It was Sammy Davis Jr., standing at the edge of New Orleans Square. Violet was with him. In the dark of night, neither of them seemed to see the corpse in the water. Or if they did, they didn’t acknowledge it.

“We gotta get out of here,” Davis said. “Now!”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Santa Monica, California

April 1962

The morning sun had already begun to beat down on the beach town when, half a block from the Miramar Hotel on Ocean Avenue, a blue Rambler American swerved up to Lawford’s Ghia and honked. Charlie sat, spent, in Lawford’s back seat, Violet asleep with her head on his shoulder. Neither of them paid attention to the horn. Lawford followed the Rambler into a Howard Johnson’s parking lot a mile away.

Few words had been spoken during the drive from Anaheim. In the front, Lawford and Davis spun the radio dial between music and news. Violet had nodded off immediately, almost as if she were trying to catch up on years’ worth of sleep. She was only sixteen but she looked ten years older, Charlie thought, and not just because of her dress and makeup. He wasn’t sure if the trauma she’d experienced was as bad as what he’d gone through during the war, and there wasn’t much sense in trying to compare the two; he just knew she’d be fighting to get back to who she’d been forever. She’d learn to numb herself, forget her pain for a few minutes here and there.

Despite the events of the past few hours and the stab wounds that throbbed and continued to bleed beneath his makeshift bandages, Charlie felt more like himself than he had in years. He knew intellectually that in the weeks to come, he would start second-guessing his actions on the riverbank, but had he not killed the man in the floral shirt, Lucy and Dwight would be without a father and Margaret would be a widow, to say nothing of Violet being left in hell. Saving his niece, bringing her back to his wife, filled him with pride, an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Heads up, Charlie,” Sammy said from the front passenger seat. He pointed to the Rambler as Lawford pulled up alongside it.

Charlie looked up to see Margaret running to him. His heart jumped as she opened the Ghia’s door and gave him a tight hug.

“Guess who I found,” Charlie said. Margaret reached over to touch her niece, caress her cheek. Violet woke up and they all got out of Lawford’s car; Violet buried her face in Margaret’s shoulder and began heaving with tears.

Charlie turned and was stunned to see Isaiah. They shook hands, Charlie so overwhelmed he was tempted to hug him, though he could muster only enough energy to add his left hand to the shake.