Play Dead

by Harlan Coben

  After maybe twenty minutes, Laura found herself sitting on the couch alone, her eyes lowered toward her feet. A pair of neatly polished shoes came into view. Laura looked up into the face of David's brother. The two brothers had by no means been identical, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Looking at Stan's face twisted her heart until she felt the tears swell once again.

  'Won't you sit down?' she said.

  'Thank you.'

  She paused, swallowed. 'I'm very glad you could make it.'

  Stan nodded slowly. 'I'm so sorry. There is so much to say, so many things I should have said a long time ago.'

  'There's no need.'

  'No, Laura, I really need to get some things off my chest.' He took a deep breath, his handsome face grim and lined. 'David was my baby brother. I can still remember the day he was born. I was ten at the time. David, you see, was the little accident.'

  Quiet chuckle.

  'Anyway, I loved him like mad and he followed me like I was his hero. Wherever I went, he went with me. A lot of that may have been because our father had passed away, but you should have seen us back then. We were inseparable. We played in the yard, built snowmen, walked to school, collected caterpillars . . . how can two people who shared so much grow apart like that? How can things change so drastically? I never stopped loving him, Laura. No matter what came between us, I never stopped loving him.' His shoulders hitched and then he began to cry.

  Laura reached out and gripped his hands. 'I'm sure he understands, Stan. I'm sure he never stopped loving you either.'

  Stan continued to cry.

  Oh, Stan My Man, you are brilliant. She's buying it all! Now just don't overdo it, my boy, and she'll be crawling into your pants in no time at all.

  He glanced up and laughed, but it just sounded like he was bawling more intensely. Her hand gripped his tighter.

  How hot is she? She just buried her hubbie and already she's holding my hand!

  Laura watched him.

  It was so sad. Stan would never be able to forgive himself for not telling David how he felt. And now it was too late. Too much time had been wasted with the petty.

  Behind Stan, out in the hallway, a face peeked into the room, a face swollen from tears and torment of sleepless nights. The hair was a mess, the skin sallow and ghost-like. Laura thought about Stan and David's relationship, the time they had wasted in some ridiculous argument with an origin that probably neither one of them could pinpoint. Now, Laura looked at the normally beautiful face of her mother and questioned her own behavior.

  Everybody thought that Laura and David had secretly eloped to Australia to avoid the media attention. That was only partially true. The main reason they had run off had just stuck her head through the door. Laura wondered what she should do. She wanted so much to learn from Stan's mistake, to let go of her anger and reach out to her mother but: 'Laura, I want to talk to you.'

  'Sure, Mom. What is it?'

  'It's about that boy you're seeing.'

  'David?'

  'I thought I told you I didn't want you to see him anymore.'

  'You did. A few times.'

  'So why aren't you listening to me?'

  'Because I'm not eighteen anymore. I can see who I want to.'

  'But I don't like this boy.'

  'Good thing you're not dating him then.'

  'Don't be such a smart-ass, Laura. I don't want you seeing him.'

  'Why don't you like him? You won't even speak to him.'

  'I don't have to. I know the type.'

  'The type? What the hell does that mean?'

  'Playboys with lots of money. That's not for you.'

  'You know I wouldn't be with him if he was like that.'

  'You'd be surprised what men could get away with.'

  'And what's that supposed to mean?'

  'Just what it said.'

  'Well, David is not like that.'

  'Stop seeing him, Laura. That's the end of the discussion. '

  'I'm not going to stop seeing him. I happen to be in love with him.'

  Pause. 'Oh no, Laura, please tell me you didn't mean that.'

  'Why? I don't underst -- '

  'Exactly! You don't understand. Just trust me on this. He's not right for you. Look at his family history. His father -- '

  'He's not his father! And how the hell do you know about that anyway?'

  'Please, Laura, I'm begging you. It can only lead to disaster. End it with him now before it's too late.'

