No One Knows

by J. T. Ellison

  Josh ran his hands through his hair. “Derek. Don’t make me do this.”

  “You’re doing it, and that’s final.”

  It was another two hours before Allen dismissed him, after drills upon drills of how they were going to make this work.

  Finally, he set down the pointer. “Good. That will work. Now, come here, kid. We need to have a chat.”

  Josh felt his heart jump into his throat again. Maybe he was wrong; maybe Allen did know. Fuck.

  “Have a seat.”

  Josh took the chair. At this point, if he argued anymore, Allen was going to get suspicious. But he was caught by surprise.

  “I’m really proud of you, kid. This is an important deal, the biggest one of my career. This dude is big-time, and I don’t want his people thinking they can push me around. We’re gonna show him we’re strong, unstoppable.”

  “One question. Why?”

  “Because I need them to understand I’m the right guy to do business with, and that we’re going to be doing things my way, not theirs. We need to send the right message. We aren’t going to be bought. They’re going to work with us. For us. We’re the ones with the product they want. And you’re the one who can make it happen for me. You’re my leverage. I just wanted to say thank you.”

  Josh was shocked, and his face certainly didn’t hide that. Allen laughed. “I know. That sounds crazy to you. But you’ve added an element of class to this operation. You’re smart, and I trust you. Do you see any issues with the plan?”

  “Outside of me being the one who’s supposed to rob this guy, and the fact that if I screw it up, his people will probably hunt us down and kill us both? No. It’s solid.”

  “You’re going to do fine. Don’t worry about it. He won’t see you coming. Just stick to the program and you’ll sail right through.” He hung an arm over Josh’s chair, leaned in, the good cheer gone. “One last thing. You realize if I go down, we all go down, right?”

  “Always.”

  “Good. I’m pretty sure this will happen sometime this weekend. So be ready. And no leaks.”

  “I can’t this weekend.”

  “Yes, you can. And you will.”

  “No, seriously. My best friend is getting married, and I’m in charge of his bachelor party. I’m tied up the whole weekend. I’m the best man. I can’t just not show up.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” He smiled. “When I give you the signal, you’re going to get yourself in place and get me that briefcase. Do you understand?”

  “What’s the signal?”

  Allen stood, effectively dismissing Josh. “Trust me. You’ll know.”

  CHAPTER 57

  Chase

  Aubrey shouldn’t have forgiven him. Not that she’d said the words, exactly; there’d been no benediction, no blessing, just a sad stroke of his forehead and those limpid eyes, hurt flaring inside them, then compassion at his confusion.

  How could he have been so stupid? How could he have allowed himself to be manipulated like this? He thought he was the one doing the game playing, yet it had all been a big joke on him, hadn’t it? He’d lost Aubrey for good, and he was in over his head with this story.

  He drove away from Aubrey’s house, drove in circles for an hour, looping through Nashville, until he found himself at the hospital.

  He wound his way around the crazy hallways. He finally found Daisy’s room, but it was empty. A nurse at the central station told him she’d been taken back into surgery, and he could wait in the surgical floor lounge.

  He hurried there, only to find Tom sitting defeated in a chair. He was asleep, chin in hand, a cooling cup of coffee to his right.

  He should wake him, ask to help. Tell him Daisy was his mother, that he should be on watch with her. Sharing the duties.

  He started forward, then stopped himself. What was he going to do? Wait? There were no answers here. She wouldn’t know he was there. She wouldn’t want to meet him like this.

  Out then, into the Nashville evening again. To the drunken girls wandering Lower Broad and the anonymity of the tourist-packed streets, the vast sameness of it all.

  He tried to lose himself. He walked the streets of SoBro for an hour, one thought purling through his mind.

  He wanted Aubrey back. How was he going to get her back?

  He drove his rental to the Sheraton, booked a room for the night. He took the elevator up to a space that was a replica of every hotel room he’d ever been in, took a shower, lay on the bed. How royally had he fucked up?

