My thoughts were brought back to the dangers here at home when, just as I was about to reply to Greg, an e-mail arrived from TrueBlue. Any luck? he wrote, and, knowing he was right there at his computer, I was suddenly annoyed.
No luck yet, but you’re setting me up to fail unless you give me more information. I can’t ask people questions without backing those questions up with facts. I can’t win their trust unless I sound halfway intelligent, for God’s sake.
What happened at Northwood on the dates you gave me?Was there or was there not a mercury spill?
There were fires on both of those dates. On March 21, 1989, afire destroyed the Clubhouse, and on August 27, 1993, a fire destroyed the Gazebo.
On those dates, huh? Okay. But the fires themselves aren’t news. We all know they happened. Sam gave them front-page coverage. What’s the significance here?
Those fires were made to look accidental. The Clubhouse fire was blamed on faulty wiring in the kitchen. The one at theGazebo was blamed on a torch that hadn’t been properly extinguished. But neither fire was accidental. They were set by representatives of Northwood at the order of SandyMeade. The purpose was to level the structures so thatNorthwood could make a big deal about rebuilding from scratch. What never made the paper was the fact that prior to the rebuilding, mercury was removed from the soil underneath.
Mercury at the Clubhouse and at the Gazebo, but not at the plant itself?
Remember I told you that Northwood used other methods of disposing of mercury waste? There were huge drums buried under both of those structures.
Under the Clubhouse and the Gazebo? Why? Why not bury them out in the middle of nowhere?
Sandy Meade thought it would be clever—and less suspicious if ever there was a probe—to build something for the good of the town on top of those dumps. In fairness to him, the drums were supposed to hold. There wasn’t supposed to be any leak.
But there was?
During the week prior to each of the fires, events were held at each of the places. Following those events, there were outbreaks of something alternately called flu and food poisoning. It was enough to make the Meades test the air. They found evidence of a major spill that had likely seeped into the air vents.
The fires were a cover-up then?
Yes. A cleanup was done in every sense of the word. Internal memos were wiped from the files. There are still records of what events were held during those days leading up to the fire, but there’s only a scanty record of who attended each. The outbreak of illness wasn’t widespread enough to attract the attention of state authorities. The Meades were satisfied that they had caught the spill early and had totally cleaned it up.
And they thought that absolved them of responsibility? Did they do anything for any of those people?
A few things have been done, but quietly enough so that the people involved don’t know why those things were done.
Are there more sites like this?
Yes. The day care center sits on top of one. It was built there under the same premise. For what it’s worth, there have been no other leaks. Given the years that have passed since the last leak, Sandy Meade is assuming that those two simply had problems, and that these others will hold.
And they’re willing to take the risk, knowing that children are in harm’s way?
Apparently. They grow more secure with the passage of time.They see the lack of a leak as proof that there won’t ever be one. I see it as a tragedy waiting to happen. That’s why I need you.
I was appalled. Even aside from what had happened before, I couldn’t imagine what kind of evil mind could do that to children, and that raised a new issue.
If, say, Sandy Meade were to drop dead today, what would happen? Would the sons continue this practice?
That depends which son takes over.
James is in line.
Don’t be so sure. By the way, you looked like you were really into it at Omie’s.
You were there and didn’t present yourself to me? When will we meet?
When we have evidence that’s workable. We need names. We need people who were at one of those two sites during the week in question, who have suffered physical problems since, and who are willing to talk.
What’s in it for them? Can we offer them help of some sort?
WEcan’t, but I assume the Meades will as part of a settlement. Isn’t that where we’re headed?
It was. Of course, before any settlement could be reached, there would have to be a confrontation with the Meades. I didn’t look forward to that. Their three to my one would be formidable odds. If TrueBlue came out of the closet, that might make it their three to my two, but I couldn’t count on his doing that. By his own declaration, he wanted to continue to work at the mill. That would be impossible if he stuck it to the Meades.
Nor could I count on Tom. Oh, he was being a huge help to me. Not only had he gotten us an appointment with his friend in New York, but he had also given us my mother’s files, so that we would be able to show the doctor something of the family history with regard to Phoebe’s ailments. But his job, too, would be on the line if he came forward.
The public side of this fight appeared to be mine and mine alone.
Chapter 19
NICOLE DUPUIS was feeling complacent after her talk with Aidan. She had him over a barrel, and he knew it. If her marriage fell apart, he would have to help her out—and it wasn’t blackmail, exactly. But the truth was, he had a good thing going in her, totally aside from the sex. She held up his end of the business in ways she was startled by herself sometimes. She was Aidan’s voice; she made him articulate. Sandy Meade was certainly fooled. He was relying on Aidan more and more to be the front man for the mill. If things continued as they were, Aidan was a shoo-in for chairman of the board after Sandy, and that was in Nicole’s best interest, too. With Aidan as chairman, she would be all the more indispensable. Moreover, if he were chairman, he would have unlimited access to funds. If enough came her way, she could kick Anton out on her own.
She would like that, would like it a lot. Anton was a lying cheat. They no longer shared a bed, but there were still meals and social events to endure. Nicole hated the constant tension. It was wearing on her.
