She slammed the door shut on the memory, hard. That way lay madness. She closed the tablet and put it aside, shaken, and looked around the kitchen, which now seemed to belong to someone else.
After Troy had disappeared, she tried to be grateful for the evanescent bliss she had found with him but she had failed miserably. So instead, she vowed no one would ever hurt her like that again, and she’d nailed shutters across her heart. She pictured her heart in her mind like an old, wooden shack with a “closed” sign flapping crookedly on the door, banging in the breeze with tumbleweed blowing by, deserted and forgotten. But free of pain.
The last she’d heard, Troy had gone off to the Philippines after touring most of Asia, raising consciousness over the inhumane treatment of animals and the blatant disregard for the planet. He had inherited a great deal of money after college and he put his wealth and his intellect to work by starting an endowment called “Executors for Our Earth.” That was only after he’d finally “found” himself when he was in his twenties, studying with the Dalai Lama in India.
Reuben had helped Troy develop some software for his projects, and they had become friends. Troy had begun simply as an animal rescuer, but his endowment quickly flourished to supporting other causes as well, in particular, raising awareness of the malevolent effects civilization had on the planet’s ecosystem. In the beginning, he had focused on halting the destruction of the rain forests, whose existence were crucial to the balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. In the nineties, Troy had been instrumental in the movement that ultimately blocked the use of chlorofluorocarbons, or CFCs, which had been destroying the ozone layer in the stratosphere, thereby exposing all life to harmful ultraviolet rays.
Tobi imagined he would now be a big advocate for finding even more creative ways to absorb carbon dioxide from the ground level atmosphere—or troposphere—to slow global warming. She chuckled to herself, remembering how he almost never used the generic word atmosphere, but would be specific about which of the five layers he was referring to. Troy saw the unique five layers in his mind, and he would unwittingly refer to each one by its more accurate name. Troy had taught her so much. He had dual-majored in geology and meteorology, and he knew more about the Earth than Tobi ever would. She thought she had seen his name briefly in the credits of a recent NOVA episode describing peridotite, a rock found in Oman that absorbs carbon dioxide directly from the air, but she might have just imagined it. The credits had gone by so fast.
As she reminisced, Tobi suddenly realized she was actually considering answering his message. Oh, no, no, no, she thought. I am not strong enough to talk to him again—definitely not to see him again, sit next to him, smell his cologne, feel his … “Troy-ness.” He had such a powerful presence, even in a crowded room you couldn’t not notice he was there. Maybe it was from all that meditation in the mountains, but his eyes blazed as if he had seen the Other Side. Maybe he had. Serene and kinetic and passionate all at once, he could see right through a person. It was both captivating and terrifying at the same time. She pictured him in her mind, and thought, Who am I kidding? I cannot go back there again; it would be torment!
She decided to ignore the message.
CHAPTER 12
Troy DeJacob sat in the police inspector’s office in Port Douglas, rubbing his hands over his face and down the sides of his head. He knew it was his tell, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Archie Bent was going over everything for the third time.
“I know you’re grieving, mate, but looks like you are the last person to see Marcus alive, so help me out here. Give it to me again.”
So, Troy told him again. He told him how he’d known Robain from years ago and how he hadn’t been able to reach him for a few weeks, so he’d come to Port Douglas. He told him how Marcus had given him the news of Robain’s death and how shattered he felt over it.
“Were ye mad at him for it?” Bent asked.
“Mad at Marco? No, why would I be?” He put his head back in his hands. “Sounds exactly like what R-Robain would have done, going back down too soon to save someone. And he had some heart problems. I guess they just caught up with him.”
“So, why’d ye go back?” Bent asked.
“To the dive shop? Marco and Robain were good friends, and I was going to clean out Robain’s apartment and take his things home to his family … I wanted to ask Marco if he wanted any of his stuff—I mean, besides the shop itself. Robain shot beautiful pictures of the reef. They worked together for years, you know? Just something more personal to remember him by.”
