by Jeff Abbott
“You’d have to be unbalanced to burn down the house of a woman who saved your life, Jane.”
“True. I wouldn’t. So if it’s you or Mr. Hall doing this, then stop it.”
“Us?” The shock went through her like a knife. “Us? You can’t be serious.”
“Mr. Hall being nice to me aside, you two have the greatest motive for revenge.”
“But this isn’t revenge.” Perri shook her head. “Shiloh loses an engagement; this Brenda Hobson loses her home. Both are terrible. Neither equals losing a child. I have no quarrel with either of them. That’s a petty revenge.”
“You take what you can get. Not telling everyone that suicide note I wrote was old isn’t really a revenge either, but it seems to have worked for you.”
Perri’s mouth worked. “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied about the crash. The deer.”
“We were desperate. You were turning the whole town against us.”
“Why don’t you take some responsibility for what you did?”
“I do, every single day,” Jane said. “It will never be enough for you.”
“If you know your mother is behind this, I will go with you to the police,” Perri said. “I will hold your hand while you tell them everything you know. I will stand by you.”
The only sound was the odd tick of an antique clock in Laurel’s office.
“Take your coffee and go,” Jane said, her voice shaking.
“I know about Liv Danger. You know where the name came from, Jane. You told your mother. Fine, whatever. But now you’ve got this thug Shiloh angry. I know arson is a serious charge, but your mental history, they’d have to take that into account. Your mother made you do it. Her highly dramatic nature is all over this. Has she written her blog post yet about it all, painting herself as the victim? Did you pay off that driver to make the video? It was all staged, wasn’t it?”
“Get out of my house,” Jane said.
“There isn’t going to be another chance.”
Jane slapped her hand, sending the coffee flying. The mug shattered on the tile, the java sprayed the floor and the walls and Perri. She cried out in shock.
“Get out of my house,” Jane said. “I saw what ‘Liv’ posted to you. You know something from that night. I don’t know anything. I couldn’t know anything. So ‘Liv’ isn’t me. She’s you.” She jabbed a finger in Perri’s face.
“It’s beyond amnesia. You are truly crazy.” Perri started to collect her broken mug.
“It’s broken, you can’t fix it. You can’t fix what’s broken! Get out! Get out!”
“I wonder what people will say when they arrest you and your mother both for this,” Perri said. She turned and stumbled out the door. She started to say something else, but Jane shoved her off the porch and down the steps.
“If you come near me again,” Jane said, “you will regret it. Oh, and by the way? Your husband believes me. He knows it was an accident. He told me so. He’s lucky you’re divorcing him. Because you’re the one who’s crazy.”
And she went back inside and slammed the door.
Perri got up from the steps. She hadn’t fallen far and there was just a slight scrape on her palm. But she thought maybe the eyes of her neighbors were on her, and she shivered as she went back to the house.
Matteo Vasquez, she thought. I could get him to write about her. But how do I explain knowing who Liv Danger is? How? What if Maggie comes forward and talks about my computer being linked to the postings?
It was not her proudest moment, but she began to think of a plan.
Her phone went off. She glanced at the screen.
A text from her boss, Mike: GET TO THE OFFICE. NOW.
28
THE DVD FROM Happy Taco was playing when Adam Kessler followed Jane into her living room. The television was a large one, and as Adam walked in the video version of Adam was walking into Happy Taco, trailing Trevor Blinn.
“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes turning to the screen.
“The night David died. You were at Happy Taco right after we were.”
He turned to her in shock. “Where did you get that?”
“That’s the first thing you say to me, Adam?”
He didn’t answer, he looked back at the video.
“The police and the investigators weren’t interested once David and I left. I was. You know how I always stay at the movies until the credits play.”
His handsome face twisted into a helpless smile. “Well, so, I was there. It’s a popular place.”
“You could have mentioned to me that you were there right after I was.”
“What difference does it make?”
She pointed at the screen. “You come in with Trevor. You look around. You don’t order. You’re looking for someone. Is it me?”
Adam sat down on the couch. Staring at his sneakers. Then he looked up at her. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I stopped by your house. You weren’t there. Your mom asked me to find you. She didn’t believe your texts that you were studying with a friend.”
“Why didn’t she come looking for me herself?”
“I don’t know.” Adam put his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”
She sat next to him. “So, what, you and Trevor were both looking for me?”
“I don’t know why he was there. We both arrived separately, I said hi to him, he almost ignored me. Then we walked in together.”
She thought of Trevor, watching her and David’s exchange in the parking lot. “Was Trevor looking for me, too? Or for David?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“So, all this time, after the crash when I was trying to piece together my memories, you never felt you should tell me this?”
He tried to take her hand and she pulled away from him. He folded his hands back in his lap. “What was the point? I never saw you that night. You didn’t even remember me as a friend. I was a stranger to you in those early weeks.”
Then she wondered if he was lying. It was only a matter of minutes between her departure and his arrival. Did he see her leaving with David? Did they encounter each other in the parking lot? If so, why would he still have entered the restaurant?
