Someone Knows

by Lisa Scottoline

  “I hear you.”

  “The least I can do for Kyle now is to tell her and listen to her. If she’s angry, if she yells, if she throws something, whatever. Whatever she wants to do, I’ll take my lumps.”

  “I get that.” Larry hesitated. “There’s nothing she could do to you legally, even if she told the police.”

  “Right, I know.”

  “Did your lawyer tell you that, too?”

  “Yes.” Allie heard the hurt in his tone and hugged him closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really am.”

  “I understand.” Larry hugged her back. “So when do you want to do this?”

  “I’d like to go this morning, if she’s available. It’s Saturday, so I assume she doesn’t work.”

  “How did I know you were gonna say that?” Larry chuckled. “My parents and your dad want to come over. Your dad says Saturday is fine, and my parents want to come on Sunday with emergency lasagna.”

  “Okay.” Allie didn’t look forward to telling the story to her father and her in-laws, but she wanted them to hear it from her, not from TV. “I can stop in and see my dad after Kyle’s mother, since they’re in the suburbs.”

  “Do you want me to go with you? I’d be happy to.”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “You sure you can drive, with your wrist?”

  “I’m fine.” Allie had thought it over. “I think this is something I need to do myself.”

  “I get it. When you’re going through hell, keep going.”

  “Who said that? Winston Churchill, right?”

  “No, my mother, about the Garden State Parkway.”

  Allie smiled, then it faded, thinking of Kyle’s mother. Her gaze went to the window, waiting for the sun to rise.

  CHAPTER 103

  Barb Gallagher

  Barb went to the front door, relieved to see through the screen that Allie Garvey seemed to be a normal woman in her thirties, dressed in a flowered sundress and sensible flats. She had a cast on her arm and there were scratches on her face, as if she’d been in a car accident. The young woman had called on Barb’s landline this morning, asking if she could come over to speak about Kyle. Barb had felt intrigued, so she had said yes, even though the young woman was a total stranger. Barb had called Sharon, who’d raced over to join her, and they’d set up the visit for the afternoon.

  “Hi, I’m Barb Gallagher,” Barb said, opening her front door. “Come in, please.”

  “I’m Allie Garvey, and thank you for seeing me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Barb admitted her to the living room, gesturing at Sharon, who was sitting on the couch. “This is my friend Sharon Kelly. Sharon, meet Allie Garvey.”

  “Good to meet you, Allie.” Sharon extended a hand with a reserved smile, and Barb knew what she was thinking. Sharon hadn’t been sure they should meet with Allie, after she’d looked Allie up on Google and social media. There hadn’t been enough information to satisfy Sharon, who was always looking out for Barb.

  “Sharon, hi.” Allie shook Sharon’s hand.

  “Allie, please sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Barb gestured at the chair next to the couch. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water or soda?”

  “No, thank you.” Allie sat in the chair, linking her fingers on her lap and crossing her legs at the ankles. She looked at them both with a smile that was obviously nervous.

  “Okay, let me know if you change your mind.” Barb sat down on the couch, catty-corner to Allie. She felt nervous, too. “I was surprised to hear that you knew my son. I didn’t recognize your name. He never mentioned you.”

  “I didn’t really know him, that’s why.” Allie swallowed so hard that Barb noticed her Adam’s apple going up and down, which was when she spotted reddish bruises covering Allie’s neck, only partly hidden by her dress. Barb felt a tingle of concern. “Were you in an accident of some kind? I see your bruises on your neck.”

  “No, not exactly.” Allie’s hand flew to her neck, and she tugged up the collar of her dress. “First, let me tell you about me. I grew up in Brandywine Hunt and I work as a child advocate. I’m married to a lawyer named Larry Rucci, a partner at Dichter & O’Reilly in Philly, and we live in Center City. This is my card, and I wrote my home address on the back, so you have my contact information.” Allie took a business card from her purse and set it on the coffee table, but neither Barb nor Sharon moved to pick it up. “I can explain, um—I guess, I’ll just get right to it. I was attacked last night, with my husband, by someone I grew up with. Someone I knew from my childhood, Julian Browne.”

