by Jeff Abbott
Silence in the room.
“OK,” Craig said. “You’ve shown my wife’s property to me, is there anything else?”
Broussard drummed fingers against the table. “Have you received any communications from your wife, or regarding your wife, since we last spoke?”
Here it is, Craig thought. “Define communication.”
The silence was loud and thunderous. “Has someone contacted you regarding her?”
“I received a prank phone call saying that she was abducted by aliens. Probably the twentieth I’ve gotten along those lines since she vanished.” He did not mention the other call, the more frightening one. “And someone left a rock in my driveway today.”
“A rock. Why a rock?”
“I don’t know. An implied threat. I’ve had seven rocks tossed through my front window. You’ve never found the culprits.”
“Anything with the rock?” Broussard asked.
“A note.”
“You really make me pull it out of you, Craig,” Broussard said. He shook his head. “What note?”
“It told me that it was time for me to leave Lakehaven.”
“Was there a specific threat if you didn’t?” Ames asked.
“No. It’s all bluster. But I am tired of it.”
“I’d like to see this note.”
“I’ll send you a photo,” he said.
“Where’s the physical note?”
“I thought Mariah would find it upsetting,” he said. “I destroyed it.” The lie felt just fine on his lips. He had no intention of giving this to the police and letting them make no headway. He’d put it to better use when he found whoever was tormenting him.
“That was evidence.”
“There’s no evidence against me in my wife’s disappearance, but still you think I did it. It’s sad how you can’t solve the biggest case in years in this town.” He watched their faces for a reaction to his prodding.
Dennis Broussard said, “It’s unfathomable to me how you think this is some kind of game.”
“This is my life. My child’s life. You’re the one who treats it like a mental exercise.”
“How’s Mariah?” Ames asked.
“She’s coping.”
“She engaged in a reckless car chase,” Ames said.
“She was certain she saw her mom.”
“She had a trunk full of weapons and gear. She claimed to have an alternate theory of the crime when I spoke to her last night. Is she actually making inquiries? Because I would consider that most unhelpful. Perhaps even interference with the case.”
Craig didn’t know that Broussard had talked to Mariah; he felt angry that she hadn’t told him. But he felt sure this was an empty threat. “It’s all for show. She doesn’t have a lead. She wouldn’t know how to track it.” He hoped Broussard or Ames wouldn’t do an internet search and find Reveal’s blog. “It makes her feel…like she has some sort of sense of control. That she can find her mother. Even if she can’t. She needs to feel like she can do something to help. Do you understand that?”
“Does she often hallucinate?” Broussard asked. “Is she on medications, or other drugs?”
“Just Xanax. Five milligrams. To help her with her anxiety when needed, but she hasn’t taken it in a while. I wouldn’t call yesterday a hallucination. More mistaken identity, driven by hope. See, we still have hope, and hope is cruel in its own way.”
“Let’s go back to this DVD. A glove compartment,” Broussard said, “is a really good place to hide stuff for a few days. No one ever looks in there unless they have to. Maybe Beth wanted to hide this from you, so she slips it into her daughter’s car. And then something happened to her before she could retrieve it.”
Carmen Ames spoke slowly. “Suspicion rises. Arguments escalate. Accidents happen. Then you feel caught, don’t you, Craig? Caught in a moment’s heat, a moment’s terrible decision. You’re a big strong guy, former football player. A shove, a blow aimed at the throat, maybe, it’s over. Or you get so mad you close your hands around her throat…”
“Did you rehearse these lines first? I didn’t kill my wife,” Craig said. “I’ve heard all this before.” He stood. “Please let our insurance agent know what the estimate is for damage to the police car. I appreciate you not making our situation worse by filing charges against my daughter. She’s had a difficult time.”
“We reserve the right to change our mind,” Broussard said. “On filing charges against Mariah. She had this evidence as well in her car; not coming forward with it could be seen as an interference in the investigation. We’re not returning the DVD to you.”
