Ringer, Season Two
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Chapter Fourteen: "You're a Monster"
Bridget's stomach remained in a knot the entire way from Maine to New York. In many ways, she was afraid to see her sister, even though she knew that she had to. When she walked into the police station with Andrew by her side, and Machado and Juliet in tow, she felt like she was going to faint with anxiety. She couldn't believe that, after seven months of believing her sister was dead, she was in this precinct, cuffed to a desk in an interrogation room.
Officer Towers, the police sergeant, and several others were conversing and paused to greet Bridget and Andrew as they arrived. One of the men introduced himself as a psychiatrist and said that he had examined Siobhan, but could hardly get anything out of her.
"I kept trying to initiate conversation," the man explained. "I asked questions about her motives so that I could have a better look at her state of mind, but she refused to answer me. "
"She did the same thing for her lawyer," said Towers. "She wouldn't say a word to her, so the lady walked right out. All she's said to anyone here is that she had nothing to do with hiring the man, you know, until I told her we had all the evidence against her and that there was no use in denying it. Then, her demeanor totally changed and she wanted to see Henry. She wanted to know why he set her up. After that, nothing but silence."
"All I can gather from her is that she has a severe obsession with Henry, so much so that she is in shock that he would set her up to get caught. She created a fantasy world with him."
"But that doesn't mean she's insane, right?" asked Bridget. "I mean, she knew what she was doing when she hired the man. She's not mentally ill."
God, there was no way that Siobhan had the police fooled, was there? Bridget swallowed hard. No, they couldn't fall for a stupid insanity defense.
"That I can't tell," the man replied, shaking his head.
"May we speak with her privately?" asked Andrew, standing tensely beside Bridget.
"You may," said the Sergeant, "you can ask her anything you want without any interference from us since you requested to see her, but I feel obligated to tell you that the entire visit may be futile. If she refused to talk to us, I don't think she'll give you any answers, either."
Oh yes, she would. Bridget and Andrew had already decided that they would sit there until Siobhan talked, no matter how long it took.
"That's fine," said Bridget. "We need to see her. Does she know we're here?"
"No," said Towers. "We haven't told her anything, although she probably expects it."
"She's this way," the Sergeant said. He led them down the hall to a closed door. "In here. She's cuffed to the desk, so she shouldn't give you any problems."
Right, Bridget thought sarcastically. If the man only knew of all the problems Siobhan had already given them….
She and Andrew looked at each other as the Sergeant unlocked the door for them. They both took deep breaths and nodded, bracing themselves for what lay ahead.
The door opened, and there she was, sitting there, looking down at her cuffed hands. She made no move to acknowledge them as they walked in, nothing beyond a slight flinch of the hands.
"Siobhan?" Bridget said as she and Andrew took their seats slowly. A part of her couldn't believe that she was actually talking to her sister. "Siobhan?" she repeated. Her sister didn't move. "We aren't leaving until you explain everything to us."
Finally, Siobhan looked up at them, but she made no motion to speak.
"Why did you do this?" Andrew asked in a low voice, almost pleadingly. "We have every right to know."
"You're going to talk to us, no matter how long it takes," said Bridget. She knew her voice was shaking, but she didn't care. "The police aren't listening. They aren't watching. It's just the three of us now. You can say anything you want."
Still, no reaction.
"Siobhan!" Andrew's tone was angry, and Bridget could see that he was growing very impatient. He looked ready to strike his wife at any moment. Bridget took his hand to calm him.
That was when Siobhan opened her mouth. "I never in a million years expected that my drug-addicted sister and my thieving husband would fall for each other." She cocked her head to the side. "I was sure one of you would have killed the other by now….But, Henry was right. You are in love..." There was a pause as she stared at them. "I have to admit, you two do look cute together." She smiled coldly, menacingly. It was a look that Bridget had never seen on her sister's face. It made her stomach turn even more. "So when's the wedding?"
"This isn't about us, Siobhan!" Bridget felt the tears forming behind her eyes as she spoke. "This is all about you. We deserve to know why you did this!"
The twin in cuffs let out a mirthless laugh. "You know why I did it."
"God, Siobhan, stop it!" Andrew's deep voice echoed around the room. "You know Bridget had nothing to do with Sean's death. It was an accident. If you want to blame anyone, then blame the man who was driving the car that hit them."
His wife shook her head. "It's not that simple. Sean would still be alive if it wasn't for her."
Bridget could feel her heart breaking as she sat there, looking at her sister. "All I wanted was for you to forgive me," she said slowly, tears now streaming down her face. "I thought you loved me enough to do that, but I guess you didn't."
She averted her eyes and wiped them with her free hand, her other still clasped firmly with Andrew's.
"I guess I didn't," Siobhan repeated nonchalantly, staring her sister straight in the eye. "To be honest, I think all my love for you vanished the day Sean died."
Bridget began to sob uncontrollably at those words. She was so hurt that she couldn't bear it. Andrew wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
He shook his head in disbelief. "And what about me, Siobhan? Did you ever have any love for me?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe in the beginning. Maybe, but it certainly all went away when I met Henry."
He sat there, stone-faced, but Bridget could tell that he was boiling with anger by the way he gripped her. It was as if the two of them were holding on to each to keep from literally falling apart. "And your daughters?" His smooth voice suddenly cracked. "Are they mine?"
Siobhan nodded, again, nonchalantly. "Yeah. It was just you and Henry up until I met Tyler, but I was already pregnant by then." She tried to scoot back in her chair, but the hand cuffs prevented it. "Honestly, if I hadn't thought they were Henry's, I would have aborted them right on the spot."