  “Attacked?” Barb asked, aghast. She recoiled. “Have you gone to the police?”

  Sharon interjected, “You mean Julian Browne, the developer’s son? I saw on the news that he was arrested in New Jersey. A woman overdosed at his house yesterday, too.”

  “Right, yes.” Allie nodded. “Julian Browne was arrested for the attempted murder of my husband and me last night, in the Pine Barrens in New Jersey.”

  “That’s terrible.” Barb grimaced. “But what does that have to do with my Kyle?”

  Allie pursed her lips. “First, let me warn you that this is really upsetting news, and it does involve Kyle. I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, and I didn’t want to hurt you further, reopen an old wound, or make Kyle’s death harder for you. I wanted to tell you the truth because I think you deserve to hear it. And not from the news or the police, because sooner or later, this is going to come to light.”

  Sharon interjected again, “What is? What are you talking about?”

  Barb fell silent a moment, flashing on the night Kyle’s body had been found, when she sat next to Sharon in the police station. Barb had gone numb with shock. Sharon had had to do all the talking for her. Barb’s heart felt suddenly heavy, just like it had back then.

  Allie nodded, glancing from Sharon to Barb. “The police said that Kyle committed suicide alone in the woods off Connemara Road. But that’s not the truth. He didn’t commit suicide. I was there, and so were three other people who lived in Brandywine Hunt. We were teenagers at the time, fifteen years old. Their names were David Hybrinski, Sasha Barrow, and Julian Browne.”

  Barb gasped, struck dumb. She felt utterly and completely shocked. She felt her own mouth drop open. She tried to collect her thoughts, but she couldn’t. Her chest went tight with pain, with fresh grief.

  “Wait, you were there?” Sharon asked in disbelief. “You all were? Four people? What are you talking about? Why didn’t you stop him? What happened? What were you doing there? What were they doing there? Julian Browne was there, too?”

  Allie nodded, stricken. “Let me start from the beginning,” she said, and she explained that she and the other three had found the gun in the woods, gotten some bullets, and decided to play a prank on Kyle, telling him they’d played Russian Roulette but they hadn’t. Allie had thought the gun was unloaded, and she thought the others had believed the same thing, and she hadn’t known otherwise until Kyle had shot himself.

  Barb felt tears come to her eyes, and her chest got tighter and tighter. She felt her heart flutter at the revelation, but she didn’t interrupt Allie’s story, which sounded true. Sharon took her hand, and the best friends held hands on the couch while Allie continued, explaining how she had hid the secret about Kyle’s death until she had gone to David’s funeral, and how she’d thought David had shot himself on the twenty-year anniversary of Kyle’s death.

  Barb had begun to cry, realizing that it must have been the same funeral she’d seen yesterday morning at Gardens of Peace. Sharon got her a box of Kleenex, and Barb held a tissue to her nose while Allie told them that David’s apparent suicide and Sasha’s apparent overdose were both murders, then how she’d given a statement to the authorities in New Jersey, which would result in them referring Sasha’s murder to the police in Pennsylvania, who would probably be calling Barb. Allie finished with how Julian had tried to kill her and her husband so that she would never rev
eal the truth about Kyle’s death. Allie ended saying that she believed Julian had loaded the gun that killed Kyle because he was jealous over Sasha. When Allie finally fell silent, tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “That’s the story,” Allie said, exhaling. “I am so very sorry that I didn’t speak up that night. That I didn’t stop them, that I took part in it at all. It was an awful, horrible prank, and it went tragically wrong, and it took Kyle’s life. I’m deeply sorry, and that is what I came here to say.” She paused. “Now please, ask me anything you like, and I’ll answer. Any reaction you have, I’ll understand. The least I can do for you now, and for Kyle, is to be here for you. And listen.”

  Barb sat motionless, still stunned. She didn’t know what to say, how to react, or even what to think. The pink Kleenexes sat in her lap like so many crushed flowers. Her mouth felt like cotton and her heart like lead. She could barely breathe. She knew she was being told the truth, and the first coherent thought that came to her mind left her lips before she could stop herself.