  Now Laura's eyes locked onto her mother's for a brief moment. Most people remarked on how much Laura looked like Mary and to Laura's way of seeing things, this was quite a compliment. She wanted to stand, to walk over, to throw her arms around her mother, to forgive her. But the pain was still too great, the need to blame someone for what happened -- however unfairly - too strong to do any of those things.

  Laura lowered her eyes and turned away.

  Gloria stood in the corner, her hands fluttering nervously about her face. She looked across the room at her sister. Why does something like this happen to someone like David and Laura? Gloria had spent her life taunting Death, teasing him, dangling her life within his grasp. For some reason, he had never snatched it; she was never worth the effort. It was the good he wanted, those that mattered, those like David. Death did not have time for the insignificant.

  She turned toward the bar her father had set up for the mourners. For the first time since Laura had dragged her to the clinic, Gloria really craved a drink, a toke, a snort, anything artificial that would deaden her nerves. Her father realized it. He and Dr Jennifer Harris, Gloria's shrink, had not left her alone, and she was grateful for that.

  Gloria was getting stronger. Most were amazed at how far she had come. But she had a long way to go. By now, she was well enough to know that she was far from fully recovered, that her progress and indeed the substance of her life were still fragile.

  So she did not mind her father's watchful eye, which was on her even now as he spoke with Timmy Daniels, one of David's teammates. It felt nice. She smiled at him and turned back toward where her sister was sitting.

  Gloria's whole body quivered. She bit her lip. One little toke. One little snort. That's all she needed. Then she would be fine. Then she could make it through the rest of the day. Then she would be able to sleep until tomorrow.

  And what about tomorrow? Maybe two tokes, two snorts? And then what? She knew. She would start tumbling, tumbling until she didn't care if she woke up in the morning, tumbling until she once again crashed at the bottom. And this time she would never find the strength to climb out.

  A finger tapped her shoulder. She quickly spun. The man who had tapped her was very handsome and she recognized the face, if not the man, right away.

  His voice was soft. 'Excuse me for intruding. If you want to be alone . . .'

  'No, that's okay.'

  'You must be Gloria.'

  She nodded.

  'My name is Stan Baskin. I'm David's brother.'

  'I'm so sorry about your brother. I loved him very much. He was a wonderful person.'

  Stan lowered his head in a nod. 'I loved him too, Gloria.'

  'It's not fair.'

  'I . . . I just can't believe my brother is really dead. I keep asking why this happened, if I did something . . .'

  'You?'

  'The truth is we fought a lot the last few years. You can't imagine how much I regret the past. I wonder if I had been a better brother . . .'

  'You shouldn't torture yourself.'

  'I never had a chance to say I was sorry,' he continued, 'to tell him how much I loved him.' Stan took her hand then, his wet eyes finding hers. As much as she did not want to think such a thing right now, Gloria couldn't help but be attracted to him. He was very handsome, with looks that were similar to David's. And the way he had opened up to her, the way he had not been afraid to be emotional in front of her . . . just like David.

  She could see now that he was on the verge
of tears again. She reached out to hold him but he drew away. 'I'm sorry to be troubling you, Gloria.'

  'Don't be silly.'

  'You're so beautiful and you've been so kind to me. I hope we can see each other again soon.'

  'I hope so too.'

  'I'm a stranger in Boston, and I feel comfortable with you and your sister. I . . . I hope you don't mind if I call you once in a while.'

  Why did her heart leap so when he spoke? 'I'd like that, Stan. I'd like that very much.'

  Stan turned away from Gloria and began to walk away.

  Did you see that body? I thought ol' Stan My Man was going to pass out! A rollercoaster doesn't have that many curves. And Gloria digs me, no doubt about that. I can always tell ---

  Bam!

  Somebody bumped into Stan with a significant amount of power. The blow knocked Stan out of his daydream. When he focused, he saw a face he had not seen in almost a decade.

  T.C. glared at him. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' he hissed.

