To Love and to Perish

NINE


CORY SUGGESTED I TELL Ray that he and I had to go to look at a car in Albany tomorrow. Since we’d taken that trip more than once in the past, Ray might buy the story. But I didn’t want to sell him lies. Of course, I wasn’t going to let on we suspected anyone of blackmail, either. So I told Ray about Cory’s continued turmoil over Brennan’s questionable past and the Volvo incident, hinting that Cory would not rest until he knew the truth about the alleged drunk driving incident.

“I knew the two of you weren’t going to leave it alone.” Ray tossed his holster onto the top of the refrigerator and took a seat on the stool at our granite breakfast bar. “Brennan probably knows it, too.”

I turned down the heat under the stir fry to avoid burning another dinner and rested my arms on the bar opposite him, leaning in so we were almost nose to nose. Danny was doing his homework in the living room nearby and I didn’t want him to hear us.

“Cory spoke to Brennan last night. Brennan hung up on him when he tried to ask about the crash. I saw how heated James Gleason got about it before he died. There’s something there, Ray.”

Ray’s gaze met mine and held it, his “good-cop, bad-cop, whoever-you-need-me-to-be cop” expression in place. It felt like we were having a contest to see who blinks first. I let him win.

He sighed and rested his forehead against mine for a moment before pulling away. “You’re not going to learn anything new. I called the Albany police and spoke to the lead detective from the case. Brennan’s father didn’t buy anyone off. The guy said there was not enough evidence to make a case.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that Gleason is a bit of a hothead. His wife called them a couple times before she left him last year. He never hit her, but he wouldn’t let her out of the house. She felt intimidated.”

“So maybe she had reason to kill him? We can’t be sure she didn’t give him a little shove, can we?”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t think so. Their kid was with her. He vouched for the fact she was nowhere near the scene.”

“How old is the kid?”

“High school age.”

I tried to visualize the crowd in the minutes before the accident. “I don’t remember seeing him.”

“He met up with her right after she walked away from Gleason and Brennan’s argument.”

Or so he says. “Is he their only child?”

Ray scratched his chest. “That I don’t know, darlin.’”

It surprised me Ray had taken the time to call Albany. I wondered if Catherine had put him up to it. “What made you decide to call the detective down there?”

He grinned. “Just trying to save you a trip. I knew after our conversation this morning that you and Cory might want to head down there.”

At least it didn’t sound like Catherine had put him up to the call. “Actually Cory and I are more interested in talking to the other passenger injured in the crash.” Too late, I realized her name had been withheld. Did Ray know that?

From the way his eyes narrowed, I thought he did, but if so, he chose not to question me, perhaps preferring simply not to know. Often for him, ignorance really was bliss, particularly as it related to my concerns. “She didn’t remember the crash. Last thing she recalls is getting in the car. She wasn’t buckled in, and from her injuries, they think she may have been lying down on the back seat, asleep at the time of impact.”

So she told the police she didn’t recall the accident. That didn’t mean it was the truth. Maybe she said that at first to protect Brennan then later to blackmail him. “What were her injuries?”

Ray got up and walked over to lift the lid off the pan and sniff the stir fry. “Extensive. She needed rehabilitation for her legs, which were partially paralyzed, and plastic surgery. The passenger side of the car hit the tree, killing Monica on impact. Elizabeth Potter went through the windshield. She’s lucky to still be alive.”

Ray replaced the lid and got the plates out from the cupboard, bent on eating and not the least bit distressed over the image of the poor girl flying through glass. It seemed to me the girl might think she was entitled to a few dollars from Brennan after enduring all that.

“Where is she now?”

Ray dealt the plates onto our oak table. “It’s been twelve, almost thirteen years. She could be anywhere.”

“You didn’t ask the detective?”

“He didn’t know.”

Hah. Ray had asked, which meant we were sniffing down the right path. Cory and I could never match a hound dog like Ray, but it pleased me to know we were only a few yards behind him.

I gathered silverware from the kitchen drawer and walked around the table, setting each place. Ray followed me with paper napkins and glassware.

