If only he hadn’t been home feeling an undeserved sadness about Karina’s wedding when Crystal called on Saturday. If only he’d said no, this tragedy might have been avoided or at least unfolded in a different way. His car wouldn’t have been seen picking up Crystal at The Spur, and it was unlikely the police would have learned his name. But, like always, he’d been lured by her voice, by her professed need of him.
“Loren, baby,” Crystal had said in that throaty whisper that raised the hairs on his neck and sent shivers down his arms. “I need to see you. I have such good news. The Spur parking lot. 6pm. Please.”
Though he could never explain it to anyone, his hunger for her was like a pulsing ache that crept into every cell of his body. For him, her beauty didn’t come so much from her physical appearance. It came from the way she let go of herself and melded into him. When they were together, her body was the liquid air he breathed. She made him laugh harder than he’d ever laughed before. He was more real and alive in her presence. For the hours he held her in his arms, he was unaware of getting older and closer to death.
At exactly six, he’d slipped on his chauffeur’s cap, a standing joke between them, and pulled into the gravel lot at The Silver Spur. When she slid into the front seat and turned toward him, her short skirt rose, exposing the black lace of her slip. He smelled her wildflower perfume as she leaned across the console to kiss him.
His gaze moved past the blouse that revealed her silken breasts and stopped at the white flash of her smile—the place he wanted to linger for a moment.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said. “Before Baxter handcuffs me to the bar.”
Loren drove with his left hand on the wheel, the other one holding Crystal’s hand on top of the console.
She wouldn’t tell him anything until they sat at her kitchen table with a glass of ice-cold beer.
“I know you love me,” she finally said. “And I realize you think we can’t be together because of our boys. But I’m pregnant, Lore.”
She paused for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she continued. “At first, I didn’t know how to feel about it, but then on the drive home from the doctor yesterday, the road looked all glittery, like New Year’s Eve. And the sky was so blue and wide there was room for everything. And I realized this baby will be related to you, me, Travis, Matt and Sedona. No one can resist a baby. Matt and Travis are already closer than most brothers. Don’t you see? This new little person will make us into a real family.”
Loren couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d kicked him in the chest with the pointed toe of her cowboy boot. The ceiling fan he’d installed above her kitchen table whirled like an angry bird, bringing with it the smell of bacon, a hint of cigarette smoke that mingled with Crystal’s perfume.
When she laughed, he heard hope in the tingling sound and for a moment he wished he could be a different man, one who’d welcome a chance to parent any child.
“You should see the look on your face,” Crystal said.
“I already have two children, and that’s more than enough for me.”
She lowered her gaze and was still for a moment, her hands caressing the sides of her glass. “I know it’s sudden,” she said, without looking at him. “Believe me, I was shocked, too. But I don’t think either of us has much choice now.”
Silence splintered the air between them, as sharp as glass. “I’ve got plenty of choices and being a surrogate father to your child is not one I intend to make.” He was both surprised and relieved he’d said it, but also a little ashamed of himself for not being more tactful.
Crystal opened her mouth, a slight tremor in her chin and bottom lip. “Why are you being like this?”
He swallowed hard and looked around the kitchen where they’d spent so many stolen hours—drinking coffee, laughing, eating gourmet foods he’d brought from the deli, and talking about anything and everything.
Outside the window, the desert sky had darkened a little, but remained molten at the edges of the Rincon Mountains behind which the sun had just begun its slow descent. “How far along are you?”
She paused, seemed to be doing some math in her head. “It must have happened when we were in Bisbee. About six weeks ago.”
“You’re lying. I told you from the beginning I was sterile. There is no way I fathered your child. And that can only mean one thing.” The level of betrayal he felt amazed him. He’d broken off the relationship so many times—only to return a few weeks or months later. He could hardly blame her for a fling with someone else.
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe you were wrong. You fathered Matt and Sedona, didn’t you?”
“I had a vasectomy after Sedona was born.”
Her eyes widened. “Karina never mentioned anything about that.” She took a sip of her beer and slowly set the glass back on the table. “Everybody knows those vasectomies aren’t foolproof.”
His anger built to a point where he had to look away from her. “Listen to me. Vasectomies fail at a rate of about one in every forty-five hundred performed—and those failures usually occur in the first few months after surgery. Face it. I’m not the father of this child. And you’re not equipped to take care of a baby, especially one that may be born with—”
“Born with what?”
He stood to leave, holding onto the back of the chair for a moment to steady his legs. Despite the warmth in the kitchen, even his face felt cold. “You’re drinking too much, Crystal.”
Her eyes flared. “I’ll quit then.” She pushed the beer away from her. “Besides, I drank when I was pregnant with Travis. I even smoked a little pot. And he’s every bit as smart as Matt.”
She was right. Travis was an exceptionally bright boy. “You were lucky,” he said, as he lumbered out the sliding door and onto the back deck, his legs heavy and thick as tree trunks.
She rose to her feet so quickly her chair tumbled over. Not bothering to pick it up, she followed him out into the driveway. “What do you expect me to do?”
“I’d consider an abortion.”