  Stan quickly recovered. 'Why, it's little Terry Conroy. Long time no see. You've put on a few pounds, old buddy.'

  'I asked you a question.'

  'Can't a man mourn the death of his only brother?'

  'A man, yes. A piece of shit like you, no.'

  'Big talk from the city cop. You are a policeman now, aren't you, T.C.?'

  'What are you doing here?'

  'Is this an official interrogation?'

  'Call it what you want.'

  'How about none of your business?'

  'How about I smash your head through a window?'

  'Good idea, T.C. Why don't you make a big scene in front of everyone and disturb their mourning? How does that sound?'

  'If you dare bother anyone -- '

  'Please, T.C., would I do something like that?'

  'Get the hell out of here.'

  'Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the impression this was the Ayars's house. I never realized it was yours. The Boston Police Department must pay very well.'

  'What are you doing in Boston anyway?'

  'Paying a condolence call to my lovely sister-in-law.'

  'Let me warn you, shithead, that if you harm her in any way -- '

  'T.C., can't you see I've changed? I'm a new man.'

  'Shit doesn't change its stink. It only breaks down into nothing.'

  'Colorfully put. I must remember that. Anyway, as much as I've enjoyed this conversation, I really must be going now.'

  'Back to Michigan?'

  'Not yet. I thought I might hang around Boston for a while.'

  'I wouldn't advise it, Stan. This city can be awfully tough on strangers.'

  'A threat? How nice. If you'll excuse me . . .'

  T.C. grabbed his arm. 'I'm warning you, Stan. Don't try to pull any of your shit. I remember what you did to David.'

  For the first time, Stan's eyes grew angry. 'You know nothing about what happened between David and me.' He pulled away but T.C. hung on. He pulled harder. 'Let go of me now, you tub of shit,' he half whispered, half yelled. 'I happen to be his brother. I'm part of his family. You, on the other hand, are just another in a long line of people who sucked up to my brother for personal gain.'

  T.C. let go. 'Get out, Stan. Get out now.'

  Stan pulled away, said his goodbyes, and left. As he headed for the door, he wiped away a tear, curious as to why it was so easy for him to get into the role of grieving for a brother he had so hated.

  That night, Judy Simmons went back to the hotel by herself. She felt drained, exhausted from the events of the day. She sat on the bed and took her wallet out of her pocketbook. Her fingers reached behind her license and plucked out a thirty-year-old photograph.

  Judy lifted the picture into view, her eyes entranced by the black and white images from 1960. She lay back and held the wrinkled photograph in the air above her head. She stared at the picture of the pretty, hopeful college co-ed and the handsome older man.

  Why torture yourself?

  But the truth was that her past did torture her. It had tortured them all, still tortured them, would continue to torture.

  Not necessarily. I could tell the truth.

  But what good would it do? Would it stop the torment? Release her guilt? Not really. Better to keep it a secret. Better to hope that all would be okay. Besides, she wasn't sure what had really happened in Australia. It may have been just like they said. It may have been just an accident. A sad, tragic accident.

  But it wasn't.

  She sat up and put the picture on the night-table. And what if it wasn't an accident? What if . . . ? She pushed the thought away. David was dead. Judy's beautiful wonderful niece was crushed. Nothing could change that. It was in the past. The truth could not work as a time machine, allowing her to go back and make everything work out okay. The truth could not bring David back to life.

  She glanced at the clock and picked up her suitcase. The truth. The only thing the truth could do now . . .

  . . . was kill.

  Chapter 5

  Laura finally managed to get out of the bed again.

  Three weeks had achingly passed, three torturous weeks where Laura had done little but sulk away the day in Serita's spare bedroom. And God, how she hated to sulk, how she hated lying in bed and feeling sorry for herself.

  She pulled back the covers. Her hair was disheveled, her usually dark skin turning gray, her eyes swollen and black. Yes, three weeks had passed but as far as the pain was concerned, it felt like one agonizing second. The pain, the anguish of knowing her David was dead had not lessened, had not loosened its grip for even the briefest of moments.

