Look Closely

by Laura Caldwell

  I picked up the last letter and held it close to my face. There was a dot right above the second letter of the name, as if he’d written an I, but there was no slash as there had been through the T’s in the other letters. Instead, the fourth letter dipped down below the word. Was it a J or a Y? I stared some more until the word began to shape. “Singer,” it said. I picked up the other letter from Santa Fe and saw that I was right.

  My brother had apparently changed his name to Singer.

  10

  I locked the room and ran down the stairs, excited about the “Singer” discovery, yet trying to prime my mind for my meeting with Sheriff Manning. This wasn’t just a nice Sunday dinner.

  When I got to the front desk, Ty was behind it with a young woman, a friend who helped out occasionally. Ty had instituted a late Sunday checkout of four o’clock, but he said he still didn’t push people to get out on time, so sometimes they had a rush on Sunday afternoons. It looked like one of those days. Both Ty and the woman, who had a cute upturned nose and bobbed brown hair, were leaning over the counter, handing out credit-card slips, taking keys from guests.

  “Sorry,” Ty mouthed to me over the head of a man who was signing his slip. “Two seconds.”

  I smiled and shook my head, and as I did, I saw that the woman behind the desk had seen our exchange. The woman looked quickly from Ty to me and back again.

  When all the guests were gone, Ty waved me over. “Sorry about that,” he said. “This is Molly.” He gestured to the woman.

  “Hey,” Molly said, offering me a short smile and reaching over the desk to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Molly is one of my best buddies in the world,” Ty said in a proud voice while he ruffled the back of Molly’s hair.

  Molly raised her hand to smooth her hair. As she did so, she shot another glance at me, one that sized me up in a short sweep of her eyes. I knew right then that Molly wasn’t happy to be simply one of Ty’s buddies, and the thought bothered me.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Same,” Molly said. She turned to Ty then. “If you’re having burgers tonight, tell Chief not to use too much steak sauce. He drowns them every time.”

  Ty laughed. “Will do.”

  Point taken, I thought. You’ve been to their house for dinner before me. I made myself smile again at Molly and followed Ty to his car, which was parked out front.

  It was an old Chevy with green nylon seats and pop cans rattling in the back.

  “I keep my house and the inn immaculate,” Ty said as he opened the door for me, “but I can’t seem to get my act together with my car. It’s some teenage-regression thing. I’m getting serious therapy very soon.”

  I chuckled, but then my mind flew to Caroline because of the word therapy. What had she been dealing with?

  Ty pulled out of the inn’s circular front driveway, the whole Chevy leaning as he maneuvered the curves.

  “So is your head still pounding from last night?” Ty asked.

  “I’ve started to feel a little better.”

  “You want to tell me what got you in such a mood that you had to drink me and every guy in Woodland Dunes under the table?”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad I was there to mop you up, but something tells me that’s not everyday drinking for you.”

  “Ha,” I said. “Definitely not.”

  “So what was it? This thing with your mom?”

  I watched the larger beach homes give way to smaller ranch-style houses as Ty turned the car away from the lake. “It was so many things,” I said, suddenly tired and wishing this was just an easy dinner with a guy I liked.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Ty said when I didn’t explain.

  “I do want to tell you. It’s just that it’s complicated. Being back here, dealing with the memories. It’s been bizarre to say the least. But the thing that pushed me over the edge was this stack of letters I got from Della.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Actually, talking about it would probably help me to sort through it all. How soon until we get to your parents’?” We were heading into town now, and we passed the deli where Ty had taken me for lunch.

  “About two minutes, but I can take the long way.”

  “That would be great.”

  Ty looped around the neighborhood, passing a park, an old pharmacy and a rash of small, aluminum-sided houses. By the time we pulled into the Mannings’ blond brick home, I had explained about Caroline’s disappearance and Dan’s last two envelopes that bore the name Singer instead of Sutter.