“And that’s when you found him dead.”
“Yes, and I freaked. He was just lying there behind the counter. His face was … horrible. I just ran out of there. I didn’t know if the killer was still around, you know? I came straight to the beach. I knew Marco had a class setting up and I hoped I’d find your constable, Clyde, with them. I remembered he was a big diver.”
“Why was Marcus’s blood on your shorts and your right hand?”
“Blood—I checked his pulse at his neck before I ran. I had to make sure. Maybe I wiped my hand on my shorts?”
Bent frowned. “Well, which was it? Did you check his pulse or did you just run?”
“Wait, you think I—?” Nothing was making sense. “Look, this has got to be one of the worst days of my life. I’m not thinking straight. Why would I come running to find you if I did it?”
“Not the worst, though, huh?” Bent was still frowning. “We did check you for gunshot residue and didn’t find any. Preliminary report is he was dead at least an hour when you came on the beach. Look, I’m inclined to believe you, but I need your full cooperation. Tell me about your last conversation with Marcus. Did he say anything that might give a clue as to who would want to do this to him? Near I can tell, he never hurt nobody.”
Troy shook his head back and forth, willing something to come to mind. His thoughts were in a jumble, and the jet lag didn’t help. “He told me the story of how Robain died, pulling Missy out of the coral … Robain, he was like a brother to me. Marco asked me if I could contact his family, and I told him I would, although I haven’t in years … he said he had no clue who to inform and there were so many things his family might want, especially his photography ….” Troy’s voice faltered. He didn’t want to cry in front of this man and the inspector kept looking at him expectantly.
“Wait,” Troy said. “He mentioned some guy had come in, needed help with his computer. He’d dropped it in the sand during yesterday’s shower. Marcus sent him to a friend in Cairns when the guy offered to help him find Robain’s family. Said he felt like it was a mistake, the guy didn’t seem like the sympathetic type, you know? He wondered why this guy would want to help him, but I had never left Marcus any of my personal contact information, and he was desperate. So was the other guy, he said.”
Bent was taking studious notes. “Did he tell you his friend’s name?”
“I think he said Freddie? Marco told me he hadn’t been able to reach him since, and he felt nervous about it for some reason.”
“Okay,” Bent said. “That corroborates Missy’s story. She said some rude mate with a Russian accent was in yesterday, cradling his laptop like a newborn babe. Did you see anyone go in the dive shop after you left?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was so shocked by the news of Robain. I don’t think I really looked at anything until I got to his flat.”
“Okay, Mr. DeJacob. Look, I can’t officially detain you unless I charge you, and I’d rather not do that, so I am asking you to not leave Port Douglas right now. Or do I need to charge you and take your passport?”
“No, I’ll stay voluntarily. How long?”
“Not sure yet, but I’ll be in touch.”
Troy left and wandered back to Reuben’s apartment. He’d known something wasn’t right when he’d heard nothing from Reuben for almost three weeks, but to find out he h
ad died—and then to find Marco like that, his face disfigured and bloody … it was overwhelming. He needed to center himself, and focus, but he was so tired from the flight. The sixteen-hour jet lag seemed way worse than usual this trip, and to be honest, he had let go of a lot of his old mental self-discipline after he left Tobi, so many years ago. He really needed it now.
The computer system hadn’t been shut down in Reuben’s flat and it was still humming on his desk. There was an empty pizza box on top of the trash—what passed for pizza here, anyway, a package of cashews, some stale tortilla chips, and a bottle of diet cola in the fridge, along with some batteries. That was it for consumable goods. A high-tech stereo and smart TV took up most of the entertainment center across from the couch.
On the walls were a dozen or so pictures of the Great Barrier Reef, the coral colors brought alive and contrasted exquisitely with damselfish, clownfish, parrotfish and blue tangs. In one photo, Reuben had captured a moray eel tentatively emerging from its hole in the coral. There were many more that were unframed, stacked against the far wall.
