“Pete knows something about my sister’s disappearance,” I say wearily. I want answers, but I’m no longer so certain he’s the one who can give them to me.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” asserts Pete without conviction. The hours on the boat have given us all time to think. Maybe he’s tired of lying.
“He’s talking about you making a distress call the night his sister went missing,” says Reesie.
“Sorry, I can’t help you.” He turns away, his eyes on the horizon, where the sun is dropping into the sea.
“People saw you leave with her,” insists Zach.
“They know it was you who made that call,” says Reesie. We exchange glances. Like me, she’s felt the shift in him.
“I don’t know what happened,” he croaks. I realize, to my absolute amazement, that he’s crying and I almost feel sorry for him.
“It’s okay, Pete,” says Tracy earnestly. “We need to tell them the truth now.”
CHAPTER 17
Dr. Jake insists we all go into the office and sit down. He sends Tracy across the road for cold drinks, so minutes later, I’m relaxing on an overstuffed sofa sipping a cold one. Zach and Reesie are flanking me on either side while I wait for my sister’s attacker to finally spill his guts. He’s taking his time, sitting where Dr. Jake has placed him in a straight-backed chair across the room. Dr. Jake has pulled up another chair for himself an equal distance between us. Tracy is hovering in the doorway. She could bring in a chair from the outer room but doesn’t.
“Tell us what happened, son,” Dr. Jake prompts.
The kindness in his voice reminds me that he and Pete have history. He hired him, trusted him, probably respected him. But he cared about my sister as well. I have to believe he’ll make sure she gets justice.
Pete exhales, takes a long drag on his cigarette, a slug of his beer, and stares at a point just beyond me. I wonder if he can feel Pat’s presence in the room like I do.
“I wanted her from the first time I saw her,” he begins.
Reesie reaches for my hand, which is already curling into a fist.
“She seemed like she might be interested at first. We flirted at work, but I could never get past first base. It was like she was always waiting for someone better to come along.”
“An egotistical, smart-ass jock not good enough for her; that’s hard to figure,” I interject.
“The night she disappeared, I thought maybe I was finally going to get my shot.”
“I thought you and Tracy were dating,” says Dr. Jake, looking confused.
Tracy’s mouth twists before she forces a good-natured smile.
“We were never serious,” she says.
“The minute Tricia met your brother, it was game over for me,” continues Pete, glancing at Reesie. “But that night, the night she disappeared, she and Jamie had a fight and she came to me for comfort. I told her he wasn’t good enough for her.”
I feel Reesie start to rise, and I’m glad I’m still holding her hand as I gently pull her back.
“I bought her a few drinks. Everything was going well. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, she wants to go back to her room.”
He stops and turns his attention to his beer, knocking back the dregs and leaning over to place the bottle on the ground. Tracy darts forward, takes his bottle and simultaneously hands him another. I wonder how many she’s got. I could use another one myself.
“What did you do next?” I ask.
“I walked her back.”
Pausing, he gulps his beer. I barely resist the urge to snatch his bottle and smash it over his head. Instead, I squeeze Reesie’s hand and feel a little calmer when she squeezes mine back.
“We went down to the dock. We were both pretty drunk. She said she wanted to be alone, but girls always say that, don’t they?”
“Sure,” I agree, “when assholes are hitting on them and they want to be left alone.”
I can see the fear in his eyes. The end is near.
For both of us.
“I tried to kiss her,” he says quickly, rushing to get it over with. “We struggled. It was an accident. She pulled away too hard and fell. She hit her head on the side of the boat.”
I suck in air, starting to hyperventilate as my mind races. This is the information I’ve been waiting so long for, but it’s not what I wanted to hear. A million questions flood my brain. How badly was she hurt? Why wasn’t she there when Dr. Dan showed up? Where is she now?
I’m vaguely aware of Reesie’s hand, wrapped around mine like a vise. She thinks she’s holding me back, but it’s an unnecessary precaution. I feel weak, picturing my sister in pain, bleeding, on the very same dock I’ve walked out on every day since I’ve been here. I’m not even sure I could stand up, much less launch an attack. How could I have been so close and not notice anything? Is her blood still there, soaked into the planks? The thought causes cold beads of sweat to pop out on my forehead. I’m frozen in anticipation of what Pete’s going to disclose next. Zach, however, is not.
He ricochets off the sofa, knocking Pete to the ground before any of us has time to react.
“I’ll kill you!” Zach screams, pummeling Pete in the head, tears streaming down his face. “How could you treat her like that?” He punctuates each word with a volley of fists. “You” pow “had” pow, pow “no right,” bam, smash, thwack. “Do you hear me, you bastard?!”
Finally, I’m spurred to action. I leap off the sofa and grab Zach from behind, pulling him off Pete. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to beat the guy myself, but I need to hear the end of the story. Zach collapses against me, panting and sobbing. Reesie joins us on the floor and puts an arm around him, rubbing his back. Eventually he quiets down and we return our attention to Pete, who’s moved to the sofa and is stretched out, groaning. Blood trickles from his nose and I can see the beginning of swelling under one eye, though he’s covering most of his face with his arm and is half-shielded by Dr. Jake, who’s perched on the edge of the sofa guarding him.
