“Em, I’ll explain everything. But first, how did Ryan’s bike get here?” They’d left the bike at the high school last night.
Emily stared at him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to call you about. They found a dead body at the high school today. You were right over there last night. Maybe the same guys who mugged you…”
Sean’s pulse started to thud. He tried to keep his composure, but he felt wobbly. His face was on fire. “Who?” he asked. “Who was killed?”
Emily had a concerned look on her face, and she reached for her iPhone on the counter. She tapped on the device and then held the screen up for Sean to see.
It was a blow to the gut. No, a brass-knuckled sucker punch that left Sean struggling for air.
Chipotle Man.
His real name was William Brice, “Billy,” the story said. He was twenty-seven and had a past conviction for selling drugs. An unnamed source with the Montgomery County police said they believed his murder was drug related, but the investigation was ongoing.
His knees nearly buckling, Sean steadied himself on the counter.
“What? What is it?” Emily said.
Sean remained quiet. He forced in several more slow, deep breaths. “What’s Ryan’s bike have to do with this?”
“The police found the bike at the school. Ryan’s name and number are engraved on the frame. They’re looking for witnesses and wanted to know if he was at the school last night and maybe saw something.”
His wife met his stare. She looked gaunt. Her cheeks sunken.
“What did you tell them?” Sean asked.
“You’re scaring me, Sean. What’s going on?”
“What did you tell them?” he asked, his tone more desperate.
“I said Ryan wasn’t at the school last night. I said he was with you.”
CHAPTER 42
Sean sat across from his wife at the dining room table. The photographs of Abby were still scattered across its dusty surface. He told her about Chipotle Man. About Ryan hitting the man to protect Sean. And he told her about the visit from Malik Montgomery’s lawyer. About Abby’s secret e-mail account and vetting research on Senator James. And about the visit to Sussex prison and the connection to the senator. It should have been a full confession, including telling her about his boyhood friend’s possible reappearance. But he stopped himself. There was already too much to take in, he justified. He had tried many times over the years to tell her about Japan. There was the time in law school, when she’d caught him researching whether Japan had a statute of limitations for murder. When she asked about the scar on his hand. Or about why he’d had such a bad relationship with his father. He’d always had an excuse not to speak up. And here he was again. But he just couldn’t risk causing her more pain. Risk seeing that look in her face—a look that said I don’t know who you are.
Sean rubbed a hand over his face. “You told the officer I was mugged last night?”
“Yes, at the gym. It’s near the school, so he really wants to speak with you.”
“Did you mention Ryan? Or his bike?”
“I just said I thought Ryan rode over and brought you a key, but that I didn’t know how his bike got to the school.”
Sean’s mind played things out. “What if the cop who came today tracks down the kids who saw me last night at the school? Or what if they find out about my fight with Billy Brice? And what if they talk to Ryan’s school or the principal or someone connects Brice to Ryan’s Facebook messages about the man in red?” They were rhetorical, clipped questions. The sound of desperation.
Emily reached for his hands. “You need to stop,” she said. Her tone was resolved. She took in a deep breath as if to steel herself.
“We need to do three things,” she said after a long silence. There was no doubt here. He didn’t know if the lack of hesitation was to convince Sean or herself. But there was something reassuring about the decisiveness. He saw a glimmer of Emily from Before.
“First,” she said, “you’re going to call Cecilia tomorrow morning and get some advice. You tell her that you fought with Billy Brice. You don’t mention Ryan. Not even to Cecilia. From this moment forward, Ryan was home.”
“But you told the cop—”
“I was mistaken. Ryan was here, in his room, and I’d thought he was with you. I’m obviously not thinking straight…” She gestured to her disheveled hair and threadbare robe.
“Second,” Emily continued, “we need to talk with Ryan.” At this she revealed a tiny break in the fa?ade. She seemed to be fighting back a sob. “We need to prepare him for the police approaching him with questions. But I don’t think we should tell him this guy Brice is dead.”
“But what if he finds out at school? What if—”