Craig sat back down, his legs feeling weak. He saw it now; this was leverage. “What do you want from me?”
“Have you thought about the strain you are putting on your daughter?” Broussard asked.
They thought Mariah was cracking because she was living with him. That his guilt was affecting her, that she suspected him as her mother’s killer, and that the tension between loyalty to her father and to her mother’s memory were undoing her. He could see this theory in their faces. The car accident was a new chapter for them. An opening. The next page. If only he’d stopped her at the mall. If only, if only.
“If someone knows about a crime and conceals it,” Broussard said, “that person is an accessory.”
They were going to charge Mariah as an accessory. To get him to confess, or to tell what he knew. “My daughter is not your pawn, Broussard.” Craig stood. “Unless you’re arresting me, I have nothing to say. Except this: you laughed at my daughter for saying she was looking herself for the perp. You have time to laugh, but not time to find my wife.”
“Think about what we said, Craig,” Broussard said. “And for once in your misbegotten life, think about someone other than yourself. Think about Mariah. You are seeing your daughter, a wonderful, smart girl I know you love, dissolve before your eyes. You could stop it. You could set yourself free from that little prison you’ve made in your home.”
“You never even tried to find someone else as a suspect, Dennis.”
“You know, if Beth had vanished downtown, or at a shopping center, I would have thought it much more likely someone grabbed her. Maybe a random killer. But she just went to your lot, where no one ever is, where the only person with a reason to go there…is you.”
“A transient…”
“We don’t really have those in Lakehaven. Not for long.”
“Someone with a grudge against her…”
“But everyone loved Beth.”
“Someone who noticed her and followed her…”
“That would be very hard to confirm, and we just have no evidence this was a stranger abduction.”
“And no evidence it wasn’t.” Craig looked at Ames. “Did you know your boss used to cheat off my papers in chemistry and math? He’s never taken the hard road to an answer.”
“That’s not true, and I’ve also never fallen for a misleading story,” Broussard said.
“Goodbye.” Craig got up and left, thinking the whole time that he would feel suddenly strong hands on his shoulders, wrenching his wrists into the cuffs. But no. He walked out of the police station into the sunshine. They were willing to use Mariah against him, so certain were they.
He got into Beth’s car and drove home, forcing himself toward calm, forcing himself to think.
Where had this passworded DVD come from, and what did it mean?
The calls. The rock. The threats. And now this.
He had to find and stop his tormentor. For Mariah’s sake.
14
AFTER LEAVING SHARON’S, Mariah had sent Julie Santos a message via Faceplace, explaining that she was looking into Bethany’s disappearance for a connection to her mother’s and providing Julie with her phone number. Julie had called back quickly and seemed willing to help. Julie agreed to talk to Mariah but asked if they could meet at the gym. Her voice was chirpy, energetic.
“You got workout clothes?” Jul
ie asked. “I’ve got a free period, and if people see me working out with a client, or someone they think is a client, I often will get stopped and get another booking. And I can’t just stand around and talk while I’m at work.”
Mariah’s workouts tended to consist of running alone, sparring with a partner in martial arts, shooting baskets, and infrequent yoga, but she lied and said yes. Julie told her to meet her at a gym nearby in an hour. She hurried to a store, bought an outfit, tore off the tags, and changed clothes.
The front desk summoned Julie when Mariah arrived and asked for her. Julie was small, with thick dark hair, a sharp gaze, and a mouth that kept turning into a knowing smile, like she’d seen it all, heard it all. Her workout clothes were a lot more fashionable than Mariah’s quick purchases.
The high school friend, Mariah thought: always an interesting view into a person’s choices. That friend could be your greatest defender, ally, or critic.
“Working out all day must be exhausting,” Mariah said, wishing this woman had been willing to meet for coffee instead. She felt weird and awkward trying to question Julie during physical effort.
