“Don't worry. There aren't any police. No one's coming after you. I just want to talk.”
I wasn't really sure if he heard me. His eyes just kept darting. Exit. Cafeteria line. Rear exit. Window.
“Really, Billy. It's all right. I'm alone. I came because Loretta's worried about you.”
“What?” he said, turning to me, looking at me oddly, as if he'd heard me for the first time.
“I just want to talk.”
He pulled on his beard, studied me, then said, “Does Carol Marie know you're here?”
“No.”
“She's all right, isn't she? She hasn't been hurt, has she?” he asked, settling down on the bench.
“As far as I know, she's fine.”
His voice was surprisingly gentle, surprisingly clear. Quite low in tone. After what Helen had told me of his drinking and rowdiness, I expected someone much rougher and coarser. A man given to harsh highs and lows. Billy was obviously well educated, though. That much was clear. If he bathed, shaved, and put on a pinstripe suit, he'd definitely pass for a corporate exec.
“Billy,” I began, “you can't hide like this anymore. You have to stop. Would you like help?”
He looked at me like I was the world's biggest dumbshit. Shaking his head, he looked down into his soup, let go of his fear, and smiled. For a second I thought he was going to burst out laughing. Then he reached up and opened his collar and pushed down his filthy shirt until he exposed a six-inch scar, thick and coarse, that ran from under his neck and up toward his right shoulder.
“See this? Ray Preston did that. He jumped me from behind, nearly cut my head off. You know who Ray Preston is, don't you? The guy who owns the laundry?”
“My God.”
It started to flow then, this other half of the story, the one that filled out the whole picture. I could sense his loneliness almost immediately, for he seemed eager to divulge it all, to have someone to listen to the great injustice of his life. To slap someone with it.
“Didn't Loretta tell you? That's why I skipped bail; that's why I had to go,” he explained. “He did this to me, cut me like this, about two months before the trial was scheduled. I was at my mother's house, out on bail. I was just sitting in the backyard, sitting there reading when all of a sudden he comes flying out of the bushes with this huge knife. If Loretta hadn't been there—she beat him off with a shovel—I'd be dead.”
“Did you report it to the police?”
“My mother called them, but they didn't care.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean some drunk bum like me wasn't their priority.”
“But—”
“That was why I left.” He picked up the spoon, began rolling it in his hand. “I was just as afraid of the police as I was of Ray Peterson, so I started running and I haven't stopped since.”
Billy shook his head, lowered the spoon into his bowl and stirred the soup. I wanted to say he was paranoid. I wanted to say he was totally wrong. But maybe he wasn't, not entirely so. Certainly there were a number of biases against him. While he'd done something horrible, killed an innocent child, couldn't he be guaranteed not only a fair trial, but adequate protection as well? Evidently not.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Be a fugitive the rest of your life?”
“What choice do I have?” He shrugged, looked up at me. “Don't you understand what kind of person Ray Preston is? I don't know if he was before, but he sure as hell is now. A killer, I mean. And he's not going to stop until I'm dead. I'd never make it to court. I swear, he'd kill me before that.”
“What are you talking about? Why in hell wouldn't he want this to go to trial?”
I didn't want to be so coarse and crude as to say so out loud, but what judge and jury wouldn't want to grill Billy and find him guilty as hell? It seemed all too simple. Ray Preston could be virtually certain of that. As far as I understood, the legal system had every right and reason to toss Billy in jail with the harshest of sentences.
Billy shook his head, looked down at his place. “It's just so complicated.”
“Of course it is. But I'm sure you can be protected. And certainly you can get some good legal help. Carol Marie would do that for you, wouldn't she? Find you a good lawyer?”
Looking totally lost and defeated, he shrugged again. He took a noisy sip of coffee, put down his cup. He glanced at the main door again, perhaps to see that there still weren't any police.
“Loretta didn't tell you everything, did she?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
He laughed. “That's why you don't get it.” He looked up, leaned forward, lowered his voice, and divulged a secret that was burning inside him. “There's one more thing.”
