Someone Knows

by Lisa Scottoline

  She switched into the fast lane in light traffic. Scattergood Road was Bakerton’s main thoroughfare, and she passed strip mall after strip mall, some new developments, and ahead on the right was Gardens of Peace. Allie glanced over reflexively, noticing that there were cars parked near David’s graveside, not far from the road. She wondered if they were cemetery employees, but they didn’t appear to be.

  On impulse, Allie switched back into the slow lane and drove into the cemetery, cutting her speed as she cruised to David’s grave site. There were two cars parked there, and three men standing at David’s grave, a rectangular mound of fresh earth.

  Allie peered through her windshield and recognized one of the men as David’s boyfriend, who’d been thrown out of the funeral by David’s father. He must have come back, with friends. She cut the ignition and watched the men, a forlorn trio. She didn’t know whether to intrude, but it occurred to her that if David was going to confide in anybody, he might’ve chosen his lover. There was only one way to find out.

  Allie got out of the car, approached the men, and waved at them. The boyfriend had clearly been crying, but the other two, dressed in casual clothes, eyed her hard. They looked younger than she was, and they closed ranks, protectively flanking David’s boyfriend as she approached.

  “We’re allowed to be here,” one of the friends said. “This is a public place.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry about what happened.” Allie swallowed hard. “My name’s Allie Garvey, and I was at the funeral. I’m a friend of David’s from school.”

  “Why are you here?” The one friend folded his arms, frowning.

  “I just wanted to talk to David’s boyfriend. I cared about David, and I wanted to say how sorry I am.”

  The two friends exchanged glances.

  David’s boyfriend nodded, sniffling. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you. I’m Ryan Safir.”

  “Allie Garvey,” Allie repeated, and if he recognized the name, it didn’t show. “You have my deepest condolences.”

  He nodded. “You knew David from Amherst?”

  “No, Bakerton High School. We lived in the same development.”

  “So you go way back.” Ryan forced a sad smile, and Allie could see that he was in agony.

  “Ryan, do you think we could talk a minute, alone?”

  “Okay,” Ryan answered, glancing at his friends. “Do you guys mind?”

  “Not at all. We’ll be in the car.”

  “Thanks.” Ryan nodded, and his friends left.

  Allie tried to think of what she could say without showing her hand. She didn’t want to upset Ryan any further. “I don’t know where to start. I just—I’m so sorry about what happened. I was so sad to hear this. David was such a wonderful guy.”

  “He really was.”

  “I’m sure this is so much for you to deal with, this loss. He was so young, and so interested in life, in books, in tennis, and well, I was really crazy about him,” Allie found herself saying. She hadn’t planned it, but the words were coming out with a force of their own. “David was my first crush, really, my first love.”

  “Funny, mine, too.” Ryan laughed, but it came out like a sob.

  “Can I just ask—I mean, how long did you know him for?”

  “About three years. We were lovers that long. We met in a bar. I know, it’s a cliché.”

  Allie smiled, liking him, and Ryan didn’t need encouragement to continue.

  “I live in the West Village, and I knew he was married, living in Williamsburg, so I guess I knew what I was getting into. I hoped he would leave her, but when she got pregnant, he didn’t want to do that to his son. He knew it was a boy.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.”

  “And I knew his troubles would return, and they did.”

  Allie paused. “What troubles, if I can ask? I mean, we lost touch, but I always thought about him.”

  “He was an artist at heart. Such a good writer. But it was hard.” Ryan wiped his eyes, leaving a pinkish streak. His skin was fair, but his eyes and hair were dark. “David had a really good heart and he struggled, he really struggled, so hard.”

  Gently, Allie asked, “How?”

  Ryan hesitated. “Oh, I guess he wouldn’t mind, he wasn’t private about it. He struggled with depression, and he had a drinking problem, and he’d been to rehab twice but he relapsed both times. He started missing meetings, and last week, it got really bad, so I guess I really wasn’t surprised when, you know, he did it. I think it was his way of telling the truth, finally.”

  “How so?”