“OK, you never saw me. You still could have mentioned it.”
“I don’t know what the point would be, we didn’t see each other. And any mention of that night seemed to upset you.”
“I mean you could have told me,” she said, her voice tight with anger, “that my mother had you out searching for me. Is that what you harboring me in your room is? Do you report back to my mom on my moods, what nights I stay, how crazy I am?”
“Yes, Jane,” he said, “I spy on you. That’s why I risk getting thrown off campus so you can sleep there at night, or risk getting into trouble for hacking your dining-plan card, and why I spend nights away from my room so you can have privacy. All so I can spy on you for your mother.”
The sarcasm hit her like a fist. “All right,” she said after a moment. “I realize that sounds a little paranoid.”
“I don’t have warm feelings for your mom, to be frank,” Adam said, softening his tone. “She’s done nothing really to help you or to get you off the streets.” He stood up.
“You give a lot and don’t ask for anything in return.”
Something dark flashed behind his eyes. “The curse of the nice guy,” Adam said. “I have a girlfriend, thanks. Who is not that patient with me spending so much time around you.”
“Adam…” Her reflex was to say I’m sorry, but she wasn’t. She had no reason to be.
“Fair enough. I guess I should have told you. But I never found you that night, I never saw you or David”—here he got up and turned away from the images playing out on the TV—“and…”
“You know something.” A prickle of dread touched her spine.
“Your mom was afraid you might hurt yourself. But she didn’t tell me that until later.”
“Because of the suicide no
te. But Mom has always denied that the note meant anything. Always.”
Adam said nothing. “Look, I was worried about you, regardless of what your mom said. You were full of secrets back then. We told each other everything, it seemed, but you were keeping stuff from me. And I think it had to do with David.” His voice dropped to a sneer. “Mr. Perfect.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what you two were doing. If I knew that, I would tell you.”
She sat down on the couch and paused the video. “Supposedly we were running away to, like, Canada.”
He laughed, and then saw it was not a joke. “What? Why would you?”
“You’ve never heard that as a rumor?”
“No.”
“How do you know my secrets were about David?”
“You were with him that night, it must be.”
She thought of what Trevor had said. “Did I talk much about my father and his death?”
Now he tried to take her hand, to comfort her, and she pulled away. “Jane, don’t.”
“Did I?”
“No. It upset you too much. You didn’t like to talk about him.”
But David had brought him up.
“So you, what, decided to look for me?”
“I came over, that wasn’t unusual, your mom let me in and wanted to know where you were. I don’t think she believed your texts. She and Mrs. Hall were both here.”
“Doing what?”
“I think maybe having an argument. I don’t know about what. It felt like I had interrupted something between them. But I don’t know why they would argue. She asked if I’d go look for you, see if you were at any of our usual haunts. So I went to the Starbucks, I went to Happy Taco, and I ran into Trevor there, looking for you and David.”
“Why was Trevor looking for me?”
“Well, he said he was looking for David and that you were with David.” He rubbed his face. “I mean, the whole thought of going out to look for someone is so ancient. We have cell phones. But you wouldn’t answer again.”
“Did I owe you an explanation for where I was?” Something here was off. He wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“No, you didn’t,” he said evenly. “And after the crash, you didn’t even remember me. At least you remembered Kamala and Trevor and David. But we didn’t know each other except in high school. You had to get to know me all over again.” His voice softened. “You were my best friend, Jane, it was hard to lose you. It was hard not to help you. I’m glad you’ve let me help you now.”
The curse of the nice guy, she thought. “All right. I forgive you.”
He started to speak and then simply said, “That’s great. Your forgiveness. Did you bring me over to see this video or did you need my help once again?”
Later she wished she had recognized the bite in his words. But, preoccupied, she didn’t. “I need your help. Will you drive me?”
29
SO YOU’VE HAD an interesting morning,” Adam said, his voice dull, as he drove her to the office park where Kevin Ngota and Randy Franklin both had office space.
“Yes.” Jane’s voice sounded dead. “Because I think I just saw the soul of Perri Hall, and it was cancerous.”
“Um, she’s been accusing you of murder since David died. This is not new behavior for this woman.”
“This Shiloh guy…”
“Now him, he sounds dangerous,” Adam said. “Maybe call the cops on him.”
Jane said nothing.
He parked where, from his car, they could see both office entrances. “What are we doing here?”
“Waiting for them to show up.” They sat in the car, with coffee and apple fritters they’d bought from a little bakery on the way. Adam had treated by way of apology.
“Can I tell you something?” she said quietly.
He nodded, chewing his fritter. “You know I eagerly await your every pronouncement.”
“When you lose your memory, it’s a chance for the people around you to rewrite history.”
Adam stopped chewing, stared at her. He wiped glaze from his mouth with his fingertip.
“They all get to tell you what they want you to know. What they want you to remember. They reshape you. No one has ever told me a bad thing I did, or David did. Were we bad?”
