Edge Of Evil

by J. A. Jance

  Matt heaved a sigh of relief. He came to her then, leaning his small frame against her and letting Ali comfort him. He was cold, and his hands and feet were soaking wet. “You’re freezing,” she said. “We need to get you inside.”

  “No,” Matt said. “Aunt Bree’s in there, braiding Julie’s hair. She’s not very good at it, and Julie keeps crying and crying. That’s how come I came outside—to get away. I didn’t want to listen anymore.”

  “That’s understandable,” Ali said. “Let’s sit in the car, then. It’s warmer in there than it is out here.”

  Nodding, Matt walked toward the Cayenne. Once inside, Ali had no idea what to say next. The last she had known, Howie Bernard had been soft-pedaling his wife’s disappearance in an effort to protect his children. That ruse wasn’t going to work much longer.

  “If it wasn’t an accident, and if she didn’t kill herself, maybe it was something worse,” Matt said softly.

  “ What do you mean worse?” Ali asked.

  “The cops came by a little while ago and took Dad away. What if they arrest him?”

  “Did they put handcuffs on him?” Ali asked.

  “No, but they put him in the back of a cop car and everything. What if they think…”

  Ali had uncovered another source for Matt’s pain.

  “Don’t give that another thought,” Ali said. “I talked to one of the deputies down in Sedona. He said that officers up here would be talking to your father today, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Just routine questions. That’s what they do when someone dies. They ask questions. They try to find out who last saw the person who’s dead. They want to find out what was going on, whether or not anyone had had a disagreement.”

  “A disagreement?” Matt asked.

  “You know,” Ali said. “A quarrel. An argument.”

  Matt turned his face away from Ali, but not before she caught sight of a single tear coursing down his cheek.

  “Had there been an argument?” Ali asked.

  Without answering, Matt shook his head and then angrily swiped the tear away with the back of his hand. Before Ali could ask anything more, there was a sharp rap on the passenger window next to Matt’s head. When Ali looked past him, all that was visible through the steamy glass was a distorted masklike face. As soon as Ali rolled down the window, Bree Cowan’s face came into view, her features distorted by a fit of anger—or worry.

  “Matthew Edward Bernard, where in the world have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been calling and calling. I want you inside right this minute!”

  Obligingly Matthew climbed out of the Porsche. “And you came outside without even so much as putting on a jacket?” Bree continued. “Don’t you think I have enough to deal with right now without your catching cold on top of everything else? Grandpa and Grandma will be here any minute. Now go inside and get into something clean and dry.”

  Only after he trudged off toward the house did Bree turn to Ali. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” she said. “These kids are driving me nuts. Julie’s been crying her eyes out ever since her father left, and Matt …Well, I guess he’s just being Matt.”

  Ali had never cared for Reenie’s baby sister. She had always seemed brusque and opinionated, and Ali liked her even less that minute.

  “He’s upset,” Ali said. “And who could blame him?”

  “Of course he’s upset,” Bree returned, following Matt and leading the way into the house.

  Everything about the house was so like Reenie, that Ali had difficulty staying focused on what Bree was saying.

  “So am I,” she continued. “We’re all upset. Losing Reenie like this is a terrible shock, but I still need him to do what I’ve asked him to do. I want the kids ready to go to Cottonwood when the folks get here. I’m already late for my meeting. Howie called a little while ago and asked me to come over. The cops needed to take him in for questioning, and with the kids out of school because of what’s happened…”

  “I could look after them for you,” Ali offered.

  “Really?” Bree returned. “The folks will be here soon. Howie asked if they’d look after the kids for a couple of days, but if you’d watch them until my parents get here, it would be a huge favor.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Ali said. “To help. You do whatever you need to do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Go.”

  Bree glanced down the hall toward the spot where Matt had disappeared. Then she came across the room and gave Ali a quick hug.

  “You’re really a lifesaver,” she told Ali. With that, she gathered up a coat and purse that had been flung over a chair just inside the door and hurried outside.

