This chapter is dedicated to lastapasta who has been a great supporter of my stories. Thanks :)

32 – Shiva

Charlotte's POV

The woman staring back at me in the mirror is no longer recognizable. My orbs are dull without any life, the white surrounding them reddened from my tears. Ever since Hannah called to tell me about the accident, I have been hiding in the bedroom with my head under the covers, sobbing into my pillow. I am surprised that there are even tears left to shed.

Ryan spends luckily most of his time at the jail to crack Rena and during the few hours he is at home, I either pretend to be sick or asleep. I am sure he has copped on that something is wrong, but so far, has not made a move.

Just as the hearing, the divorce has been postponed since I can't get a hold of my lawyer. Every time I try to make a phone call, I can't get a signal no matter where I'm at in the apartment. Something must be wrong with the phone. Yet, without Hannah and S'mores by my side, I don't have the guts to walk out the door.

With a sigh, I button up my blouse, wiping my palms at the same time I straighten my skirt. When Ryan's face appears in the mirror, I shriek.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"There is a memorial service for Tivon Goldstein this morning." His stare fazes me and I lower my gaze.

He snorts. "What do you care? He was nothing but our lawyer and a bad one at that." His fingers run alongside the hem of my jacket. "There's no reason for you to go, Charlotte. Take off your good clothes before they get all wrinkly."

"But I want to go." I pull the brush through my hair, ignoring his frown.

"I don't think I made myself clear." The brush is torn from my hand, his eyes sparkling with anger. "I don't want you to go."

"Well, I'm going." I try to slip past him, but he steps into my way.

"No, you're not." He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "When do you get it into your thick head that I'm in control? You will submit or –." His words trail off, but he doesn't have to finish the sentence to get his threat across. His eyes clearly convey that he will put me back into the hospital if I don't comply.

My laugh echoes shrill in my ears. "Do what, Ryan? Beat me?" I smirk, stretching out my arms invitingly. "Go right ahead. Kill me for all I care."

He snickers. "So you can be with your lover while I go to jail? I don't think so."

Silence falls over the bedroom while I stare at him with wide eyes. "You knew?"

"Yep." His grin is unbearable. "I've known for a while. Too bad he had to take the bullet for the team."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. "You killed him," I whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous." The victory oozing out of him contradicts his words. "I'd never do such a thing."

I close my eyes. "Get out of my way, Ryan." Anger and pain flood through my veins. In that moment, I don't care what will happen to me.

His slap across my face is the final straw. With a growl, I lunge at him, my fist pounding aimlessly against his torso. "I hate you." Most of the time, my knuckles connect with bones or solid muscle while the tears stream down my face.

He actually laughs when the strength leaves my arms and I lower my fists.

"Are you done, Charlotte?"

My wrists and hands throb, yet that smug smile on his face that proves that he is the ultimate winner in all respects is like a stab into the center of my heart.

Without a warning, his fingers wrap around a bushel of my hair. One push and my back collides with the sharp edge of the bed post. A stabbing pain shoots up my spine, cutting off my breath.

"I've had it with your disobedience," he shouts, his finger wiggling in front of my face. "I swear, I'll beat this damn stubbornness out of you once and for all."

I spit in his face. "You're nothing but a coward. Tivon was a thousand times the man you are. You're even a lousy lover."

I pay dearly for my words when he punches me in the mouth. Blood splatters everywhere, but the look in his eyes makes me forget the pain. For the first time in twenty-six years, I got under his skin.

"You fucking whore," he yells. The next punch to my ribcage takes me off my feet. It is followed by a kick to my groin which makes me cry out in pain.

"You'll never mention his name again," he rages. "Is that clear?"

I nod with a whimper.

"Now–." He unbuckles his belt and starts unlooping it. "Why don't you take off your clothes, so I can remind you that I'm still the man in this relationship?"

Bile rises in my throat. He will make me pay for every happy second with Tivon tenfold. My prior abuse will be nothing in comparison to the hell I'm facing.

