The Stranger Inside

by Laura Benedict

  “Boys will be boys,” her father had said, coming upon her looking at the drawing. “It was ever thus.”

  Ever thus. Sometimes he would say things like that. Still, she’d been embarrassed to be caught looking.

  As much as the mystery about the selfie bugs her, she can’t think about it now.

  Kevin is her real problem. She’s already lost too much because of him. Glancing around, she sees that no one’s watching her, though she half expects a police car to pull up. God knows she’s seen enough of them lately. And if Kevin is hiding in the house, he has surely already called them.

  Something tells her luck is on her side. That, unlike a week earlier, this time the house feels truly empty.

  Heading straight for the front door, she knocks, then rings the doorbell. Nothing. When she grasps the knob on the door, it surprises her by turning easily in her hand.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Kimber softly closes the front door behind her and waits, listening. Someone is moving around upstairs.

  Shit. She was wrong about the house being empty. He could kill her right now, saying she threatened him. But she has to do something or he won’t hesitate to take what little life she has left.

  “Hello? Can we talk? I know who you are, Kevin.”

  Scare him. I only need the gun to scare him. But he’s an ex-convict. A fugitive. He might laugh at her, and then she’d have to use it, and then what in the hell would happen? Everything would be so much easier if he were dead. Would it be worth the consequences? Her guilt about Michelle would still be with her in prison, and she’d have the weight of yet another death on her soul.

  “I just want to talk. I’m your sister, right? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She tries to make her voice light. Nonthreatening.

  Footsteps cross the floor above her and start down the stairs. She looks up but can’t yet see anyone. She waits for the sound of Kevin’s voice. Not the whiny one he uses around the police, but his real voice, the one he used when he was close to her. So matter-of-fact in its menace. She slides a hand into her bag, feeling for the gun.

  A figure emerges, silhouetted against the landing window. It’s not Kevin.

  “Dammit, Don. What are you doing here?”

  Her brain finds it hard to process Don’s presence, but she automatically releases the butt of the gun.

  His hair is disheveled, his skin tinged with gray. Even his polo shirt is partially untucked. He looks much worse than he did the day before, as if he’s been to hell and back. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he stands stiffly, his mouth in a grim frown.

  “How’d you get in here?” She looks around. “Where is he?”

  “No one else is here. The door was open.”

  “Yeah. I saw that. But why are you here?”

  “I came here to kill that son of a bitch.” Only now does Kimber see that he has a length of rope loosely hanging from one fist. It swings to a stop, lightly brushing the floor.

  They sit in the ruined living room, the light from the front windows picking out the grit and dust motes in the air. Don drinks water from one of the two clean glasses she found in the cupboard. Garbage is everywhere, but she’s going to have to deal with Don before she can think of anything else. The glass trembles in his hand, and Kimber wonders how he manages to be so upbeat and strong in front of her mother. In that way he’s like her father, who pretended to be something he wasn’t.

  “Looks like he’s taken his things.” The import of that thought hasn’t hit Kimber yet, but she can feel it coming.

  “He’ll be back. If not here, he’ll be looking for me.”

  “Why is that, Don? What the hell is going on?”

  And then Don begins to talk.

  Ike Hannon was the perfect employee. He charmed the female customers of the bookkeeping and payroll service that Don owned, and his image as a solid, trustworthy family man helped him win the confidence of the male customers as well. He was the perfect general manager, traveling constantly in his two-state territory without complaint. Ike was five years younger than Don, and there was always something youthful and almost childlike about him that made Don think of him like a younger brother. Someone who needed looking after. He talked about music and art, and his daughters, and how they were the smartest, prettiest, funniest girls that ever lived on the planet. He had several pictures of them on his desk, even though he spent little time at that desk. Then there’d been an incident with some missing cash at the office of a local client.

  “This was back before we were using a lot of computers. Data was often recorded by hand and then keyed into the system,” Don says. “Things could slip between the cracks.”

  Ike Hannon was accused. The owner was certain, saying he had faith in his own employees, that Ike had messed with the books and stolen several thousand dollars. Don couldn’t, and wouldn’t, believe it. Sure enough, Ike showed him copies of the records and demonstrated how he thought the onsite clerk, a woman, had gotten away with the theft.

  “His eyes were always so sincere. You wanted to believe him. Everything he said, he said with such confidence. It was like you had no choice but to believe him. Like he was just a kid who you knew couldn’t ever tell a lie.”

  Less than two weeks later the clerk, who had protested her innocence again and again, walked away from her home, her elderly mother, her job, and her few friends, taking only some clothes and a few photographs, and disappeared forever. Ike was vindicated. The owner of the business apologized, and Ike graciously accepted it. Don’s faith in him didn’t waver until much later. But Don didn’t have a lot of time to worry further about Ike because his wife was diagnosed with lung cancer, filling the next two years with chemotherapy and, later, radiation. He was consumed with his wife’s survival and spent every moment he could taking care of her. In those two years, he came to rely heavily on Ike and Claudia, who said she’d do anything she could to help.