  “So where does that leave you?” Ty asked as he turned off the ignition. “I mean, it seems like you’ve learned more but you still don’t know anything definite, right? And your sister…Shit, that’s scary.”

  “I know, but I’m hoping your dad will add some more to the mix. Maybe he’ll be able to explain everything. Even if that happens, I’m still going to Portland to see Caroline’s husband. I want to help him if I can. And I want to meet my sister again.”

  Just then a woman appeared in the doorway of the Mannings’ house and waved at the car. She had short hair the same rust color as Ty’s and wore jeans with a sleeveless mint-green sweater.

  “That’s my mom,” Ty said with a laugh. “And she’ll come out to the car and get us if we don’t move.”

  I glanced at Ty, at the affection on his face while he looked at his mother, and I felt a pang of envy. I would never get my mother back, but maybe I would be recovering members of my family soon. “Let’s go then,” I said.

  The Mannings’ house felt like a quaint, seaside cottage, even though it was miles from the lake. Wood furniture painted white was mixed with quilts, embroidered pillows and decorative flowerpots. Ty had told me that his mom was instrumental in decorating Long Beach Inn, and I could tell that she must have done the room where I was staying.

  “Hailey, how are you? It’s so nice to meet you,” Mrs. Manning said. She squeezed my forearm. “Now, please call me Bert. My real name is Roberta, but I hate it. Let’s get you a glass of wine.”

  Bert looked as though she might be in her forties, rather than approaching sixty as Ty had told me. She was the kind of mother I’d always wished for, one I could have fun with, who I could have a drink with and confide in. It was obvious that Bert and Ty were close judging by the glances and private jokes that passed between them.

  “Your father’s late,” Bert said, removing a tray of lasagna from the oven.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Ty said.

  “So we’re going to let this cool and start on the salads without him.”

  The three of us sat down at a whitewashed kitchen table with leaves hand-painted in the corners. I passed on the wine that Bert offered. The thought of it made my stomach shriek. Over a large salad and a loaf of garlic bread, Ty and his mother talked about Ty’s older brother, who was a computer programmer in Chicago, and his younger sister, who was getting a master’s degree in child psychology at Northwestern.

  “She said she’s definitely going for the Ph.D. after this,” Bert said. “Can you believe it?”

  “Of course,” Ty said, eating his salad, “and she’ll probably run for president after that.”

  Ty and Bert both laughed, and I felt a wave of longing again for a family like this, the kind that knew each other so well.

  “So, Hailey,” Bert said, offering me the basket of bread again. “Ty said you’re from Manhattan, is that right?”

  I took a slice. “I’ve lived in New York for years now, but my family used to live here—a long time ago.”

  “Oh!” Bert said. Apparently Ty hadn’t told her that much, and it confirmed my feelings that I could trust him. I had asked Ty not to let his parents know why I wanted to meet them. I hoped to bring the conversation around naturally and see what came up. Experience taught me that I often got more information from witnesses when they didn’t know what I was going to a
sk them.

  “Would I have known your parents?” Bert asked.

  “I’m not sure. Will and Leah Sutter?”

  Bert made a thoughtful face. “Sure, I remember them. Your dad was the lawyer for this town for a number of years.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I’d forgotten that, because he doesn’t do municipal work anymore.”

  “I remember everyone was so proud that we had a big Chicago lawyer representing us. And I remember your mom, too, honey.” Bert’s tone was lower now. “I didn’t know her well, but what I knew of her I liked, and I was so sorry to hear that she’d died.”

  “Thank you,” I said, although it felt odd to accept condolences over a woman who’d passed away so long ago, a woman I had a hard time remembering.

  “Did your father ever remarry?”

  “Oh, no.” It was the same answer I always gave. Often I would go on, explaining that my father had been too in love with my mom to ever replace her, but this time I fell silent because of the separation. I had no idea whose decision that had been. Was it a mutual one because they had fallen out of love? Or had one of them done something to the other, something they couldn’t forgive?