“You mispronounced energizing,” Julie said, with a laugh. Then she got serious. “This way,” she said, like she was giving a tour. “Here, my son’s in the daycare. Let me peek in on him, and then we’ll find a place to talk.”
They stopped at a nice daycare room, with windows where parents could watch, with a half-dozen small children inside.
“That’s my son, Grant,” she said, with pride, pointing at a three-year-old boy playing trucks with a little girl. “That’s my heart.”
“He’s adorable,” Mariah said and meant it.
“Bethany named him.” Her voice grew quiet. “I mean, she suggested the name to me. I was a single mom, the dad wasn’t around and wasn’t going to be, and I wanted a short, simple strong name, and Bethany suggested it. She said a grant was like a gift, and that’s how I had to view him.” She fell silent, watching her boy.
Mariah felt a pang. Remembered Mom dropping her off at daycare, at a sitter’s, telling her, “I’ll be back soon, you be a good girl. No, you be the best girl.”
“You mind riding stationary bikes? I thought it would be easier to chat,” Julie said.
And sit, Mariah thought. “Sounds great.”
They found bikes that gave them a view of both the TV screen—turned to a news channel, reporting on a plane crash in Pakistan and a bribery scandal involving a former member of Congress—and of the weight room. Mariah watched Julie set up her bike and did the same, optimistically pressing the controls to match so they’d be breathless and resting at the same time. They started pedaling.
“You said you’ve talked with Sharon. How is she?” Julie asked.
“Grieving.”
“Well, it’s what she does best.” Julie glanced at Mariah. “That poor woman has just sunk herself into her misery. Maybe I’d do the same if Grant were taken from me. I cannot imagine.” She sighed, frowned for a moment at the readout.
“I hope you never find out,” Mariah said.
“I don’t mean to be judgmental. But Bethany would have never wanted her mother to turn her life into a prison. Sharon rarely leaves her house. She’s way into her church, and I’m sure they’re supportive, but the last time I talked to her it turned into this mishmash of guilt and redemption and blame. There is no comforting her. She doesn’t want it. I swear sometimes she acts like she deserves having lost Bethany. I don’t think she’s really mentally well.”
“She said Bethany’s life had gone sour in the months before she vanished.” She kept pace with Julie, who was clearly competitive and glancing over at Mariah’s workout readout. Julie went faster. Mariah didn’t.
“The months before Bethany vanished, everything went wrong. Messes and strains like you can’t believe. It really was not a shock she might leave for greener pastures…” Her voice suddenly shifted into encouragement. “Now, there you go! Shift to higher effort, see how the readout gives you the target heart rate? Excellent! You got it, girl!”
Mariah followed along, noticing a woman watching them for a few moments, then wandering off toward the weight room.
“Sorry. She’s my boss. I’m a little behind on my quota this month. I upsell services. You know, more personal training, yoga classes, spa treatments, and so on.” She shrugged. “I’d rather just train people, but it’s part of the game.”
Are you trying to sell me services while we talk about your dead friend? For a moment she couldn’t look at Julie. “What messes? What strains?”
Julie slowed her pedaling pace back to Mariah’s. “Someone bought sex toys using Bethany’s name and credit card and shipped them to her coworkers at Ahoy, with typed gift notes inside from her. It was an absolute mess. She nearly got fired, but she convinced them it wasn’t a bad joke but someone targeting her. Obviously, that’s not how an ordinary thief would use her credit card number.”
“Someone wanted to make her look bad to her employer.”
“Then she apparently went on a spending spree with her replacement cards. She was buying all this stuff, from luxury stores, right, and she claimed she hadn’t ordered it, but I don’t think Jake and her mother believed her. I thought she was after his attention. He was never at home, working constantly. She said she didn’t want the stuff, but I know some of it she kept. Jake told Sharon he found it later, stashed under her bed—high-end sweaters, jewelry, an expensive watch. Weird that she didn’t take it with her.”
