Not That I Could Tell: A Novel

by Jessica Strawser

  Then again, Izzy wouldn’t want to hear any more from her anyway. Clara had done what she could. And she had risked enough.

  “I promise.”

  “No matter what.”

  “No matter what.”

  A hard knock startled them both, and through the darkness on the other side of the sliding glass door she could see Hallie, standing with a coat pulled over flannel pajama pants, her feet clad in rubber-bottomed slippers, a frantic look on her face. She was pointing and mouthing something Clara couldn’t understand. Benny rushed to the door and flung it open. “Hallie? What—”

  “It’s Paul,” she blurted out. “He’s sneaked across the street to Izzy’s, through her fence. I saw him, out my window. Her house is dark, she must be asleep, and … I’m scared for her.”

  Clara froze.

  Benny squinted at the girl. “You just happened to be looking out your window?”

  “I didn’t just happen to be. I’ve been keeping watch.”

  “Over Izzy?”

  “Over Paul. Or his house, anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone has to!”

  Clara felt a fierce urge to hug her—whether to offer comfort or gratitude, she wasn’t sure.

  Benny sighed. “Hallie, you’ve promised your mom you’d stay out of this…”

  “I was out of it. I didn’t even leave my bedroom. I just happen to have a good view of his house out my window. And can we talk about this later, after someone checks on Izzy?”

  She looked pleadingly at Clara.

  “Hallie.” Clara needed to speak carefully, even as her thoughts raced. “You have to be absolutely sure of what you saw. Maybe Izzy invited him over. Maybe they’re trying to be discreet. When grown-ups date…”

  “They’re not dating. Izzy turned him down after the radio show. Randi and Rhoda came over for dinner tonight, and they told my mom everything. They said Dr. Kirkland overheard something he shouldn’t have today. They were joking about it, but I could tell it made them nervous.”

  Clara looked past her, toward Hallie’s own dark house, as her growing sense of unease hovered over the unsteady ground of her tentative truce with Natalie. “Then why are you telling us and not your mom?”

  “I was afraid she’d go out by herself. She’d be reluctant to call the police, after what happened with me.”

  Benny was looking helplessly from one to the other. It was so obvious that Hallie was terrified, how could he not do something?

  Clara’s promise from just moments before caught in her throat. The only person who had not promised to stay out of it was reaching for the leash hanging by the door and sliding his cell phone into his back pocket.

  “I’ll take Pup-Pup for a walk,” he said.

  Clara squeezed his hand tight, then turned back to Hallie.

  “Let’s call your mom,” she said. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

  42

  I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I’m so glad I don’t have to. What’s the next adventure? Make a wish, and we’ll make it happen!

  —Josh’s inscription in a birthday card to Izzy, five long years ago

  She’d been so stupid. She’d been so wrong.

  If she ever got out of this, she’d do everything differently.

  She had conjured bad juju with her lie to Paul, but it hadn’t landed with her father. It had come straight for her. Straight for the source.

  “Scream again, and you’ll be sorry,” he hissed into her ear, and his palm pulled away from her face. She gasped for air.

  What if she hadn’t lied? Would this never have happened, or would it have happened that night, in Paul’s kitchen, when he wouldn’t take no for an answer?

  “I know you’ve been going through a hard time—” she tried.

  He cut her off with a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

  His arm around her waist squeezed tighter, and she forced herself to stop pushing against it, to lean into him instead. Maybe if he sensed submission, he’d ease up. “I’m sure what’s happening now … this isn’t you. You’re under a lot of stress. I understand. Let’s just step away.”

  “Away, away, away.” His voice was a cruel singsong. “So eager to get away.”

  Oh, God. She should have listened to Clara.

  She should have listened to a lot of things.

  “I never meant to hurt your feelings—”

  “I didn’t come here for an apology. Do you think I care about apologies?” He spun her around and pressed her roughly against the house, the siding cutting across her back in hard lines. Tears finally found their way into her shocked system, and they spilled out in ugly streams.

  “You’re scaring me,” she whimpered.

  He laughed, cold and mocking. Izzy’s mind flew through everything he’d ever told her about himself, looking for a way to get through to him, or at least to keep him talking.

  “I know it’s hard,” she sobbed. “Not being able to control things in our lives that we don’t like, or people who we wish felt differently. I can relate. I do relate.”

  That neurologist guest on Freshly Squeezed had made it all sound so scientific, how brain areas for craving and love were activated by rejection. Izzy had thought only of how it applied to her. But what about someone whose brain was wired differently from the start?

  “I’d say I’m pretty in control right now.”

  The moon moved behind a cloud, and his face darkened so that she couldn’t quite read his expression, which only made it more ominous. She continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “What I mean is, I can imagine it’s extra hard for you, after spending your childhood at the mercy of your dad’s gambling…”

  “Don’t pretend you know me.”

  A dog barked. It sounded close. If it was with its owner, maybe someone could hear. But Paul seemed to sense her intake of air, and before she could belt out another scream he clamped his hand over her mouth again. She struggled against him, squirming, kicking one leg and then the other, trying to make any kind of noise at all.