  He should call her. Call and beg to come back over, to talk. To explain again, to find a way to make her understand. To find a way to keep her safe.

  He didn’t care about any of it, just knew that the thought of never seeing her again made him quiver in pain. He could fix this. He knew he could.

  He started to dial her number, but hesitated. He shouldn’t ask permission; he should just go over there, sweep her into his arms, use his body to explain. He had to do something to shake off this hideous feeling of dread that he was about to lose everything.

  Because if he truly did lose Aubrey for good, he’d never forgive himself.

  There was a knock at the hotel room door. He thought about ignoring it, but whoever it was, anything would be a welcome distraction from his current thoughts.

  He set down the phone and flung open the door, only to be greeted by a familiar face.

  “Hello, Chase.”

  CHAPTER 58

  Aubrey

  Five Years Ago

  When Nashville Metro stood her in front of the white board for her mug shot, Aubrey cringed. She couldn’t believe they’d arrested her. How they could think she’d murdered Josh?

  The minute the cops figured out that she had a juvie record, they started pushing her, hard, and she lost it. On went the cuffs. It was unfair, and frightening, and she didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, Arlo had hooked her up with a defense attorney who worked at the firm he’d interned in. The firm encouraged pro bono work, and so the lawyer was jovial, albeit a little reserved. His name was Hornby. Reginald Hornby. Call me Reg. He met with her on a Thursday, when it looked like the cops might actually try to press charges against her, nearly a week after Josh had disappeared. Asked all sorts of questions.

  What was your relationship like?

  Not was like, is like. It’s very good. We love each other. We’ve loved each other for years, since we were kids.

  And do you argue?

  Like everyone, we have occasional spats. Nothing serious.

  Money issues?

  Of course. Josh is in medical school. It’s expensive. But we have a budget, stick to it. Nothing unmanageable.

  And you work a second job to help make ends meet?

  Yes. Is that a bad thing?

  No, no, just asking. Trying to get to know you and your relationship.

  Aren’t you going to ask if I did it?

  Nope. I don’t want to know.

  What do you mean, you don’t want to know?

  First rule of criminal defense, Mrs. Hamilton. The less I know about exactly what and how you committed the crime, the better.

  For the record, I didn’t. This is all bullshit.

  Of course it is, dear. Now. Was your husband seeing anyone else?

  Are you kidding? Of course not. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t.

  Don’t get upset. I need to cover all the bases. Did he have any vices? Drugs? Alcohol? You know how these med students like their speed.

  My husband would never do drugs. We have experience with that, in our family, and he knows what a bad road it is.

  All right. He sounds like a pretty nice guy. Now, I need to hear everything about the night Josh disappeared. Start to finish.

  And so she told him.

  CHAPTER 59
<
br />   Josh

  Five Years Ago

  Josh looked at his watch for the tenth time in ten minutes and tapped his fingers on the banister.

  “Aubrey, come on already. We’re going to be late.”

  “I’m coming, hon. Minor hair disaster.”

  “When is it not?” he murmured.

  “I heard that.”

  A moment later, Aubrey appeared at the top of the stairs. Bedecked in a simple pink sheath, her curly dark blond hair piled on her head, a simple strand of pearls around her neck, she looked stunning, and highly annoyed.

  “You’re breathtaking,” he said, and she shot him one of her most sardonic looks as she came down the stairs. She was wearing heels, and clung to the banister, which he found incredibly funny. He’d thought all women were born with an innate ability to totter around on those stupid stilettos, but his wife proved otherwise. Get her out of sneakers, clogs, or flip-flops and she had all the grace of an elephant on roller skates.

  “Yeah. Forty minutes of straightening and the whole mess curled up again as soon as I turned the iron off. Why do I even bother?”

  “Because if you didn’t, you’d spend the evening wishing you had. It looks great, sweetie. You know I like it pulled up like that anyway. Grab your coat, we are so far behind.”

