Somebody I Used to Know

by David Bell

  I grabbed for her from behind, and then climbed over her, both of us clutching at the gun. My hand landed on top of hers, and beneath it I felt the heavy steel of the weapon. We both squeezed at it, trying to get a grip. She jerked her free arm back, using her elbow against my side. She couldn’t get a clear strike in, and while she tried that, I shifted my weight on her back. I leveraged my body up, moving along her back, until I placed my knee against her spine. I leaned in, applying pressure, and then more pressure. She grunted beneath me, her breaths coming in shorter and more labored bursts, and I felt her hand loosen until I was able to knock the gun away.

  Then sirens.

  I heard sirens.

  I didn’t let up on the pressure. I held it steady, keeping her against the floor.

  And then people were coming through the door.

  Hands grabbed me from behind, tossing me to the side. Several cops in dark uniforms, their voices loud and efficient.

  “Are you okay, sir?”

  “Are you Nick Hansen?”

  “Do you need medical attention?”

  I couldn’t answer any of them.

  They grabbed Kendra Maberry, pulled her hands behind her, and cuffed her, and then asked her if she needed medical attention.

  I held my breath. Had I hurt her? Even though she had tried to kill me, I was suddenly worried I had injured her.

  Then she said, “I’m fine, dammit. I’m fine.”

  I tried to breathe evenly, to return to normal.

  And I did—at last—feel like I was okay.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  The police led Kendra Maberry out of the apartment, informing her of her rights, and then after they hovered over me for a few more minutes, asking again if I needed medical attention, which I told them I didn’t, I shifted my attention to Riley.

  He turned in circles a couple of times, his belly low to the floor, his ears pinned back. When I got close enough to examine him, he made a whimpering sound and stopped moving, settling onto the carpet ungracefully, letting his legs give way as his body weight took over.

  “What is it, boy? What’s the matter?”

  I looked at his head. A knot had already risen where Kendra struck him during the struggle, and I knew Riley had taken one or two other blows in my defense.

  “Mr. Hansen?” one of the cops asked behind me. “Do you need help?”

  “I’m checking on my dog.”

  “We need to ask you some questions.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Not really.”

  I stood up. Two cops waited by the front door, and outside I saw the swirling blue lights and figures moving about in the darkness. “You’re going to have to. This dog saved my life tonight. I have to get him to a vet.”

  I returned to the floor, and Riley moved his eyes in my direction. He looked tired and pathetic, as though he’d just given everything he had.

  “Detective Reece is on his way—”

  “That’s great,” I said. “He knows me. He knows I’m not going anywhere. And he knows I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to take my dog to the animal hospital, and I’ll meet Reece at the station or wherever he wants me.”

  I gently eased my arms under Riley’s body and lifted him up.

  He whimpered a little more but didn’t resist as I carried him to the parking lot. The neighbors had gathered, gawking. I recognized a few.

  “Shit,” I said, more to myself. “No car.”

  A woman stepped forward, someone I recognized from seeing her walk her own dogs. She came over and stroked Riley’s head. “Poor guy,” she said. “Is he okay?”

  “I need to get him to the vet. I don’t have a car. Mine got smashed out on the road.”

  “Come on,” she said. She led me to a Volvo wagon and lifted the hatch. “Put him in there.” I did. “I’ll drive you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. He needs help. And I love dogs. Let’s go.”

  “Thank you.”

  I climbed in, while she started the car. As we backed out, I looked, and I couldn’t see Riley. His head was down.

  “All those years, you didn’t make a sound,” I said. “You were saving it up for when I really needed you.”

  * * *

  They took Riley back as soon as I got to the animal hospital and for a short time I paced around the waiting room, wishing there was more I could do. My neighbor—who said her name was Alicia—offered to stay with me, but I told her to go home. She did, but only when I promised to tell her how Riley was doing as soon as I heard, a promise I was more than happy to make. While I resumed my pacing, Reece called and asked me how soon I could make it to the station to, as he put it, tie up all the loose ends. I told him I didn’t know when I’d get away. He tried his best to show patience and understanding, but then gently reminded me that the things he was dealing with were kind of urgent as well.

  “This woman here tried to kill you,” he said.

  I promised to hurry up.

  Not long after the call, I was liberated. A technician came out and told me Riley was going to be there all night. When I pressed for more information, she told me what she knew.

  “He’s an old dog, and he’s been through a lot. We’re going to do everything we can.”

  * * *

  I walked the four blocks to the station. I called Brosius on the way, waking him up and letting him know all the events of the evening. He said he’d be there soon, but I told him to hold off. He warned me to be careful, but I assured him I felt pretty safe from prosecution or suspicion given everything that had happened.

  I ended up at Reece’s desk, telling him the whole story. The drive home, Kendra Maberry’s car ramming into mine and pushing me into the culvert, the chase through the complex and to my apartment door.

  “She admitted to everything,” I said. “Killing Emily. Trying to kidnap Andrew. She was the one doing all of it. We were assuming it was the dad. I assumed it was the dad.”

  “And all of it because of that car accident in Hanfort, the one that killed her kid?”