  She’d never felt so powerless.

  “No one knows me,” he snarled, ensnaring her tighter. Her kicking seemed to have little effect, and she cursed herself for all the times she’d thought of enrolling in a self-defense class but never followed through. He was dragging her now, toward the back door. He was trying to get her inside.

  Where no one could hear.

  Where no one could see.

  She couldn’t let him.

  Something jabbed into her gut. The key. Her key. In her coat pocket. Was it sharp enough to do any damage?

  It was all she had.

  She grunted and squirmed as hard as she could, even as she struggled to breathe against his sweaty palm. Her left clog fell away on one thrash, and her toes crunched into something hard with the next. Sharp pain blinded her, but she couldn’t let it. She’d hit the doorstep. They were on the threshold.

  The knob was old, not an easy one to turn, and the door always stuck in the warped frame. If Paul wouldn’t risk uncovering her mouth, he would have to let go of her waist to get it open. He might even have to give it an extra shoulder, or a kick.

  He began to wrestle with the handle, his elbow jamming into her ribs, and she twisted, drawing her hand as close to her pocket as she could.

  Then the thick arm pulled away from her, and she swung around, not free but loose, as her fingers found the key. She heard the sucking sound of the door reluctantly giving way. He yanked her by the hair, over the step and into the doorway, and she swung blindly with the makeshift weapon, left and then right, frantic not to disappear inside.

  She heard him howl.

  She was free for an instant.

  She lunged forward, back outside, sucking greedy gulps of air.

  But he had her again.

  His fingers were tightening over hers.

  Over the key.

  She’d never be able to hold on.

/>   “What is going on?”

  The voice was calm but deadly serious. Paul’s arms released her instantly, and Izzy stumbled, gasping, away from him. The floppy four-legged form of Pup-Pup was heading toward her, dragging a leash. And behind the dog, standing in the open gate, was Benny.

  “Nothing is going on.” Paul laughed breezily, and Izzy stopped, doubled over to catch her breath, amazed at how smoothly he slid back to center. “Izzy is just playing hard to get. She’s quite good at it—I gather she’s had a lot of practice.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Benny said. He didn’t crack a smile. “Izzy? My God.” Pup-Pup nuzzled at her hand with a whine, and she crouched and put her shaking arms around the dog, breathing in the animal’s compassion.

  I’m safe, she told herself.

  For now.

  I think.

  “Oh, Iz will tell you we were just playing.”

  She looked back at Paul, who was peering at her so innocently it seemed he believed his own lie. Holy hell, she thought. This is what he’s used to. Being excused. He’s so accustomed to getting away with this kind of behavior, it hasn’t even occurred to him that I have no reason to cover for him.

  The thought that followed, she realized, should have been the first one to enter her mind the instant she’d seen him lurking in the shadows.

  It hasn’t even occurred to him that I’m not Kristin.

  Still hugging the dog, she watched Paul’s brown leather shoes make their way closer, until she could see how finely made they were, how well stitched, how well polished.

  “Not another step toward her,” Benny warned, and the shoes stopped.

  She was only an arm’s length away now, and the fear flared anew.

  You will not make me feel threatened. You will not make me feel ashamed.

  She found the end of the dog’s leash and stood, smiling uneasily at Benny. “He’s right,” she said. “Just a game.” She extended her arm, as if she only meant to hand the dog back, and began to cross to Benny, who was making his way toward her. Only after a couple of awkward steps did she realize how off balance she was, one foot still secure in its clog, the other naked, the pain taking its time receding. She did not avert her eyes. She stared straight into Benny’s and saw that he understood. In spite of her uneven gait, she did a good enough job of pretending to play along that Paul didn’t reach for her. He let her go.

  When she got to Benny’s side, she held fast to the leash. “A sick game,” she said, her voice strong and clear. “He stole the spare key to my gate—a month ago, when he helped me install the lock. Tonight I got out of bed for some tea. Through the kitchen window I noticed the gate was open, came out here to shut it, and he attacked me.”

  She stepped behind Benny, putting him between her and Paul. Fresh tears came into her eyes. She was shaking harder now, absorbing the vibrations of what had just happened—of what might have happened—and Benny reached a hand back to steady her.

  Paul laughed his easy laugh again. “That’s ridiculous. I was out walking, found the key, used it to open the gate just to verify that it was in fact Izzy’s, and was going to leave it here on the patio for her. She caught me by surprise and got the wrong idea.”

  “For the past month, my missing key just happened to be lying on the sidewalk?” Izzy’s horror was giving way to anger.

  “It was in the grass down by the road. Maybe a squirrel or something made off with it the day we lost it. They like shiny things, don’t they?”

  Izzy looked pleadingly at Benny. What would she do if he didn’t believe her? What would she do if no one believed her?

  “Well,” Benny said, matching Paul’s easy tone, “I was out for a walk too. Not sure if you met our new dog yet, but he loves our nightly strolls. He makes such a racket at the sight of the leash that I end up taking him to the porch and tying my shoes out there so he doesn’t wake the kids.”

