"You see anything funny?"
"Funny?"
"You know, out of the ordinary."
She shakes her head. "I don't think so."
"You don't think so?"
"No."
"Has she talked to you, Jennifer, since then, I mean?"
Lenise shrugs.
"In passing. Neighbor stuff. Waving when I put out the trash etcetera."
He writes something down but she can't see what it is.
"I prefer to keep to myself," she says.
"You live alone?"
"My son recently moved out."
He looks at the scrabble board on the table.
"Okay," he says finally. "Here's my number." He gives her his card. "Call me if you think of anything else."
Before leaving, he stops at the lion sketch.
"I saw a documentary once – about the Serengeti or some such place. Mostly it's the females who do the hunting yet the males who eat first. Seems the battle of the sexes isn't just a human condition. But I tell you something else for free – those females can be ruthless. I saw one bring down an impala and you know how she killed it? By holding its nose and mouth in her jaw and suffocating it. Held it down like that while it thrashed about from lack of oxygen. And that's the other thing about them – patience – they got a ton of it. But then again, so do I. Thank you for your time."
He gives her a nod and heads out. When he reaches his car, he turns to look at the forest and stands there staring at it, in those crumpled chinos, for what seems to Lenise like the longest time, like a bear with its nose in the wind.
46
Jennifer rises from her desk and opens the office window. She breathes in. Across the lot, the lawnmower man shaves a perfect rectangle path through the grass. He's working his way inward in precise formation, like some strange game of Tetris.
Her door swings open, and Lenise stalks in, furious. "What in God's name are you playing at, Jenny?"
"He's been to see you," says Jennifer, crossing the room to close the door.
"You could have bloody well warned me."
"I had no choice," Jennifer replies evenly.
"What did you tell him?"
"I thought it better to stick as close to the truth as possible."
Lenise shakes her head as if Jennifer is the dumbest human in history. "You should've kept your mouth shut. You've made yourself the number one suspect, you know that, don't you? You put me at risk too."
Jennifer takes a seat, rubs her temple, tries to will the universe into making Lenise disappear but when she opens her eyes, she's still there.
"I had to tell him," says Jennifer. "Besides, sexually abusing your daughter and threatening to kill your family is a good reason to disappear."
"For heaven sakes Jenny, don't be so naive!"
Jennifer explodes and leaps to her feet.
"Who do you think you are, Lenise? We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you!"
"Don't pull that shit on me. You know it was an accident. You're not laying everything at my door. You're up to something and I don't like it."
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm not having a bar of it."
"Lenise, they've got nothing. You'll see. It will die down now. They'll make a half-hearted attempt to look for him, another big case will come along and they'll forget all about Hank Blake."
Lenise pauses. "Does this mean Florida's off?"
Jennifer meets Lenise with a level gaze. "Everything is still moving ahead as planned."
The door opens.
"Everything okay?" says Rosemary. "You guys were shouting."
"We're fine," says Jennifer.
"You sure?"
"I'm just leaving," says Lenise. She gives Jennifer a look. "If anything changes, call me."
"Whatever you say."
"I mean it, Jenny, don't leave me in the dark again."
*
As Jennifer pulls into Seener Road, her hope of making up lost time soon fades when she sees traffic backed up all the way to Cooper Street. She had wanted to collect some empty packing boxes from the moving company before peak hour traffic hit, but by the looks of the trail of red tail lights there wasn't much chance of that.
There's no avoiding it, so she pulls in behind a gold Lexus, and joins the wait, planning on breaking away and taking a left on Quincy Road when she reaches the intersection. Outside pedestrians are walking, chins down, jackets pulled tight at their throats. Then, to her right, Jennifer sees him. Ethan North.
She's startled at first, thinking perhaps she's caught him in the act of tailing her. But then her mind computes what she is actually witnessing – Ethan North on the sidewalk trying to wrangle an old man into his unmarked sedan. The man's being uncooperative and keeps shuffling to the left, pointing at something down the street, causing Ethan to circle around in an attempt to coax him back toward the car.
Initially, Jennifer concludes the man must be an intoxicated vagrant until Ethan kneels down to tie the lace on the old man's shoe. The man smiles and places his hand on top of Ethan's head, gently, father to son.
She's almost embarrassed because it feels like she's walked in on someone in their private space. Ethan and his father continue their back and forth rumba up and down the sidewalk until Ethan finally wins out and gets his father into the passenger side of the car, guiding him into the seat, then reaching over to click the safety belt it into place.
A car honks behind her. Traffic has begun moving again and she pulls away.
*
An hour later, when Jennifer returns home, the back seat filled with packing cartons, she nearly hits the fence when she sees Ethan North's empty sedan parked out front. Trying to quell her shaking hands, she angles the car into the garage and opens the internal door and finds McKenzie and Detective North in the kitchen.
"He says it's about Dad," says McKenzie.
"Oh, yes?" says Jennifer, heart pounding.
Ethan North gets to his feet. "You're moving away."
"That's right."
"You should have told me."
He seems harder now and she wonders where that tender shoe-lace-tying son went.
"I wouldn't have just left," she says.
