by Tessa Wegert
He had worked hard to become invisible, but I knew beyond doubt it was him. He’d long since fixed his teeth, Abe’s most distinguishing feature, but not the pointed ears that looked so much like my own. He hadn’t managed to scrub away Abe completely. I doubted that he ever would.
“Is it him?” Tim’s voice was strained.
When I didn’t reply right away, Mac said, “Breathe, Shay. Is it him?”
“It’s him.”
“Jesus,” said Tim, and I realized a part of him hadn’t believed me, didn’t want it to be true. “The analysis came back on that blood, too. It’s definitely Trey’s. The hat, along with your positive ID, is all we need to issue an APB. I’ll connect with your old precinct in New York, let them know we’ve got a lead.” After a second, he added, “We should put a man on you, Shana. Get you some protection.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” asked Mac. “This guy trailed you all the way from Manhattan. What if he’s still on your tail now?”
“There’s no guarantee he stayed in A-Bay,” said Tim. “He could have taken Trey anywhere, including Vermont. Swanton’s his hometown, right? Same as you? If he’s trying to bait you, that’s exactly where he’d go.”
Tim wasn’t wrong, and that line of reasoning led me to another. It had already occurred to me that Bram could be monitoring Crissy and Felicia. What I hadn’t considered was that he might be watching my parents, too. I glanced again at the picture window. My mother was still there, unmoving.
“I’m with my family,” I said. “It’s a tiny town, and I know what he looks like now. If he’s here, I’ll find him.”
“That’s the last thing I want you to do.”
“I think what Tim means,” McIntyre said, “is that you’re in a vulnerable position out there. Unarmed, and miles from backup.”
“Maybe you should come back,” Tim said and paused. He seemed to be struggling with something. “I know you’re there for your family. I know they need you. But Shane, Bram’s got this kid, and you know more about him than anyone. We need you here, too.”
Sometimes, I thought back to Tern Island and what it was like to work that first case with Tim. I hadn’t wanted to tell him I’d been abducted, was mulish in my refusal to show any sign of weakness. The shame I felt over my failure to apprehend Blake Bram had been crippling. All of that was a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth compared to what I felt now.
With the identity of Trey’s abductor confirmed, Tim, Mac, and everyone else in A-Bay would stop at nothing to track Bram down. What good would it do to tell them who he really was? I didn’t see how that would increase their chances of finding him. All it would do is let the world know this heartless killer was my flesh and blood, and shine a spotlight on my family. Confessing days before my evaluation would also cast doubt on my character and abilities as an investigator. It might even destroy my chances of getting reinstated. It was best if I stayed the course.
“I’m here for my family,” I said, “but I’m also working on Trey’s case. There’s a lot of information to be gleaned about Bram here.”
“Okay,” said Mac. “Let’s back up. The fact is that you’re still suspended, and it’s against my better judgment to involve you in this at all. Maybe Swanton is the best place for you right now. Lay low and see what you can find out there. Did you tell her about the fisherman?”
She was talking to Tim. “What fisherman?” I asked.
“Bogle found a local angler who saw a man dumping something in Carnegie Bay, off Iroquois Point,” Tim said.
I closed my eyes. “What kind of something?”
“Something wrapped in a tarp, about four feet in length.” He drew a breath. “We did a sweep of the shoreline and the houses along the bay, but most are locked up tight for the season. We’re sending in divers within the hour.”
My eyes flew open. “There’s no way Trey’s in the water.”
“We’ve got to follow every lead.”
“Bram wouldn’t dump him.”
“The kid’s blood is all over that hat,” said Tim.
“That was an empty threat.”
“Shane.” I could picture him gritting his teeth. I drove him crazy sometimes. “The man killed three women and a cop and kept you in a cage for a week. What makes you think he has any sympathy for a child?”
“Without Trey, there’s no game. Trust me, Bram won’t hurt him, not until he gets what he wants.”
“What the hell does he want?” said Tim.
To have me bear witness to the first kill he ever made? To find out who murdered his father? To torture me? “I don’t know.” I slapped the steering wheel with my splayed palm once, twice. Again and again until my burn crackled with pain. “I don’t fucking know what he wants! I wish to God I did.”
“I’m trying to understand,” Tim said in a thick voice. “I’m trying to trust you. If there’s a chance Trey’s already gone, I have to think about his parents. If he’s in that water, I can’t let this drag on any longer than is necessary. I won’t.”
In my SUV, I hung my head. “It’s your case,” I said.
When I hung up, his final words stayed with me, sizzling black as a brand.
Is it?
TWENTY
I closed the front door behind me and sighed as I pried off my boots, heel to toe, one by one. Swanton was sucking the life out of me—too much family, too many bad memories—and now the situation in my new home was uncomfortable, too. Already there was a text on my phone from Mac. You okay? Tim’s just stressed. We all are.