The place smelled of old food. Troy emptied the garbage and threw the pizza box out. Ralph’s Pizzeria was written on the top, and it reminded him of how Reuben had chosen the name Robain. He was too afraid he would forget his new name or not answer to it, hence he chose something so similar yet so unusual that it would naturally make him look up.
Troy took the garbage can to the curb, came back in, and looked around helplessly. For a moment, he considered hiring someone to pack everything up, but a cleaning crew might find something that could give away the charade they had played for so long. He blanched. He wasn’t sure he could stand the legacy of Reuben’s isolation that was written all over the apartment. Where would he send all this stuff?
He needed to tell Tobi now, that was certain, but would she even talk to him? She probably hated him, if she even remembered him, and this would make her hate him all the more. Hell, she had probably married and moved on. Troy had never been able to. He didn’t have a phone number for her, but he had searched for her in the past—not with the intention of contacting her—just to feel her close by, and he’d found her on Facebook. Her profile picture was of her and Benny by the water somewhere. Benny had grown into a handsome young man, and it made Troy even sadder to see what he’d missed. He hadn’t seen any pictures of another man, but her privacy settings were pretty tight, and until now, he hadn’t been willing to become a stalker, so he’d left it at that.
His mind strayed to that October morning in 2000 like it was yesterday, sitting with Reuben in New York Bagels on Fourth Street in Austin, Texas. He’d met him there after meeting with a large donor to his organization, and had wanted to tell Reuben he was going to ask Tobi to marry him. He had just booked a dive trip to Maui and planned to surprise her on the beach at sunset with the ring.
But Reuben had been too hyped up. He kept looking over his shoulder and told Troy in a hushed voice about some sinister plot one only heard in gangster movies. He seemed genuinely afraid for his life, and he asked Troy to help him vanish.
Troy had connections all over the world. His foundation, Executors for Our Earth, had him traveling from Asia to the Philippines, to the Middle East and South America, evaluating the heartiness of coral, forestry, and animal wildlife, and looking for ways to heal this planet that humans continued to assault. His network had been less developed back in 2000, but he had still gotten around pretty well. He’d told Reuben he could set him up on any of a number of islands in the Philippines and then move him again if it looked like he was being tracked, until Reuben was “lost” for good. Troy could have it all in place within a week.
Reuben had been incredibly grateful. But then he grabbed Troy’s hand in both of his and squeezed it until it felt like his fingers would break.
“Promise me—you must promise me! Never tell Tobi where I am. Never. Tell her you don’t know. I know things between my sister and me have sucked lately, but I know her, she will be relentless. They will find her and watch her, and if she tries to contact me, her life will be in danger too. Do it for her, Troy, and do it for Benny. You must swear it to me!”
Troy recalled it so vividly. His left hand held in a death grip by Reuben, his right hand in his pocket, holding the ring he had just bought: a 1.9-carat round diamond in a split-shank platinum setting. He had imagined over and over how she’d look when he gave it to her. He’d fingered the ring and then clenched it until he felt the diamond cutting his skin.
Troy didn’t know what to say. How could he start a life with Tobi and keep this secret? How could he live such a lie? “But, Reu—”
“Please, Troy! They will torture or kill her to get to me, or hold her ransom. Better that she knows nothing, makes no phone calls, sends no emails or letters. These people are assassins! And no matter where I go, I may not be safe anyway. If you love her, protect her. Promise me!”
That was the day the light had gone out in Troy’s soul. He remembered feeling his heart contract sharply and his lungs unable to expand. The pain was nearly unbearable. All possibility of love and joy slipped through his fingers, like tiny grains of sand. All the while, Reuben kept staring at him, crushing Troy’s fingers, his piercing eyes demanding an answer. Slowly, Troy loosened his grip on the ring in his pocket and whispered a silent good-bye to everything precious in his life.
