She unzipped her bag and grabbed her pistol, leaving it inside. She stopped and wheeled around. He stopped. She stopped. The gun was still inside her bag, but it was pointing at the chest of her ex-fiance.
"Rick," she gasped, "what the hell are you doing?"
He wobbled slightly, as though he'd been drinking. "Just, uh. Nothin'."
His eyes were glazed. He'd definitely been drinking. "You're following me."
"I have something to say to you."
"Rick, leave me alone."
"I didn't sleep with your sister."
"I know you didn't. You fucked her."
He smiled, struggling not to laugh. But he couldn't hold it in. It was funny to a drunk. He finally got control of himself. "Oh, that was rich."
Inside the bag, her finger twitched on the trigger. Her darker side wondered if this could pass for justifiable homicide. "You think it's funny that you had sex with my sister the night before our wedding?"
The laughter faded. But the smirk was still there. "Come on, Andie. You hate your sister anyway. The only reason she was maid of honor is because your mother made you pick her."
"And that's supposed to make what you did okay?" "She came on to me. I wasn't looking for it."
She checked her watch, ready to go. "What do you want from me?"
"What do you think?"
"Okay. You're forgiven. . No hard feelings. Now drop dead and get out of my life."
She turned away. He stepped toward her and grabbed her arm. She stopped and shot a look. "Don't touch me." He squeezed tighter. "You made a fucking fool out of me." "You are a fool. Now take your hand off me."
His face reddened. His grip tightened. "What are you gonna do, Andie?"
She looked him straight in the eye. For a second he looked like he was going to kiss her. On impulse, her knee came up and caught him squarely in the groin. He doubled over and fell to the pavement. He was groaning, then dry-heaving. He got up on one knee but could climb no farther. His eyes filled with rage.
"You . . . are gonna . . . pay for this. Bitch."
She returned the glare. "Send me a bill," she said, then turned away.
"I mean it!" he shouted. "I'll make you pay!"
Andie just kept on walking.
"Listen to me!" His senseless shouting followed her down the sidewalk, ceasing only when Andie was inside the building.
After Carla left, Gus was tired enough to sleep, but his mind wouldn't allow it. The lights were off, the master bedroom was dark. He was flat on his back, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling..
As his pupils adjusted to the darkness, the jewelry box on the bureau caught his attention. A thought crossed his mind that bordered on panic. He couldn't remember if he had told the FBI if Beth had been wearing any jewelry when she'd disappeared. Maybe he could tell from the box. A ring or some other distinctive item might conceivably help identify her--if the worst of Agent Henning's suspicions were true. He switched on the lamp and rose from the bed.
It was a beautiful antique box made of burled walnut. It used to play music, but that had died years ago. Metaphorical, in a way.
He opened it carefully and peered inside. It was well organized. Earrings and less expensive pieces were in the felt-lined squares on top; larger and more precious pieces filled the bottom. He noticed right away the engagement ring was there. The wedding ring was missing. He wasn't sure what to make of that, whether she'd worn it faithfully till the day she had disappeared or symbolically discarded it as she walked out the door.
It was difficult to account for everything, but as best he could tell, everything else he had ever given her was still there. A pear-shaped diamond necklace. A diamond and emerald bracelet. Some of the items were almost too precious to keep in the house. Strangely, the only stones that evoked any emotion were the smallest of all. ,He'd bought her a pair of diamond-chip earrings for her twentieth birthday, the first they had celebrated together. Years later, after he'd started making real money, it used to make him smile inside when Beth would still wear those tiny little earrings.
He held them in the palm of his hand. Two sparkling specks, not much bigger than flecks of glitter. Beth used to wear them on anniversaries of certain milestones in their early love life, silly little things like the date of their first kiss, the first time he'd said "I love you." It was a shame he'd never told her how good it made him feel to see them on her, how much he appreciated the sentimentality. She probably thought he hadn't noticed; He had.