  There was a second of silence and then the sound of a car pulling into the garage. A minute later, the garage door leading into the kitchen opened.

  “Hi, honey,” Bert called without even looking at the door. “How were the fish?”

  Lou Manning stepped into the room, carrying a large duffel bag over his shoulder. Like Ty, he wasn’t a large man, but there was a presence about him. His brown-gray hair was thinning, and he had intense dark eyes. When he smiled at his wife, though, the solemn face broke.

  “Hi, doll,” he said in a quiet voice. He nodded at his son, and said, “Ty.” Then his eyes turned to me. He gave another nod of his head.

  “Dad, this is Hailey Sutter,” Ty said.

  I crossed the room to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Chief.”

  His face had returned to its serious cast, and he didn’t meet my hand. “Call me Lou. I’m filthy from fishing. I’ll just grab a shower.” He moved around me and into the next room, and soon we could hear him climbing the stairs.

  I let my hand fall to my side and took my seat again.

  “His bark is worse than his bite,” Ty said.

  “That’s for sure,” Bert said. She picked up her glass. “You definitely won’t have any wine, Hailey?”

  “Oh, no,” I said, and I could almost feel Ty’s smirk. “I had a little too much to drink last night.”

  “Well then, you’ll need more bread,” Bert said. She put a few more pieces on my plate. “Soak it all up.”

  Chief Manning returned ten minutes later with comb marks in his wet hair, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. He walked to his wife and kissed her on the top of her head.

  “Did you bring us any fish?” Bert asked him.

  He nodded. “It’s in the freezer in the garage.”

  “Good. Then we’ll have a fish fry this week. Hailey, maybe you could come back for dinner again?” Bert got up from the table and began cutting the lasagna.

  “I wish I could,” I said, “but I’m leaving tomorrow. I may be coming back to Chicago for business, but I’m not sure when.”

  I looked at Ty’s face as I said this and saw him glance down at his plate. I couldn’t read his expression, but I hoped it was a little sadness over me leaving. Under different circumstances, I could get very interested in a guy like Ty, someone undeniably attractive, someone who wanted to understand where I came from, who wanted to support me. But these weren’t different circumstances. I still lived in Manhattan, and I still had to leave tomorrow. I would go to Portland to meet Matt, and then get back to New York the next day. I’d have tons of work piled up by then.

  I felt someone’s eyes on me, and I turned my head to see that Chief Manning had taken the seat to my left and was watching me closely.

  “Chief Manning—Lou, I mean,” I said. It was hard to imagine being on a first-name basis with this imposing man. “My family used to live here in town, and Ty mentioned you might have worked on a case that involved my mother.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he gave a single nod of his head. I wasn’t sure if this was an acknowledgment that I was right, or encouragement to keep talking.

  “My mother passed away,” I continued, nervous now, “when I was seven. Ty said you might have looked into the matter.”

  “Leah Sutter.” He said this matter-of-factly, not as a question.

  “Yes, that’s right. Do you remember this at all?”

  Another nod.

  “Dad, how about helping her out a little bit?” Ty said.

  Lou glanced at his son, then back to me. “It was a long time ago, but I remember. What do you need to know?”

  The kitchen went silent, and I had the sense that even Bert, standing over the lasagna at the stove, was waiting for my answer.

  “It’s just that I was so little,” I said. I tried to make my words light and chatty, as if I had this conversation often. “And I don’t know much about how she died. I’m curious.”

  “Well, let’s see.” Lou put his hand to the collar of his flannel shirt and slowly pulled at it. “Your mother died from blunt trauma to the head. She fell down the stairs, if I’m not mistaken.”

  I felt a strange disappointment. “That’s it? She fell down the stairs?”

  He nodded.

  “Then why were you looking into the case?”

  “Standard procedure.”

