by Alex Finlay
“Matt, there’s no easy way to say this, but there’s evidence of possible foul play.”
Matt felt his knees buckle a little, the air stripped from his lungs.
“Are you there?” Keller said. “Matt?”
“Yes. Okay, you have my consent.”
“Thank you. We understand your aunt plans to have the funeral on Sunday. So the medical team will be done by tomorrow. It’s been given top priority.”
Matt just held the phone, still trying to process. Trying not to think of his family dissected on cold stainless-steel tables.
“And, Matt,” Keller said.
Matt still didn’t reply.
“I’m really sorry.”
Matt severed the connection. He stood there outside the old bar, the sound of music leaking from cracks in the walls. For whatever reason, his thoughts drifted to Kala and Jordan Peele and M. Night Shyamalan and destiny.
And then it hit him. Maybe that was it. Maybe this was why he’d survived.
To find out what really happened to his family.
CHAPTER 36
OLIVIA PINE
BEFORE
“Do you miss your mommy?” Tommy asked.
Liv gave a fleeting smile. She looked at her mother’s white marble headstone in the back half of the cemetery, remembering the day when she was ten years old—a cold winter morning, the wind biting her wet cheeks as she watched them lower the casket into the ground. Today the sun was shining and the family plot didn’t look so dreary. Old trees gave plenty of shade, tiny American flags and flowers adorned graves, and the grounds were well maintained. Were it not for the hundreds of dead underfoot, it would be a nice spot for a picnic. Her great-great-grandparents had purchased this serene family plot more than one hundred years ago.
“I miss her every day.” Liv eyed the vacant spot next to her mother’s grave. Sadness flitted through her chest as Liv realized that it wouldn’t be long before Dad joined her.
“I’d miss you if you died,” Tommy said.
Liv crouched down. She looked at him with those beautiful gray-blue eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me dying.”
“Promise?”
Liv hesitated. Visiting her mother’s grave had obviously scared Tommy, and she wanted to comfort him. But she couldn’t promise him she would never die.
“I’ll be an old gray-haired woman”—she stood and stooped her back and feigned a stagger—“and you’ll have to help me walk.”
Tommy giggled. “I almost died once, right, Mommy?”
Ugh, more with the death. It served her right for bringing him here. “Nope. Your silly appendix just decided it was time to come out.” She tickled his tummy.
In truth, the pediatrician had missed the signs, mistaking Tommy’s stomachache for constipation. When his appendix ruptured, it was life-threatening, compounded by the hospital not having enough of Tommy’s rare blood type on hand. She remembered the terror—Evan running into the hospital, panicked—and them both thinking, but not saying, Why us?
Tommy rubbed the scar on the lower right side of his abdomen. Then came the barrage of questions. Where do you go when you die? Why do we bury dead people? Do worms eat your body? When would I die? How about Daddy or Maggie or Matt? Liv noticed he didn’t ask about Danny. It shouldn’t have surprised her. After all, he’d never met Danny in person. Her oldest son had forbidden any of his siblings from visiting him in prison. Tommy had seen photos of Danny, and knew he was in jail for something he didn’t do. But his big brother was like a storybook character, a fable, a superhero, a legend fueled by Evan Pine.
“You want to get some ice cream?” Liv asked, trying to change the subject.
Her son’s questions stayed with Liv as she watched ice cream drip down Tommy’s arm at Sullivan’s Ice Cream. She’d been thinking a lot about death herself lately, but she supposed it was her age, her father’s condition, perhaps. Maybe it was Evan’s blowout fight with Matt over the holidays, the two still not speaking to each other. Maybe it was the Supreme Court denying Danny’s appeal. Maybe it was Maggie graduating and soon leaving them for college. Maybe it was knowing this town, her childhood community, hated her.
She scanned the ice cream shop. Only a few customers sat at the small circular tables, and no one seemed to be paying them any mind. The girl behind the counter was about fifteen, so maybe she didn’t know or care about the documentary.