She looked her husband deep in the eye, as if trying to muster tears out of him, but, although Bridget felt him tremble slightly, his expression remained the same.
"What's wrong?" Siobhan asked wickedly. "It's not the first time someone's wanted to do that to your child, is it?"
"Where are they?" Bridget found her voice as she noticed a lump rising in Andrew's throat.
"I left them in the homeless shelter on Second Avenue," Siobhan replied. "I assume they're still there. If not, then, oh well." She smirked.
Bridget couldn't believe it. Siobhan was nothing more than a cruel, calculating bitch who amused herself by making trouble for others. Here they were, her husband and sister, the only real family that she had left, and she was treating them like everything she had put them through was nothing more than the most trivial of matters. She had no remorse at all for her actions, and Bridget doubted that she ever would.
"What about Gemma?" Bridget had almost forgotten. "We know you knew John Delario. Did you hire him to kill her?"
"No," Siobhan said. "Not to kill her. Just to kidnap her. The killing was all his doing. I felt bad about it at first, her being my best friend and all, but then, I realized that her death served a purpose: without her in the picture, Henry and I could definitely be together." She cocked her head to the side again. "Or so I thought. I guess my life with him is over for good now. And yeah, I killed John, too. I had to cover my tracks."
She shrugged and sat up straight, watching the speechless couple before her. "So, what more do you want? I've told you everything you need to know. You won. Go home, have lots of sex, get married, whatever. There's nothing stopping you anymore."
"You're a monster," Andrew finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "You really are."
Bridget could only stare at her sister and cry. There was nothing more that she could say.
As soon as he and Bridget left Siobhan in the interrogation room, Andrew couldn't help but start crying. He gathered Bridget in his arms, and they sobbed together. Both so hurt, so broken. The only comfort they could receive was from each other.
When they pulled themselves together as well as they were able, they walked back into the main lobby of the station, where Juliet and Machado were sitting, Juliet still being pumped full of IV fluid. They appeared to be in the middle of a card game with one of the female officers, but the game came to a halt when the couple showed up.
"Daddy? Bridget…?" There was no way the girl could miss the look on their faces. "What did she tell you?"
"It doesn't matter," Bridget replied, sniffling. "She's right where she belongs."
Andrew nodded and wiped his eyes, thinking of his daughters. "We have to get the children," he whispered.
Bridget nodded. "We better do it now."
"What children?" Juliet asked curiously. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Siobhan gave birth to twins a few weeks ago," Andrew said. He paused and sighed. "They're mine."
"You mean I have siblings?" Juliet let out a scream so loud that the entire station stopped to stare at her, but Andrew couldn't have cared less.
About an hour later, Andrew and Bridget made their way to the homeless shelter, a humble building run by a group of nuns. The inside of it was set up much like an office building, with a front desk, a computer, and a young woman clicking keys behind it.
"Hello," the young woman said. "How may I help you?"
Bridget was the first to speak. "Is there a record of a woman who stayed here with twin newborn daughters?"
"Hmm…" the woman began looking at her computer. "What's the name?"
Bridget looked at Andrew, uncertain of what name Siobhan could have used. "We're not sure," she responded.
"Courtney!" a woman of about sixty rounded the corner to speak with the young girl. "Courtney, what—"
But, when she saw Bridget, she stopped in her tracks. "Rebecca? You came back! We thought you were gone for good!"
Bridget stuttered. "I—I'm not Rebecca. I'm her twin sister, Bridget. I…I've come to pick up her daughters."
"Are they still here?" asked Andrew quickly. "I'm," he couldn't believe he was saying it. "I'm their father."
There was a silence as the older woman looked at him in disbelief. "Really? You are?"
"Yes," he said, not understanding her reaction at all.
"Good grief, I knew that woman was a liar," the woman shook her head. "She told me her husband was an abusive alcoholic from the Bronx. She comes in here with these two little babies, crying about how bad of a life she had with him, and then shows no gratitude whatsoever for anything we were doing for her. Then, a few weeks later, she just walks out and leaves the kids here. It didn't make any sense to me. I knew she was making the whole thing up."
"Can we see them?" Andrew asked. "We would like to take them home with us."
"Well, you can see them," the woman replied, "but without a paternity test, I can't let them go home with you. Sorry, it's protocol."
Andrew nodded. "I understand." He knew there was sadness in his eyes, but he didn't care if anyone saw it.
The woman led him and Bridget up the stairs to the nursery, a small room with more babies and toddlers than Andrew could count. He wondered which of them were his.
"Parents like to leave their children here when they go out looking for jobs and such," the woman commented. "There are Rebecca's kids."
She pointed to a corner of the room where two dark-haired babies were being fed formula by two twenty-something nuns.
"Thank you," Andrew responded, grateful that the woman was able to help them. He took Bridget's hand and they walked over toward the children. His heart was beating so fast.
"Excuse me," he said politely, "could we hold them please?"
The two women smiled up at the couple, not minding at all. "Of course," one of them said. "This is Portia." She handed the baby in her arms to Bridget. "And that one's Regan. Are you two looking to adopt?"
But, Andrew didn't hear Bridget's answer to the question. He was too busy looking at his beautiful daughters. For the first time all day, he smiled.
"Juliet, Portia, and Regan," Saying their names aloud as Regan was placed in his arms made Andrew chuckle unexpectedly. The Martin family certainly had a thing for Shakespeare.