  “Yes,” I said. “All because Marissa drove away. And her dad convinced her not to go back.”

  Reece sat there tapping a pencil against the top of the desk. “She’s an ambitious person, I’ll give her that. Ambitious when it comes to vengeance.”

  “Relentless.”

  “Until she ran into your wonder dog.”

  “Right. Never underestimate Riley,” I said.

  “I’m going to get back to talking to Mrs. Maberry now that we have your side of things. She’s in for a long night, and so are we.”

  “What about her ex-husband?” I asked. “She told me—”

  “We’re paying him a visit right now. We’ll see what role he played in getting Mrs. Maberry on the revenge trail. He’s not off the hook.”

  “Good. I was also going to ask you about Jade. Is she ready to go?”

  “She can’t go yet either,” he said. “But she did ask to talk to you, and, out of the kindness of my heart, I agreed to give you a few minutes together.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Reece stood up, and so did I, but before we left the area of his desk, he held his hand out to me. I took it in mine, and we shook.

  “Thanks, Mr. Hansen,” he said. “It’s been a long, strange trip, hasn’t it?”

  “The most complicated trip to the grocery store I’ve ever taken.”

  * * *

  Reece opened the door of the small room, and I saw Jade sitting inside at a functional table with a Formica top. There were two chairs in addition to the one she sat in, and when she looked up and saw me, she smiled, relief playing across her face.

  “I’ll be back pretty soon,” Reece said, and then he stepped away, closing the door as he left.


  I looked around the room. It contained none of the things I was used to seeing on cop shows. No two-way mirror, no recording equipment or cameras. No rubber hoses or brass knuckles. I walked over and took a seat next to Jade.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Jade said.

  “You heard about what happened?” I asked.

  “I heard that they got her. A mother. A mother doing all of that.”

  “How far would you go to avenge your child’s death?”

  “I wouldn’t kill another mother’s child,” she said, her voice bitter. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” She looked at the tabletop and picked at a chip in the finish. “She’s here somewhere, isn’t she?”

  “She is.” I folded my hands on top of the table and studied Jade’s face. She looked tired, as tired as when I’d found her in the cemetery, but she didn’t appear to have been crying. “I was thinking . . . I’m an only child. You might be the closest thing I’ve ever had to a baby sister.”

  She smiled, reaching out her hand to where mine were folded. “That’s sweet,” she said. “And I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to thank you for bringing me here to the police. It was the right decision.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. And you’ve been mostly right about everything. You thought it was the Maberrys, and it was.”

  Jade wore an unsettled look on her face. Something brewed inside her, something she wanted to tell me.

  “What?” I asked.

  She lowered her voice. “You know how you said that if I told this story it would be a way to end all of this once and for all?”

  “I said that, yes.” I wondered what she was driving at. She seemed to be suggesting something deeper, more permanent. “What do you have in mind, Jade?”

  “I’m really going to end it all, right here.” She leaned closer, although I doubted anyone was listening to our conversation. “I’m going to tell them I was driving the car that day. I’m going to tell them I’m the one who ran over that little boy, little Samuel Maberry. That will get Marissa off the hook. It really will all end right here.”

  “No, Jade, I wasn’t asking you to do that.”

  “I know you weren’t. But it makes sense now that I’m here.”

  “How does it make sense?” I asked.

  “Don’t you see?” she asked. “This will set Marissa free. She can live her life without fear of this coming back to haunt her someday. She keeps saying she’s going to admit to everything when her kids are old enough, but do her kids need her any less just because they turn eighteen?” Jade looked at me, but she seemed to be seeing past me, to something only she could envision. “I don’t have any children. I never did, really, but I certainly don’t have any now with Meredith gone.” Her focus sharpened, her eyes fixing on me. “I started all of this, remember? I got involved with an older man and got pregnant. I called Marissa home. I distracted her in the car that day. It was all me. She can be done with it. And so can you.”

  “Jade—”

  But she wasn’t listening. She turned away and bent down to the floor, where she rummaged through her purse. She came back up, holding a piece of paper. “Take this,” she said, pressing it into the palm of my hand. “Read it later. You’ll thank me for it.”

  “Marissa doesn’t want you to do this, and neither do I. I can just tell Reece you’re lying. We already told him Marissa was driving—”

  “Your word against mine,” she said. “And I was there. I’m the only one besides Marissa who was there, and I don’t see her around.” She placed her hand over my closed fist, the one that held the piece of paper. She squeezed my hand tight, as though she wanted to mash the paper into pulp. “Later.”

  Reece opened the door and stuck his head into the room. “Time’s up, Nick.”

  I looked up at him, starting to say something. Jade squeezed my hand even tighter, so that my nails dug into my own palms.

  I met her look and saw the earnestness there, the plea for me to shut up and let her say what she wanted to say. And I’ll admit I was selfish about it. I wanted Marissa off the hook as much as Jade did. More. Even if I wasn’t going to be with her again, I didn’t want to think of her living under the cloud of legal jeopardy for the rest of her life. The guilt she carried would be enough.

  “Good-bye, Jade,” I said.

  “Thanks, Nick. For everything.”