  “I have a studio in upstate New York, in the country. It’s beautiful up there, along the Hudson, that’s where we would go.” Ryan smiled, but it vanished quickly, too fragile to stay long. “He would tell his wife he had an assignment out of town, because he did so much travel writing, and he got hired by the chamber of commerce up there, to write about the area. So it worked out.” Ryan swallowed hard. “I had to run out to a client’s that night—I’m a graphic designer—and when I came home, I found him. He did it at my place. Our place.”

  “Oh my, that must’ve been horrible.” Allie touched his arm, and Ryan seemed to steady in her grasp.

  “It was. It was horrible, horrible. It was the most horrible thing I’ll ever see, in my whole life.” Ryan looked away, taking a deep breath. “And the fact of it, at first I thought, like, what is this about? Is he angry at me? Why did he do this here?” Ryan rubbed at his forehead. “And then I was like, maybe he’s trying to save his wife from seeing it. But in the end, I think he wanted to make a statement about us. That we were together, this was our place, and there was no hiding it anymore. No lies anymore.”

  “I can see that,” Allie said softly, giving his arm a squeeze.

  “I didn’t want to disrupt his life. I wanted him to live the way he wanted to live. I knew he would find his own truth when he was ready, and it would be his decision, not mine.”

  “Of course.”

  “His family didn’t know about me, or us. They found out when I called them to say that he was dead.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I know, and I understand how bad David must’ve felt, too. How hopeless. My friends are angry at him, but I’m not. I know when he would get so low, he would talk about wanting to kill himself. And when he drank, too. I’m sure his family’s not surprised, if they’re being honest with themselves. He was estranged from them, even his brother. He just had Martine, and she didn’t know about me, either. She couldn’t have been surprised that he finally went through with it, after the second relapse. He was so depressed, it’s an awful disease.”

  “My mother had it, after my sister died,” Allie heard herself say.

  “Then you know.” Ryan looked sympathetic, his eyelashes still wet. “He used to tell me about growing up with his dad, and the pressure, like, his father wanted him to be a major tennis star, and he was obviously homophobic. David said that ever since high school, he couldn’t get things right. Like, he felt like he didn’t deserve to be happy.”

  Allie couldn’t speak for a moment, hearing the echo of the way she felt, too. She felt like she didn’t deserve to be happy after what they had done to Kyle. She could never tell Larry why, and she was getting the idea that David could never tell Ryan why, either.

  “I’m so sorry I’m going on and on. I mean, you must think I’m crazy, I don’t even know you. But we both love David, so we do know each other, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do.” Allie gave him a hug, though she wasn’t the huggy type. It felt like something had broken free inside her, and tears came to her eyes, which she couldn’t quite explain. “So David had kind of a double life?”

  “Girl, it’s not that uncommon in our community.”

  “Even now, in Philly?”

  “Even in New York. Not everybody’s ready to come out, and I don’t judge. It took me a while, and I had girlfriends.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad. What a loss of such a wond
erful human being.” Allie hesitated. “I don’t mean to pry, but I assume he didn’t leave a note.”

  “No, nothing like that. He didn’t need to.”

  “I’m surprised he had a gun.”

  “We kept it for protection. Up where the studio is, it’s rural. Not exactly Fire Island, if you follow me. I’ve been the victim of a hate crime, right in town. Two men jumped me. And the house is so far out in the boonies, we weren’t taking any chances.” Tears filled his eyes. “God knows, I’m so sorry I had it now. Between the drinking and the depression, I should have known it was trouble.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “I do.”

  “I understand completely.” Allie gave him another hug, already thinking about what she had to do next.

  CHAPTER 56

  Sasha Barrow

  Sasha turned into the gravel driveway, impressed by Julian’s farm, which was as nice as anything in the Hamptons. Grassy pastures flanked a long, tree-lined driveway, which ended in a large white clapboard home with black shutters. There were several matching outbuildings, a large chicken coop, and a massive white barn with a copper windvane in the shape of a foxhunter.