“A Violent Nature” had been a blessing and a curse. A blessing, since it had rallied the public—not to mention some top lawyers offering pro bono assistance—to help Danny. A curse, because it subjected her family to the ugly in the world, the haters, mostly disappointed middle-aged men sitting behind computer screens and spewing venom.
She thought of Officer White’s face yesterday. The hatred in her eyes. What would’ve happened if Glen Elmore hadn’t shown up? Liv was being silly. The cop was just trying to scare her. Liv was fourth-generation Adair, so one would think they’d cut her a break. But the town was unforgiving. It was a wonder that her sister chose to stay behind. And she hoped her father would never understand the dreadful turn of events. He’d loved this place, as had she, and it would devastate him.
She thought again about the empty plots next to her mother’s grave. Would she someday be buried there? That was what her will instructed. So did Evan’s. But they’d made those choices when the kids were little. Before Danny’s arrest and imprisonment, before “A Violent Nature.”
The world was divided into before and after those events.
Liv’s world had been secretly divided even further. Before the affair with Noah, and after. In the wake of Danny’s arrest, she’d vowed to leave Noah in the past. To never be alone with him, and avoid even talking to him if possible. It had been a mistake fueled by too much wine and, for lack of a better excuse, a midlife crisis. Liv had chosen this life, giving up a career to raise a family in a small town. But as the children grew older and needed her less—and as she and Evan had lost themselves to parenting—she started entertaining fantasies about where life could’ve taken her. She was still an attractive woman, but she wasn’t getting any younger. And the heads she turned these days were typically topped with gray. She didn’t want to admit it, but her looks had always been a big part of her identity. What would she be when they were gone? When the kids were gone? Then she’d run into Noah at the supermarket, of all places.
One thing led to another, as they say. It lasted exactly one month. She’d visit him at his office and he’d bend her over his mahogany desk. She’d straddle him in the front seat of the car parked in a cornfield they’d frequented as teenagers. She’d slink to his hotel when he stayed the night in Lincoln for work. The sneaking around—the risk—was part of the thrill, if she was honest about it. Noah had been a single man since his wife died, but the lieutenant governor sleeping with a married woman would still be a scandal in conservative Nebraska. And she of course could lose everything.
In a way she did.
The night Charlotte was killed, Evan had been out of town for work. Liv met Noah at the hotel and told him it was over. They talked until three in the morning—much of it him trying to convince her to leave her husband—but she held her ground. The affair was an illusion, Noah lonely and isolated after Vicki’s death, Liv lonely and isolated in the throes of domestic life. She loved her family, loved Evan.
That night she’d fallen asleep, and when she awoke he was gone—left to tend to the house party that changed her life. On her drive home, trying to beat Evan’s return from his business trip, she ignored calls from home. When she arrived, Maggie ran outside and told her that the police had taken Danny.
She’d planned on telling Evan about the affair. Planned on telling the police, if they ever asked. But she decided the weight of her betrayal was more than Evan—more than her family—could bear. As it happened, the investigators never asked where she was that night. Why would they? They had their man the moment Danny walked into that station house alone.
She would never forgive herself. So she’d vowed she was done with Noah Brawn. She would never speak with him again. She certainly would never be alone with him. Promised God that if he would just set Danny free, she would never, ever …
But here she was. Planning to go to dinner with him tonight at the same Italian restaurant they’d gone to before senior prom. But why shouldn’t she go? Her fucking vow hadn’t freed her son. Hadn’t brought Evan back to her.
She nearly jumped when her phone rang and her husband’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hey there,” Evan said. “How’s our favorite town?” Evan sounded like he was in good spirits, upbeat. It was so infrequent lately that it was notable.
“It’s been a bizarre trip so far,” Liv said, looking around the ice cream store.
“Yeah? Sorry I missed your call. Your text said you worked things out for your dad. Everything else okay?”