  Reece held the door for me, and I walked out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  I stepped out into the parking lot, intending to go back to the animal hospital and wait. I checked my watch. Three thirty in the morning. I didn’t feel tired at all. Sore, yes, but not tired.

  I didn’t have a car, and I thought about going back inside and arranging a ride home with the police. The sodium vapor lights glowed above, making the asphalt lot feel like the moon.

  I held the crumpled paper in my hand and was about to open it when something Jade said came back to me.

  I got involved with an older man and got pregnant.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  I needed a car. I had a drive to make.

  * * *

  I was the first customer at the rental car agency in Eastland, and by six fifteen I was driving out of town. I arrived in Hanfort with a little time to kill, but I didn’t mind. I was wired, anxious. I waited in the parking lot, my eyes glued to the door of the office.

  When Roger Kirby finally arrived just before seven thirty, he locked his car and walked across the blacktop, attaché case swinging by his side, looking like a man without a care. I pushed open the door of my rented Toyota and took a few quick strides, intercepting him before he reached the door.

  When he saw me, his head jerked back in surprise, as though my very presence before him was some kind of slap.

  “Mr. Hansen?” he said. He looked around the lot. “What are you doing here so early? I don’t think we had an appointment.”

  “No, we didn’t. I figured you’d want to talk about this here rather than at your house. With your wife around.”

  “My wife? What does she have to do with anything?”

  “I’m a fool, Mr. Kirby. You were with Marissa the night of the fire. My friend saw you. I assumed the worst, that you and she were involved in some way. Romantically involved. I guess I was just a jealous and insecure little college boy back then who couldn’t handle that his girlfriend had dumped him without explanation.”

  Roger Kirby set his briefcase on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you realized that.”

  “I know you went to Eastland because Marissa’s dad asked you, to smooth the transition as the family ran away from that accident. Right?”

  “What are you driving at, Mr. Hansen?” he asked. “As usual, I find your questions pretty tiring, and the day just started.”

  “You weren’t fooling around with Marissa. But you were more than happy to help the family rush to get out of town and away from Hanfort. It made your life a lot better, didn’t it?”

  “Brent Minor was my best friend,” he said.

  “And Jade Minor was carrying your baby. You were involved with one of those girls, just not Marissa.”

  Kirby lowered his hands. For one second, a shock passed across his eyes, a flare of exposure like the flash of a camera as my words sank in, penetrating the veil of propriety he had erected over the rest of his life. But just as quickly, the defenses were up again. The wall still stood.

  “You’re an aggravating little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “You were never good enough for that girl anyway—Marissa. The family let you hang around like a little puppy. They didn’t want to leave town, of course, but it sure made it easier to give you the brush-off once and for all.” He let out a short, condescending laugh. “They used to joke about you, Brent and Joan, when the kids weren’t around. ‘What are we going to do if Marissa wants to marry that p
athetic Hansen boy?’”

  “Your own flesh-and-blood daughter died,” I said. “She was murdered. Do you even care?”

  “What do you want from me, Hansen? Yes, it was a horrible mistake to get involved with that immature girl. Maybe I did sweat bullets some nights thinking she’d tell her parents the truth, but she never did. I think . . . events were moving awfully fast back then. For all of us. Besides, I didn’t break any laws by being with the girl.”

  “Wasn’t she only seventeen?” I asked. “Isn’t that breaking the law?”

  He ignored the question.

  “And you also broke laws by covering up their crimes,” I said. “And Jade is with the police right now, telling them the whole story.”

  He bent down and picked up the briefcase. “Statute of limitations. Conspiracy or something like that.” He waved me off dismissively. “Keep tilting at windmills, boy. It might be the one thing you’re good at.”

  He bumped against me as he walked past, his shoulder knocking into mine, sending me stumbling back a couple of steps.

  “You could have helped them,” I said. “If you were their friend, you could have been the voice of reason. You could have sat Brent Minor down and told him to do the right thing, to let Marissa tell the truth. We all could have been spared the last twenty years. That girl, your daughter, would be alive. Her name’s Emily.”

  He stopped and looked back at me. “I was nothing but a good friend. All the way. That night I was in Eastland, the night of the fire, I helped Marissa out of a jam that you caused.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  He took two steps toward me and spoke with his index finger raised. “Some crazy girl, some bimbo who wanted to go out with you . . . She confronted us outside of Marissa’s house when I picked her up that night. The other kids were supposed to be gone, but this girl just popped up. She screamed at Marissa, saying you wouldn’t go out with her because you were still hung up on Marissa. It was so fucking childish. So . . . embarrassing for all of us. That emotional girl just ranting and raving. She looked like a lunatic. So I stepped in. Marissa was very upset, and she was already distraught because of the accident, but I got the girl to leave us alone.” He jabbed with his finger more. “I told her you weren’t worth being upset about. And she never could or should touch or come near Marissa again.” He straightened up, acting very proud of himself, pulling his jacket into place with both hands. “I knew how to defuse the situation. I always did that for them. I always pulled Brent’s nuts out of the fire, in life and in business. And that’s all I was doing in the wake of that accident. Nothing else matters.”