I took a deep breath and plunged. “Cory isn’t going to be satisfied unless he can ask a few questions himself. He wants to go to Albany tomorrow, and he asked me to go with him. I agreed to go, if you can get Danny on the bus and home from football practice.” I didn’t say, “Is that okay with you?” because I had promised to go. No need to ask permission—it was more like I was calling for back up. “Let’s keep this between the three of us for now. Catherine and Brennan don’t need to know unless we come up with something.”

Ray got the milk out of the refrigerator and filled our glasses. Even after he returned the gallon to the refrigerator and bellied up to the table, he hadn’t replied.

I spooned rice and stir fry onto everyone’s plate then set a loaf of bread in the center. I guessed we’d be talking more about this later. “Danny, dinner.”

Danny appeared in a flash, dropped into his chair, and started shoveling food into his mouth.

I sat down and watched him. Ray’s gaze was on him, too.

After a few mouthfuls, Danny looked up and caught us staring at him. He glanced back and forth between us. “What? What I’d do?” A few grains of rice fell out of his mouth and onto his plate.

I smiled and shook my head, always amused by his insatiable appetite.

Ray’s massive hand reached out to muss Danny’s hair. “Nothing. Jolene’s going to Albany with Cory tomorrow. I’m going to get you on the bus and pick you up from practice, okay?”

Danny’s eyes lit up. “Great.” He forked another load of rice into his mouth with gusto.

I mouthed “thank you” to Ray.

He picked up his fork. “I just hope Cory knows what he’s risking.”

_____


I kissed Ray and Danny goodbye at six a.m. Both were still in bed, with another half hour of sleep to go before Danny had to get up to be ready for the bus. When I bent over Ray, he slid his hand behind my head and pulled me in tight. “Be careful.”

I inhaled his warm scent and brushed my lips over his neck, pulling back to Eskimo kiss him. “We will.” My tone was light, belying the fear his words struck in me. Ray must think we might be onto something, too.

This early in the morning my breath made clouds in front of me as I jogged down the sidewalk and climbed into Cory’s navy BMW. The radio blasted the news.

“Hey, Cory, did you hear anything from Brennan last night?”

Cory pulled away from the curb and hit the gas. “Nope.”

“Hear any more about him on the news?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

I clicked my seat belt into place and fussed with my beige suit jacket, trying to avoid wrinkling it. “Where are we headed first? To see Elizabeth Potter’s parents?”

“That’s the address I put in the GPS”

Ah, the GPS Ray referred to it as the greatest marital aid known to mankind. Since I used to be the map reader, I tried hard not to take offense.

“What are we going to say to them to explain why we landed on their doorstep?” I glanced around the interior of the car, looking for clues. All I saw was Brennan’s yearbook, but with Cory’s background in theater, he’d been known to write entire scripts and insist I learn my lines before we tried to purchase a car. Although the last time he did, it ended tragically for me. Hopefully this time I would be spared.

“I looked on the high school’s website last night. Brennan’s class is coming up on their twentieth reunion and the alumni news said the class wants volunteers now to start planning the festivities. No one is named yet as chair of the reunion committee or signed on as a volunteer. I thought we could pretend to be involved in the planning, looking for more participants.”

“I thought reunion committees only went door to door in Wachobe.” I’d lived in the same small town all my life. My class of fifty-two could meet up at the soda shop. In fact, we often bumped into each other at the grocery store, coffee shop, or bakery. We had a twentieth reunion a few years back, just for kicks, arranged through a sort of phone tree and knocks at the front door. No one but the twenty-seven locals and their significant others showed up. Once members of our class left town for bigger and better opportunities, they ticked Wachobe off their list of vacation destinations.

“Yeah, well, Elizabeth’s not registered online as alumni of the school, nor is the majority of the class. I don’t know how anyone else would find her, except to call or write. Do you have a better suggestion?”

“No. How many kids were in the graduating class?”

“Five hundred and twenty-eight.”