  Sasha hadn’t thought that Julian would be this successful, and he still wasn’t married. She could have him if she snapped her fingers, and he’d marry her, move her in, and buy her whatever she wanted. But her answer was the same as twenty years ago. There was still something weird about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Hard pass.

  She drove up the long drive to the house. It would be nice to stay here for a night, and if she was finally going to have sex with Julian, she’d take another Xanax and enjoy herself. Of course, he couldn’t excite her the way Luiz did, but she hadn’t been able to reach him and had left him a message to call back. Given Luiz’s high-flying schedule, she wasn’t optimistic.

  Sasha reached the house, and a smiling woman emerged, waving her hand as she walked toward the car. She must have been Julian’s farm manager, wearing a sweaty polo shirt, tan britches, and cloppy Dansko clogs. Sasha wondered if horsewomen owned a mirror, but whatever. She was here to chill, and the Xanax had done the trick.

  Sasha pulled over, parked, and grabbed her Birkin full of makeup, cigarettes, and pill bottles, like a go-bag for bad girls. “Hello, I’m Sasha Barrow,” she said, getting out of the car.

  “Welcome. Francie Fitzgerald, the property manager.” Francie pumped Sasha’s hand with vigor. “Julian said you’d be in town for the night. Sorry about your loss. I understand he was a friend of yours and Julian’s.”

  “Yes, it’s so sad.”

  “Come with me.” Francie led her to the door, her clogs clumping on the gravel, and Sasha made her way with difficulty, since her Loubs weren’t made for country life.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Sasha said, since everything was beautiful on Xanax. Xanax was beautiful.

  “Thanks. Julian restored the property, and his company won an award for most authentic colonial representation.” Francie opened the front door. “I just went food-shopping, so the refrigerator’s stocked, and white wine’s chilling, if you’re in the mood.”

  “Who isn’t?” Sasha said, smiling.

  “The guest bedroom is made up, I’ll show you.” Francie checked her iPhone. “I’ll be here for twenty more minutes, turning out the horses. I leave after that, so if there’s anything you need, can you let me know by then? By four-thirty?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything I need. Feel free to go.”

  “Let me show you around quickly.” Francie shepherded Sasha into an entrance hall with white wainscoting, a brick floor, and copper light fixtures, then a living room that was equally tasteful, with navy couches, a navy and orange Heriz on the floor, and a lovely watercolor over the stone fireplace.

  “By the way, that’s a Wyeth. Andrew. Julian also collects N.C., and they’re in his study. I’ll show you.”

  Sasha started to lose focus. “Francie, do you mind if we don’t tour? It’s been a long day.”

  “Not a problem. Let me show you to your room.” Francie walked her past the kitchen, a pocket TV room, and down a long hallway with closed doors.

  They reached the end of the hall, and Francie showed Sasha a large bedroom, which was predictably lovely, with pine furniture and a panel of deep-silled windows overlooking the pasture. The bed was king-sized, covered with a flowery sheet and duvet that Sasha recognized as a Porthault pattern. On the nightstand was a bottle of white wine on ice, with two large wineglasses on a silver tray.

  “Wine, how nice!” Sasha entered the bedroom, setting her handbag on the bed. “Thanks.”

  “It’s Vermentino, his favorite. Sure you don’t need anything?”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  “Okay, bye,” Francie said, leaving. “Holler if you change your mind.”

  “Okay,” Sasha called back, though she’d never hollered in her life. She poured herself a glass of wine, kicked off her shoes, settled into the comfortable bed, sipping the wine, which tasted deliciously cool and dry.

  She pulled her purse over to check her phone and see if Luiz had called her back. She rummaged inside her purse but couldn’t find her phone. She took out the pill bottles and her makeup kit, finding her phone and checking the screen. Luiz hadn’t called, but there was a lineup of Instagram notifications she skimmed. The mellow vibe of the Xanax and wine washed over her.

  Sasha took another sip, resting her head back in the deep pillow. The guest room was obviously feminine, so he must have had girls here, but maybe it was for show, like it was for her. Also the wine setup was a routine. Sasha realized she hadn’t seen any personal pictures around the house. It seemed weird, and when she’d looked Julian up on Facebook after he called her, she hadn’t found the same woman in any of his photos, all taken at cocktail parties with professional types.