I stand up, towering over him. “What happened next?”
His voice is a hoarse croak. “I called for help.”
“Should I call Dr. Dan?” asks Tracy.
“In a minute,” says Dr. Jake. “Where was Tricia when you called for help, Pete?”
“I left her on the dock.” His voice is barely above a whisper. Even I’m starting to think Tracy should go for help, but how much help did this asshole give my sister?
“How badly was she hurt?” says Dr. Jake, voicing my thoughts.
“Bad, but she was conscious. There was a lot of blood. I left her, but I was going to go back for her. I just needed to radio for help.”
He struggles to sit up. “You have to believe me. I radioed for help. As soon as I got word Dr. Dan was on his way, I went back to sit with her but she was gone. I thought she must have headed back to her room, but when I checked, Tracy was there alone.”
“He told me what happened,” Tracy confirms in a small voice. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. She was gone. We looked everywhere for her — back at the Spiny Starfish and even up at Jamie’s house. We thought maybe she’d gone looking for him. That would have been natural. We didn’t have the nerve to knock on his door, it was so late. If we’d known where she was going …” She stops, her voice cracking as tears roll down her face. She slides down the wall to the floor, burying her head in folded arms, quietly sniveling.
I turn from Tracy to Pete, slumped back on the sofa, his eyes closed.
“How could she get all the way across town, bleeding? Why would she do that?” I demand.
“I dunno,” murmurs Pete, his mouth barely moving. “I’ve asked myself that a million times. Maybe she was upset about the fight with Jamie. Maybe …” He stops.
“Maybe what, Pete?” says Dr. Jake.
He exhales loudly. “Maybe she was hiding from me.” His voice cracks. “Maybe she thought I was going to come back and
hurt her and she was trying to get as far away from me as she could. I never would have thought to look for her on McCrae’s dock. Even if I walked from one end of town to the other, it would never have occurred to me to check there. And Tricia, if she was scared, really scared, she’d want to be near the ocean.”
“You’re lying,” moans Zach. “You killed her and now you’re trying to cover it up. Don’t believe him, Luke.”
I sure as hell don’t want to believe any of this, but Pete’s not the same guy he was an hour ago. The swagger’s gone, and not just because Zach beat it out of him.
ME: Is this the way it happened, Pat?
PAT: Does he seem like he’s lying?
ME:
“Call the doctor, Tracy, and the police,” says Dr. Jake. “I’m sorry, Luke. I wish it was better news.”
“She wouldn’t drown. Tricia couldn’t drown,” insists Zach.
“She was hurt,” says Dr. Jake. “If she was disoriented, maybe she fell in the water, and if she was bleeding, in the water at night …”
My breath catches in my throat as I finish that sentence in my head. “But isn’t there a chance she just wandered off and got lost?” I ask.
“It’s a small island, Luke. Someone would have seen her by now.”
Suddenly my vision is flooded with an image of tangled hair, a gaping eye socket. My ears pound with the steady rhythm of … what? What is it I’m hearing? So familiar. Like breathing. I hunker down on the floor, giving in to it, trying to remember, to understand.
Reesie’s at my side in an instant and Zach with her.
“I’m sorry, man,” says Zach but his voice is coming from a distance. I can barely hear him.
Reesie just folds me in her arms, and I cling to her until the vision is gone, until there’s nothing but emptiness.
CHAPTER 18
“She drowned just like they said.”
I hold the phone away from my ear so I don’t have to hear their grief, but it echoes through the handset, reverberating inside me, like defeat.
I promised to bring her home.
I failed.
Again.
“I think she went into the water accidentally,” I continue, hoping to give them some peace.
None of us ever admitted our biggest fear — that Pat was so desperate to get away from us, she took her own life.
“She was attacked. The guy who did it has been arrested, but he didn’t kill her. That part was an accident.”
I move the phone a little closer, in case they want to say something, but it just makes the sobbing more audible. I place the handset on the desk in front of me.
Zach and Reesie sit in silent witness on the couch. Dr. Jake and Tracy have gone to the police station with Pete to give their statements. Later, Dr. Jake will call Pete’s family. I don’t envy him the call. In the end, Pete was an asshole but not a villain. It’s not clear yet whether he’ll be charged. The police whom Dr. Jake called to pick him up seemed eager to have someone to blame. The island relies on tourism and they’re peaceable people. The death of a teenager is not only bad for business but bad for morale. Pete will lose his job, go home in disgrace and live with what he did to my sister for the rest of his life. He’ll pay, one way or another.
“Are you coming home?” asks Mom.
The tiny voice emerging from the headset is both pleading and frightened. I look at it as if it’s actually the one speaking, taking a moment to contemplate the possibilities.
PAT: You could learn how to dive.
ME: Unlike you, I don’t throw myself into life-threatening situations, remember?
PAT: Mini Mike offered you a job.
ME: And then what?
PAT: You and Reesie …
ME:
I pick up the phone.
“There are a few things to tie up here with the investigation,” I stall. “And I’ve still got a couple of weeks left before school.”
