had not been found. Katie prayed that he was safe.

Now as Katie sat in the bleachers at the little league park in Tampa, mopping the sweat, watching her expanded family take their places around the baseball diamond, she said a silent prayer for all the children hurt by Marge Spansky’s abduction of Sammie and Alex at that movie theatre. Alex and Sammie seemed to be fine, but Jackie still had despondent moods, which worried Katie. But of all the children, she worried most about eleven-year-old Tina Watkins who’d waited so long for her father to be released from prison only to have him so terrified that he, in effect, took his own life. She’d already set up a trust fund for Tina’s college and she would help Connie and Tina the best she could along the way.

Scott had just corralled the team for the pregame pep talk and Katie smiled and waved. She focused on her two adopted sons. The Cutty boys, Jake and Aiden, were adjusting well and had learned to throw and catch a baseball. Maybe with time, they’d give the girls a run for their money. Then there was Scott. There he was out there, face animated, saying whatever coaches say to motivate their players. Scott was a one-in-the-universe kind of guy. She not only loved him beyond words, but after all those years and all those troubles, she was “in love” with him.