The Proviso (116 page)

She let Trudy pass then, and the woman ran sobbing
from the morgue.

Justice limped back to the elevator without
identifying anyone, since Trudy had already done it, and rode it to
the ground floor. Eric sat in a chair in the emergency room lobby,
his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Richard stood
facing a wall, pretending to read a dedicatory inscription there.
Occasionally his shoulders shook and then he’d take a deep breath.
Patrick sat on the floor with a bottle of beer in his hand, back to
the wall, and stared at something. Hicks wandered around, his hands
in his pockets, his head bowed.

“Justice,” Eric murmured as she walked past, “I went
to your house to find your cat. I . . . didn’t know what else I
could do for you. I took him to the vet. He had a few scratches and
his whiskers were singed, but he was fine otherwise. Just thought
you’d want to know.”

Dog was alive and well. She breathed a sigh of
relief for that teeny bit of good news. “Thank you, Eric,” she
whispered.

Eilis sat on a seat across from Eric, her hand on
her bulging belly, shopping bags full of emergency provisions for
Justice on the floor at her feet. Justice sat down beside Eilis to
nurse Mercy under a light blanket, then she went to sleep at the
nipple.

The Chouteau County prosecutor’s office had been the
first to know what had happened. When Knox hadn’t shown up or
called by eight, Eric and the rest of the county jurisprudence
system had known something had to be terribly wrong. At 8:07, a
pair of Kansas City detectives had burst through the courthouse
doors and sprinted up the stairs to the prosecutor’s office.

Eilis had arrived at the emergency room before
Justice had, once Eric had given her instructions, and stayed in
the room where she was treated. She had left for a while to get
diapers, assorted baby paraphernalia, and clothes for Justice, as
she had nothing now except what she’d had on when she’d escaped
with Mercy—Knox’s shirt and gray boxers. She had their baby and a
few blankets. She had their cat. Their house, everything in it, the
two other things Knox had loved, his bed and his books—gone.

Eilis and Justice sat together and cried slow,
silent tears for Knox and for Mercy, who had lost her father—and
her hearing.

Lilly and Dianne swept in just then, panicked, and
Justice miserably recited everything that had happened that day.
They both wept with Justice and Eilis, with Eric and Richard and
Patrick and Hicks.

Justice glanced at her wedding ring every so often.
Her official wedding to Knox was set for New Year’s Day at 12:01
a.m. It would be Knox’s second wedding-that-wasn’t and the reason
for it made Justice begin to grow short of breath anew.

“Eilis,” she whispered, stunned at a new
realization, “I’m a
widow
. A twenty-six-year-old
widow
.” Eilis wrapped her arm around Justice’s shoulders and
they put their foreheads together.

It wasn’t long until the sound of a gunshot from the
parking lot pierced the night. There was nothing really strange
about gunshots outside Truman Medical Center, considering its
location and its status as a level one trauma center, nothing
strange about doctors and nurses bursting outside followed by a
gurney rolling back through the emergency room doors not long after
that.

It rolled right past the four women, the sheet over
the body’s face unable to hide the length of blood-soaked blonde
hair that fell over the steel rails of the gurney.

* * * * *

108:
BELLS AND WHISTLES

DECEMBER 31, 2008

11:58 p.m.

Justice looked at Richard when he spoke.

“Are you ready?” he murmured under the last soft
strains of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9, which swirled around them like
an aural mist.

“I think so.”

Richard smiled and patted Justice’s right hand where
it lay nestled in the crook of his left arm. “At least you’re not
late.”

Justice chuckled. “I think Knox would’ve killed me
if I had been.”

“It’s not like he wouldn’t have had a reason to.”
Richard glanced at his watch.

“Do I look okay?”

“Oh, Justice,” Richard breathed.

She blushed at his respectful tone and adjusted her
bouquet: black pansies and violets woven in long braids to the
floor interlaced with long gold, silver, and white ribbons. She
swept a hand down the white silk dress overlaid with shimmering
iridescent organza, making sure she looked as crisp as she liked.
Though Giselle and Eilis had only just checked her over ten minutes
before, she worried about how securely the strands of diamonds and
pearls that wove in and out of her curls were fastened.