  Her gaze wandered to the windows, and Francie was turning out four horses, leading two in each hand. Sasha wondered about any woman who would spend her life with farm animals, surrounded by manure and flypaper. Such an earthbound, mundane life. Everything that Sasha’s wasn’t. She couldn’t finish the thought because her brain was becoming muddled, pleasantly so.

  She dozed, and when she woke up, the sun was lower, sending a shaft of sunlight into the room. She checked her phone again, but Luiz still hadn’t called. The house was still and quiet. Outside the window, the horses were grazing in the pasture, flicking their tails. She reached for her wine, drained the glass, and poured another, hearing the sound of the front door.

  “Honey, I’m home!” Julian called out, laughing.

  CHAPTER 57

  Julian Browne

  Julian hustled down the hallway, alive with anticipation. Sasha was waiting for him in the bedroom. She was his dream girl, his whole life. The sight of her had brought it all rushing back. He reached the bedroom and entered it on fire. “Sasha—”

  “Julian, hi!” Sasha’s eyelids were at half-mast, and her smile was sloppy. But oh well.

  Julian crossed to the bed, cupped her cheek, and kissed her deeply. She tasted deliciously of his favorite wine, and he loved the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue probing. Sasha kissed him back, reached up for him, and pulled him on top of her, parting her legs in her skirt. Julian couldn’t believe it was finally going to happen. He fleetingly thought he wanted to film this scene, but he didn’t want to stop.

  Julian pulled up her skirt, feeling the strength of her slender thighs as she lifted her hips to meet him. She moaned deep in her throat, which spurred him on. He undid his belt buckle, but suddenly a cell phone started ringing, with a techno ringtone he didn’t recognize.

  “Oh, hold on, that’s Luiz.” Sasha rolled out from underneath Julian, who propped himself up, his belt dangling and his mouth hanging open.

  “Sasha, wait, who’s Luiz?”

  “A guy I wanted to see, so I left him a message with your address—”

  “What guy?”

 
“Um, my Latin lover?” Sasha started to take the call, but Julian grabbed the phone from her hand and pressed END.

  “You invited another man to my house?”

  “Yes, and he’s fucking awesome.” Sasha lost focus, and a sexy grin spread across her face, but Julian realized it was for Luiz, not him. Outrage flared in his chest.

  “Who is this guy?”

  “He’s this gorgeous Brazilian, he was my first. He deflowered me.” Sasha giggled, but Julian gritted his teeth, flashing back on that night in the woods, when he’d thought Sasha wanted to play Spin the Bottle with him, but she’d invited Kyle. It was happening all over again. She was choosing another man instead of him, right in front of him. She had done that his whole life, and he had watched from the window. He felt blind, raging fury.

  Sasha’s giggle fizzled. “Please give me my phone.”

  “No.” Julian kept her phone at bay, but it started ringing again. He jumped up, holding the phone in the air while the awful ringtone stopped. Sasha lunged for the phone but wasn’t steady enough. She almost fell off the bed, but Julian caught her, held her close, and set her back on the pillows. It was then that he saw the truth. Sasha was too unstable not to blab about Kyle. After all the love he’d offered her, she would ruin him.

  “Julian, please?” Sasha held out her hand for the phone.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to talk to that guy. You know how I feel about you. You always have.”

  “Julian, you don’t own me. You can’t own me.”

  Yes, I can. “I know, I’m sorry.” Julian picked up the wine bottle and poured himself a glass, then refilled hers and handed it to her. “Take a sip. Let’s toast to being old friends.”

  “Old friends.”

  “Old-friend zone.” Julian sat on the bed, with difficulty, since he was still hard. Or maybe the thought of what he was going to do made him hard. He knew he was a freak, with the cameras in the room. All he had to do was flip a switch hidden beside the headboard, and they’d be on film. The bedroom was wired for audio, too. Julian was still a voyeur, but he wouldn’t film what was going to happen to Sasha.