  Moments later, a red-eyed and tearful Julie emerged from the hallway. “Hi, Ali,” she said matter-of-factly. “Did you know Mommy’s dead?”

  Ali hurried over to the child and scooped her up. “I know, sweetie,” she said. “I heard. That’s why I’m here.”

  “And the cops took Daddy away a little while ago. Did you know that?”

  Ali nodded. “Matt told me that, too. They probably just need to ask him a few questions. I’m sure he’ll be back in a little while.”

  “I don’t think so,” Julie said, shaking her head hard enough that the barrettes on the ends of her braids clattered together. “I think they arrested him, and they’re going to put him in jail. That’s why Aunt Bree is making us go to Grandma’s house.”

  “Aunt Bree has an important meeting,” Ali said. “And someone needs to look after you. Now, are you all packed and ready to go?”

  “I don’t want to go there,” Julie whined. “I want to be here. With Daddy.”

  “With everything that’s happened, your daddy has far too many things to take care of right now without having to look after you,” Ali said. “Besides, I’m sure your grandparents are thrilled to have you.”

  “But how long do we have to stay?” Julie asked.

  “Just for a couple of days.”

  “Are you sure? What if Daddy goes to jail? What if they don’t let him come back home?” Julie asked. “Will we have to stay in Cottonwood forever? And what about Sam?”

  “Sam?” Ali repeated. “Who’s Sam?”

  Matt came into the living room and dropped a bulging backpack onto the couch. “Our cat,” he said. “Samantha. We can’t leave her here.”

  “Why not?” Ali asked. “Isn’t there someone who could come by and look after her? A neighbor? A friend? Your Aunt Bree lives here in town. Maybe she…”

  “Sam doesn’t like Aunt Bree,” Julie interrupted. “She and Uncle John have dogs. Poodles. Sam definitely doesn’t like dogs. That’s why she’s hiding.”

  Clearly Ali’s arguments were going nowhere. She and the kids spent the next half hour searching the whole interior of the house. Ali had concluded that the cat must have escaped unobserved through an open door when Matt found her, curled up and sleeping on a stack of folded bath towels in the far reaches of the linen closet.

  All through the search, Ali had envisioned finding some cute and helpless little kitten-like puffball. When Matt dragged Sam from her hidey-hole, she turned out to be a fifteen-pound heavyweight tabby cat with a raggedy torn ear and one missing eye. She may have been ugly as sin, but she purred mightily once Julie hefted her onto the couch and let her curl up in her lap.

  Mindful of the fact that Sam didn’t like strangers, and not wanting to provoke another disappearing act, Ali stayed on the far side of the room. “Does she mind riding in cars?” Ali asked.

  “She hates it,” Julie said.

  Great! Ali thought.

  “But we have a cat carrier,” Matt offered. “Mom uses it when she takes Sam to the…” Looking stricken, he stopped suddenly when he realized what he’d said and knew that his mother wouldn’t be taking Sam anywhere ever again. “It’s out in the garage,” he finished lamely. “I’ll go get it.”

  Straightening his shoulders, he headed for the k
itchen and the door that led to the attached garage. Watching him fight back tears and struggle to maintain his dignity as he walked away, Ali felt her heart constrict.

  I’m in way, way over my head! she told herself. What on earth am I doing here?

  When Reenie’s parents showed up, Ali was shocked by their appearance. Ed and Diane had to be about the same age as Ali’s own parents, but they seemed far older and, when it came to Ed, far frailer as well. Remembering what Bree had said about Ed having had heart bypass surgery, Ali wasn’t too surprised when Diane directed her gray-faced husband to have a seat in the living room while she oversaw getting Matt and Julie and their possessions loaded into the car.

  “Your children aren’t supposed to die first,” Ed Holzer said, repeating a sentiment Ali had heard from her first in-laws. Ed wasn’t looking at Ali when he spoke. He seemed to be addressing the universe in general.