"Oh?"
"Of course not. It's just with everything going on…"
"Florida?"
She laughs, uneasy. "You bugging my house?"
"McKenzie just told me."
"It's stupid and I don't want to go," McKenzie chimes in.
"I know how it must look," says Jennifer.
"How's that?"
"Husband disappears, wife leaves town," she tries for another laugh. "But McKenzie and I, we deserve this."
He pauses.
"We're conducting a search."
He is watching her and she uses every inch of self-control to keep her face passive.
"A search?"
"In Pine Ridge Forest."
Jennifer feels a rush of blood to the head.
"Why there?" she says.
Detective North hesitates, glances at McKenzie. "It's better if we talk alone."
"Go upstairs, hon," says Jennifer.
"I want to stay."
"Please, McKenzie, do as I say."
"Stop treating me like a kid. I deserve to know what's going on, too."
"Alright," says Jennifer, relenting. She nods at Ethan North to continue.
"Your husband's bank account hasn't been touched, which could mean a possibility of suicide."
"Dad wouldn't do that!"cries McKenzie.
"Hon."
"I know he wouldn't," McKenzie insists.
Ethan looks at his hands, and shoves them in his pockets.
"We have to rule out every possibility. Most research shows people don't stray too far from home to carry out the act, so the forest is a good guess."
"That's a big area. Where will you start?" says Jennifer.
He rubs a knuckle over his lip. "People tend to stick to the tracks and like to
be close to water. Thinking time, I guess. Our focus will be on a small, targeted search in a 10 mile radius."
"When?"
"Monday," he says. "If the weather holds up."
Two nights away.
"You're wasting your time," says McKenzie flatly. "You won't find him."
He looks at them both. "I just thought you should know."
"You won't," she says.
*
Afterward, Jennifer stands on the landing and hears McKenzie crying in her room. Jennifer has no tears though. She is thinking instead, about where they had put the body, somewhere not far from a walking track, close to water.
47
Jennifer paces. She needs to keep moving or she might fall apart. She picks up the cordless phone and takes it into the garage, keeping the lights turned off. She presses the glowing digits.
"We've got a problem," she whispers. "We have to move him."
"What do you mean move him?" demands Lenise.
"They're doing a search on Monday. Oh God, they're going to find him."
Silence.
"Lenise – are you there?"
"This isn't really my problem anymore is it, Jenny?" Lenise replies coolly.
"What do you mean this isn't your problem?"
"I'm getting on with life and trying to put the incident behind me."
"What are you talking about? I'm in this mess because of you."
"If that bastard was still alive you would probably be dead by now, Jenny. You could show a little more gratitude."
"Gratitude? Are you crazy?"
"Now you're insulting me."
Jennifer pauses, tries to collect herself. "You can't be serious," she says. "You have to help me."
"And you haven't exactly been neighborly as of late."
Rain tap-dances across the roof.
"I was trying to get on with things, like you. Put it behind me," says Jennifer.
"It's not right to use people."
"I didn't use you."
"Then throw them away like they are nothing."
"God, Lenise, I'm sorry," Jennifer starts to cry. "I can't go to prison. What will happen to McKenzie?"
"Calm down. You're not doing yourself any favors by losing your rag."
"Please, Lenise. I've got no one else to turn to."
The pause stretches on endlessly. The rain, wild and uncontained now, launches itself against the tin like gravel.
Then, finally, "Piss off and leave me alone."
48
Jennifer glances at McKenzie who's shifting barley and basil risotto around on her plate, eyes fixed in a thousand yard stare, and Jennifer knows she's thinking about Hank and whether he's out there, dead, and if he is, believing it's somehow her fault. Jennifer nearly tells McKenzie everything but doesn't have the guts.
When McKenzie pushes her plate away and says she going to bed early it's almost a relief.
Jennifer rinses the plates and loads the dishwasher and wipes the bench and tells herself these could be the very last domestic duties she'll ever perform. She lifts her head and looks out the kitchen window and sees Lenise standing on her own front steps. There's a sudden fierce pinpoint of red as Lenise brings the cigarette to her lips then an arc of tiny sparks when she flicks it away. Jennifer expects Lenise to go back inside, but she doesn't, she just stands there and stares at the house.
In the morning she is waiting by Jennifer's car.
"You don't deserve it, but I'll help."
*
They decide to wait until the next night, hoping the rain would clear, and it does, although dark clouds linger, threatening to deliver more at a moment's notice. Waiting also gives Jennifer time to collect necessary supplies. Earlier in the day she'd driven to Franklin and found a Lowes and purchased a tarpaulin, gloves, masks, rope, bolt cutters, a large container with a lid and wheels, and two flashlights.
At Lenise's suggestion, Jennifer wore a cap to hide her face from the cameras. She also donned a bulky grey hoodie to make herself look bigger, and was sure to keep her head lowered at the checkout. After paying in cash, Jennifer went to McDonalds and flushed the receipt down the toilet. Tonight, with McKenzie asleep, Jennifer waits in the garage. She has the awful feeling Lenise isn't going to show. But a little after 11pm, there's a tap on the roller door.