Precisely because of that, she had put off talking with Kaitlin, because that would invite more tension. Kaitlin was touchy enough as it was. Oh, she put on an act. She smiled and nodded and said, Yes, Mom, I will. But Nicole could see the anger beneath. Confronting her about what she might have told Annie Barnes could be unpleasant.
Then Omie died, and everyone was at the diner on Friday, and how to miss Kaitlin’s connection with Annie? Every time Nicole looked, it seemed, Kaitlin was either talking with Annie or standing close by. Add Hal, pointing it out and expressing concern about what appeared to be a blossoming relationship, even suggesting that Kaitlin had become the liaison between Annie and the other young girls, and Nicole couldn’t put it off any longer.
She waited until the funeral was done Saturday morning and Anton had left to play golf. Kaitlin was out by the pool, wearing a bathing suit that was at least a size too small. Her body was smeared with oil. She was stretched out on a lounger, talking on the phone. When she saw Nicole approach, she ended the call, dropped the cell phone onto a towel on the ground, and closed her eyes.
“Who were you talking to?” Nicole asked in a friendly way, one that was actually sincere. She did want to be friends with her daughter. She truly did. It just hadn’t happened yet.
“No one,” Kaitlin replied.
Nicole smiled. “Couldn’t have been no one all that time.”
“No one important.”
“Kristal?”
“Jen,” Kaitlin said. Without opening her eyes, she put a hand down on the far side of the lounger, took a cherry from a bowl, and put it in her mouth. Removing the stem, she dropped it back in the bowl.
“Ah. Jen.” Nicole liked Jen. She and her mother had the kind of relationship Nicole envied. Pulling over a sec
ond lounger, she sat on its lower half. “Can we talk?”
Kaitlin was chewing the cherry. “Mm-hm.”
“You were with Annie Barnes a lot yesterday. Any special reason?”
She shook her head, spit the pit into her hand, and dropped it into the bowl.
“You’ve been seeing her a lot.”
“No more than anyone else in town.”
“They don’t talk with her. You do.”
Kaitlin slit open an eye and raised her head just enough to look at Nicole. “How do you know? Is someone telling you this?”
“I could see it for myself yesterday at the diner.” Kaitlin had looked perfectly comfortable with Annie—not only comfortable, but happy. Nicole hadn’t seen her that way in a long time. “What do you two talk about?”
Kaitlin dropped her head back again. “She was telling me how to arrange the chicken fingers on the platter. There’s a knack to it.”
That was exactly the kind of remark that irked Nicole—innocent on the surface, mocking beneath. “Don’t be fresh, Kaitlin.”
“I’m serious. That’s what we talked about.”
“Lots of people in town are concerned about Annie Barnes,” Nicole said in self-defense. “It isn’t just me.”
“Like who else?”
“Mr. Healy, for one thing. He thinks she’s a bad influence on girls your age.”
“Mr. Healy would think that. He’s so full of hot air.”
Nicole agreed with her on that, but wasn’t about to admit it. For the current purpose, Hal was simply the high school principal. “He’s concerned about Annie Barnes.”
Kaitlin rose on her elbows, both eyes open. “Concerned about what?”
“That she’ll worm her way into your lives, then turn around and write about it.”
Kaitlin made a face. Sitting all the way up, she reached down for the cherry bowl and settled it in her lap. “She is not writing a book about Middle River.” She put another cherry in her mouth, pulled off the stem, and dropped it in the bowl.
“How do you know?”
“She told me,” she said around the fruit.
“And how did that subject arise?”
She spit the pit into her hand. “I asked her, Mom. Half the town’s been asking. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No problem,” Nicole said, because she really didn’t want to fight. But there was still the whole business about what Kaitlin knew and what she might have told Annie. This whole conversation was about damage control, wasn’t it?
So she reversed herself and said with greater force, “Actually, yes, I have a problem. Women like Annie Barnes are devious. They act like they’re your friend, then they stab you in the back. She may be using you, Kaitlin. I hope you haven’t told her anything you could come to regret.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Nicole wasn’t about to mention Aidan. There was always a chance Kaitlin was still in the dark about that.
“I trust her.”
“Oh God. You have told her things.”
“All I mean,” Kaitlin said, “is that she isn’t using me. She isn’t that kind of person.” She took another cherry.
“And you know what kind of person she is?” Nicole asked. “You are seventeen, Kaitlin. You are not an authority on who to trust. Do you have any idea what happens when someone like that takes your confidences and spreads them around? Do you know the harm that can be caused? Annie Barnes does. She knows it firsthand. You tell her stories about any of us, and once they’re out, there’s no taking them back. Some things are meant to stay private. And stop eating those cherries, for God’s sake. They’re filled with sugar. That bathing suit is tight enough already.”
Nicole knew she had made a mistake the instant the words were out of her mouth. Kaitlin’s face grew stony.
“And that,” the girl announced coldly, “is why I like Annie Barnes. She wouldn’t say something like that. She doesn’t think I’m fat at all. She was ugly, too, when she was my age. I’d like to grow up to be like her.”
Nicole was startled. “You’re not ugly.”
“No? Then why do we work on my nose, my teeth, my jaw, my hair, and my skin?”