“Wow. How many were in your graduation class?”

“Three hundred and sixty-five.”

“Did you know all of them?”

“Not even a fifth. I checked Brennan’s yearbook. Neither he nor his friends were involved in student government. Those are the kids who always know about class reunions. Chances are Elizabeth Potter won’t know a thing until we tell her.”

I grabbed the yearbook and started reading through the notes. As I read the scribble from Wayne Engle, a thought occurred to me. “Cory, if the four of them were such good buddies, how come he wasn’t in the car with them at the time of the accident?”

Cory downshifted to take the curve of the access ramp to the thruway. “Good question. After Elizabeth’s house, We can pay a visit to the address listed with his name in the yearbook.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I snapped the yearbook closed and laid my head back against the headrest, feeling tired already. The New York State Thruway would be miles of pavement, grass, and trees, broken up by sedimentary rock in the areas where they had blasted through the hills left behind by the glaciers. I’d seen every crest and valley hundreds of times. Listening to the newscaster drone sports scores wouldn’t keep me awake either, especially since I hadn’t slept much last night. My worries about this whole plan—or more specifically, lack of plan—had kept me awake. Car travel always puts me to sleep.

_____


I was back in high school with an English paper due and a test in calculus. I wasn’t ready for either, and if I didn’t hand the paper in on time as well as pass the test, I wouldn’t graduate. My father woke me for school twenty minutes late. I’d slept through the alarm, which still beeped, and …

Cory nudged my shoulder. “Jo, wake up. Your cell phone’s ringing and I can’t reach it.”

I jerked upright, fumbling for my purse. “Hello?”

“Jolene, it’s Isabelle. I don’t know what to do.”

I straightened up in the seat. “Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s Thursday. Every Thursday for the last two years, I’ve taken Cassidy to dance class at ten o’clock. This morning, Jack offered to take her. He said he knew I had an ad shoot and he wanted to help me.”

“That’s nice.”

“It would be if he didn’t offer right after he got off the phone with someone. I don’t know who. I heard him say he would try to get away this morning. I followed him.”

My brain still felt fuzzy from my dream. I almost thought this conversation might be a dream, too, but Cory looked too real in the seat next to me, maneuvering his sun visor to block the glare. Unfortunately, Albany lay southeast of Wachobe—the poor guy had been driving into the sun’s rays all morning while I slept.

I wiped a little dampness from the corner of my mouth. Had I been drooling, too? “Okay, what happened?”

Isabelle spoke quickly. “He dropped Cassidy off at dance class, then he drove to this new bed and breakfast in an early 1800s colonial. He went inside. He’s been in there for half an hour. What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Could he be showing someone a piece of jewelry?”

“No. He might be looking to buy an heirloom piece, though.”

I seized on that possibility, preferring it to other images in my head. “That makes sense.”

“Or he could be having a rendezvous with another woman.”

“Oh, Isabelle. Why don’t you just go inside and find out?”

“Be … cause … I don’t … want … to know.”

“You could look the bed and breakfast up on the Internet. A nice old lady and her husband probably own it.”

“May … be.” Isabelle hiccupped.

“Maybe he’s getting you a gift certificate. You guys love to go to bed and breakfasts.”

“Not … near here. This one’s only seven miles from our house.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Izzy. I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to catch you following him, though, in case you’ve got this all wrong.”

Isabelle blew her nose softly. “You’re right. You’re right.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. “I have a commercial shoot in half an hour anyway. I spent weeks begging all the local politicians, big business owners, and newscasters to participate in for free. It’s for the United Way campaign. I can’t be late. Whatever’s he’s doing, I can’t wait around to find out. I have more important things to do than worry about losing that man.”

That’s the Isabelle I knew and loved, more or less. I heard her car ignition turn over.

“I’ll call you, Jolene.”

I snapped my cell phone shut and looked at Cory.

He turned down the volume on the radio. “What’s up with Isabelle?”

“She thinks Jack might be cheating on her.”

Cory’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I thought they had the model marriage.”

I used to think that, too.