  “No,” Ali agreed. “They’re not.”

  “You were her friend, Ali,” he said quietly. “Do you think Reenie killed herself?”

  The question caught Ali by surprise.” No,” she answered. “I don’t think she did.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t think she’d drive herself off a cliff without telling her kids good-bye,” Ali answered.

  “Neither do I,” he said. “Everybody else says I’m way off base here—Bree, Diane, Howie, the cops—but I don’t think she’d just give up that way without a fight. And I don’t think she did.”

  Ali waited for Ed to say more, but he didn’t.

  “How long did the doctors say she had?”

  Ed shrugged. “All she ever told me was two to five years after diagnosis.”

  “And her diagnosis was when?”

  “She just got a final confirmation last week,” Ed said. “Evidently her back started bothering her late last fall, but I had just had my heart bypass then, and she never mentioned it to anybody. She just toughed it out. She didn’t want to do anything that would upset the holidays. She finally went to the doctor sometime in January.”

  “So this was early, then?” Ali asked.

  Ed nodded. “Way early,” he replied.

  “Has anyone talked to her doctor?” Ali asked. “The one she saw before she disappeared?”

  Ed shrugged. “I’m sure Howie has,” he said. “And probably the cops have. Why?”

  “I’d like to know what exactly he told her,” Ali replied. “Maybe her ALS was progressing faster than anyone knew.”

  “Maybe,” Ed agreed. “But still…”

  He seemed ready to say something more, but thought better of it.

  “Still what?” Ali asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

  About then the loading process came to a screeching halt. Matt stomped back into the living room, shouting over his shoulder in his grandmother’s direction, “I didn’t want to go in the first place. If Sam can’t go with us, I’m not going either!”

  Diane followed Matt into the house, trying to reason with him. “Look, Matt,” she said. “You know very well that your grandfather’s allergic to cats. Under the circumstances, I’m sure your father is capable of taking care of Samantha.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Matt insisted. “He doesn’t even like her. The only way Mom convinced him to let us keep her was if we promised to take care of her so Dad wouldn’t have to.”

  “This is different,” Diane said. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  “Besides,” Matt added stubbornly. “Why do we have to go with you anyway? Why can’t we just stay here with Dad?”

  “Because your father wants you with us,” Diane returned. Her voice was firm, but she also sounded tired and exasperated.

  “I’ll take care of Sam,” Ali offered. The words were out of her mouth before she even considered what she was saying.

  Gratitude flooded Matt’s young face. “Would you?” he asked. “Really.”

  “Sure,” Ali said. “No problem.”

  Chapter 7

  Once Ed and Diane Holzer finished loading the kids and took off for Cottonwood, Ali stuck Samantha and her cat carrier into the back of the Cayenne. The moment the carrier hit the floorboard, Sam started screeching bloody murder. Ali wanted to wait around long enough to talk to Howie, but with everyone gone, there was no way to hang around the house. Feeling at loose ends and with no real purpose in mind, Ali drove to Reenie’s old office.

  The Flagstaff branch of the YWCA was located in part of a strip mall on South Milton Road just south of Northern Arizona University. NAU, hungry for useable real estate, had gobbled up the YW’s previous location, and Reenie had masterminded the move to a more modern space that included a day-care center, an exercise room, and a complex of conference and counseling rooms as well as administrative offices. There were children and teachers visible inside the building, but the brightly colored playground equipment, sitting in a fenced side yard and covered with dingy snow, looked abandoned and forgotten.

  Seeing all Reenie had accomplished put a lump in Ali’s throat. Reenie was responsible for all of this. When the creaky old building had been sold, conventional wisdom had said that the YWCA in Flagstaff should probably fold its tent and disappear as well, but Reenie Bernard was too much of a fighter to simply close up shop. Instead, she had masterminded a major capital fund-raising campaign that had, in a few short years, made this new building and all its programs possible.

  But is it solid enough to continue without her? Ali wondered. There was no way to tell that right then.