“Such as?”
“It wasn't me who ran the red light.”
Oh, shit, I thought. What more could there be? How twisted could this thing get?
“What are you saying?”
“Yeah, I was drunk. Yeah, I had a bunch of beer down at the car wash. I was drinking with the guys and I had too much. Way too much.” He took a deep sigh. “Oh, sure, it looked like it when the police arrived. They pulled me out from behind the wheel and smelled booze on my breath. And then they did one of those tests, you know, those breath things. And that was it, my fate was sealed. But I mean it wasn't fucking me who went ripping through that fucking red light.”
“What?” I asked, wondering not only if I could believe Billy, but if I was finally getting the complete story.
“But there's no fucking way I can prove it,” said Billy. “No one will believe a drunk like me.”
I stared at the table. If it was in fact Ray Preston who'd run that light, it was clear why he wouldn't want this to come to trial. If the real truth came out, then Ray could be found responsible for the death of his own child.
“Do you get it?” asked Billy.
“Yeah, but out here Ray's hunting for you. He almost shot you the other night, didn't he?”
“Well, I'll tell you one thing. I'd rather be out here and free than locked up for something I didn't do.” With that, Billy shrugged and stood, saying, “I don't mean to be rude, man, but I gotta get back in line or else I won't get any seconds. This'll probably be all I eat until tomorrow night.”
Chapter 22
Billy took forever in line, so I left, thanking him for his time on my way out. As I emerged from the room that reeked of so much human neglect, then walked to my car, I wondered if Maddy, with all her millions, could find a wizard of a lawyer to prove Billy innocent. Then again, I didn't know how involved Maddy wanted to get, how far she wanted to take all this. Nor I, for that matter. Maddy had sent me down here to discover if Loretta had been in any mortal danger. I was sure I now understood the situation, that when Loretta had written of a life-and-death matter, she had been referring to Billy's dilemma. And with good reason, for I'd witnessed Ray Preston's fury and determination. If Ray did intend to kill Billy, then I was sure he would keep trying to find the means. And quite possibly succeed. No wonder both Billy and Loretta were worried. I found that I was, and I was sure Maddy would be as well. I didn't know what she'd choose next, however, whether to pull out of this mess entirely or to step further in and get really involved in the muck of it all. She was the boss, and I wondered if I'd be packing my bags and heading back to the island tomorrow.
I drove the few blocks into downtown Evanston and had a trendy pasta dish of chicken and red peppers that was nudged onto the wild side with a spicy apricot salsa. It was Italy meets Mexico and lives happily ever after in California, and while I enjoyed the dish I understood why plain old comfort food of mashed potatoes and meat loaf had made a comeback. When you twisted things too far, they became unappetizing, as had almost happened with that dish. At least that was my thinking as I sat there twirling some pasta onto my fork and wondering how far Ray would go to prevent the truth from coming out.
Sitting there in the chic restaurant that was so clean, so beaut
ifully decorated with salmon-colored tables, turquoise walls, and black wall fixtures, I felt like a prince. Someone from the very upper class. Thank God, I thought, I had a roof over my head. And a shower. Food. Shoes. Then again, the distance from that church basement to this fashionable restaurant wasn't that far at all. Literally as well as figuratively.
My main goal had been achieved, I sensed, and as I ate, I started thinking about Maddy and what I would say to her. I thought of calling her right from there, from the pay phone I'd spotted back by the men's room, but the allure of my motel room was stronger. It was quieter there, our conversation would undoubtedly be lengthy, and so I finished up my meal and drove back to the distant ’burbs.
I was back in my room not quite an hour later. I kicked off my shoes, used the john, splashed my face with cold water. Settling onto the edge of the double bed, I was just reaching for the phone when there was a knock at the door. That had been the last thing I expected, and for a moment I didn't move, wondering if there was a mistake. I glanced at the door and was relieved to see that I had both locked and chained it. When again there was tapping, I got up and slipped around to the window. Could Ray Preston be out there, and just how close to the edge could he now be? When I lifted aside the curtain and peered out a crack, however, I was totally surprised. What could this be about?