Of course. I understand, I typed back, but what I was thinking was, I’m alone in this, and if I can’t crack the code, we’re all doomed.
I found my parents drinking tea in the living room. My dad had enforced this tradition for as long as I could remember, and even now I often reached for a hot drink and a cookie in the late afternoon. It was barely twelve o’clock, though, and their heads swiveled when I walked in. They’d been waiting for me. The first words out of Mom’s mouth were, “I talked to your aunt.”
Oh, shit.
“Honey,” she said once I was sitting down. “Your father and I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Play dumb. Feign ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“Come now,” said Dad, “you’re investigating Brett’s death. It’s obvious, love, you have that look, the same one you used to get when watching Columbo.”
That made me smile. I did love Columbo. “I’m here,” I said with a shrug. “Might as well see if I can help.”
“You’ve only just recovered from not one, but two very traumatic experiences. The last thing you need is a relapse.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“And that’s wonderful,” said Mom. “But don’t you think it might be too soon to jump back on the horse? Your evaluation is in two days. How does your counselor feel about your being here?”
I squirmed in my seat and let my gaze roam to the fireplace mantel, the bookshelves, anywhere but my mother’s face. How would Gil feel? Not great. “He doesn’t know I’m here right now, but I told him I was planning to come for Thanksgiving. He was fine with that. He said a good support system is crucial.”
They leaned their heads toward each other and locked eyes. Another transmission only they could discern.
“This isn’t an average case,” said my mother. “Brett was your uncle. His passing is upsetting enough without you rooting through his dirty laundry.”
“He didn’t pass, he was murdered, and rooting is the only way to find out why. Don’t any of you want to know who did this?” I dropped my elbows to my knees and sank my hands into my hair. “Felicia kept crucial evidence from the police. Crissy knew Brett had a girlfriend at the time he was killed and said nothing. He was dating Robbie Copely’s mom, were you aware of that? Are you guys hiding things from me, too?”
“Russell Loming confirms it. I left a message for Cheryl, but she hasn’t called back. When I asked Felicia about their relationship, she implied that it was news to her.”
Mom reached for her tea again but didn’t drink. She was trying to busy her hands. “If what you’re saying is true, Brett was more of a cad than I thought. Cheryl and Fee were friendly. They had a few dinners together before Fee and Brett split up, back when Crissy and Robbie were dating. I don’t know a thing about Cheryl seeing Brett. I ran into her at the grocery just last week. She was with Suze’s little girl.”
Suze and Crissy, Cheryl and Brett—everything about Swanton was different now. Connections existed where they hadn’t before, and there were more secrets buried in this town than I could count. Tim liked to bore me with lengthy explanations about river bifurcation, how way up north the St. Lawrence River turns to salt water and splits into channels that head out to sea. That was what had happened here. Opposition and unification, divergent properties becoming one. I would never admit it to my parents, but it left me feeling anxious.
Mom kept talking—about protecting my mental health and giving myself enough time to heal. I nodded amiably to make her happy, but my mind wandered.
I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that Bram was responsible for Brett’s death. It was likely he was the one who’d called in the general location of Brett’s body, and while something about that was fishy, it meant he already knew Brett was dead. I wouldn’t put anything past him, not now that I knew what he was capable of.
And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. Crissy had implied Felicia would be furious if she knew Brett was dating Cheryl. On top of that, I’d witnessed Felicia’s aggression firsthand. It seemed like my aunt had pulled her life together. She was aware of her condition now, mindful of her behavior. It was a different story twenty years ago.
“You were right about Crissy,” I said abruptly. “She’s really upset, not just about Brett, but Felicia.”
“She knows how to hold a grudge,” said Mom.
“Was Felicia angry?” I asked. “After they split?”
“You’re darn right she was,” Mom said. “As much as she hated to admit it, Brett was the more emotionally stable parent, and Fee knew the kids needed that in their lives. Was she sorry to see him leave the house? No. But when he left town, well. That was different.”
I hesitated before asking, “Did things between Brett and Felicia ever get . . . er . . . physical?”
“They did have two children, love.”
“Jesus, Dad, no. I mean did they fight.”
My mom’s thumb traced the floral pattern on her teacup. “Felicia and I have always been close. Even when things were at their worst, she talked to me about everything. Pop and Nana were so busy with the dental practice, driving back and forth from Colchester every day, that a lot of the time it was just the two of us. I think I understood Fee in a way my parents didn’t, better than anyone. Brett was a lot of things,” she said, “but he was never violent with my sister.”
But that wasn’t what I meant, not at all. I hadn’t known Brett to threaten so much as a spanking, though Crissy gave him plenty of opportunities to lose his temper. I’d never seen Felicia black-eyed or bruised, either. What I did see was a jug of milk making a fast arc toward Abe’s face.
I said, “The Friday of the weekend Brett was set to leave town, Abe and I went to his work to talk to him. Convince him to move back into the house.”