“It’s fine. I’ll fill you in on everything later,” she said. “We’re at Sullivan’s.”
“I don’t miss much about Adair, but I do miss their rocky road,” Evan said.
Liv didn’t respond. She was in no mood for nostalgia.
“Sure you’re okay?” Evan asked.
She decided to swallow her medicine. “I saw Noah.”
“Yeah?” Evan said flatly.
Liv explained how he’d fixed the problem with the nursing home.
“That was good of him.”
“But that’s not the good part. He’s being appointed governor.”
“What do you mean? How—”
“Toad Face Turner is likely going to be indicted. Some tawdry mess with underage girls. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. It’s all over the news here.”
“Karma’s a bitch,” Evan said. “Do you think Noah will do it? Do you think he—” Evan didn’t finish the sentence, as if saying the word pardon would jinx it.
“I don’t know. He’s invited me to dinner tonight—with his son, and Cindy and Tommy,” she added quickly.
“If anyone can convince him,” Evan said, “it’s you.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Changing the subject, she said, “So Maggie said I need to ask you about Mexico?”
“That little sneak. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow when you’re back. Hey, can I talk to the little man?”
“Sure.” Liv handed Tommy the phone. “It’s Daddy.”
Tommy clutched the phone and said, “Hello.” He listened, a look of wonder sprouting on his face. “Really? The beach? Another airplane?”
Liv realized that Evan must have booked a spring break trip, one they couldn’t afford. She actually liked the idea of a getaway. It had been so long. And Mags worked so hard in high school, she deserved it.
“Awesome! I love you too.” Tommy held out the phone for Liv to take from him.
“What was that about?”
“You’ll see.”
Liv was going to press him but she noticed a middle-aged woman, a beady-eyed mess with smeared makeup and disheveled hair, staring at her.
“I need to get going,” she said. “But is Mags okay? I had some missed calls from her.”
“Magpie is great. I have her helping me with a project.”
Always a project. She wanted to tell him to just hang out with her. Watch a movie. Get dinner. Anything that wasn’t a “project” relating to Danny’s case.
“Hey, Liv,” Evan said. His tone was more serious now.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
What the hell was going on at home? “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” he said.
* * *
She left the ice cream shop holding Tommy’s hand, which was sticky and gross but she didn’t mind. It was something people without kids would never understand. It wasn’t gross to her.
They walked down Main Street, her thoughts returning to when she was a girl. In those days they spent more time outside—running the fields, fishing at the creek, riding bikes. The rental car was parked at the curb in front of the pharmacy. Tommy was playing a game of avoid-the-sidewalk-cracks, using her arm to swing over offending crevices. He didn’t want to break anyone’s back, after all. Never mind the shoulder surgery she might need.
At the car, Liv dug through her handbag for the keys. She was still holding Tommy’s hand, and had to contort her body so her other hand could rifle through the bag. She finally felt the key fob for the rental and pulled it out.
When she looked up, she was startled by the sight of a woman—the crazy lady from the ice cream store. She was standing too close, her pupils saucers.
“They said you were here,” she said in a raspy voice. The woman blinked several times.
Still clutching Tommy’s hand, Liv put her body between the woman and her son.
“I’m sorry?” she said, trying to sound polite.
“My Ronnie was a good cop, and he didn’t kill himself,” she said.
Oh God, Liv thought. It was the cop’s wife. She clicked the key fob, turned, and picked up Tommy. “I’m sorry, we really need to go,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
Liv opened the door with one hand, ushered Tommy safely inside, and shut the door and locked it. The fear she’d felt for her son’s safety turned to rage. First Danielle Parker at the convenience store, then the cop yesterday, now this. She’d had enough of this goddamned town and its lunatic residents. Liv gave the woman a harsh stare.
