Somebody I Used to Know

by David Bell

  “Believe me, I thought of it. I’ve thought of everything. From what I understand, the family had a rough go of it after their son died.”

  “You’d kind of expect that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course, but it’s still worth noting,” he said. “Their marriage broke up. The wife, Kendra Maberry, she never fully recovered from the shock of losing her child. She’s had some mental health and substance abuse issues. Mr. Maberry seemed to have moved on. Mrs. Maberry didn’t really.” There was a pause. “But I’m trying to think of a way Maberry would know Emily was Jade’s kid. How would he learn that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “How did he know to beat the crap out of the poor guy who just happened to drive the wrong-colored SUV?”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  When I walked in the door of the apartment, Riley danced a little and licked my hand, and we enjoyed a short walk around the complex. The evening felt warmer, the sky was clear after the previous night’s flurries. We had almost reached April, which felt like a milestone. Most of the cold weather was past, and nothing but budding flowers and green leaves and baseball stretched ahead. Even Riley seemed to feel it. Several times we stopped on the walk, and he lifted his head in the air, eyes half closed, as though he just wanted to soak in the warming breeze.

  But I was hungry, and I assumed he was as well. So we went back, and I fed him, and then I put something on the stove to feed myself. Spaghetti. The very meal I had intended to have but never ate the night I saw Emily at the grocery store. While I watched the pot boil, I tried to comprehend how much time had passed since that night. On a calendar, not much. A couple of weeks. The blink of an eye if I was talking about my entire life span. But where had that night led me? Far into the past, twenty years. How could such a brief, accidental encounter lead to so much?

  Then the phone rang, and it was Gina calling. I felt pleasantly surprised to see her name pop up on the caller ID screen. I hoped—again, I always hoped—she was looking for a way for Andrew and me to spend time together. Baseball was about to start, and he and I occasionally watched the Reds’ opening-day game together. Maybe she would let that tradition stand . . .

  “Nick?” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  The steam from the pot rose past my face. Gina sounded breathless, rushed.

  “I was worried you wouldn’t be home,” she said.

  “Is something the matter?”

  I heard the hesitation. Something was going on.

  “Gina?” I asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “Andrew’s fine. We’re both fine. I wasn’t going to call you about this. It didn’t seem like a big deal, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

  I put down the wooden spoon I was holding. “I’m worried now. What is it, Gina?”

  “Okay. Andrew had a little incident today.”

  “What kind of incident?” I asked. “Did he fall?”

  “I know you’re crazy about that boy, so I need you to remain cool about this. It might be nothing. It’s probably nothing.” She took a deep breath. “He was coming home from his friend Jay’s house. You know Jay?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s only a few blocks, so he was walking back. And, look, Nick . . . Jesus, it scares me just to say it. But someone pulled up in a car and tried to get Andrew to get in.”

  Steam continued to rise from the boiling pot on the stove, and the water rolled and cascaded, a few drops sloshing over the edge and sizzling on the hot burner. I placed my hand on the counter to steady myself.

  “A man?” I asked. “He tried to get Andrew?”

  “The person was wearing a hat and sunglasses. He offered Andrew a ride. He said Andrew needed to go with him, and if he did, everything would be fine.”

  I tried to listen. It sounded like Gina might have been crying. Gina never cried. Not when we got married, not when we split up, not when Andrew got shots at the doctor. She never cried. She was a rock. But she sounded like she was sniffling. “The man in the car said the most awful thing, Nick. Oh, shit, I really don’t want to tell you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Please don’t be hurt by this. Don’t take it personally or anything.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The man said that he was a friend of yours. He said you had sent him to get Andrew, and if he got in the car, he’d take him to you.”

  I held the phone against my ear while I eased my body down to the floor. When I was finally on the ground, I sat with my back against the cabinet under the sink, my free hand resting on my forehead. Riley came along and nosed against my side. The pot continued to boil and spit on the stove.

  “Andrew got away, Nick. He’s a smart boy. He knew you wouldn’t do that, so he ran. He ran right back here and came tearing through the door. He’s fine. I locked all the doors and called the police. They just left.”

  “Are you alone?” I asked.

  “I’m . . . Dale’s coming over. He’s going to spend the night.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “And the police are going to up their patrols or whatever,” she said, sounding confident. “Nick, the police are also on their way over to see you. I’m not supposed to call, but I had to tell you. I didn’t want them to be the ones to break this to you.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, feeling shaky.

  “They’re going to ask you questions.”

  “I’m not worried about it,” I said. “I’m worried about you and Andrew.”

  “Nick . . . we’re okay. Really. I’m trying to remember that this guy might just be a weirdo who wants to scare kids. Or he’s . . . I don’t know. I just know Andrew is home now. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.”

  Someone rang the front doorbell.