When there was a third knock, I stepped over to the door and unlocked it. Carol Marie stood there, arms folded across her stomach. Face tight, mouth small. Her anger that clear and bold.
“Hi,” I said.
“Why are you bothering my family?” she demanded, standing there on the motel walkway.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I hear you were not only at my stepmother's house today, but you saw Loretta at the library, and then you went and cornered Billy as well. He just called, all worried about me.” Her scowl was painted on like thick makeup. “We don't want your help. Just leave us alone. Do you understand?”
I'd been worried about some imagined figure behind the door, someone with a gun who'd want to kill me. Instead I'd opened the door and found Carol Marie gunning for me. And I disliked it as much as if someone were shooting real bullets. The escapade at the Octopus Car Wash didn't help my attitude toward her, either.
“Hey, wait a minute, Carol Marie,” I began, my defenses going up. “I'm not sure you—”
“You don't know anything, buddy. We just want you to go away. Got it? You don't know what this is all about.”
I said, “I understand that Billy needs professional legal help and that Loretta needs professional psychological help.”
She stared at me, eyes blazing. “Jesus Christ, where do you get off? And why have you been following me?”
“Like to the car wash, you mean?”
“Yeah, that's right. To the car wash. In case you haven't figured it out, trespassing is dangerous business. I'll tell you one more time, leave me and my family alone.”
“Why?”
“Because it's none of your goddamned business, that's why, and because we don't want any help, particularly from you or your sister. Just tell Dr. Phillips to keep her nosy face out of this. She's never done us any good, that sister of yours. Not before, not now. Your snooping around has got Loretta nearly as upset as when she was seeing Dr. Phillips. Both of you just like to stir things up and get everything all messy, don't you?”
I was irritated before. Angry now. Carol Marie couldn't have done anything that would get me more quickly pissed off than attack my sister. I tried to hold my temper but it came steaming out around the edges.
“My sister did more for Loretta in a few short weeks than anyone had in years.”
“Like hell. Loretta was a complete basket case whenever she saw Dr. Phillips. In fact, we were trying to stop Loretta from going.”
This could get real nasty real quick, I realized as I stood in the doorway of my motel room. I took a deep breath, tried to calm myself. Don't do anything, I told myself, that you'll regret. Don't say anything. And then I went and said it all wrong anyway.
“I'm down here for one reason and one person only. That's Loretta,” I said. “I don't think she wrote my sister because she was worried about Helen selling the house and then being kicked out on the street. There's something else.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Loretta wrote that someone's life was in danger.”
By the shocked expression on her face, I knew I couldn't have said anything worse. In one short sentence it was clear that I had betrayed Loretta and her desperate plea.
“Yeah, well… well,” stammered Carol Marie, “half the time Loretta doesn't know the world's round. What did she do, write and say she was afraid to go outside because the mosquitoes were going to kill her? And then what did your sister do, tell her to get some insect repellent and charge her a hundred bucks?”
I said it pleasantly and calmly, voice low. “Go to hell, Carol Marie.”
“No, asshole, you go to hell! And take your sister with you!” she snapped, losing it and losing all pretense at suburban pleasantries. “You just tell Dr. Phillips to stay out of this. Tell her to leave us alone. I know what's best for Loretta. She doesn't need any help, anyone prying around and upsetting her world. She's fine, you got it? Just fine. So tell that snoopy sister of yours to stay out of this.”
I wanted to know how serious a warning this really was. How much of a threat we really were to Carol Marie.
And I pressed, “Stay out of this or what?”
“Or… or you're going to see what kind of trouble I can really make for you two.” She furiously shook her head. “Jesus Christ, just leave us alone!”
With that, Carol Marie bolted her jaw shut, then turned and stormed off into the night like a thunderstorm racing across the plains.