  Walking inside, Ali found Andrea Rogers, Reenie’s receptionist, staring blankly at her computer screen. “I thought I’d come by and check on you,” Ali said. “How’re you doing?”

  Ali had met Andrea on previous occasions. She was a frumpy, never-married woman in her late fifties who had worked for the Flagstaff branch of the YWCA all her adult life. She had been Reenie’s right-hand helper for years.

  Andrea reached for a nearly empty Kleenix box sitting next to her keyboard. “It’s all so awful that I still can’t believe it,” she said tearfully. “I have to come in and keep the doors open. I’m so sick at heart that I’d rather be home in bed. But I can’t. The day care has to stay open and so do we, but I can’t imagine how we’ll get through this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “How are Reenie’s kids?”

  “Not too good,” Ali said. “Reenie’s parents took them to Cottonwood for a few days.”

  “And Howie?” Andrea asked. “How’s he?”

  “I haven’t seen him yet, but I think he’s okay,” Ali told her.

  “Have they found a note?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “They’ll find one,” Andrea said confidently. “They’re bound to. She wouldn’t do such a thing without saying something to the people she was leaving behind.”

  “So had she talked to you about her…situation?” Ali asked.

  Andrea nodded. “Of course,” she said. “As soon as she got the diagnosis she told me about it. She said we needed to make a plan, and to start looking for someone to take over as executive director.”

  “Had she found anyone?” Ali asked.

  “In a week?” Andrea returned. “Are you kidding? Of course she hadn’t found anyone. Where would we find someone willing to work as hard as she did? I’m not sure we’ll even be able to keep going, although I know she’d want us to.” Andrea blew noisily into a tissue, tossed that one and reached for another.

  “All I can think of,” she continued, “is that her doctor down in Scottsdale must have given her some really bad news. But why didn’t she say something to me when she called. I couldn’t have done anything to help—nobody could—but at least I could have been there for her, could have listened to her and talked to her. She wouldn’t have been so alone, and maybe…”

  It struck Ali that Andrea’s comment about Reenie taking her own life without a word of warning to anyone was the workplace equivalent of Matt’s plainti
ve “Didn’t she love us anymore?” That was Ali’s complaint as well, and it took a moment for her to process the rest of what Andrea had said.

  “You talked to her after her doctor’s appointment?” Ali asked.

  “Yes,” Andrea replied. “She told me she was stopping by the bank and then she was on her way back here.”

  “To the office?”

  “That’s what she said, but she wasn’t here when I left. I assumed she’d changed her mind and gone home instead.”

  “Which bank?” Ali asked.

  “She didn’t say. That’s what the cops wanted to know, too—which bank? I told them I didn’t know. I think they use Bank of America, but I have no idea which branch. Detective Farris said he’d be able to find out. He said she probably needed to cash a check or something, but if she was going to drive herself off a cliff, why would she need money?”

  Good question, Ali thought. “So you have spoken to the cops about all this?” she asked.

  “Over the weekend,” Andrea said. “The first time was on Saturday afternoon. They came to my house. Then they came here again on Monday, after they found the body. They wanted to know if Reenie was upset about anything. Talk about a stupid question. With that kind of diagnosis, who wouldn’t be upset? Still, she acted more relieved than anything.”

  “Relieved?”

  “She’d been feeling sick for months—just not herself—and no one could tell her what was wrong. But once what was wrong had a name—even though it was awful—at least she knew what she was up against and nobody could call her a hypochondriac.”

  “Somebody called her that?” Ali asked.

  Andrea nodded. “Her sister. Sometime around Christmas. So once Reenie knew it was ALS, she was gung-ho to fight it. At least that’s what she told me. That she was going to research it, find out everything she could, and see if there were any programs she might qualify for—you know, experimental things that might help.”

  “She said that?” Ali asked. “That she was going to try to be accepted into one of the ongoing protocols?”

  “That was just a few days ago,” Andrea added. “What would have made her change her mind?”