  “You shouldn’t have played golf this morning then.”

  “You should have agreed to stay at the damn hotel last night, too, and I wouldn’t have had to come home to shower.”

  “Touché,” she grinned, and he smiled back. It felt good to smile. Good, normal.

  Their bags were already packed in the car for the long weekend. Another wedding. They joked that they’d become like the characters in Four Weddings and a Funeral. But the spate of invitations that began rolling in three years earlier would finally end tomorrow, when the last of their tight group of friends pulled the trigger and joined the crowd of smug marrieds. And of course, there’d been no funeral, so maybe it wasn’t the most apropos analogy.

  Josh was the best man for this one, Kevin Sulman the lucky bridegroom. The wedding weekend had commenced Thursday with an around-the-world bar crawl—girls in one representative hemisphere devouring margaritas, the boys in another downing Guinness—and resumed on Friday morning with a more sedate golf round for the gents and a high tea for the ladies, followed by tonight’s bachelor-bachelorette extravaganza.

  Josh had tried to talk Kevin out of doing the bachelor party the night before the wedding. The last thing anyone wanted was to be hung over, standing in front of two hundred people in a stuffy church. But Kevin just shook his head and said, “Hell no, man. I ain’t waking up in Thailand and scrambling to get home. All I want is a few beers, a couple of strippers, and Janie to fall all over herself worrying about me looking at titties all night. No sense giving her more to fret about than that.”

  Kevin always was the responsible one.

  Aubrey turned in a circle, making sure she had everything, grabbed her bag and met Josh’s eyes. “Ready.”

  Josh set the alarm and held open the door to the garage. Only five minutes behind schedule now. That was dealable.

  They settled themselves in the car, the Audi Quattro Josh got for a steal at an auction house. The engine was still throaty, and the car handled beautifully. They’d fixed it up, vacuumed and Armor All’d and waxed it until it gleamed. He pulled out of the garage carefully, then shut the door and headed out of the driveway.

  “You know I’m dreading this,” Aubrey said.

  “Why? Men with tassels on their privates don’t turn you on?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He glanced over at her, then ran his hand up her thigh. She hadn’t worn hose, and her legs were smooth. He pinched her knee at the spot he knew tickled and said, “Me neither. But it will all be fine. I promise.”

  “Josh, watch out!”

  He turned his head forward, instinctively braking and throwing his arm in front of Aubrey well before he saw the black sedan that had stopped suddenly in front of them. He braced himself for the sickening crunch that followed: loosening his hold on the steering wheel, letting his muscles relax, taking his foot off the clutch. All this without batting an eyelash or thinking it through, just reacting. All those driving lessons from his father, all the near misses with his mother—both had swung their arm across to save him. And now he did it for his wife.

  The car in front of them must have heard the squeal of the tires locking up because the driver hit the gas and lurched forward. That move saved them from serious injury. Instead of hitting the car from behind going forty miles an hour, the blow was cushioned so it seemed more like twenty. Still bad enough to crumple the fender and the hood and make the air bags pop free with a gigantic hiss. Still bad enough to knock the wind out of Josh. Still bad enough to hurt.

  Once the shock of the collision passed, he knew he was okay. The pain across his chest was just the impact from the safety belt and the air bag. After a few tentative breaths he was able to bat the bag out of the way and reach for Aubrey. Surprise and fear and gratitude etched new lines on her face; her mouth was open in a round little O. Her hair had tumbled down from its clip, falling loose and curly around her shoulders, and her eyes were wide.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I think so. Are you?”

  “Yeah. I better check on the driver of the other car.”

  “Should I call the police?”

  “Just hang tight for a second. Let me see how bad things are first.”

  She nodded again. Her face was blank now, the panoply of emotions that she’d first shown gone as reality set in.