  She had visitors. Gloria was always with her and in many ways, she was the best comfort; not because her words or company were particularly comforting, but because Laura's worrying about her sister was an effective means of escaping from her own torment. The way Gloria's body shook and quaked reminded Laura of the painful days of withdrawal when she first found Gloria's naked body with the needle tracks in her arms.

  Stan was also a true support and a sad example of lost opportunity. He visited every day, often at the same time as Gloria. Laura noticed that Gloria had something of a crush on Stan. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but so far Stan had not done more than be kind to her. That was probably good. At this stage, a bad relationship with a member of the opposite sex would be catastrophic for Gloria.

  There were others. Earl was here a lot. So was Clip Arnstein and Timmy Daniels, the backcourt player who had always thought of David as an older brother.

  Laura put on a fabulous act when these visitors came to the door. She pretended to be strong and told them all she was doing just fine, that she was taking walks outside every day, that there was no reason to worry. In other words, she lied. She was not sure it was working, but anything was better than allowing people to stare at you with eyes filled with pity. That was something Laura could not handle.

  'Whoa, will miracles never cease?'

  Laura turned toward Serita. 'Excuse me?'

  'The fans are on their feet! Laura is finally out of bed! And oh my, would you look at that? She's actually putting on something besides a nightgown and bathrobe.'

  'Funny.'

  'Are you going back to work. Say yes.'

  'No.'

  'Then where are you going?'

  'To the house.'

  Serita paused. 'Nah, let's do something else. Let's drive down by the Combat Zone and whistle at guys.'

  'I'm going to the house.'

  'Honey, are you sure?'

  'I'm sure.'

  'But why?'

  'I have to clean up a few things.'

  'It can wait.'

  'No,' Laura replied, 'I don't think it can.'

  'Then I'll go with you. I can be very helpful.'

  'With cleaning? Don't make me laugh.'

  'I'm very good at supervising.'

  'You have to go to work, Serita. You have that big spread for International Health Spas today.
'

  'It can wait.'

  'With the money they're paying you for those TV ads?'

  'I said it can wait.'

  'Let me be somewhat less subtle,' Laura said. 'I want to go alone.'

  'Well, fuck you too.'

  Laura chuckled sadly. 'You're a good friend.'

  'The best.'

  'But I'm taking advantage. I should move out.'

  'No way. I need you here. You're my excuse to Earl.'

  'You love him, you know.'

  Serita put her hands on her hips. 'How many times do I have to tell you -- '

  'I know, I know. He's just a good lay.'

  'You got it. But he loves the spa commercials. He says seeing me all sweaty on Nautilus machines makes him hot.'

  'I'm happy for you both.'

  'Fuck you, too.'

  Laura kissed her friend's cheek and left. She got into her car. As she drove, she tried to keep her mind blank, tried to concentrate on the road in front of her. But her mind would not do as she commanded. It kept coming back to David, always back to David, to the way he walked, to the way he held her as they slept, to the feel of his unshaven face against her skin when he kissed her.

  David had changed her in so many ways, and yet now that he was gone, she knew that many of those changes would soon dissolve away. She remembered how wonderful it had been to discover each other, to learn of love together. It had taken a while. Love and trust did not come easily to either one of them.

  During the second month of their relationship, Laura felt herself finally begin to let down her defenses and open up to him. Before that, she had been afraid of exposing herself to the devastating weapon of love, of being hurt in a way in which she could never recover. But on this cold December night, Laura realized that she and David were destined to be together. True, they had made no commitment to each other, made no pledges. But Laura knew. And now that she did, she wanted to see David, couldn't wait to be with him so that she could at long last tell him how she felt. But would she have the courage? Would she finally be able to say and hear words she had always dreamed about but never allowed herself to hope for? Probably not. Probably she was not ready. But then again, if you don't try . . .