You Will Never Know

by You Will Never Know (retail) (epub)

  Jessica felt as if those last words were punching her in the gut. Ted stared at her and she stared right back at him.

  Helen went on. “On his computer there are about a dozen videos of him with teenage girls, the girls either drunk or roofied. All of them were recorded in his bedroom. And this past Saturday, just before he got killed two days later, some father went to a party at the Warner house, tried to get in and confront the little creep.”

  Ted said, “Do they know who he was?”

  “Nope. But with that and those recordings, a whole lot of parents in Warner have motive. So relax.”

  A moment passed. Helen looked at the two of them and said, “Hey, you haven’t even taken a sip of your California bubbly. Aren’t you happy? Aren’t you proud of your attorney? Welcome home, Ted!”

  A long, long second passed. Jessica nodded, decided to play the part that was hers. She picked up the wineglass, looked right at her husband, and parroted the words: “Welcome home, Ted.”

  Craig stood up quickly and got his right foot tangled in his knapsack’s straps as the door leading into the lobby unexpectedly swung open. The same police detective who had come by their house the other day stood in the door, looking angry, tired . . . confused? His striped shirt was wrinkled, and his red tie was undone at the collar. A police ID was dangling off a blue-and-white lanyard from his neck.

  “I’m Detective Rafferty,” he said, not moving from the open doorway. “You’re Craig Donovan, right?”

  Craig got his foot untangled, grabbed his knapsack, stood up. “Yes, yes sir, I’d like to talk to you about my father, Ted Donovan.”

  The detective shook his head. “Go home, kid.”

  A spark of anger flared within him. Jesus Christ, why did adults always have to prove they knew everything, were so superior, were so smart? Craig started to talk, but the detective held up his hand, cutting him off.

  “Go home, kid. Your dad’s there, waiting for you.”

  And before Craig could say anything more, the detective walked back into the police station, letting the heavy door slam shut behind him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ted had never been one for taking long, hot showers, especially after growing up in a crowded apartment building on the other side of Warner where Mom and Dad kept strict watch on the utilities, but tonight he was breaking his old habit and was still in the shower nearly fifteen minutes after he began, scrubbing and rescrubbing, working desperately not only to get the scent of the Middlesex County HOC cell block off his skin and out of his hair, but Jesus, he wanted to get that stink off him down to the skin level—fuck, the molecular level. Before getting into the shower he had attacked his fingernails and his mouth, cutting the nails down to the base, then brushing his teeth, flossing—he never flossed, but he took some of Jessica’s—and then brushing his teeth again and rinsing twice from a bottle of Listerine. Now he stood directly under the blasting shower head, knowing that this initial wash would take care of the surface stink and memories, but it would be a long while before he could move on from those humiliating days in prison.

  He switched off the shower, got out, dried off, and then started whispering to himself, as he always did before closing on a major deal or meeting with a deep-pocketed client. “It’s gonna be all right,” he whispered, rubbing and rubbing. “You were there for less than four days. Some guys get arrested by mistake and they’re locked up for four years or four decades. You’ll bounce back, get to the office tomorrow morning, walk in like you own the fucking world.”

  Ted finished with the towel and glanced down at his clothes, picked up his pants, took out a folded slip of paper with Craig’s handwriting on it:

  Dad,

  Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out.

  Craig

  Tears welled up in his eyes again. His boy—his teenage nerd, thinking he could do the magical and release him from the county jail.

  Nope, it was the Commonwealth of Massachusetts’s incompetence that got him out.

  He put the note on the vanity, then went to ball up his clothes and toss them down the laundry chute.

  No.

  He stopped.

  No. Those clothes—he wouldn’t let Jessica wash them. He would never again wear those slacks, shirt, hell, even the socks and underwear. Those were the clothes he had been wearing when he had been arrested, processed, and then transported to Billerica, home of the county jail. Nope. Those clothes were going out in the trash.

  He took a fresh towel, wrapped it around his waist, stepped out onto the second-floor landing.

  The doors to Emma’s room and Craig’s room were both closed. His throat thickened as he remembered the previous hours, when all of them had been downstairs together, finally celebrating with take-out Chinese food from Szechuan Taste, after Craig had burst into the house and given him a long, long hug, sobbing into his shoulder, and then Emma had come home and for the first time ever—ever!—had screamed out, “Daddy!” and had nearly jumped into his arms.

  It had been a good time, the first time of their new life, their new family.

  Ted went downstairs to the bedroom. The room was dark, barely lit by a nightlight in the corner. By touch he opened a bureau drawer and removed a fresh pair of shorts, and then he dropped the towel on the floor.

  He could tell Jessica was in bed. But she hadn’t said a word.

  He gently closed the door to the bedroom and slipped between the crisp, clean sheets, nothing like the smelly old bedding he had endured at the county jail.

  He didn’t say a word. Neither did Jessica.

  Well.

  “You awake?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was calm, even.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.”

  He slipped his hand along the side, finding her arm, wrist, and then hand. He clasped her hand, looking to receive a signal. Drawing back was a very bad sign. Not clasping in return was a bad sign. A gentle clasp was just above neutral, on its way to being a good sign.