“But then you’ll come home?” Her voice is thin, hollow, as it crosses a space between us that’s too wide to be measured.
I picture her, alone in the kitchen though my father is less than three feet away, her wineglass next to her on the counter, the bottle beside it. She’ll be looking out the window at the back garden as she hears my news, watching the birds feed at one of her dozen feeders. Pat isn’t the only one who loves wildlife.
I picture my father, slumped over the kitchen table, watching my mother, helpless to take away her grief. He’s spent a lifetime trying, but this time it’s too much even for him. Maybe, like me, he’ll finally realize it’s easier not to try so hard.
I swallow.
“I’ll be home soon, Mom,” I promise. It’s all I can do for her.
She asks if I want to speak to my father. I lie and say I do. When he comes on the line, I try to think of something to say that will change the reality of Pat’s death. I want to apologize, but I’m not sure why.
“So there’s no body?” he asks.
“No.”
“And you’re sure she’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you need money?”
“No.”
“I love you, Luke.”
It’s a sucker punch, but I take it like a man, breathing slowly in and out.
“I love you, too, Dad. How’s Mom?”
“You know. She’s taking it hard.”
“I need to get going now.”
“Right, of course.” He’s suddenly awkward. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m okay.”
I notice Reesie and Zach watching me, listening to every word. How much can they understand from hearing just my end of it? Zach gives me two thumbs-up. Reesie crosses the room, leans on the arm of my chair and puts her hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes with the promise of her world, where love doesn’t come packaged with disappointment.
“I’ll call again in a few days,” I say. Not waiting for his reply, I replace the receiver and stare at it for a few minutes in silence.
“Parents — who needs them?” Zach blusters, but I see pain in his eyes.
“It’ll work out,” says Reesie.
“Go for a beer?” asks Zach.
I hesitate. I can’t imagine a situation where I’d have a better excuse to get hammered, but that’s just what it is. An excuse. A cop-out. A way to block out the reality that Pat’s gone and she’s never coming back.
“I think I may lay off for a while,” I say, hoping I don’t sound preachy.
Zach scowls at Reesie like she’s responsible. “I’ll be at the Spiny Starfish if you change your mind.”
He looks so broken as he trudges out of the room that I almost go after him, but as much as I feel like I’m betraying him, dulling my pain would betray Pat.
PAT: So is this the new you?
ME: Isn’t that what you always wanted?
PAT: It’s a little late, don’t you think?
ME:
“We should tell Jamie.” Reesie breaks into my thoughts.
It’s an effort to stand up, put one foot in front of the other. The mechanics of motion, breathing, moving forward, are no longer automatic. I’m grateful when Reesie takes my hand.
——
The walk up the hill to her house seems to have lengthened. I’m surprised it’s still daylight. Nanny says something when we let ourselves in through the gate. I register her presence, rocking on their porch swing, but can’t make sense of her words. Reesie responds, Nanny hugs me and goes inside. We take her place on the swing, still warm from her body. Donny comes out almost immediately, looks at me with huge eyes and sinks down onto the porch deck.
Nanny reappears with Reesie’s mom and two trays laden with tea, Nanny’s bread, homemade cookies and mango preserve. There’s far too much food for just us. I note every detail and am handed tea and an overflowing plate. Touching neither, I rock with Reesie, back and forth, as she tells the end of Pat’s story. Mo
re chairs appear and more people. The porch fills with faces I don’t know; people spill into the yard as word spreads and the community rallies. Reesie retells the story many times and, each time, her audience listens in silence.
Finally, Jamie appears. It’s been dark for what seems like hours, though time has lost all meaning. I feel numb. Nothing seems real. The landscape of sea-weathered people, lush towering trees, hand-hewn furniture on a rickety porch blurs at the edges like a watercolor, too charming for the despair that fills me.
As Jamie walks through the gate, he shimmers in the moonlight. I see the certainty of Pat’s death dawn on his face before Reesie says a word. Hands reach out for him as he works his way slowly through the crowd. Someone brings him a chair. He collapses into it under the weight of lost hope. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that he, too, at least half-believed I could bring Pat back. We keep a silent vigil.
Time passes. The crowd thins out, drifts away. I shake many hands, don’t hear many words. But they are spoken — offers of sympathy and solidarity. Nanny takes Donny inside, Reesie’s mom follows, and as the first cock announces the approaching dawn, Jamie, Reesie and I find ourselves alone.
“It’s my fault she left,” I say. “My fault she didn’t want to come home.”
Jamie looks at me. “How can you say that? She loved you, Luke, more than anything, maybe more than she was capable of loving anyone else. You weren’t the reason she left.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You let her go, Luke, because it was the right thing to do. As for not wanting to go home — I never met your parents, but the way Trish told it, she always felt like she had to be in control, she could never let loose and be a kid. It was a burden she carried a long time. When she got here, she was ready to set it down, but you weren’t ever the burden.”
I search his face, wanting badly to believe him. It explains a lot — a new name, new behavior — but it doesn’t explain everything.
“I was the one she had to be perfect for, not my parents. It was me she was trying to protect.”
“You sure about that? The way she told it, you were the one who always looked out for her.”
The Voice inside My Head Page 17