"You're late," says Jennifer.
"Well, I'm here now, so let's get on with it."
They drive in silence. Lenise's stony face stares out the window, and Jennifer thinks of the night they first met when Lenise cradled Baby in her arms in the back seat. Jennifer has the urge to thank her, because even though this situation was in large part Lenise's fault, she could have forced Jennifer to deal with this mess on her own.
It's not long before they reach the Pine Ridge entrance and Jennifer takes the road to the left. Bitumen gives way to shingle, and shadows close in around them. They follow the same route as before, keeping a lookout for landmarks. But with the onset of winter everything's changed. Trees are bare of leaves and even the land looks different in places.
"It's around here somewhere," says Jennifer, hunched over the steering wheel.
"Watch it."
Up ahead a group of college kids mill round a bonfire, bottles in hand. Music thumps and some are dancing. There's a peal of laughter when a guy lobs a can of Axe into the fire making it explode.
"Little shits," says Lenise.
"They're blocking the path in."
"Well, I can see that, can't I?" snaps Lenise. "We'll have to try again tomorrow."
"The search is tomorrow."
"I thought you said it was Tuesday," says Lenise.
"I told you Monday."
"You said Tuesday."
"Okay, Lenise, you're right, like you're always right," says Jennifer. "But that doesn't change the fact we still need to do this tonight."
Jennifer returns to the entrance and heads back to Pine Ridge Road and takes the road skirting the forest. Spots of rain spatter the windscreen.
"Marvelous," says Lenise.
"It's just rain."
Jennifer drives slow, hugging the curb, scanning for a possible way in.
"See I told you – nothing," says Lenise.
"There!"
Sure enough in front of them is another track, albeit narrow and overgrown.
"You'll never be able to do it."
"We'll see."
Jennifer leaves the road and drives overland toward the opening. It's tight but she does it. The path is rough going and they are tossed about in their seats and Lenise tells her to slow down, placing a hand on the dashboard. Jennifer eases off the accelerator but drives on, into deeper, thicker forest.
"Watch out!"
Jennifer slams on the brakes and they catapult against their seatbelts.
"What the hell is that?"
Something is blocking their path. A septic tank. Broken toilets. Other construction debris.
"Someone doesn't want to pay dumping fees."
Jennifer cuts the engine.
"We can't go any further," she says.
"What now?" says Lenise.
"We walk."
"We'll get lost. Do you even know where we are?"
Jennifer gets out of the car and faces the forest wall. "I think so."
"Don't be a fool. We could be anywhere."
"You'll just have to trust me," says Jennifer.
She retrieves the container from the trunk, hands Lenise the spades and clicks on a flashlight. "Let's go."
They find a gap between a stand of Spanish firs and move forward. Torchlight nods against the vegetation and Jennifer pulls the container behind her, its tiny rubber wheels lurching over roots and rocks. Wind roars like an ocean through the treetops, but down here, close to the forest floor, even the rain can't get through.
They walk for a good twenty minutes before emerging to face a clearing, with more woods on the other side. The wind is instant and vicious and so is the driving rain. It pricks Jennifer's bare a
rms and she thinks how stupid it was not to bring a coat. She stands on a fallen log and looks out over the land.
"If we can just find the river."
Lenise shouts over the wind. "We're getting lost!"
"I know we're close."
"You don't know that at all!"
Jennifer ignores her and begins the trek to the other side.
"You're going in the wrong direction!" Lenise calls out.
But Jennifer heads across the exposed clearing and Lenise follows. A bitter wind blasts from every direction, robbing them of breath. They avert their faces but there's nowhere to hide and all they can do is keep going and carry up the incline to the other side.
Finally, they reach the embankment and Jennifer puts the container on the ground and stops to catch her breath. Lenise stops too, tries to unwrap the wet, tangled hair from around her neck.
Jennifer picks up the container. "Let's keep moving."
"I need to rest."
"Rest all you want later."
Twenty more minutes and they reach a wire fence.
"It's the border to the orchard," says Jennifer.
Lenise lifts her arm. "Over there."
They cut across the paddock. The sound of rushing water.
"We must be close."
Jennifer does a 360 then sees it. The Arizona cypress. They cross the grass and look down at the grave.
"Something's been at it," says Lenise.
The ground has most definitely been disturbed. A deep gash cuts across the grave.
"What if he's not all there?" says Jennifer.
"There's only one way to find out."
Lenise props the torch in a nook of the pear tree, angling the light directly onto the spot. They slice into the boggy soil and stony mud drips from their spades like excrement, but it's better than the frozen ground Jennifer had been expecting. They dig deeper and deeper into the slop, rain battering the leaves above their heads, the taste of lime and death on their lips. Twenty minutes in, Lenise holds up her hand.
"Careful," she says, staring into the hole.
Jennifer looks over Lenise's shoulder.
"Oh Jesus."
A creamy eye stares back at them.
Throwing the spade to one side, Lenise ties a rag around her face, gives one to Jennifer, and they bend down to finish the job with their hands. They don't get very far because the smell is unbearable. Jennifer can't stand it and stops.
The Devil's Wire Page 17