  “Okay,” I said. “They’re here. The police.”

  “Then I’m getting off the phone,” she said.

  “I’m going to check back with you later.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I stood up and turned off the burner. Riley followed me to the front of the apartment to answer the bell.

  * * *

  When I pulled the door open, I came face-to-face with Detective Reece. Again.

  I told him up front what my intentions were.

  “I’m going to my family,” I said.

  He held up his hand. “Not yet.”

  “You have to let me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, except ask you a few questions.” He pointed into the apartment. “Can we sit? Please?”

  But I refused to move.

  “You know what this is about,” I said. “It’s not about me. It’s those people, that Maberry guy.”

  Reece gently placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the apartment and then closing the door. “You think this was Maberry who tried to pick your kid up?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t think it either. Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind for the tiniest little second.”

  Reece didn’t act the least bit in a hurry. He sat on the sofa and didn’t say anything until I sat down as well. He looked as calm as a man waiting for a bus that wasn’t scheduled to come for another two hours.

  “Where were you this afternoon?” he asked.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “No, not this.”

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “Work. You can check. You called me there.”

  “On a Sunday?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “It happens sometimes. I’m getting caught up. Do I need to call my lawyer?”

  I reached for my phone. I had Brosius programmed. I could reach him in a minute.

  “Have things been okay with your ex-wife and son?” he asked.

  “She told you they have. Right? She couldn’t have said anything else.”

 
“And you don’t know anyone who would attempt to pick Andrew up this way?” he asked. “No friends? Relatives?”

  “I don’t have any relatives here. And Andrew knows my friends. No. I’m telling you, it’s Maberry. We just talked about it.”

  “And what interest would he have in your son?” Reece asked. He sounded curious and not dismissive. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know the kid. He doesn’t even know you exist.”

  I wanted to burst. I stood up. I raised my hands to my head. I nearly screamed.

  “I don’t know,” I said, managing to keep my voice somewhat level. “What else could it be?”

  “This person in the car, your stepson gave us a description. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. The suspect wore a hat and sunglasses and spoke in a soft voice. He said the person seemed older, and they were driving an expensive car, some kind of dark luxury sedan. Does it ring any bells?”

  I almost said it. Roger Kirby? I didn’t really know any other older well-off people. But Roger Kirby? Why? Just to scare me?

  So I reminded Reece of him. Kirby’s name had come up the night before when I was telling him about Jade.

  “This is the guy you thought was having an affair with Marissa?” Reece asked.

  “Yes. That’s the one.”

  I expected Reece to dismiss my wild connection, but he wrote something down in his notebook.

  “And that’s it?” he asked. “No one else? Troubles at work?”

  “Haven’t we been over this enough?”

  “What about this new boyfriend your ex-wife has?” Reece asked.

  “What about him?”

  “Have you met him?” he asked.

  “Yes, and I’m thrilled he’s spending the night with Gina and Andrew tonight. So can I go?”

  Reece gave me a long look. “Why are you going over there?”

  “I want to see Andrew,” I said. “I want to know he’s safe. Sometimes we can only do that with our own eyes.”

  Reece looked down at his notebook again. He nodded to himself and tucked it back into his pocket. He didn’t say anything to me, but he stood up, and I had the sense our conversation was over.

  I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone.

  At the door, Reece stopped and looked over at me.

  “This is three times I’m here in the last two months, Mr. Hansen. Normally when that happens with someone . . .”

  “They’re really in the soup,” I said.

  “I hope I’m not wrong about you,” Reece said, and then he walked out ahead of me.

  * * *

  I didn’t stay long inside Gina’s house. Dale was there, and Andrew was already getting ready for bed, but I was able to have a few minutes alone with him in his room.

  The kid was unruffled. He acted as though the incident with the stranger was no big deal, the kind of thing that happened to kids all the time. He said his mother taught him never to get into a car with a stranger no matter what they said. And he followed her instructions.

  “I ran fast,” he said. “No one could have caught me.”

  “I bet.”

  “Maybe I’ll go out for track someday.”

  “Maybe you will.” I looked at the clock on his bedside table. “Okay, time for bed. You’ve had an adventurous day.”

  Before I left the room, he said, “You look tired, Nick. You should sleep too.”

  “I’m on my way,” I said.

  But I didn’t return home. I went through a drive-through and bought the biggest coffee they had and a couple of greasy burgers. I drove back to Gina’s street and parked across from her house.

  I stayed there all night, watching.

  I wouldn’t leave them alone. No chance in hell.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Someone tapped on the window. I jumped.

  It took a moment for my circumstances to come back to me.

  The street. Gina’s house. Andrew. I’d fallen asleep.

  I looked out the window.