  “But Dad,” Ty cut in. “I remember you saying that she’d been killed, and you were going to find out who did that to her. That sounds like you thought there was more going on.”

  Chief Manning sent his son a look I couldn’t interpret. “Quite often, when family members say something like ‘She fell down the stairs,’ it means a possible abuse situation. So we have to look into it. We have to interview the family members, anyone else who was around, and we make a determination whether to pursue the case. When your mother died, we did consider whether she’d been physically abused. Maybe that’s when I made that comment to Ty.”

  Bert made a tutting sound as she put the pan of lasagna in the center of the table and took her seat. “If I knew you were saying such things to the kids, I never would have let them come to the office.”

  Chief Manning glanced at his wife and let a grin cross his mouth, then looked back at me. His gaze was disconcerting, his brown eyes unblinking, focused solely on my face. I had the brief thought that he should have been a lawyer instead of a policeman. I’d hate to go up against him in court.

  It was hard to ask my next question, but I forced myself. “Who did you suspect of abusing her? I mean, when you had suspicions.”

  There was another quiet moment, during which Ty began helping Bert dole pieces of lasagna onto the plates.

  “We suspected your father,” Chief Manning said. “That’s standard, to look to the spouse first.”

  “But they were separated. Doesn’t that remove the spouse from suspicion?”

  “Actually, that usually makes us more suspicious. There’s often a lot of unresolved animosity in separations.”

  That seemed obvious now that he’d said it, but I couldn’t imagine my father being abusive to my mom or anyone else for that matter. Yet what did I really know? “You ruled him out eventually?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Did you suspect anyone else?” I asked.

  “You had an older brother, right?”

  “That’s right,” I said. I cut my lasagna with my fork. “Dan.”

  “Well, we thought about him, of course. He was old enough and big enough, but he had an alibi. Seems he was gone all night with his friends, taking advantage of your dad being out of the house, I suppose. And he came home to find you all.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you all’?”

  Chief Manning glanced at me. “You were with your mama. You and your sister.
Your brother came home early in the morning and found you three in your parents’ room.”

  The lasagna caught in my throat, and I grabbed for my water. The light that hung over the table seemed too harsh, reminding me of a light in a police interrogation room.

  And then I remembered something. The sound of pounding. Far away, like the sound in a dream. It became louder, then louder still, until I’d had to leave the dream and wake up. And when I did, I was in my mother’s bed. She was asleep. Her head was turned to one side. Her sandy-blond hair fell like a panel over her face. The pounding again. It was coming from the door. I untangled my legs from the sheets. I noticed that I had slept in my jeans and my shirt with the big yellow flower on it.

  I was almost to the door when I heard my name. “Hailey!”

  I stopped. I looked at the bed. My mother was still asleep.

  “Hailey!” I heard again. It was coming from the door. I walked toward it, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Hailey, it’s me!” I heard.

  “Danny?” I said.

  “Hailey, open the door.”

  I stepped toward the door and reached for the handle. It wouldn’t turn. “I can’t open it. It’s locked.”

  “Unlock it then.” His voice sounded mad.

  I scrambled with the handle, trying to figure out how the lock worked. It still wouldn’t open. Why wouldn’t it open? We were trapped. “I can’t,” I said, scared now. Maybe I should wake Mom.

  “Is Caroline in there?” I heard Dan ask.

  I started to say no, just me and Mom, but I glanced around the room to make sure. And there was Caroline. Hunched in a corner, knees up to her chest. The same way she sat on the porch swing. It seemed she might be asleep, too. Then I saw her eyes were open, staring at me.

  “You all right?” Ty said, leaning toward me now, jarring me away from the memory.

  Bert jumped up from the table and refilled my water glass. Chief Manning, on the other hand, hadn’t moved, his eyes still on me.

  I blinked a few times, focusing on the line of freckles over Ty’s cheekbones, unable to bring back that moment in my mom’s bedroom.