This time Sean was the one drowning in the lake. He nodded, not looking her in the eyes. After another heavy silence, he whispered, “Abby’s death. It was my fault. I’m being punished.” He said it. Finally admitted it to himself. And he now understood. His oath, his deal with God, was an illusory contract. A trick befitting the Devil himself. Give Sean a perfect family and then watch him come apart when it was ripped away. His daughter paid for it all.
Emily stood. She would be leaving, he knew. She would blame him, rightly, for the misery befallen the Serrats. The Serrats. It didn’t even sound right anymore, without Abby. And with Emily gone, what would remain?
But Emily didn’t leave. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. And he cried. A release three decades in the making in the embrace of the woman who’d given him everything.
“What are we going to do?” Sean said, his voice hoarse.
“We’re going to make things right,” Emily whispered. “But first, we’re going to find out what happened to our daughter.”
CHAPTER 54
After a restless night, Sean woke to sunshine beaming through the bedroom window, dust floating in the rays. Another headache, this time from grinding his teeth in his sleep. His thoughts immediately went to Kenny, his lifeless body, the blood … but he beat them back. Em had said they couldn’t let what happened to Kenny cripple them from finding out the truth.
Downstairs, the house was still. A jar of peanut butter sat on the kitchen counter along with Ziploc bags. He looked out the window and the SUV was gone. Already the sun was erasing the evidence of the night’s rain. It was one of those D.C. springs where one day it would be dark and pouring rain, the next day sunshine, birds chirping, and everything feeling Disney-movie fresh and new. If only he felt that way. Sean heard the keys in the kitchen door, then Emily came inside. Where would they go from here?
“Sorry I overslept,” Sean said. “You got the boys out?”
“Yes. You’d better go get ready if you’re going to make it downtown in time.”
“My meeting with James isn’t until three o’clock.”
“I know, but I have somewhere I want us to go first.”
He looked at Emily. “Shouldn’t we … talk?”
She held his gaze. “We will. But we need to get going. There’s someone I think we should speak with about Abby.”
Sean hastily showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt—he would not dress up for Senator James. He and Emily stepped down their side portico to the narrow driveway. In Chevy Chase, where many of the houses were built before most people had cars, the driveways often were makeshift. The Serrats shared their driveway—a Y-shaped lane wedged between two colonials—with their neighbor. As Sean walked to the SUV, he saw a man in a sports jacket and slacks sauntering up the drive.
“Hey,” Sean said, chin cocked, “you know the rules. No reporters beyond the sidewalk.”
The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet as he continued up the drive. Sean glanced toward Emily, who was next to the SUV. Her face had turned sheet white.
“I’m not a reporter, Mr. Serrat. I’m Detective Whiteside with the Montgomery County police.” The man held open his wallet displaying credentials. “Homicide section.”
Sean glanced at the identification and gave the best puzzled look he could marshal. Kenny Baldwin was murdered in D.C., not over the border in Maryland, so this could be about only one thing. Billy Brice.
Emily spoke. “Honey, this is the detective I told you about who stopped by.” It was a tad stilted, but seemed casual enough.
“That’s right,” Sean said, shaking the detective’s hand. “My wife said you wanted to speak to me about the man who was found at the high school?”
“Correct. I’m really sorry to intrude, since I know your family is going through a tough time yourselves, but my boss…”
“I understand, detective. I know what the victim’s family must be going through, so I’m happy to help.”
“Actually, the victim, his name was William Brice, doesn’t seem to have any family—at least any family who cares about what happened to him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sean said.
“It probably seems odd, since you may have read that Brice was no angel,” Whiteside added, “but it’s these kinds of cases that always get me—no family, unpopular victim. I’m the last hope for justice since no one else really gives a damn.” The detective held Sean’s gaze for a second longer than comfortable.
Sean said, “I’m happy to help if I can.”
The detective studied him for another long moment. “I’m just trying to find anyone who might have seen something. Brice had some marijuana and some harder stuff on him, and we think he was selling behind the high school. If there were some kids buying from him and who saw something, they’d obviously have a lot of reasons not to come forward.”
Was the detective suggesting that Ryan was one of those kids? Sean’s body stiffened.
“As your wife probably mentioned, we found your son’s bike at the school, and we wondered if we could speak with him?”
“I spoke to Ryan,” Emily said, now standing next to Sean. “He wasn’t at the school that night. He was with his dad, so he didn’t see anything.”