Chapter 23
I never did get around to making that call to Maddy. About five minutes after Carol Marie left, I put my shoes back on, brushed my hair, grabbed my car keys, and headed out. As I drove from the lot, I checked my rearview mirror, hoping that I'd rid myself of Ray Preston, which it appeared I had.
When I turned into Loretta's subdivision, I found the broad, winding streets totally empty. There weren't even any parked cars, for it seemed all the residents had hidden away their vehicles in their attached garages. And when I glanced at the houses, I saw that most were already dark. It was just after ten. Soon the late news would be over, after which I was sure everyone would be in bed.
I was about a block, maybe less, from Loretta's when I saw it. The movement. There weren't any streetlights, but I was sure of it. Something up ahead slipping across the street. It caught my eye as if it were a deer slipping and bounding through the night. Crossing the road. Traversing civilization and disappearing into the woods. Only what I saw wasn't a graceful animal. It was a person who came into view and then disappeared within an instant. Someone, I was quite sure, whom I knew.
“Take another look. Let that image streak through your memory again. Be sure.”
I parked beneath a tree, just a couple of houses short of Loretta's, bowed my head onto the steering wheel, and replayed it all. Let my memory rewind and run it a second time in slo-mo. And, yes, it was her. Loretta. I saw the legs, heavy and white. The arms, pale as well. And the clothing. The same loose dress as at the library. The one that hung like a bag, flapped as she moved. Without a doubt, it was Loretta. But what in the hell was she doing slipping into the woods where someone had so recently chased her? Why now, so late?
I sat in my car wondering if I was doing this all wrong. Then I climbed out, walked toward their house. I'd come because I was worried I'd landed Loretta in trouble. I feared that Carol Marie would have headed here directly, would have burst into the house and demanded to know just why Loretta had contacted Maddy. I could imagine Carol Marie bullying Loretta, pressing her until she revealed not only what she'd told Maddy but me as well. I'd thought of calling, but I doubted that I'd get through to Loretta; Helen or Carol Marie
was sure to have screened out my call.
But Carol Marie's calling card, her white Ford, wasn't here, and the house was dark; only a single light burned somewhere inside, perhaps the one over the dinette table. I reached the edge of their lot, stood there and studied the long, low ranch house that seemed the epitome of suburban sleepiness. The right thing to do would be to turn around and head back to the motel, drop myself back on the bed, and call Maddy with a complete report. Actually, however, I'd come here for something else as well. Before I talked to Maddy tonight, I wanted to hear it from her, from Loretta: Did she really want Maddy and me to kindly, as Carol Marie said, butt out?
I stared at the point where Loretta had vanished, and my curiosity rose like a ghost, beckoning me across the street and toward the woods. Loretta was simple, perhaps. And definitely strange. But she was no dummy, not Loretta with her volumes of Shakespeare. So what could have lured her into those woods?
Looking one last time at the ranch house, I realized I'd been duped right from the start. Right from that first night when I'd arrived, stepped out of my car, and heard those screams clawing the night. Helen had said that Loretta had been attacked. But that wasn't the case. Certainly not. If it had been, Loretta would have definitely had a significant reaction to such a traumatic incident. Loretta, who was afraid to venture into the world. Instead, she'd just seemed… humble. No, guilty. That was it. No wonder they hadn't contacted the police and filed a report. No wonder Helen had been so eager for me to leave. No crime had been committed because Loretta hadn't been chased or attacked at all. She'd been out there in the woods meeting someone. Someone Helen hated intensely. Someone Helen was ready and willing, perhaps even eager, to see dead. But who could that be? Carol Marie?
I crossed a ditch and stepped into the woods. The path was once again fairly obvious, even in the night, in the dark, which was only a city grayness, not a country blackness. This time, however, I was quiet. I didn't call out, try to ascertain what was going on. I was only listening, trying to hear where Loretta might be. I came to a large oak, stopped. A voice. Two voices. I looked to my right. Was there an opening, a clearing over there? I started, hesitated. The depth of the night was playing tricks. The sound was coming from the other way, off to the left.
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