  “I knew he didn’t do it,” Barb said quietly. “I knew he didn’t commit suicide.”

  Allie nodded, teary. “He didn’t. He had no idea it was loaded. He thought it was a joke. He even said so.”

  Barb’s hand went to her chest, as if to calm her heart. She had been right, all this time. Kyle hadn’t meant to kill himself. He had been low, but he hadn’t been that low. She hadn’t missed the signs in him, after all. She hadn’t let him down, in the end. She felt horrified, but she also felt deeply validated, after twenty years. The police had been wrong.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She felt her heart ease, and her breath came a little more quickly. Suddenly, she found herself shaking her head, no. She wished she could go back in time and change it all. She wished she could tell Kyle to stay away from girls like Sasha, who would repay his kindness so cruelly, after he rescued her cat. She wished she could warn him about entitled boys like David, or deadly ones like Julian, or even well-meaning girls like Allie, who didn’t stand up for him, or themselves. But what mattered most to Barb—and it was the only glimmer of light in this awful truth—was that at least, at the very least, Kyle hadn’t killed himself.

  Sharon touched Barb’s hand. “Honey, is there anything you want to say? That you want to ask her?”

  “No,” Barb said after a moment. She didn’t know if she had any other words. She was just so dumbfounded. She turned to Allie. “This is so . . . shocking, and I need to think about it. I need to think about this. It changes everything.”

  Allie nodded, her expression sympathetic. “I understand completely. You have my contact information, and if you ever want to talk to me, I’m there.”

  Sharon sniffled. “Barb, do you mind if I say something to Allie?”

  “No, of course not,” Barb answered, shaking her head. She felt numb. It was the only word.

  Sharon’s attention returned to Allie, and her dark eyes flashed. “Allie, I know you’re not trying to alleviate your own guilt by coming here. Good luck with that. You and your little friends did a horrible, horrible thing to a wonderful young man. You handed him a gun, and you pressured him to shoot himself.”

  “I know, and I’m very sorry.” Allie nodded.

  Barb tensed at Sharon’s anger, but didn’t blame her. Sharon had loved Kyle, too, and she was entitled to her feelings.

  Sharon scowled, leaning closer to Allie. “And don’t think this is the end of it. I’m going to check out the story, and I’m going to make some calls. The police, a lawyer, everybody. This is not the end of it.”

  “I understand.” Allie nodded again, solemnly.

  “I’m going to see what we can do about this. David and Sasha will face God’s judgment, but there should be charges filed against Julian. He may be going to jail for a long time for what he did to you and your husband, but he should be punished for what he did to Kyle.”

  Allie nodded. “I understand,” she repeated.

  “Don’t begin to think you’re off the hook. You’re an accomplice. You aided and abetted. You should be ashamed of yourself for playing a prank like that, and it’s no excuse you were drinking. You were fifteen, but that’s old enough to know better, and you should have known better.”

  “I agree; I’m very sorry.” Allie refolded her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry for your loss—”

  “Stop saying that!” Sharon interrupted, her voice breaking. A tear rolled down her cheek, a single wet line. “How dare you kill somebody and then say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss’! That won’t make it better. Kyle was like a son to me. I watched that boy grow up. His mother loved him to the marrow. I know how much he had to offer this world. God is the only one who has the right to take a life. Not Julian Browne. I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life.”

  “Sharon, have a tissue.” Barb handed her the box of Kleenex, stricken.

  “Thanks, honey.” Sharon’s watery gaze met hers. She yanked a tissue from the box. “I’m sorry, I was trying to keep it in control.”

  “It’s okay,” Barb said, patting her on the arm. “But unless you have more you want to say, I think Allie can go now. I want to think this over. Don’t you?”

  “Barb, I’ve been wanting to throw this girl out for the past ten minutes!” Sharon jumped up from the couch, stuffing the Kleenex in her jeans pocket. “Allie, let me show you the door. I don’t think we’ll be calling you. We don’t want to hear your voice ever again.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Allie rose shakily and headed for the screen door. Sharon reached it first and flung it wide open. Allie started to leave, then looked at Barb, her mouth downturned and her expression full of sympathy.