“I remember,” Mom said. “Poor Abe, he was still heartsick over Brett’s decision to move out.”
“Do you remember seeing Abe after that?” I asked.
My mother inclined her head and a strand of hair, blond streaked with silver, fell across her cheek. “I’m sure we did. It was a Friday, you say? He was always over here for pizza night on Fridays.”
“Not that Friday,” I said. “He had a bruise on the side of his face. He . . . didn’t want to come.”
“That, I remember,” said Dad. “It was frightful.”
“Oh,” said my mom, “you’re talking about when he fell down the front steps. He landed smack on the concrete. He was lucky he didn’t have a concussion.”
Felicia hadn’t told her. There must have been a lot of things she hid from her sister in order to keep living the way she did. A chill spread over the backs of my arms. “He didn’t fall, Mom. Aunt Fee hit him.”
“What? No.” Confusion. It rearranged her neat features. Her eyes were blank, then fierce. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shana.”
“Aunt Fee was angry,” I said. “Abe had just told her Brett was leaving, and she reacted. She was sorry about it, but it happened. I was there. It was like she lost control.” I swallowed. Said, “That’s why I need to know if any of her arguments with Brett escalated to violence.”
My mother anchored her gaze to mine. I couldn’t help it; under her analytical stare, my cheeks burned.
“Oh my God,” she said slowly. “You think Fee did this. You think she killed Brett.”
“Mom, listen. There’s no evidence of that yet, but—”
“Shana,” said my father. His jowls were shaking. “That’s quite enough.”
“No.” Mom sat up stiffly. I didn’t like her color. I didn’t like anything about this moment, and ached for it to end. “All Fee ever wanted was for Brett to take responsibility for his family. She wouldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t hurt anyone.”
That wasn’t true, and we all knew it. Plenty of people who suffer from anxiety are excellent parents who would never resort to violence. I couldn’t be sure Felicia was one of them.
“This is your family,” my mother said, the lines on her face going taut. “Your flesh and blood. How could you even suggest your aunt is responsible for Brett’s death? How could you be so cruel?”
How do you square wanton cruelty with family ties? It isn’t easy, Mom. Her words stuck me like shards of glass, but they mobilized my mother. She got to her feet and didn’t look back as she hurried from the room.
“Dad,” I pleaded, but he waved me away.
“It’s a difficult time,” he muttered as he followed my mother upstairs. “You should try to be sensitive to that, Shana.”
His tone left me cold.
When they were both gone, I sat in stunned silence. How had I expected this to go? It was cruel to suggest my aunt had a hand in Brett’s murder. But this family wasn’t immune to cruelty.
After a minute, Doug appeared in the doorway to the dining room. I took in his kind face and shook my head. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this. In response, my brother crossed the room, lifted my hand from my lap, and said, “Come with me.”
TWENTY-ONE
Having fun, detective?”
Doug waited to say it until we were outside and halfway down the block. The street was as quiet as ever, apart from the feeble rustling of the few shriveled orange leaves left on the trees. My parents had chosen our house for the cul-de-sac, perfect for learning to ride bikes and playing street hockey. I used to feel safe here. Now, the thought of belonging to this place was like chronic pain, a torn muscle or a rock in my shoe.
“You were eavesdropping,” I said as I kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the asphalt.
“The house isn’t that big. Do you really think Aunt Fee could have done this?”
Did I? “I don’t know.”
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I agree with Mom and Dad.”
“Great. Does nobody want to see Brett’s killer found?”
“Of course we do, but you’ve been through a lot lately. You’re supposed to be moving forward, not taking a step back.”
“What does that mean?”
Doug shrugged and his thick tan field jacket, the kind with corduroy on the collar and soft plaid lining, shrugged with him. “Being around here has always been tough for you, hasn’t it? Gotta be, after what Abe did. Maybe you’re good at putting that out of your mind, but you’re investigating his dad’s death now. Abe is everywhere.”
It was his turn to kick a stone. It tap-tapped its way down the road. “Now that I’ve got Hen, I can’t imagine it,” he said. “We have a few years still until she turns sixteen, but I can already tell you I’d rather die than let her walk out of our lives that young. Ever wonder what happened to Abe after he left home?”
All I did was wonder. Right up until the day I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me.
The cold was working its way through the pockets of my coat and into my hands. Their numbness reminded me of the press conference. A-Bay, Tim and Mac, and Trey. He’d been missing for more than twenty-four hours, and I was running out of time. I’d come to the conclusion that with a cold case like this, I’d have to work it like a missing persons. I had to figure out when Brett disappeared and identify the last people who saw him. I was still trying to connect the dots on Brett’s last days in town, but I knew his departure had been rushed. He’d already quit the plant by the time Abe and I showed up, and he planned to be out of Swanton within forty-eight hours. Maybe Doug knew something about his need to hustle that I didn’t.
Instead of answering my brother, I said, “Do you remember when Abe and I went looking for Brett at the factory?”