  Josh managed to get the door open without too much trouble. He didn’t step from the car, but sort of fell out, just losing his balance for a moment. His knees hit the pavement, and he looked down at himself briefly, expecting to see blood or a severed limb. There was nothing. He was unscathed.

  The driver of the black sedan had gotten out as well and was shouting at him. He was a middle-aged suit: perfectly combed hair, thin build, and obviously pissed off.

  Derek Allen.

  Fuck. The signal.

  Josh put his hands up in the universal nonthreatening “sorry, man” gesture, but Allen kept coming. Kept in character, putting on a little show for the crowd who’d gathered.

  “What the hell were you doing? It was a stoplight. Are you a complete idiot?”

  “Dude, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I looked away for half a second. Are you okay?”

  That calmed the man down a bit.

  “Please tell me you have insurance.”

  “Of course I have insurance. And I’m sure it will cover all the damage to your car.”

  Speaking of which . . . Josh walked to the front of the Audi, which had held its basic shape, even though the bumper and hood were mashed in. The sedan they’d hit was barely scratched, just a tiny dent where the Audi’s fog lights had dug into the bumper. The sunlight sparkled in a deep scrape on the Audi’s hood. Down to the metal. To the bone.

  The fucker.

  Josh looked at the sedan’s minimal damage and shook his head. Aubrey had gotten out of the car now, and was looking forlornly at the front fender and hood.

  “Oh, Josh. Our baby.”

  Allen’s head whipped around. “You’re pregnant?”

  She shook her head. “No, not me. The car. It’s our baby.”

  The flustered look dropped from his face, and he smiled. “Oh. I was . . . Never mind.”

  “We should probably call the police,” Aubrey said.

  Allen shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no need for all that. I’ll just take your information. My car won’t need much work. I can probably push that dent out. And if I have to pay to get it fixed, well, I trust you. You seem like a nice young couple.”

  A car horn sound
ed; traffic was starting to jam up.

  “Why don’t we push your car over onto the shoulder and get you out of the way?”

  Out of the way. Josh realized his hands were shaking. What the fuck kind of message was this supposed to be, anyway?

  Josh felt the sweat trickle down the small of his back, not entirely sure if it was from heat or frustration.

  Allen continued his ministrations. “Why don’t I call you a tow? I know a good one nearby, he’ll treat you fairly.”

  Aubrey shook her head—she was never one to take help when she didn’t absolutely have to have it. “We appreciate that, sir, but I’ve already called AAA.”

  Josh bit his tongue—actually, sliding a twenty at a random tow truck operator sounded much more appealing than waiting for God knew how long for the AAA folks to show, but Aubrey had already shaken Allen’s hand and wagged her phone at him. Responsible Aubrey, always on top of things.

  As much as it burned him to see Allen touching his wife, he had to admit, she was working her magic on him. He’d gone from furious to pussycat in a matter of moments, as soon as Aubrey stepped from the car. He was always amazed at her effect on people.

  “Well then. I guess it’s time for me to go. Sorry again for your troubles.” He tipped an imaginary hat at Aubrey, then turned to Josh. He put his hand on Josh’s shoulder and propelled him three feet away. Josh’s dad had done that when he was growing up. It usually preceded a lesson, the hard way, the kind that ended in a belt. But Derek Allen just leaned his head in, smiled a vulpine smile, and said, “Just in case you were having second thoughts, I felt I needed to make a point. Don’t even think about fucking this up for me. You see what I can do? One heartbeat, Hamilton, and it’s over. Besides, I couldn’t have you driving your own car to the meet, now could I? You have two hours. Do this right, or so help me God, I’ll kill her.”

  He turned on his heel, got in the car, and drove off.

  Josh watched him go, his heart beating triple time. He turned to Aubrey. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to the interplay. She stood in front of the wrecked Audi, staring at the front end of the car. She had blood running down her chin, about to ruin her beautiful pink dress. That snapped him back to reality.