  Barb looked back at Allie directly, feeling connected to her. Allie had heard Kyle’s last words, seen him take his last breath on this earth, and watched him die. Barb couldn’t find the words to say so now, but she respected that Allie had told her the truth. It would take years to parse her feelings about today, but Barb collected her thoughts. She acknowledged to herself that the truth helped her. It lifted the burden she had carried for twenty years. She knew her own son. She hadn’t let him down. The thought brought her peace. She couldn’t have Kyle back, but she felt . . . consolation.

  Barb couldn’t smile, but she nodded back at Allie.

  CHAPTER 104

  Allie Garvey

  Allie found her father in the backyard, on his knees in front of her mother’s perennial garden. She reached the gate but didn’t open it or call to him for a moment, composing herself. She felt upset after meeting with Kyle’s mother and her friend Sharon, but she would sort out her feelings later, with Larry, at home. She tried to switch mental gears, to focus on her own father. She dreaded telling him about Kyle, but he deserved to know the truth, too.

  She opened the gate, and he was on the far side of their large backyard, weeding. Her mother’s garden was still full of purple coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, and pink hydrangeas. It touched her that her father had tended it all these years, though her mother had been the family gardener, not him. He was weeding next to the gardening carryall she’d gotten him for Christmas, his knees resting on his foamy blue knee pad. He had on a short-sleeved madras shirt and khaki shorts, tucked in with a belt, and she always used to joke that he was the best-dressed gardener in Brandywine Hunt. Today, she didn’t feel like joking.

  “Dad, hi.” Allie crossed the backyard to the flower bed.

  “Honey!” Her father turned, and his lined face formed an instant mask of concern. “How are you feeling? Oh my God, look at you, in a sling!”

  “I’m fine,” Allie said, managing a smile, but her father was already on his feet, stripping off his gardening gloves, discarding them on the ground, and coming to her with open arms.

  “You didn’t have to come out here. I would’ve come to you.”

  “I was out already.” Allie hadn’t told him about Kyle’s mother yet. She would’ve called on the way over, but she’d been to
o upset and hadn’t wanted him to hear her that way without explanation. After all, she was about to give him the shock of his life.

  “My God, you were almost killed! And Larry, too! What’s going on?” Her father hugged her as soon as they met, and Allie hugged him back, trying not to cry. She wanted to keep her wits about her. She allowed herself to feel the comfort of his embrace. The sun felt warm on her back, seeping into her bones. Birds chirped in the trees, and the scene was so peaceful she hated to disrupt it, but there was no putting it off.

  “Dad, I have a lot to tell you,” Allie said, releasing him.

  “Yes, yes, of course. Let’s go inside. I have iced tea, homemade.”

  “No, let’s stay. We can sit here.” Allie swallowed hard. Somehow it felt right, to be among nature, near her mother’s garden and her father’s handiwork. When Jill was alive, they used to eat dinner outside in the garden, on the pretty wrought-iron table with a glass top. It was still there, in front of the hydrangeas, though after that summer, they’d never eaten outside again.

  “The glass is dirty. I could Windex it.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s just sit.” Allie pulled out the chair, which caught on the manicured grass, but sat down, and her father sat next to her, resting his skinny forearm on the glass, its surface dulled from years of rain.

  “Are you in pain? Do you need an Advil? You know that helps with the swelling, too.”

  “I’m fine. Really, Dad.” Allie braced herself.

  “Honey, do you know what they said on the news? Did you hear?” Her father’s lined face collapsed in a frown. Close up, she could see that he was sweating slightly in the heat. “They said that Julian Browne’s father was found dead in New Jersey, with another man. Scott Browne was murdered. Stabbed to death.”

  “Oh, no,” Allie said, horrified. She hadn’t heard. She hadn’t had the car radio on and hadn’t checked her phone.

  “Doesn’t that seem strange?” Her father’s eyes narrowed. “That Julian’s father was murdered? And a young woman overdosed at Julian’s house? I forget her name, but you saw on TV. And now he tried to kill you. And Larry.”