The music faded away, perfectly timed to the clock
that began to strike midnight and, except for the rustlings of
hundreds of people waiting, everything was still as the last chime
faded away. Then—

Oboes, violins, trumpets, and harpsichords rang out
at exactly 12:01 a.m. on New Year’s Day and echoed around the
marbled Grand Hall of Union Station: Bach. The Brandenburg Concerto
No. 2 in F Major, first movement.

Chairs scraped the marble floors as those hundreds
of people stood to look back at Justice and Richard.

Down the long aisle toward the center of Union
Station, under the enormous and locally famous clock that had just
struck, stood Knox in black tails and white tie, looking back at
her, eagerly, anxiously, flanked by Bryce and Sebastian, also in
white tie. Directly across from them stood Giselle and Eilis, in
black velvet under shimmering black-and-gold organza, gold, silver,
and white ribbons embellishing their dresses wherever
appropriate.

In front of Giselle and Eilis stood Eric and
Patrick, and in between the two groups stood Judge Wilson, who
seemed a lot happier about this wedding than he had about the
wedding he’d performed a year and a half before.

Justice smiled.

Richard walked her down the aisle at a moderate pace
so that Justice could see and silently greet with smiles the masses
of people who had come to Kansas City for the very public wedding
between the OKH Enterprises heir and the golden girl of
conservative punditry.

From the back, the celebrity parade began:
politicians and commentators on Justice’s side of the aisle; the
academicians and lawyers, artists and entrepreneurs on Knox’s side.
The cream of Kansas City society was present, with almost no
consideration given as to who should be seated beside whom. They
stood amongst the cadre of attorneys in the Chouteau County justice
system, almost all the deputies, and most of the rest of the county
employees. If there were any missing, Justice couldn’t name them.
Judy gave her a cute grin and a wave, which she returned.

A few Kansas City police officers and FBI agents,
and half the state troopers who patrolled the section of highway
that ran through Chouteau County—in dress uniform—were also
sprinkled throughout the congregated. Hadley and his wife were on
her side of the aisle and Justice stuck her tongue out at him. He
roared a laugh, the troopers nearby whooping right along with him.
Justice grinned, and she could feel Richard’s chuckle.

A good portion of the population of Wright and
Douglas counties had shown up, to the wedding coordinator’s
consternation. It had only taken one black look from Justice for
her to get enough chairs set up to accommodate them.

Jack and Lydia Blackwood looked absolutely stunning
together with their two striking adolescent children and their
equally striking three-year-old twins.

Melinda Newman, with an adorable six-year-old girl
next to her, gave her a nervous smile, too distracted, Justice was
sure, by her very, very dark and handsome escort. Justice snickered
into her flowers and Melinda blasted her with a dangerous
scowl.

Over there was Geoff Hale and his wife, plus most of
the partners and spouses of Hale and Ravenwood.

And on the other side were Mr. and Mrs. Van Horn,
Christopher, and their other two children—the whole family having
been assimilated into the tribe, unable to resist Sebastian when he
was dead set on getting his way.

The entire executive staff of HR Prerogatives had
turned out, including its new CEO Karen Cheng, whose daughter had
died and whose marriage had not survived her death.

Mitch Hollander, CEO of Hollander Steelworks, also
spouseless, stood with Senator and Mrs. Oakley.

More than two hundred seats toward the front
flanking both sides of the aisle were Knox’s tribe—
her
tribe. Morgan had insisted on sitting on Justice’s side of the
aisle and winked at her as she passed by. She blushed, then almost
laughed out loud when she saw Knox roll his eyes. Mixed amongst
them were other people special enough to the whole pack to be drawn
into the family.

This wedding wasn’t about Justice and Knox at all.
It was about the end of a long, hard journey and the beginning of
new, happy ones for all six of them and a fresh start between Knox
and the Dunham tribe. The unusual day and time was, in Justice’s
estimation, perfect.

Aunt Dianne served as mother of the bride, Mercy
enfolded in her arms and leisurely taking a meal, a wide-eyed Alex
Taight in a baby carrier at her feet chewing on his toes. Richard’s
wife Alisha stood next to her, the seats next to her reserved for
Richard and Patrick. Beyond that stood Hicks and his wife.