“But what about our being a family? You have that big house. We could turn the guest bedroom into a nursery. I saw this adorable—”
“I’m sorry, Crystal. But that’s not going to happen.” He reached for the car door handle.
She grabbed his arm.
When he turned toward her again, tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can barely pay the rent this month, Lore.”
For a moment, he felt sorry for her. He slipped his checkbook from his inside pocket, used the front fender of the Lincoln for a desk, wrote a check, and handed it to her. “Please, don’t call me again. It’s over. And this time I’m sure of it.” He climbed into his car, closed the door and started the engine.
Crystal pounded both fists on the hood and screamed. “You’re an arrogant bastard, Loren Garrison. I’m good enough for you to fuck for three years, but not good enough to marry and raise our child.”
As he drove away, he saw Crystal in the rearview mirror, red-faced and still screaming at him from the driveway. “I’ll get a paternity test. I don’t care what you say, I’ll prove the baby is yours.” She picked up a rock and heaved it toward the car.
He’d driven as far as Catalina State Park when he pulled the Lincoln into the lot and parked beneath a cluster of Palo Verde trees. He shivered, turned on the heater, and rested his head on the steering wheel. After a moment, he’d driven home.
Now, Loren stopped pacing his bedroom. Crystal had been right. He was an arrogant bastard who could have handled it differently. A better man would have supported Crystal, taken her to the doctor and held her hand through the procedure, no matter who’d provided the sperm. Maybe if he’d agreed only to do that, Crystal would still be alive.
Outside, in the distance, a car turned onto his street—its headlight beams plunged through the bedroom windows, swelling the shadows of the furniture for a moment before it turned into another driveway and the light disappeared.<
br />
The things for which he’d fervently prepared as an older father to Matt and Sedona—death, a debilitating disease, or unemployment—didn’t turn out to be what was needed to protect his family. Their undoing had come waltzing in through a separate door. One Loren had opened of his own volition.
Perhaps when enough time had passed, he and Matt would be able to move forward. But even as he hoped for that day, he understood relationships, like mended teacups, were always weak at their fracture lines.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In the high school courtyard, Matt sat alone on a small bench under the shade of an olive tree, trying to act normal. It was lunch hour, and all around him students gathered in small clumps, signing yearbooks and comparing the answers they’d given on their final exams. He heard the traffic sounds on Oracle Road, the high-pitched and rhythmic chants of the cheerleading posse as they practiced on the football field for the upcoming state competition.
Danni sat down beside him. “What’s up?”
Matt felt a rush of joy so alive and energizing it was all he could do to remain seated. “Just hanging out,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Watching people scribble trivia beside their mug shots. What about you?”
She smiled, a bright burst of happiness on her face. “I just got accepted to the nursing school at U of A.”
“That’s way cool. Congratulations.”
They’d just agreed to meet at Coco’s at 3pm, when he spotted the two police officers walking across the courtyard, directly toward him. One was about six feet tall, with a long and determined stride. The other was short, his blue-shirted belly hanging over his belt buckle. He struggled to keep up with the tall one.
They paused to question Tom Riley.
Tom pointed toward Matt.
The policemen continued across the grassy courtyard, stopped in front of the bench, and introduced themselves as Officers Dunn and Rodriguez. “Are you Matthew Garrison?” Dunn asked.
“I am,” Matt said.
All around the courtyard, students stopped what they were doing and watched.
“We need you to come with us,” Rodriquez, the tall one, said.
Matt stood. His chest felt as if it were collapsing, as if it had suddenly realized its own pathetic hollowness. “What’s this about?” he asked, even though he had a damn good idea.
Danni’s face was so red, you’d think she was the one they were taking away. “You can’t just drag him off like some kidnapper. He’s a United States citizen. He has rights.”
Dunn cleared his throat and looked at Matt. “You’re wanted for questioning in the Crystal Reynolds case. You can come voluntarily or we can arrest you. Your choice.”
“I’ll come,” Matt said.
Danni stared at Matt in silence, her face pale and slick with perspiration. She studied Matt as if trying to see inside his head, trying to determine exactly what Matthew Garrison was capable of doing. But this time she said nothing.
Clumps of shocked students gathered and watched as the officers led Matt to the patrol car—their honor student, the one they’d elected most likely to succeed. Matt tried to keep his head still, to look straight ahead. But he felt their eyes on his back—unasked questions following after him like a kite’s tail.
* * *
Radhauser stood in front of the one-way mirror into the interrogation room, watching. He hoped having Matt picked up at school and brought in for questioning would finally scare the truth out of him. Radhauser had worked with lots of boys over the years in Eagle Scouts and Outward Bound programs, and studied Kinesics. He could read things in gestures and body language. The lab had found no blood on Matt’s tuxedo and the shirt had been too compromised to show anything.
In spite of the lack of evidence, he’d bet money on Matt being the one who’d found Crystal. But he couldn’t figure out why the kid wasn’t talking about it. Given the closeness of his friendship with Travis, it made sense he’d leave and try to intercept his friend. Matt was smart. Way too smart to make a 911 call if he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there. But who made that call? Radhauser had listened to the tape several times. The caller’s voice was muffled, but definitely a woman.