  Gina waved at me. I rolled down the window. My neck ached, and I was cold despite wrapping myself in a coat. A sour, stale taste filled my mouth. I needed to brush my teeth.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Were you out here all night?” she asked, her voice wavering between disapproval and admiration. “Never mind. I know the answer to that. Of course you were.”

  “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

  “You’re lucky the police didn’t arrest you,” she said.

  “They didn’t drive by as much as I thought they would.” I turned my neck one way and then the other, trying to work out the kinks. Cool air blew in through the window. “I almost called Reece and asked for more cops, but it was the middle of the night.”

  “We were fine,” Gina said. “I think it’s all fine.”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t want to alarm her more than she already was, so I just asked, “Did Andrew sleep okay? Was he scared or anything?”

  “He did fine.” She looked over my wrinkled clothes and the empty coffee cups and fast-food wrappers. “I think he was more at ease than you were.”

  “I just took a nap at the very end there,” I said.

  “Are you planning on doing this every night?” Gina asked.

  “I haven’t thought that far yet.”

  “Well,” she said. “I have to get to work and get the kid to school. You probably need to be moving on too.”

  “Does the school know about last night?” I asked. “Are they going to keep a closer eye on him?”

  “I wasn’t even going to let him go to school today. I really wasn’t. But I spoke to the principal, and she assured me they’d keep a careful eye on him. She made me feel better, and I guess it makes sense for his life to be normal. I don’t want him to sit at home with me locked in the house.”

  I couldn’t think of any other angles to cover. I felt like there should be, but I couldn’t summon them in my groggy, overly tired state.

  Gina bent down closer to the open window. She placed her hand on my arm. “You need to take care of yourself, Nick. Go home and clean up.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I know my breath stinks.”

  “And, Nick?” She squeezed my arm tighter. “Thanks. You’re really a champ.”

  “I just . . . well, you know I care about Andrew.” I waited, not sure if it seemed right. “And you,” I said. “We may not make a good married couple, but I do like you.”

  “I know. On both counts. And we care about you. Both of us.”

  She squeezed my arm one more time and walked off toward the house.

  * * *

  The time at work dragged. When lunch rolled around, I fought to keep my eyes open. I walked downtown to try to get my blood flowing and then ate a sandwich in a diner on the square and swallowed several more cups of coffee but still remained groggy. A nervous, jittery groggy. Not an improvement.

  I decided to walk it off. The day was warm, the sun bright. Everywhere I looked, it was spring. I saw couples paired off, pregnant women pushing strollers. The planters around downtown, the ones maintained by the city, overflowed with budding flowers. I ambled with no purpose in mind, or so I told myself, but I quickly saw where my legs were taking me. I crossed the edge of the campus and walked toward the street where Marissa lived.

  More students were out, thanks to the warm weather. They threw Frisbees around the Hightower Meadow, the guys with their shirts off, the women catching the sun on their bare arms and legs. Music played and people laughed, and it wasn’t hard to get caught up in the energy of their youth. I wished I could step into one of their bodies or extract some of the life from them. But I also wanted to issue a warning. You never know, I wanted to say. You just never know where your life will take you.

  But I wouldn’t have listened to a middle-aged guy when I w
as twenty, and I assumed they wouldn’t listen to me. And I didn’t want to stop because if I did, even for a moment, I might not go ahead and do what I intended to do.

  It took just a few minutes to reach the end of Blakemoor Street. Marissa’s street. I’d passed by there many times over the years without making the turn. But on that day I made it. I turned right and started walking up Blakemoor. Marissa’s house had sat on the left side, halfway up the block. The houses all looked the same as they had twenty years earlier. A new coat of paint here, some improved landscaping there, but otherwise the same. The recycling bins on the porches were filled with beer cans and wine bottles. The furniture looked grubby, telling me students still lived there. And then, when I reached the spot—number 784—I stopped.

  Marissa’s house had been limestone with a wide front porch and three dormer windows across the top. The house built in its place was made of red brick. The porch was smaller, the second floor larger. I glanced at the sides of the house and around the yard. Nothing to indicate a fire had ever taken place there. No rubble or charred remnants of the former house. No candles or makeshift memorials. Why should there be? The kids who lived in the house may not have been born when four people died on that spot. It meant nothing to them.

  The door of the house opened just then. A young guy with long hair came bounding out and down the steps. I wasn’t sure if he’d even noticed me as he approached. He whistled while he walked and carried a small stack of books under his arm.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, only mildly curious about me.

  “Nice house,” I said.

  He looked back like he’d never seen it before. “Yeah, it is.”

  “I’m an alum,” I said, as if he cared.

  “Right on.” He pointed at the house. “Did you used to live here?”

  “No,” I said. “Some friends did.”

  “Cool. You must have good memories to be coming back like this.”

  I started to explain but decided against it. I settled for simple agreement.