For a moment it got quiet in the bagel shop, as if everyone were listening to them. Then the buzz resumed, dishes clanged, conversations were animated, and Troy noticed the smell of garlic and lox. The door banged shut as a customer left. It was as if time had stopped for an instant, but Reuben’s face had not changed.
“I promise,” Troy said finally.
Troy had wrestled with that promise for days, and the battle tore his soul apart. In the end, he was true to his word. Above all, he loved Tobi, and he needed her to be safe. But he could not figure out a way to face her every day and lie to her, so ultimately, he had said good-bye. He’d known in the bagel shop that he would have to do that. He could feel her astonishment, her pain, her sense of betrayal, but she’d seemed to accept it. She wasn’t the type to beg or make a scene. He knew how deeply he had hurt her, and he hated himself for it. He had hurt himself just as much.
Two days later, he’d received her email, saying that Reuben was found dead. Troy was stunned. He reached out to contact Reuben and found he was very much alive. Then Reuben explained how it happened that another man had died in his apartment, a last person who Reuben had tried to save before he went ghost, and it had backfired.
But then, Reuben had been “dead,” and if he just stayed dead, no one would look for him, and he would be safe. And Tobi would be safe. Troy got him out of the country and gave him ten thousand dollars to get started on a new life; Reuben couldn’t exactly access his own accounts after he was “deceased.” Crazy to see the impeccably moral Reuben Sokowsky forging new IDs and passports. The fear of death could really change a man.
Any fantasy that one day Tobi might have accepted that Troy had known Reuben was alive and in hiding had dissolved into ashes. She had to believe Reuben was truly dead for this strategy to fool the assassins, and how could Troy have sat with her while she cried over her only brother?
Once, a few years ago, he’d thought enough time had gone by, and perhaps he could call her, but he was afraid. She would be perfectly justified in hating him, and the likelihood that they could salvage anything from their lost love was next to zero. He had vacillated for weeks and finally given it up. He settled for looking at her profile picture on Facebook periodically.
The ring was still sitting in a safety deposit box on Long Island, where it had been for the last nineteen years. Troy had left instructions that upon his death, it be given to Tobi, its rightful owner. Or if she predeceased Troy, to Benny, to do with whatever he wanted. Tobi would never understand, but Troy didn’t understand it anymore either.
&nbs
p; Troy pulled himself back to the present. It was 2019 and he was in Port Douglas, Australia. Reuben really was dead now. He picked up his cell and opened Facebook Messenger. There was no reason to keep the secret anymore, and he needed to return Reuben’s things to her. He had promised Marco, besides. His heart skipped several beats, and he felt himself withdraw, trying to hide deep inside himself. He took a deep breath and told himself: “this needs to happen.” He wrote:
My dearest Tobi,
I hope you are well. For so long I wished to God I could tell you what happened, but I could not. I can now, and I think—I hope—you will understand why I left. My cell is 503-555-9393. Please answer me. Call me, text me, or just send me your number. I have so much to explain. I am so sorry.
Still yours forever, Troy
It seemed so insufficient, but he could think of nothing else to write. Nothing that could ever make what had happened to them okay. He drew another deep breath and hit “send.”
CHAPTER 13
Mrs. Cappione was waiting at the door of the urgent care at 8:50 on the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving. Jorge let her in early because there was nowhere to sit outside, and she looked like she might need to do so.
But immediately, she came up to the front desk and told Patty, “I was in so much pain all night, I almost went to the hospital, but I hate hospitals—I’ve seen way too much of them.” She was ninety-one years old, and walked unsteadily, but without a cane or a walker, and she was dressed in a dirty, beige fur-lined coat and a yellow and green scarf.
Patty brought her in to the first exam room closest to the reception desk to wait, so she wouldn’t have to get up and down so much and took her insurance cards.
“My name is Patty. Here, sit down, and take your coat off. We’re going to take care of you, don’t you worry. I’ll bring your cards right back to you, and Dr. Lister will be with you in just a few minutes.”
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