"If you touch me, I'll call the cops," I threaten as my last feeble attempt to save myself.

His laugh is like a loud bark. "I'm an FBI agent. Who would believe your word over mine?"

My eyes fall onto the belt that his hanging loosely in his hand. I spin around and dash towards the bathroom, but he catches up with me before I even get half way there. He pushes me down, his arm rising. Like a whip, the belt comes down, hitting me across the back. My jacket softens the blow, but it still stings as hell.

His arm rises again and I hide my face in the crook of my elbows. The expected blow fails to materialize. Instead, the lamp on the nightstand falls and shatters when Ryan is shoved against the wall.

Alex's eyes scan over me. "Are you okay, Charlotte?"

I nod.

"What the hell–." Ryan slowly gets on his feet with a huff. "What are you doing here, Alex?"

"I needed you to sign some paperwork." She only glances at him as she helps me up. "And before you complain, the front door was open." A smirk spreads on her face as she winks at me. I know she is lying – probably picked the lock when she heard our fight.

"Well, I still don't appreciate you just barging in here." He snatches up the belt and starts to loop it. "What do you need me to sign?"

She pats her jacket. "Darn, I forgot it in the car."

Their eyes interlock and for a second, I fear they will have a go at each other. There is deadly silence as they measure their strength – the master and his once so eager student who chose to rebel against him. It is apparent from the expression on Alex's face that she won't back down and given her physique, she will give Ryan a run for his money.

In the end, he must have decided that beating up a work colleague who is the daughter of the FBI director would be career suicide.

"Get out," he hisses.

"No problem." She tosses him a pearly smile while her hand moves under my elbow. "Let's go, Charlotte."

He doesn't stand in my way as we walk out of the apartment. I don't turn back, well aware that his glare is burning into my back. When the door closes behind me, tears of relief roll down my cheeks before dripping off my chin.

In the elevator, Alex hands me a bunch of tissues that I press to my mouth to stop the bleeding. My tongue runs over my lips and teeth. There is a small cut, but nothing major and all teeth sit firmly in place.

"Do you have any place to go?" she asks.

I would figure something out. "Don't worry about it." Realizing, I didn't bring my purse, I add, "Do you think I could borrow fifty dollars? I want to go to Tivon's memorial service and need to take a cab."

"Sure." She pulls out her wallet and counts out the money. When she hands it to me, I realize that it's actually a hundred.

"Thanks." I enclose her hand. "For everything. If you hadn't intervened–." Fresh tears well up when I imagine Ryan's beating.

She drops her gaze. "I found out that he intimidated a new technician into interfering with your phone signal. Kade and I were worried, so I decided to check on you. I'm glad I got there just in time."

All I can do is squeeze her hand, the lump in my throat paralyzing the words from spilling out.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I should have stood up to him a long time ago."

I grimace. "We both should have." An idea forms in my head. "But you know what they say. Better late than never."

xxxx

The memorial service is at a synagogue on Chicago's west side. The place is packed when I slip in – almost every lawyer of the city must be in attendance. I scan the crowd for a familiar face and finally settle on Noel Fallon. He is standing a few feet away, talking to his mother.

"Sorry, Noel, did you see Hannah?"

"No, sorry." He glances around. "She is probably with Tivon's parents during private mourning and won't come out until the ceremony starts. The Goldsteins treat her like a daughter, so she is part of the closer family."

"Thanks." I steer away from them, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in Pam's presence. I'm sure Kade filled her in about the affair and maybe even Alex's rescue – her eyes practically screamed that I brought this on myself.

I sit down onto the edge of an aisle seat when my sore body refuses to stand, my fingers twisting together. My hands are sweaty, another thin layer of sweat pearling above my lip. The loneliness presses down on me. With great effort, I suppress more tears. This is so much harder than I expected.

"Mrs. Parks?"

I raise my head. A man about my age stands in front of me. A polite smile curls his lips when I nod. "Yes."