Aunt Lilly served as mother of the groom (as she
always had), burping Duncan Kenard against her shoulder. Next to
her stood Eric’s fiancée, Anaïs Franklin. The empty seat next to
Anaïs was for Eric. Beyond that, Dirk and Stephanie Jelarde
stood.

The only person missing was Vanessa, who had begged
off politely enough, claiming Whittaker House’s nationally infamous
New Year’s Eve masquerade. Knox had known when they set the date
she wouldn’t be able to attend, since that masquerade brought in a
full third of Whittaker House’s yearly revenue. Justice didn’t buy
it, though; Vanessa was avoiding someone and Justice had a pretty
good idea who—certainly not Sebastian, who managed Whittaker
House’s capital. In lieu of her attendance, though, she’d arranged
for everything Knox would need to recuperate in the Hilliard suite
at Whittaker House and would be waiting for them when they arrived
later that day. Whittaker House would be their home for the next
few months.

It was a long journey to Knox and Justice felt every
step in her soul, her heart rejoicing not that she was in the
middle of her fairy tale wedding, but because Knox was alive.

In those agonizing hours between the time Knox had
been pronounced dead at the scene and the moment nurses and doctors
had burst from an elevator racing an occupied gurney
out
of
the morgue, Justice had died a thousand times with memories of each
word, each kiss and caress and sigh, each laugh, each argument,
each dance—knowing that she had only had her fantasy for a year and
a half, wanting more, but grateful for what she had and the
precious gift he’d left her.

Then her stubborn husband, barely alive, having been
noted to have a pulse and resuscitated, had been rushed to an
operating table to repair the extensive damage.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this
man?”

Richard looked at Justice and smiled; she returned
it merrily. Patrick and Eric turned to stand at Justice’s left. “I,
Richard Connelly,” he said, loudly, clearly, so that it rang
through Union Station as if it were a courtroom.

“And I, Eric Cipriani.”

“And I, Patrick Davidson.”

Richard spoke again. “We, the unindicted
co-conspirators of the Chouteau County prosecutor’s office, give
this woman in marriage. For the
second
time.”

Laughter exploded throughout the marbled hall and
Knox would have laughed harder if he could’ve, but it took about
all he had to chuckle and stand upright at the same time—and he’d
refused a cane. Bryce and Sebastian didn’t stand as groomsmen for
this wedding; they were there to catch him if he fell.

Justice smiled as Eric and Patrick took their turns
to kiss her on the cheek. Richard placed her hand in Knox’s and
kissed her on the cheek, then left her there with her husband. He
took his seat between his wife and Patrick. Justice looked at Knox
and smiled wide; she had never seen him so beautiful.

Exhausted

Happy

Pale

Joyful

Weak

She gave her bouquet to Giselle and wrapped her arm
around Knox’s waist. She laid her other hand flat on Knox’s abdomen
to steady him as much as possible.

It would be a long night for everyone, as there was
much business to be conducted, but Knox had insisted the wedding go
forward as planned. In turn, Justice had insisted on having his
medical team present.

Judge Wilson began to speak, though he could be
counted on to keep his comments brief; he was a rough old backwoods
judge of few words. Justice had always imagined he would’ve been
most happy being a circuit rider.

“The first time I married these two,” he said, his
voice filled with warmth and cheer, “Justice
thought
she was
participating at gunpoint.”

Most of the congregated gasped, but those who knew
Knox a little better chuckled and shook their heads.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to do it at all, except I
saw how she looked at Knox when she thought nobody was watching.
Oh, hell, what am I saying?
Everybody
saw that.”

Light laughter ran through the crowd in waves, and
Justice glanced at Knox with a blush and a bite of her lip. He
chuckled at her and reached up to smooth a curl out of her eye.

“Which brings us to today and the events that have
transpired this month,” he concluded, a wry tone in his voice. “It
just couldn’t be that Knox would get down on one knee and say,
‘Justice, I love you. Will you marry me?’ and have a nice little
church wedding, because Knox Hilliard
never
does anything
the easy way.”