Examining the woman more closely, though, Liv’s anger dissipated. Detective Sampson’s wife was frail and sad-looking and a mess.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Liv said. She was ashamed that she wasn’t sure she meant it. Ron Sampson had railroaded her son.
The woman didn’t reply, just dug through her bag.
“They say I’m nuts. They won’t listen to me.” Liv could smell alcohol on the woman’s breath. But this was more than booze. Pills, painkillers, maybe.
“But my Ronnie didn’t kill himself.”
“I really need to go.” Liv started to walk around the car to the driver’s side. Tommy had his nose to the window. He waved to her, oblivious.
The woman started bawling.
“I’m sorry,” was all Liv could manage.
“Ron was sorry too,” the woman said. “About what he did, about what happened to your boy. He said he was gonna fix it.”
This grabbed Liv’s attention. What on earth was she talking about? Ron Sampson had bullied Danny into confessing.
“He scheduled a meeting with those movie people,” the woman continued. “Was gonna tell them everything, and then…” She started crying again. “He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t leave me.”
The woman started digging in the bag again, and Liv feared for a second that she’d produce a weapon. But Mrs. Sampson pulled out a wrinkled manila folder.
“Ronnie told me that this proves everything.” She shoved the file into Liv’s hands. “I’m sorry about your boy,” Mrs. Sampson said.
And then she ran off.
CHAPTER 37
EVAN PINE
BEFORE
Evan tried not to get bent out of shape about Liv having dinner with him. She was trying to help. So was Noah, Evan supposed. Though Noah’s altruism always tended to benefit himself. Granted, he’d been a strong advocate for Danny. But doing so had elevated his political stature and brought him heartthrob status. And it distracted from the fact that it was his son who’d thrown the party that night. At Noah’s house, no less.
Before Danny’s arrest, Evan had never been jealous of Noah Brawn. He thought Liv saw Noah for who he really was: a glad-handing politician. But Evan and Liv had drifted apart before Evan had even realized it, and Noah was undeniably handsome and charismatic. And if Evan were being honest, he had let himself go. Now Evan couldn’t help but envy the man. He wanted to call Liv back and say, Hell no, you’re not going. Something in Liv’s voice s
aid that she hoped he’d tell her not to go. That she wanted him to fight for her. Put her above everything else, even the hope of a pardon. It was one of those moments where he realized how much he’d failed her.
He picked up his cell. Do it. Call her.
But then he heard the jangle of keys at the door and Maggie strolled into the kitchen. She seemed excited, a sparkle in her eyes.
“Hey, Magpie. You just missed Mom’s call.”
“How’s Grandpa?” Maggie asked.
“He’s still having trouble, but at least they’ll let him stay at the home.”
“Did you tell her about the trip?”
“No, but apparently someone did.”
Maggie’s face reddened and she gave a timid smile. “I didn’t tell her. I just mentioned that she might want to talk to you about Mexico. What’d she say?”
“Not much. I didn’t get into it. Said it was a surprise. Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
“Will it, Dad?” Maggie took a stool next to her father at the kitchen counter.
“Will it what?”
“Be fine. I mean, it’s kind of crazy.”
Evan grinned. “I’ve got to live up to my reputation.”
Maggie didn’t laugh. The documentary’s portrayal of Evan as unhinged was a sore spot for his daughter.
He gazed at her, marveling that he’d helped produce such an amazing person. He’d always known she was special. From the time Maggie was a baby, Liv would say that their little girl had a “special edition” heart. It filled his own heart with pride to see that she’d never changed. It was the great mystery of parenting: Who would these little people become? Would the predictions you made when they were babies come true? Were their personalities forged by the age of seven, as he’d read somewhere? Would the morals you tried to instill stick? Or would there be a twist in the story? One fitting of those crime novels Liv loved so much.
“You’re not crazy,” Maggie said, intruding on his thoughts.
He had another surge of emotion. He loved this girl so much. He thought of the pills he’d jammed into his mouth. How could he have considered …