  That’s what he was now receiving.

  Ted sighed and said, “If I live for another forty or fifty years, I still won’t be able to say I’m sorry enough times for what I did. It was wrong, it was stupid. Hold on, that’s not right.” He nodded to himself in the dark bedroom. “I was wrong, I was stupid, I was weak. Paula—she tempted me. I was at a low point, with what was going on with the business, and I gave in to temptation. It was nothing more than that. I don’t even like her that much, Jessica. And you know what? First thing tomorrow, I’m going to find a way to fire her. I don’t want her around the office anymore. She’ll be a distraction, a memory, something I don’t want there.”

  He waited for a bit, to allow Jessica to say something. Lord knows he had pissed her off so many times in the past, interrupting her or assuming he knew what she was going to say in a conversation. Don’t ever assume, she would say sharply to him.

  Ted said, “Jessica, we’re in a bad place now. I know that. I put us here. And it’s too soon for forgiveness, I know that. I don’t deserve it, not now. But I’ll work for us, I’ll fight for us. And if you think counseling will help, absolutely, let’s do it.”

  He waited again.

  “Ted?”

  “Yes?” And now his heart was really hammering along, because right now his love for Jessica had come back to him, and he didn’t want her to leave him, didn’t want a divorce, and there were things that needed to be addressed and settled, but now, after being freed from prison and getting back to his life, he really wanted to grow old with her. He wanted this blended family of theirs to thrive. He waited, and said, “Jessica?”

  “Ted, don’t fire her right away. That’ll just piss her off, give her a reason to file a complaint with some town or government agency. Wait a while, until she does something that gives you an excuse to fire her for cause. All right?”

  “Sure, Jess, yes, that makes sense.”

  “But . . . I never want to hear her name ever again.”

 
“Absolutely.”

  “And beginning tomorrow, you’ll never, ever lie to me about who you’re seeing or where you’re going. You’ve destroyed my trust in you, Ted, and it’s going to take some time to repair it.”

  He squeezed her hand, and to his joy, she squeezed back.

  “Yes, of course. No more lying, no more secrets. You can call me anytime you want—anytime. I’ll even FaceTime you to show you that I’m where I said I’d be.”

  “Well, maybe not that far,” she said, and the tone of her voice was so open and light that Ted couldn’t believe this was going so well.

  “Whatever you say, Jess. Whatever you say.”

  “Good.”

  “But I need to know something.”

  Ted thought, What? Jesus, I’ve already told you everything.

  “Sure, Jess. Go ahead.”

  He thought he felt her take a deep breath, and she said, “The night the kids went missing. Before we left the house. We were both searching, and I heard the closet door opening and closing. I knew your coat wasn’t in there. So why did you open the closet?”

  He didn’t want to tell her, but he had just made a promise to her, just seconds ago, and as rough as it was going to be, he was going to keep his promise.

  “I’m embarrassed to tell you.”

  “I think we’re both beyond that, Ted.”

  He was glad that both of them were in the darkness, for he didn’t want to see her face, or her to see his, with the next few words.

  “I . . . like I said, I had come back from the office. From . . . well, I was there with . . . her.” God, so fucking humiliating. “And when I left, she stuffed something in my coat. A souvenir, she said. And when we were looking through the house, I checked my coat. It was a pair of her panties.”

  Jessica didn’t say anything.

  “I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. So when you were upstairs and I was downstairs, I took them and tossed them into the closet. And when I got back before you, I cut them up and flushed them down the toilet.”

  Again, not a word from Jessica. He waited.

  She finally and slowly said, “Thanks for telling me the truth, Ted.”

  “Thanks, Jess,” he said, and he was thrilled again when she squeezed his hand back, and he said, “About that night. I guess the kids were telling the truth about the scavenger hunt, right?”

  His wife said, “I always knew they were telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, but now it makes sense. They were out there wandering around in the rain, trying to find what was on the list, and maybe somebody took their phones. As a prank. Like one more thing to find at the end. And they were going to dump them in the town forest. And when they went up the path, they found Sam’s body. Got scared. Went back, put the phones where they were, and didn’t tell the cops.”

  “I can’t believe they wouldn’t tell the police.”

  Ted said, “If you were out past curfew and found something like that, would you tell the police? Or go home and figure someone else would find the body?”

  Jessica said, “That does make sense. It’s awful, but it does make sense.”

  Ted felt pretty good now, answering Jessica’s questions, confessing what he had done, and man, maybe he shouldn’t bring this up right now, but things were really looking up, and Ted thought, Well, strike while the goddamn iron is hot—whatever that means—and he said, “Can I ask you a question, hon?”

  Her soft hand was still in his.

  “Of course.”

  Ted said, “Hon, where did the twelve thousand dollars go?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  All the lights were off in her bedroom and Emma was under the covers, playing solitaire on her iPhone. She left only a bit of the blankets open to let in some air, and she was happy and content to let her fingers fly across the screen and move around the little playing cards. She was in charge of this game—she enjoyed being in charge of everything—and the best part of solitaire was that when she got stuck, she could just stop the game and start over again.