“I have never said you were ugly.”
“You don’t use that word, but you say it in all sorts of other ways. ‘My bathing suit is tight enough,’” she mocked. “‘Stop eating those cherries, for God’s sake.’ Mom, I’m not deaf. I hear what you’re saying. Well, maybe I’m not meant to be as beautiful and thin as you are.”
“I never said you were ugly.”
“Fat is ugly, and you’re always telling me what to wear that will make me look thinner. Now you’re even saying I’m dumb.”
“I am not.”
“I am not an authority on who to trust,” Kaitlin mocked again. Cradling the bowl of cherries, she grabbed her cell phone and stood. “Well, maybe I’m smarter than you think. Maybe I do know who to trust. Annie Barnes understands me more than you do. She knows what I’m feeling. She’s been there. If she says she isn’t writing a book, I believe her—and if you have a problem with that, it’s because you’re afraid all your secrets will come out. Well, she doesn’t know your secrets, and it has nothing to do with whether I trust her with them or not. There are people in this town I’d talk about before I talked about my own parents. Do you think I’m proud of what you and Dad do? Why do you think I don’t have friends over?”
“You do,” Nicole argued, but a hole was opening up inside her.
“Not for dinner. Not for weekends. Not when there’s a chance you and Dad will both be here, because it’s like anyone can see how much you hate each other—and don’t try to deny it. I’ve heard you say things to friends on the phone.”
Nicole was appalled. “You had no business listening.”
“I was in the room. How could I help but hear? I’m not three anymore, Mom. You can’t just say things and think I don’t know what they mean—and besides, I saw Dad with that woman. They were in bed, and they were naked in the middle of the day. They were having sex. Do you think I don’t know what that is?”
Nicole gave an uneasy laugh. “Well, yes, I was kind of hoping that.”
“Because I’m ugly? Because I’m fat? Y’know, there are some guys who don’t care.”
Her unease increased. “What are you saying?”
The girl looked angry enough to go on. Then she caught herself, let out a breath, and calmed. “I’m saying that it is the most obvious thing how bad your marriage is, and if I had my friends over more, they’d see it in a sec, and it’d be embarrassing. So if I feel that way, why would I ever tell Annie Barnes what goes on here? I am not totally stupid. Give me credit for that at least, will you?” Grabbing her towel, she walked off.
Sunday morning, Sabina went to church with her family. She was feeling a particular need for comfort. Part of it had to do with losing Omie, who had symbolized all that was stable and safe. The rest was more complex. It had to do with accepting that Phoebe was sick, with appreciating Annie’s help, and with feeling that, deep down inside, something in her own life was about to shift.
She didn’t understand what the last was until the service ended and she went around back to visit her parents’ grave. The grass had filled in over Alyssa’s coffin, the rhodies flanking the stone had grown, and the impatiens that she and Phoebe had put in earlier that summer were a bright orange, pink, and white—all attesting to the strength of the growing season in Middle River this year.
The setting was lush, and so, in its way, was her life. Ron and Timmy had stayed out front, but Lisa was with her, holding her hand in a way that Sabina knew was precious, given how grown-up the girl was becoming. Sabina was truly blessed with her children, certainly with her husband, and, yes, with her sisters. Her parents were pleased that she understood it; she could feel that here in the warmth of the sun.
After a few minutes, they headed back. Just beyond the graveyard gate, they bumped into Aidan Meade and Ma
rshall Greenwood. When Aidan spotted her, he broke into a crooked smile. “We were just talking about your sister,” he said.
Sabina gave Lisa’s hand a squeeze. “Go on out with the others. Tell your dad I’ll be right there.” When Lisa ran ahead, Sabina turned to Aidan. “Which sister?”
“The troubled one.”
Sabina gave a curious smile. “Which one is that?”
“Annie,” Marshall said in his sandpapery voice. “I had quite a time with her on Thursday. She’s riling up people all around town.”
“Huh,” Sabina mused. “No one seemed upset with her Friday at Omie’s.”
“They were being polite,” Aidan advised. “After all, it was a wake. But she annoyed someone enough to get her tires slashed the day before. I’d call that a message.”
That was when Sabina felt the shift. It was subtle, but distinct. “Kind of like the one you gave me on Wednesday, the one where you threatened to fire me if I didn’t get Annie to leave town?” She looked at Marshall. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you guys were behind those slashed tires.”
“Uh-huh,” said Aidan. “And have you shared that theory with anyone?”
“Not yet,” Sabina replied with a smile. “It just came to me now, seeing you two out here talking, by your own admission, about Annie.”
Marshall tugged on his belt. “So she’s gone off to New York? How long’s she staying?”
“She’s with Phoebe, so it’s they. They will be back on Tuesday.” Sabina raised her brows. “What’s next? Think someone’ll take a potshot at the house? String up roadkill on the porch? Burglarize the store?” Looking from one to the other and feeling a distaste for both, she identified that little shift inside. It had to do with loyalty. “Here’s a promise. If something else happens, first thing I’m doing is calling the state police.”
Aidan drew himself up. “That sounds like a warning. I don’t like warnings, Sabina.”
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