  Kimber remembers the cancer, but she doesn’t remember her mother being so close to Don and his wife. Though apparently Don’s wife came to rely on and even love her mother. So did Don.

  “I didn’t know I loved your mother in that way until after my wife was dead. I swear.”

  “You don’t have to swear. I believe you.” She has no reason not to.

  “Your mother never gave one sign that she knew, or that she reciprocated. She’s a good woman. Really good, Kimber. She trusted your father. God, did she trust him. And he did take care of her and you and your sister. I don’t think he was a bad man. He was a flawed man. But then we’re all flawed, right?” He takes another deep drink of water. “Unfortunately, he toyed with people. He toyed with me. With our clients. Surely he knew what he was doing—but I don’t think he ever actually meant to hurt anyone. I know that sounds strange, because he hurt a hell of a lot of people. Maybe you worst of all.”

  “Just stop.” She doesn’t want to hear how her father didn’t mean to hurt her. She’s been to therapy, though she never could stand to go to the same therapist for more than a handful of sessions. Every single one spouted bullshit about her “hurting inner child.” Their questions always drifted toward her mother, her father, her feelings of self-loathing. It all seemed self-indulgent and dumb to her. Also dangerous. There were times she wanted to blurt out her worst secret. But even though what she told them was confidential, they probably had to contact the police if there was a crime involved. “It’s been a long time. I’m over it. My dad left, and now we know he was even more of an asshole than anyone thought he was.”

  He reaches out with one hand as though to touch her, then quickly retracts it and rests it firmly on his own knee.

  “Don, do you want me to have Mom come and get you? You look like hell. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “One time I couldn’t get hold of your father. Some people had cell phones, but the company didn’t have them yet, and long distance was expensive. No one remembers that now.” He clears his throat. “I was out in Union and went i
nto a diner for a quick bite before heading back home. Your mother had me over sometimes, and that was the best I ate. Food actually tasted good to me when I was with your family. I don’t know how to say it any other way. I was goddamn grateful, and feeling like hell because I knew I was betraying your father with the way I felt about Claudia. Maybe he saw it, but he never said.”

  His voice sends Kimber back to those evenings when he would come to their house like a beloved uncle. Showing them dumb magic tricks when they were younger, young enough to want to be fooled but really too old. She remembers how deferential he was to her mother, not teasing, like her father was.

  “I’d just come into the diner when I heard your father’s laugh. His laugh was so distinctive. He liked to laugh, I think. I was surprised he was there, but not too surprised. We had a few clients in Union. He was sitting at a table in the back with a woman, and there was something about the way she was looking at him that struck me. A teenage boy was at the table too. It was confusing as hell, and at first I thought maybe I was mistaken. When I got closer I saw it was definitely Ike.” He wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “Then he noticed me.”

  Kimber imagines that moment from her father’s perspective. Two lives, suddenly turned into one. She almost feels sorry for him.

  “He excused himself from the table. As he got up, the woman said, ‘John, is something wrong?’ She turned and looked at me, worried. But Ike—John—touched her shoulder like you do with your wife, you know, to say everything’s okay. The boy turned around too. The look on his face was different from the woman’s, almost like he knew who I was. He looked older than his years and like he was disgusted with life.”

  “What did my father say?”

  “We went outside. He didn’t say anything at first, like he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say. Looking back, I can’t believe he didn’t have something prepared. I mean when your whole life is a lie, you’d think you’d have an explanation ready. Some kind of excuse. But he didn’t. He just told me the truth. Well, some of it.”

  Don stares past her, as though expecting her father to walk in the front door at any moment. Then, for the first time since he started talking, he looks straight into her eyes.

  “He told me he had two families whom he loved very much and that the woman inside the restaurant was named Faye, and the boy was Kevin, and that he’d been married to Faye for several years longer than he’d been married to your mother. Kevin was his son. Kevin Merrill, the man calling himself Lance Wilson, is your brother.” He paused. “I guess you know that already.”

  “Yeah. I wanted to talk to Mom about it yesterday, but I screwed that up. I didn’t know what all she knew. I still don’t.”

  “She knows almost everything now.”

  “How could she not have known all these years? How could you not tell her before?”

  He runs his hand down over his face and covers his mouth. The universal symbol for not wanting to say what one knows one has to say.

  “I wanted to. God, I wanted to. Later, after he left town, I finally found out where he went. No, that’s not right. I knew he was in Florida all along. God help me, I lied to your mother. I lied to her for our entire marriage, and that makes me no better than the man who treated her like…I can’t even fathom what he did. Or maybe it’s that I can. When you love somebody, you’ll do anything for them. Did you know that? Have you ever loved somebody that way?”

  He searches her eyes, and she looks away. Her answer is yes, but she can’t say. Can’t explain. It’s too horrifying.

  “Did you contact him? Why didn’t you tell us? I don’t understand.”