Mariah waited.
“Then the drinking started. She said she was bored, she was lonely, because Jake was putting in so many hours at the startup and she was all stressed about this credit card drama. She was out with a new friend, and she said someone must have spiked their drinks. Bethany had a bad reaction to it, and she freaked out, hallucinating, and started throwing bottles at people in the bar parking lot. She nearly got arrested. I mean, Sharon and Jake both about died. You’d think she’d ease up, but she didn’t. Got mad because they didn’t believe her, tried to get her help. She drank even more, got messed up even more. There was nearly an arrest, her acting violent in the house with Jake, breaking stuff. Jake told Sharon he’d found prescription pills in her car trunk, not even made out to her, to someone else. She said they weren’t hers, she hadn’t taken any pills, but c’mon, they were right there in her car. She stopped eating and drinking for a while, said someone was trying to poison her, that’s where the pills came from. It was crazy. She’s telling me all this, and I’m all, ‘Sure, Beth, whatever.’ At least once Jake had to call the police.”
“Who could have poisoned her?”
“No one. The idea is ridiculous. She was losing her grip.”
“Well, who would have access to her food and water? Her husband. Maybe her mom. Maybe someone she worked with. Maybe a trusted friend.”
“Listen. No one was trying to dope Bethany. She was doping herself.” Julie sped up on the bike. “Oh, it gets worse. She lost her job. There was a question of her having…um, borrowed some funds from Ahoy. Andy—that’s who got her the job—he stood up for her, but they still let her go. Quietly, without pressing charges.”
This Bethany—troubled, accused of crimes—was not like the Bethany Sharon had described.
“I’d like more details about that. Would Andy talk to me?”
“He doesn’t like to talk about her. They were close, once, before she married.” She cleared her throat. “Andy and I are a couple now. It’s a little weird. We were friends as kids. But kids grow up, don’t they?” She gave a soft, awkward laugh.
“I’m just looking to see if there’s a connection to my mom’s disappearance. There are several similarities.” This was a stretch, but she didn’t offer details. “My mom was Beth Dunning. Ever hear her name?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Julie looked right back at her and then at her digital readout. She brushed back a lank of dark hair from her face, behind her ears. “I’m sorry for your loss.
If I vanished, I hope Grant would come looking for me.”
“It seems like Bethany really had a run of bad luck.” And that you don’t care. Why is that? You’re supposed to be her friend.
“The pills that were in her car were the explanation. She was a prescription drug addict, buying on the black market—I think that’s how her credit cards got compromised. I think she took that money to Houston to get away from her messes, and she probably overdosed down there.”
“Her body would have been found, though.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Do you remember the name on the pill bottle?”
“No. Most of the label was torn off. Like I said, probably stolen and resold. Or some friend we don’t know about gave it to her.” She didn’t look at Mariah.
“Did she tell you she was leaving Jake?”
“No. But we weren’t confiding in each other so much then.”
“Any reason?”
“Andy and I were dating, and we were her two oldest friends. Normally you’d be happy for two friends falling in love. She was horrible. She tried to warn me off him in the vaguest, most passive-aggressive way possible. Which, hello, she had a husband.” Her voice went dark.
This was a fractured friendship, then. “So, she never mentioned specific problems with Jake?”
“Nope. And she would have told me anything that huge, I think. Even though our lives had gone in different directions and hers was a train wreck. I feel bad I didn’t do more to help her. But she changed, not me.”
“What did you think of Jake?”
“On paper, Jake is wonderful. Cute, super smart, very ambitious, sweet natured, a good guy but not a doormat. She was crazy about him.”
Mariah thought this a pretty fair description. “On paper. You didn’t like him.”
Now she looked at her. “Life is short. Both my parents died young, and they spent a lot of their time working, away from me and my sister, away from each other. I want to be a priority to my guy. I don’t want a job or a company to matter more than I or our kids do.”