Matt’s fingerprints were on several of the beer bottles in the garage, but that didn’t mean much. Radhauser remembered drinking beer with his friends in high school.
He didn’t really think the kid had anything to do with her murder. But there was another, more likely, possibility. Matt could be protecting his father. Maybe Matt arrived at the house in Catalina to find his father’s Lincoln parked in the driveway. Maybe the kid witnessed something that incriminated Loren Garrison.
Radhauser stepped into the interrogation room, pulled out the chair across from Matt and sat. “Here’s the problem. I talked to Security at Casa Tucson. They encourage their patients to walk after dinner. But drug addicts and alcoholics are inventive. They’ve been known to get a buddy or naïve family member to meet them on the road with drugs or booze. Security patrols Golder Ranch Road from dark until dawn—at least once every half hour. I also talked to three neighbors who claimed they’d walked their dogs between eight and ten. No one saw you.”
Matt sat at the table, back erect, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He bit down on his bottom lip and looked directly at Radhauser. “I didn’t hurt Crystal.”
Radhauser drew his notebook from his jacket pocket. “I need to know where you really were between 7:30 or so p.m. when you left Ms. Warren’s house, and midnight when you met Travis at the dance.”
“I got to the parking lot before midnight. I sat on the hood of Crystal’s Escort for a long time. I’m sure some parent picking up their kid saw me.”
Radhauser stood, walked to the corner of the room and leaned into it, watching Matt intently, trying to get a sense of what went on in the kid’s brain, noting the unmistakable fear that seemed to surround him like cheap cologne. “Were you sitting on the hood for an hour?”
“Not that long.”
Radhauser returned to his seat, asked the question slowly, trying to keep his voice steady and not lose patience. “Then where were you between 7:30 and 11:30?”
“I already told you I drove around for a while. Maybe I was wrong about the name of the street.”
Radhauser leafed through his notebook until he found the right page, skimmed his notes. “You were pretty specific. Even mentioned seeing the lights from Casa Tucson. You’d been there before, helped your mother install windows. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Matt said. “You’re right.”
“I won’t waste any more time going over things we’ve already talked about. I think you crossed over some line, Matt. I don’t know what, but I can read it in your eyes and your body language. You’ve done something that’s forcing you to wonder about yourself.”
The kid’s hands were shaking as if he were about to sing the National Anthem into a microphone. “I…I didn’t hurt Crystal. I mean…at least not in the way you might be thinking.”
“Look,” Radhauser said, seeing the kid’s nervousness. “I’m not saying I suspect you killed Crystal. At this point, I don’t. But I do think you know more than you’re telling.”
“Have you ruled out suicide? I’ve learned some stuff that makes me believe it’s possible.”
‘I told you to leave the investigating to me.”
“Just stuff Travis and my dad told me.”
“I know you talked to Mrs. Lawrence.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about her.”
“So where were you Saturday night? Just tell the truth, I’ll do the unraveling.”
“I don’t know how to begin.”
Radhauser sighed. “Maybe this will help you. A rancher said one of his llamas got loose Saturday night and he had to chase it down Golder Ranch by flashlight. Three of his kids and some neighbors helped out. No one saw your Mustang, Matt, because it wasn’t there.”
“All right,” Matt said. “All right. I was at Danni’s house.”
Radhauser groaned. “We’ve already been through this, Matt. She said you left around 7:30 or so.”
“I did, but I came back.”
“Why?”
Matt shifted in his seat. His shoulders slumped as he dropped his chin and studied the chips in the Formica tabletop. The kid looked weighted down by something too heavy to carry. “I just wanted to watch her house, see if she left with that football player. I didn’t know until Monday it was her cousin.”
Jesus, Radhauser thought. Matt’s teachers claimed the kid was smart. The volunteer coordinator at UMC described him as a quiet, but good kid—kind, intelligent, and likely to go places. The kind of kid Radhauser had dreamed Lucas would become. But they must have Matt confused with someone else. This was one stupid, mixed-up boy. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”
When the kid finally looked up at Radhauser, there were tears in his eyes. “I didn’t want Danni to find out. To know how desperate and screwed up I am.”
Radhauser shook his head. Now that excuse sounded ludicrous enough to be true. “You’d rather be accused of a crime than of being a screwed-up teenager in love?”
Matt hung his head.
Radhauser felt a moment of pity for the kid. That first breakup could be rough.
Before the accident, Lucas had just started to get interested in girls. On the spring morning he’d planned to invite Alyssa Jordan to the sixth grade dance, Laura had caught Lucas sneaking into the back yard to pick a bouquet of zinnias from her flower garden. Wind wanted to tease him about it, but Laura had insisted he remain silent.
He got Matt a glass of water, offered a friendly smile, and gave him a moment to calm himself. “I have one more question. Why did you wash the tuxedo shirt before returning it?”
The kid looked relieved, as if he’d finally been asked a question with a simple answer. “I didn’t. My mom did. I told you I had a nosebleed after my fight with Danni. Mom’s good at getting stains out.”
Redemption Lake Page 20