  And she loved it. Good ol’ Mom had saved her again, and Emma was so happy that things were finally straightening out. She had even done her part, coming home from school, wondering what was going on, wondering if Mom had stopped Craig in time, and when she saw Mom and Ted at the dining room table, with Craig hugging his father, she had played along, even calling Ted “Daddy,” which seemed to please him.

  A good night. But still . . . Precautions had to be taken.

  Craig had threatened a lot of things, had said some nasty things. She wasn’t sure what he would do next. Lots of times over the past few months he had told her that Mom was one tightly wound and nutty woman. Even though Mom did everything she could to protect Emma and her future.

  But could she ever trust Craig?

  Earlier she had taken her desk chair and had shoved it under the doorknob, even after locking the door. She wasn’t going to take any more chances.

  Emma went back to her solitaire game.

  Still in control.

  In his bedroom Craig was stretched out on his bed, trying very hard to read a graphic novel about Thor and not doing a good job of it. His head seemed to be spinning from all that had gone on earlier today, leading up to hugging his dad and realizing he was home, was back, and was safe, and then the laughter and joy of being with Dad, eating take-out Chinese, and now . . . In bed. Alone. Thinking things through.

  Emma looked happy, Dad looked happy, and Jessica looked happy. He knew even he looked happy. There had been laughter, and toasts, and Dad had said how he was going to get up early tomorrow and go to work, and Jessica had rubbed his shoulders, and Emma had called him “Daddy,” which nearly turned Craig’s stomach.

  How could they all be fooled?

  There were still questions and promises that needed to be addressed, needed to be resolved.

  He put the colorful book down on the bed, raised up his T-shirt. FAG. He could easily make out the letters, even though they were upside down and were finally fading away.

  FAG.

  Craig lowered the T-shirt.

  Yeah. Promises had to be kept, rumors and jokes had to be stopped.

  He picked up the graphic novel and tried to start reading again.

  Jessica thought, Well, here we go.

  “Why do you ask, Ted?”

  “Why . . . I mean, well, I talked a bit to Helen when she drove me out of Billerica, and I talked about how happy I was, and we talked about her fee and how I had arranged for you to give her a twelve-thousand-dollar retainer, and she said you haven’t given her any money.”

  “That’s right,” Jessica said, holding hands with her husband, resting in the darkness, feeling very full and alive. “I didn’t give her a dime. But still, I can’t imagine her final bill will be that much.”

  “But Jess. The money. Where did it go?”

  “I’ve spent it.”

  “Spent it? Where?”

  “On something important.”

  “Like what?”

  With each passing minute Jessica could feel Ted’s body tightening up as he seemingly couldn’t believe what she was telling him.

  “Ted, forget it.”

  “Forget it? How in hell do you expect me to forget where twelve thousand dollars have gone?

  She squeezed his hand. “Just like you expect me to forget Paula Fawkes.”

  His hand was still in hers. Part of Jessica was surprised.

  “That’s different,” he finally said.

  “Maybe, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  “Jessica, that’s a lot of money. What do I tell Ben Powell?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Jessica, I—”

  “Ted.”

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “This is what happened,” she said. “And what’s going to happen.”

  He paused. It was still so very dark in the bedroom.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying, Jes
s.”

  She said, “Do you remember the Saturday night before all this started?”

  “Jesus, Jess. Yeah, okay. We went to the movies. The new Tom Hanks film.”

  “Right. Which show did we go to?”

  “The . . . the second evening show.”

  “What time did it start?”

  “What time? Jesus, Jess, what does this have to do with anything?”

  She squeezed his hand hard, as hard as possible in the darkness. “We’ve been together for a long time. You know I don’t like the late showings. I always fall asleep. So when we went to the movies, after dinner at Giovanni’s—where you insisted we split a bottle of wine—I was practically asleep during the previews. And at some time during the show you left.”

  Ted said, “I know. I was there.”

  “And what did you tell me?”

  “I . . . I saw that you were dozing, so I went out to get some popcorn. I ran into Mr. LeBlanc. An old client of mine.”

  “I know that’s what you said. And I know what I saw. I heard you leave. I waited a couple of minutes, then I went out to the lobby. You weren’t there. I went back to the movie. I waited. I waited nearly a half-hour. And then you came back. Breathing hard. With muddy feet. I know you had muddy feet, because your shoes were covered with mud when we got home.”

  Ted stayed quiet.

  Jessica said, “I didn’t know where you were. Or what you were doing. But I’m pretty sure where you went. You went to Sam Warner’s house. Somehow you found out about that party. You knew Sam’s parents were gone. What were you thinking—hoping to get revenge? Push him around? Hurt him?”

  She wondered what he was thinking. What he would say. What he could possibly say.

  His hand was still in hers. She felt like he had surrendered.

  He sighed. “I had heard of the party. I knew about Sam bullying Craig. I had a lot to drink that night, and when you were dozing, I thought, shit, the Warner house was a five-minute drive from there. Just five minutes, and five minutes to scare him and tell him to leave Craig alone, and then I’d be back.”

  “You didn’t see him, did you?”