  “How could I do that? If I told you, you’d have wanted to see him, and then you would’ve found out the rest. About the family. About Kevin and Faye.”

  She wants to tell him about Michelle, what Michelle had been trying to convince her of for days before she died. But there’s no way she can without telling him everything.

  “Listen, Michelle died less than two weeks after I ran into him in Union. How could I tell your mother what was going on with him after that? It would’ve killed her. You were there. You know exactly what it was like.”

  Yes, she knows what it was like. It was like her mother built a very tall wall in the days after Michelle died. A wall that shut Kimber out. She had been used to feeling the difference between the way her mother loved her and the way her father loved her, and she had realized the rift was now permanent. Michelle had finally achieved true perfection in her parents’ eyes. Kimber had been the one to make that happen.

  “Kimber. I need you to hear this.”

  The sickly, desperate Don had retreated. This Don is more like the man who’d rescued her from a Wash U fraternity party when she was sixteen, carrying her to his car because she was too drunk to walk. They had never talked about that night. Her mother’s bedroom door had remained closed in stony judgment. Don had simply taken care of her when her mother wouldn’t.

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “I already know. I know what happened between you and your sister out at the state park.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  September 199_

  It was already a quarter till one, and Michelle was feeling conspicuous standing alone at the trailhead. She’d ditched her friends, who’d gotten stoned and were playing in the flag football game. No one had noticed her leaving, just like they hadn’t noticed she’d taken only one hit when the joint was going around. She wanted to keep her shit together.

  The sun beat down, causing a frail line of sweat to erupt along her upper lip. At the vintage shop, when she’d bought the fuzzy green mohair sweater she was wearing, she’d imagined this would be a perfect fall day. But summer was refusing to let go. Her shattered nerves weren’t helping, and she’d already smoked two cigarettes, hoping to calm herself. Standing on tiptoe, she covered her brow with one hand, looking for Kimber. The problem was that from a distance Kimber looked a lot like half the T-shirt-and-jeans-wearing girls roaming around the park. Reluctantly, she started toward the other pavilions to find her.

  I’m not going to let you screw this up, Kimber.

  She eventually found Kimber because she spotted her sister’s friend, Elizabeth something. Elizabeth had flaming red hair she wore in a braid down her back and stubby calves that were bright white against her navy culottes covered in white stars. Poor Elizabeth looked like a bad interpretation of the U.S. flag.

  Michelle was about to call out when she noticed the two girls were talking to someone else, a boy holding a camera. He looked old enough to be a senior. Probably yearbook staff from one of the other schools. Kimber and Elizabeth moved a bit closer together, and he raised his camera to his acne-speckled face. It seemed weird to Michelle that he took the photo while still wearing sunglasses.

  Michelle was now close enough to overhear them.

  “Come on. You guys can smile, can’t you?” he asked. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn’t recognize his face.

  “All right, just one more.” Kimber sounded irritated. She suddenly put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and tilted her head onto it. The camera shutter clicked, and Kimber jumped away from Elizabeth. “We’re done.”

  “Thanks a lot.” He turned away.

  “Hey—!” Elizabeth called after him, but he kept walking, not even stopping to take pictures of anyone else. She pouted at Kimber. “You weren’t very nice to him. We don’t even know if he was from our school.”

  “So?” Kimber shrugged. “He was creepy anyway.”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was cute.”

  “God, Elizabeth. Why are you so obvious? You probably would have let him screw you on a picnic table.”

  “What do you mean? I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Kimber.”

  Elizabeth smiled to see Michelle. Kimber looked down at her watch.

  “Hi, Michelle. Did you do any events?” For all that Elizabeth moved like a miniature Hulk, she wasn
’t exactly shy. She was one of those strange people who didn’t seem to understand when someone was making fun of her. It was probably a good thing since she hung around Kimber. Michelle wondered why the two girls were friends at all.

  “I need to talk to Kimber for a minute. She’ll catch up with you later, okay?” She didn’t wait for a response but turned to walk back toward the trailhead. “Come on, Kimber.”

  Kimber hurried to catch up. “Hey, Elizabeth,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t wait for me, okay? I’ll see you on the bus.”

  It was cooler and much quieter among the trees on the hillside. They could hear voices from below, but the higher they went, the fainter the voices became. Michelle felt like they were entering another universe and almost said so to Kimber. In the past they’d had such silly, fanciful discussions, but she remembered where they were going, and why. She was getting tired of being so serious. Surprisingly, Kimber was quiet too. She didn’t complain, even when the trail dumped them into a small valley and took them up another, larger hill.

  Now there was only the occasional distant shout from below. Michelle glanced at her watch. They were late, but she thought they were almost there. She hoped she was remembering the map correctly. The directions had been so simple that she’d torn up the note and thrown it away. There was no chance to put it with the other notes because Kimber still had the diary. But she was certain that after this afternoon, they’d come to an understanding. She climbed faster.