He stared at her, then out at the parking lot. “Jane…don’t.”
“I think maybe you and my mom have tried to make me into a better person than what I was.” She watched him. “Who was I, Adam? Was I any good?”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Of course you were good.”
“How?”
“You were good to me. The best. People were crappy to me at that school when I started. I never fit in.” His voice broke. “But you weren’t. You were my friend, from instant one. Even before I blossomed into the incredible stud you see before you.” He tried his smile on her.
She didn’t say anything for several seconds and then she locked her gaze on his. “My dad, it wasn’t suicide, right? He wouldn’t have wanted to leave me, right?”
“Oh, Jane. You were so close to him. He was such a good guy, he just wanted the best for you. He was funny, he would feed us all, let us jump in the pool, tell the requisite lame dad jokes.” Now Adam looked like he might cry. She knew his own father wasn’t around much; Mr. Kessler had remarried and had a new set of twin toddlers with a younger wife.
“So why would David be talking to me about my dad’s death? In secret. Away from everyone.”
Adam set down his coffee into his cup holder. “You think David knew something about your dad’s death.”
“What if it wasn’t an accident? Or suicide? I sound like I’m talking about the crash.” Her father’s death, her terrible night, all seemed to be part of the same echo reverberating inside her head.
“Your dad wasn’t murdered, Jane. The police investigated. They’re not dummies.”
“I know. It’s not a movie. But why does David say anything to me about my dad, in secret, and then we vanish for hours and then a man overhears us planning to run to Canada? There was something in what David knew that was big and awful and so bad that we thought of running away from it.”
Adam bit at his lip. “I swear, I don’t know. Neither of you ever confided any of this to me. I wish you had.”
She set down her coffee. She steadied her voice. “Here comes Kevin. If anyone comes to Franklin’s office, text me.”
“I’m actually sitting here on a stakeout,” he said in mild disbelief.
“Yes, and don’t be looking at your phone, you’ll miss seeing something important. Keep your eyes open.”
“Yes, bossy.” But he said it like the rift was now healed between them.
She got out of the car. Kevin was fumbling at the door with the key, then dropped it, trying to hold a Lava Java cup and a satchel and a file of papers.
“May I help you with that?”
Kevin glanced up at her and the surprise spread itself across his face. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I just couldn’t wait for our next session. It’s funny that you’re not listed on this practice’s website.”
He kept his smile in place. “I’m new.”
“And yet they got your name on the door before the website?”
“We’re not very tech-y here,” he said. “You seem different today.”
She ignored the comment. “It’s a little weird. You’re two doors down from the PI who investigated my car crash on behalf of my accusers. You volunteer to be my counselor. Just a coincidence?”
“Let’s talk inside,” he said quickly. The office was empty; it was early. He gestured with a nod of his head toward a closed inner door. She followed him in and sat down. The room was calm greens and grays, the only decoration an antique painted map of his native Tanzania, framed and matted behind his desk. Next to his university diploma and a graduate degree.
She pointed at the framed vellum. “You’re not a grad student.”
>
He smiled. “But I am. I’m getting an additional master’s at Saint Mike’s and I’m not taking on new clients until it’s done.” It sounded so reasonable and for a moment her resolve wavered. “Are you upset I didn’t tell you I have an office in Lakehaven?”
She took a measured breath. “It’s just that you were very careful to present yourself as a regular graduate student. Someone desperate to make his mark and I was your project. I was the one you needed to help. You made no mention of ties to Lakehaven. Or being Randy Franklin’s neighbor. Did he hire you to spy on me? Is Perri Hall behind this?”
He gave her a confused smile. “I didn’t think the fact that I just, two weeks ago, got an offer to join an office here was pertinent to us working together.”
“You being in Lakehaven is pretty pertinent to me. Is Lakehaven why you had the interest in me? Heard all the rumors about the Norton girl?”
“No. Your memory condition was. I am only trying to help you.”
“Maybe your job is to prove I’m faking amnesia.”
“No,” he said. His mouth twitched.
“Then who sent you? Someone did and don’t lie to me, not if you want to help me. Who?”
“Jane, really…”
“I don’t like this coincidence. I will go to the graduate dean and report you for lying to a patient unless you tell me the truth. Tell me.”
He hadn’t even set down his briefcase yet, but now he did, and arranged his jacket on the back of his chair, and then sat across from her. He gestured and she sat, perched on the edge of the chair. “Your mother,” he said.
She stared at him. “My mother.”
“She called me. I don’t know how she found me, but she knew I had joined this office in Lakehaven and had just started graduate work at Saint Mike’s.”
Mom knows where I’m living, she thought. How does she know? I don’t tell her. She had made sure the tracking on the phone Mom gave her was turned off. But the rideshare charges: too many landing close to the campus. It wasn’t a hard guess. Or worse: Adam.
“And she paid you to prove I’m faking? Or see if you could get me to remember.”
“She believes you’re in danger, but she said you wouldn’t listen to her.”