Chapter 36
Matt woke up drenched in sweat, with his heart banging like a jackhammer. A glance at the clock on his bedside revealed that it was almost one a.m. He reached for a bottle of water that sat next to the clock, twisting it open and taking a long sip. A framed photo of Erin sat on the other side of the clock. It was Matt’s favorite picture of her and was taken at their beach house in Florida. The photo brought back memories of the dream he’d just had. A dream so vivid, so real in his mind. He leaned his head back onto the pillow and took deep breaths. The images from the dream kept flashing through his mind.
Erin and the kids were on a boat in a swamp. It was dark and I was trying to find them. I could hear them crying out for help, but I couldn’t see them. Then the clouds parted and moonlight spread over the water, illuminating the small boat carrying my family. I took off my shoes and yelled to them. “Hold on! I’m coming!” The ground was mucky and made it hard for me to walk. The more steps I took, the more the mud gripped my feet. When I finally made it to the water’s edge, I heard my family’s screams. I stopped and looked around the inky dark water. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at me, then another pair and another. I realized the boat carrying Erin and the kids was surrounded by alligators. My daughter, Mary Kate, panicked and stood up in the middle of the small boat. “Nooo!” I yelled. “Stay down! Stay down!” Mary Kate lost her balance, and the boat flipped into the alligator-infested swamp. I stood on the bank, helplessly watching my family splash around, trying to make it to shore. Their horrendous screams filled my ears.
Matt took another sip of water before pounding his fist on his forehead as if that might pulverize the images and make them go away. He went downstairs and grabbed a six-pack of beer from the refrigerator. Walking outside onto the back patio, he sat down, popped the top on a bottle, and drank the pale ale in two long pulls.
“Screw it,” Matt said to himself. He drank the next bottle as fast as the first. As he cast his gaze over the pool, another forgotten memory popped into his head. The neurologist had told him it might happen this way. One or two small memories giving way to another and then another until eventually he had regained all of them. He knit his brow, concentrating on recovering the details of the memory—it was of a Wednesday dinner when Chris and Melinda had been over, a dinner not long after the fateful day when he’d spotted Erin kissing another man.
It hadn’t just been Chris and Melinda over for that Wednesday dinner. Alanna Brennan and her two boys were over as well. When I had gone to the garage to switch out the propane tanks for the grill, I’d heard female voices. I’d realized suddenly that Erin, Melinda, and Alanna were in the upstairs apartment checking out Erin’s latest painting. From where I was standing in the garage, a vent led directly to the floor above, and I could hear their conversation clearly. Normally, I wouldn’t eavesdrop, but something in my wife’s tone made me stop what I was doing and listen.
“Ran into him at the coffee shop by his gallery. I finally gave in and had lunch with him.”
“Really? I thought you didn’t want to work with anyone,” Alanna said.
“Well, at first I didn’t, but you know Gavin. He’s very, um…persistent,” Erin said.
“Very persistent and very cute,” Alanna said and then laughed. “Although his wife is a bit of a bitch.”
“I didn’t meet his wife.” Erin paused for a minute. “She was out of town when I toured the gallery. Gavin and I usually meet at the coffee shop. You know the one where I have a couple of paintings on display?”
“Flora?” Alanna asked.
“Yep. That’s the one. Anyway, Gavin liked what he saw and asked if I had any other works in progress,” Erin said.
“And?” Melinda prompted.
“And I brought him back here to my studio and showed him these two pieces,” Erin said. “He said he wanted me to do a gallery showing.”
I had felt my stomach clench. This was the first I’d heard of Erin bringing another man to the house to view her work. I thought of the guy I’d seen kissing Erin at Flora. This must be the same guy. I still couldn’t bring myself to ask Erin about it. Part of me didn’t want to admit my marriage was failing and that Erin maybe had fallen out of love with me.
“What kind of cut does Gavin get for any pieces that sell?” Melinda asked.
“Ten percent of gross sales. He said I’d need to have at least fifteen pieces done to make it worth his time,” Erin answered.
“What does Matt say about all this?” Melinda asked.
I stood very still at the mention of my name. I waited patiently for her answer, straining to hear.
“Matt doesn’t know yet,” Erin said.
“Isn’t that something you should discuss with him? I mean, he is your husband,” Melinda said, stressing the word “your.”
“I don’t see where any of this is your business, Melinda,” Erin said brusquely, then changed the subject. “I’m going to take this downstairs to show the boys. It’s a new piece I’ve been working on to display at Antoine’s.”
I could hear Erin walking downstairs. I was starting to leave the garage when I heard Melinda speak.
“What a bitch.”
“What are you talking about?” Alanna asked, clearly surprised at the exchange between Melinda and Erin.
“Gavin Beckwith. She’s sleeping with him. It’s very obvious. Why she would want to risk throwing all this away is beyond me. Matt deserves so much better.”
“Like you?” Alanna asked.
I had heard enough. I quietly left the garage and spent the rest of the evening in a foul mood. Now I was certain that Gavin was the guy I’d seen at the coffee shop earlier in the week. It was time to take action, no matter what the consequences. I needed to decide whether or not to confront Gavin or my wife first.
Matt opened a third beer and continued staring at the pool, its lights flickering under the water and giving off an eerie glow. Now, with all the pieces of his memory coming back together, he was starting to form a good idea of who could be behind all of this. He drank the rest of the beer while formulating a plan. The tricky part was how to do this without alerting Krapek or Jones that he was regaining his memory. Matt thought it was better for everyone to think he still couldn’t remember what had happened to him. He could clearly see that it could make him look like a suspect in his wife’s death and kids’ disappearance if they knew what he remembered. And having his family and friends thinking his memory was still iffy gave him a huge advantage in tackling what he was about to do. He finished off his beer and stumbled back upstairs to bed. But before sleep overcame him, he set an early alarm. He had plans for the next day. Big plans.