The other car raced toward him, its unseen driver unaware of what he was thinking, and Jake knew all he had to do to achieve the desired result was to aim his left bumper at the left bumper of the oncoming car and the impact would do the rest.
The oncoming car barreled toward him, its headlamps double-barreled beams of light, and he wondered what the driver’s face would look like, just before they crashed. Shock. Horror. Surprise.
The cars were thirty feet apart, then twenty. He gritted his teeth, squinting against the high beams. The cars were ten feet apart, and he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing, waiting to see what would happen, and when the other car was almost upon him, he realized he couldn’t do it.
He opened his eyes and drove straight. He couldn’t kill another human being. He couldn’t be responsible for the death of anyone else, ever, in the time he had left on earth.
The other car whooshed past him, the driver not knowing what could have happened, and Jake exhaled loudly, emitting a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It struck him that he hadn’t driven into the other car not only because he didn’t want to kill anyone else, but also because he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to redeem himself. For Kathleen Lindstrom’s tragic death. For Pam’s infidelity. For Ryan’s depression.
Jake steered down the darkened street, past the windows that looked into family rooms containing happier families. He didn’t have a plan, any longer. The time for plans was over. He didn’t believe in them anymore, anyway. Pam didn’t plan on cheating on him. Ryan didn’t plan on killing Kathleen Lindstrom. Nobody planned on the worst, but they got it just the same and had to deal. He knew the saying that “Man plans and God laughs,” but he’d learned the truth was exactly the opposite—Man plans and God cries.
His thoughts returned to Pam, without pain. He knew in his heart why she had strayed, but he loved her still. He didn’t want to give up on their marriage, no matter what. He didn’t know how she felt; he didn’t know if he was ready to find out. He hoped they could put back the pieces of their new life, one that they would make together, with Ryan. Their son needed the both of them now, more than ever, and the three of them had to go forward and hang together in a way they hadn’t before.
He pulled over to the side of the street, braked, and plugged his home address in the GPS, then pressed START. Calibrating Route, said the GPS, with an arrow pointing behind him. He hit the gas, pulled away from the curb, and started to head home, his mind running free. He wanted to go home, talk to Pam, and work everything out, even if it took all night. He wanted her to know that he was sorry she felt abandoned by him; that he hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad. He would tell her that he was sorry, and he flashed-forward to a heart-to-heart in their bedroom, that ended with her coming into his arms, crying and asking him to forgive her.
He wound his way through the quiet suburban streets; the GPS had been set on the shortest route, not the fastest, but he didn’t bother to reset it. The lighted blue GPS screen showed a right turn, but he’d been too preoccupied and missed it, so he went straight and the GPS screen switched to Recalibrating Route. Jake read the screen, realizing that’s exactly what he was doing too, in his life. He would be recalibrating a new route, for himself, Pam, and Ryan, too.
He stopped at a traffic light, which bathed the car’s interior in a blood-red glow. He flashed on Friday night after the crash, wiping the blood from his hands, then finding it etched in the lines of his palm. He tried to push it from his mind, to recalibrate again. He reminded himself that he was going to go home and try to move forward, with Pam and him putting their marriage back together for their own sakes, and for Ryan’s. They wouldn’t be able to get through this together unless they acted as a family. Their house, divided, could not stand. He hoped she’d be happy that he still loved her and was willing to forgive her.
So it came as a shock to Jake when he finally got home and pulled into the garage, only to find that Pam’s car was gone. Pasted on the garage door was a sheet of legal pad that read:
I will not be back tonight. Don’t call or text me. Ryan is asleep. Tomorrow, go to work your usual time. I will come home and take him to school. Leave me alone. Goodnight.
Chapter Thirty-two
The next morning, Jake was in his office as early as usual, showered, shaved, and stiff in a cutaway collar and fresh suit. He looked out his window into the dawn of a new day, another frigid one under a cloudy pewter sky. He ignored the overseas markets, his voicemail, email, a stack of tri-fold correspondence, and pink phone messages on his desk. He wouldn’t think of working until the wire transfer went through this morning, and maybe not even then.
Last night he’d hardly slept for thinking of Pam, though he’d followed her directions, not texting or calling her and leaving the house early, so they hadn’t run into each other. He prayed she hadn’t run to Dr. Dave. He’d thought of calling him, but she would be too angry. He did call the Marriott Courtyard Suites near the house, but they wouldn’t tell him if she was there. He’d even called the local hospital, in case she had an accident.
Jake racked his brain, thinking where Pam would have slept. Her best friend had moved to Singapore last year, and though she was close to all of the Chasers’ moms, she wouldn’t confide in them, given Dr. Dave’s status with the team. She was in a book club, but she wouldn’t want them to know, and as a judge, she wasn’t close with anyone in the bar. She had a secretary, Christine, who was a stodgy sort, and otherwise in her chambers, there were her three law clerks, in their twenties. Pam had no one else but him and Dr. Dave, which worried him.
Jake heard noises beyond his closed door as Gardenia came to life, but he kept his eyes to the window, idly watching as his employees filled in the spaces in the parking lot. Amy parked her car next to his rental, and he took his receiver off the hook, so she’d think he was on the phone and wouldn’t interrupt him. She knew him well enough to know that something was really wrong.
Jake’s cell phone rang. The screen read Harold, and he grabbed it, knowing it would be about the wire transfer. “Hey, everything okay? I was just about to call you.”
“Not exactly. We have a glitch, but I trust it won’t be a problem.”
“What glitch?” Jake asked, his gut churning. “There can be no glitches.”
“The woman who usually does our wires, Barbara, called in sick this morning. I just found out. I’m out of the office and I won’t be in until later.”
“So what does this mean? You can still transfer the money by eleven, can’t you?”
“No. I can do it by noon, but not eleven.”
“What?” Jake exploded. If the money wasn’t there on time, Voloshin would go to the police.
“I won’t be in. I’m out of the office at a meeting. I stepped out to call you.”
“I need it by eleven!” Jake shouted. “I have to have it by eleven! You said you could do it!”
“I know, sorry. It’ll just be an hour later—”
“That’s too late!” Jake checked his watch—9:02. Voloshin would take the photos and video right to the police. It would ruin Ryan and him, and now, even Pam. She’d kept their secret, a judge who kept quiet about her son’s hit-and-run.
“Harold, leave the damn meeting! Where are you, Timbuktu?”
“North Jersey. It’s too important, and if I did, it would raise questions.”
“But this matters more! Leave!”
“Jake. I would leave if I could, but I can’t make it back in time anyway.”
“Make somebody else wire the money!”
“No. We have another woman in the wire room but it wouldn’t be prudent to use her.”
“Why not?” Jake heard himself panicking. “All she has to do is push a button!”
“But it’s going to an offshore account.”