He extends his hand. "I'm Bryson Clark. Hannah asked me to keep an eye out for you. I'll be the one handling your divorce."

"Oh." I shake his hand while rising to my feet. "Can you tell me where Hannah is?"

"I'm sorry, but she isn't here. Jewish customs dictate that a body is put to rest as soon as possible after his death, followed by seven days of private mourning. Tivon was already buried in Michigan yesterday. This service is only for his friends and business associates who want to say goodbye."

I can't hide my disappointment. "Oh." My smile is crooked when further words fail me.

"I know they tried to reach you, because they consider you part of the family, but your phone was off. Hannah was actually quite worried."

I feel the need to justify myself. "My husband messed with my phone."

His eyebrows arch. For an outsider, my statement must sound like a lame excuse.

"I heard your husband is a little shit bag."

It is my turn to raise my eyebrows.

He laughs. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Parks. I'm usually a down-to-earth kind of guy and are not used to mince matters. I hope that's okay."

"It's fine."

He is not at all what I expected though Tivon mentioned that he is a little unconventional. I notice that he is not wearing a suit and tie like the rest, but black jeans and a flannel shirt. He nevertheless stands taller than the rest with a self-esteem radiating from him that could match no other.

He hands me his phone. "Why don't you call Hannah? I'm sure she and the Goldsteins would really like to hear from you."

He just lets me standing there after that, disappearing in the crowd. It's probably his idea of privacy. He certainly made an impression and I am sure that he won't back down when Ryan launches his counter attack.

Hannah picks up on the second ring. "Charlotte, we were worried sick about you. Where are you?"

"At the memorial service in Chicago."

"I'll send S'mores around to pick you up. You belong here, in Michigan, with the rest of the family."

My vision blurs and I curse those damn tears. "Thanks Hannah."

xxxx

Five hours later, Tivon's mom pulls me into a tight hug when I appear on her doorsteps.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble while I can't hold back the tears. "This is all my fault."

The whole time in the car, the guilt has been eating at me. Ryan's words that 'Tivon took the bullet for the team' kept replaying in my head until I came to the conclusion that he would still be alive if he hadn't fallen in love with me.

"Don't be silly." She pulls me into the house. "He really loved you, Charlotte, and you made him happy. I know he'd do it all over again if he could."

Her words are balm for my soul. I follow her into the small study where everyone is gathered, but hesitate at the threshold when I meet Joshua Goldstein's eyes. The pain reflected in them shreds my heart to pieces.

"My condolences," is all I can whisper.

Without a word, he gets up from his low chair and hugs me. "I might have lost a son, but HaShem gave me a new daughter. Come sit and let's pray."

Over the next six days, prayers like the Kaddish would become really familiar and I am amazed by the welcome the Goldsteins show towards me. We cry a lot, but there are also smiles when they recall little tidbits of Tivon's life. The whole experience is utterly exhausting, but comforting at the same time. When I am finally released at the end of seven day mourning period they call Shiva, I am sad to say goodbye.

Hannah offers to take me back to Chicago. For the first hour, we drive in silence before she finally asks the question that must have been on her mind the entire time. "What did you mean when you said it's all your fault?"

My eyes are fixed on the trees, flying by the passenger window. "I think my husband had a hand in Tivon's death."

"I figured that." Her voice is matter of fact. "Silvan has been digging the entire week, but was not able to come up with anything. Whatever Ryan did, he covered his tracks well."

"So, that's it?" My laugh is bitter. I can't believe he would actually get away with murder.

"Pretty much, unless you know something else that could put him in jail for good."

That makes me smile. "Can I borrow your phone?" I dial the information hot line and wait until the voice of the operator fills my ear. "Hello, I need a number in Quantico, Virginia. It's for the Cold Case Homicide Unit."

I just wonder if Detective Tate is expecting my call.

So Charlotte left Ryan and things are about to get ugly. Stay tuned as we turn the final corner to witness the fight of Parks v. Parks. Only five chapters left!!

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