Think Twice

And now, as I watch the life force drain from the man I care about most in this world, I beg to a higher being that I don’t believe in and I know isn’t listening, as many of you sit there and tell me this is part of some master plan.

Imagine being that naïve.

You want to sleep at night, so you tell yourselves fairy tales. Like a child.

But I digress.

Myron is in the hospital. He still has trouble communicating.

That is why, with your permission, I am finishing this story for him.

His road back will be a long, arduous one. There are few guarantees. A full recovery, whatever that might look like, seems unlikely. A full month after the shooting, when he’s no longer comatose and in the ICU, Myron is moved into a private corner room in the Milstein Building at New York-Presbyterian. I arrange this via a sizable donation. A cot is placed in the corner near the window. Terese sleeps there. She has taken a leave. She rarely leaves his side.

I won’t go into the details of his injuries because I don’t see the point. Myron spends most of his time in a fog of pain and medications and procedures. It is hard to know what he comprehends and what he doesn’t. I try to explain to him what I can. It is hard for him to focus for long stretches. I repeat myself because I fear that he either forgets or the material doesn’t quite stick.

So let me answer the questions that I can. I have told this to Myron too, though I am condensing dozens of conversations with him into this summary for you:

First off, Myron’s biggest concern: Jeremy.

As soon as the first bullet hit Myron, Esperanza realized that something was very wrong. She hit my speed dial, patching me into the line as a three-way. Oddly enough, I was already up and moving. I had heard the shot and the ensuing pandemonium from my apartment across the street. I didn’t know Myron was the victim, but perhaps something instinctive inside of me realized that it was a strong possibility. I knew that Myron should be crossing the park around that time to see Jeremy, who was seated next to me when Esperanza called.

I reacted fast. Jeremy, having perhaps inherited some of his father’s gifts, reacted faster.

It was Jeremy, not me, who arrived on the scene first. Youth, I suppose. I can run, but Jeremy shot past me with ease. Seemingly with zero concern for his own safety, Jeremy acted the hero that he obviously is. He dove straight for Grace’s gun — and he paid for it when Grace pulled the trigger.

Jeremy lost the ring finger and pinkie on his right hand.

They are working on some kind of prosthetic device for him down at Walter Reed. No, Jeremy was not discharged three years ago, and no, he did not work in IT at Dillard’s. As Myron had theorized — perhaps more out of hope than cold analysis — the discharge, the name change, and the IT job were all part of Jeremy’s elaborate cover. He did indeed work clandestinely to keep this country safe. I can’t say more because I don’t know more.

It is, in the words of Jeremy, classified.

Second: The Setup Serial Killer.

According to the official FBI statements, the investigation remains ongoing. According to PT, the “unofficial official” conclusion is that Grace Konners was that rare (though not completely unknown) bird known as the female serial killer. The FBI has so far tied her to six murders and subsequent frame-ups, but there are at least three other cases the FBI is confident will circle back to her.

PT believes — and I concur — that there are probably more, and that law enforcement, despite its best efforts, may never know how many victims. Awful, I know. I think about that — that there are innocent people in prison for murder who will most likely remain there.

What makes this investigation even more unwieldy for the FBI is that dozens, perhaps hundreds, of convicted killers now claim that they, too, were framed by Grace Konners. She is their get-out-of-jail-free card. They are demanding that their own verdicts be overturned. You can imagine the headache, can’t you? Almost all are lying, of course, but the FBI cannot afford to make a mistake. The task of looking into the claims is a time-consuming resource suck, overwhelming even the most seasoned of investigators.

Three: Why was Greg Downing’s DNA at the Callister scene?

There are two schools of thought here. The main one, the one the FBI believes is most likely, is that like most serial killers (or addicts of any kind), Grace Konners needed a stronger dopamine hit as time went on. In short, she wanted to both “up her game,” if you will, and rid herself of the one person in the world who could stop her.

Greg Downing.

Greg also controlled their wealth, which would be hers and hers alone if he were to end up in prison. She would be off the hook for what she’d done, able to start completely anew. And talk about a psychotic’s rush — imagine being able to not only kill a former supermodel but frame your own partner for the crime.