  Paul nodded amicably. “Let sleeping babes lie. Beautiful dog,” he added.

  “That’s how I saw you head directly from your door to Izzy’s back gate. No leisurely walking. No stooping to pick anything up. A man on a mission.”

  Izzy stared at Benny. For some reason, she wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t bluffing, but Paul’s smile wavered almost imperceptibly.

  “That’s why I followed you,” Benny said. “I can’t say I saw the whole thing, but I saw enough.”

  “Whatever you think you saw, you’re mistaken.”

  “Oh, I was mistaken all right. Do you know I’ve actually convinced people to give you the benefit of the doubt? I even doubted my own wife, and for what? Because I pitied you! Because I thought: Well, his job is to care for women!” Benny was emitting an anger—no, a disgust—that sent a chill through Izzy. “I feel sorry for any child who came into this world and had to see you first.”

  An ugly fire flashed in Paul’s eyes, and Benny put a protective arm around Izzy’s shoulders, sending a wave of gratitude washing over her.

  “Let’s not blow this out of—”

  “Save it for the police. I’ve already called them.”

  Paul’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Not very neighborly of you, Ben,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough?”

  “No,” Benny said, sounding almost his jovial self again. “I definitely don’t.”

  “Neither do I,” said a voice from the open gate behind them.

  Detective Bryant was pretty nice to have around, after all.

  43

  I wasn’t going to do anything—she never would have even known I was there if she hadn’t come outside.

  —Sentence most repeated (five times) throughout the course of Paul Kirkland’s statement to the police after his arrest

  There was not even the slightest hint of a question anymore: Izzy knew what she had to do. And the sooner the better. Never mind that she’d barely slept last night, the adrenaline unrelenting long after she’d waved Benny away, declining his offer to send Clara over to stay with her, saying she just wanted to be alone when really the thought of it made her queasy. The bandages on her foot had chafed as she’d tossed and turned, though fortunately it was only badly scraped. She had other bruises, welts shaped like fingers, and the process of having her injuries photographed and cataloged by the police—as apologetically invasive as they were heartbreakingly practiced in the matter—had driven home the odd combination of relief and horror that came with knowing she’d gotten off easy. She’d finally fallen asleep not long before dawn and had been awakened by the phone not long after.

  But she’d rest more easily than she had in far too long once this was done.

  She dug through her closet until she found the oversized canvas tote she was looking for, a freebie from a book fair she’d dragged Josh along to, and steeled herself as she slung it over her shoulder and crossed the hall to the guest room.

  The things stored here were not, as she’d once lamented, “the relics of her reality.” They were relics of … something else.

  Into the bag went the journal she and Josh had kept. Never once had he asked about it, from the second he’d started seeing Penny. She made quick work of concealing it from view under a stack of her own sketchbooks from their years of wandering the woods together, and on she moved to the box of jumbled ticket stubs and park maps, admission bracelets and snapshots. She filled the bag slowly but with determination, ignoring the pangs of protest from somewhere within as she gathered every memento she’d kept from their years of friendship. For so long, it had felt like her closest one, but she had to accept that, for her part, at least, it hadn’t really been friendship at all. It had been unrequited love all along. And she couldn’t hold on to what was left of it anymore. Never had it been so obvious how unhealthy it was. She supposed she had Paul to thank for that, in some contorted fashion.

  Working her way down the checklist that had formed overnight in her mind, she returned to her room and flung the closet door open wider. She toss
ed in that T-shirt from the concert they’d driven all the way to Indianapolis for, wired on gas station coffee. The sweater she’d bought with the remote hope that he’d notice how it matched her eyes. Her old worn hiking boots, the tread still muddied from all the trails she’d followed him down. From the jewelry box she retrieved the clover charm he’d chosen for her birthday, her favorite one on her silver Pandora chain. She knew without trying the bracelet back on that her arm would feel lighter without it.

  Josh was wrong. He hadn’t gained her as a sister. He had lost her as a friend—or, at least, as a close one. It would never be that way again, between them. But that didn’t mean she had to lose Penny too. She never wanted to be like Kristin’s sister, stuck wondering how she could have handled things differently once it was too late to make amends. In a once-removed kind of way, she owed it to Kristin to take her own second chance.

  She could only hope that Kristin, wherever she was, was doing the same. In the garish light that last night’s events had shined on Paul, she didn’t know whether to be more afraid for what might have become of Kristin and the twins, or more relieved for what they might have escaped. She’d decided on the optimistic outlook—where all of them were concerned.

  Penny would forgive her for these months of distance. She was sure of it. Her sister would never know the real reason behind her absence, but she’d know Izzy was back, and that was the part that mattered. They had a lot to look forward to. And Izzy was going to be a damn good aunt, as a matter of fact.

  When she could think of nothing else to purge, she took the bag down to the garage and heaved it into the trash bin with a thud. Pickup was first thing tomorrow, leaving little room for a lingering temptation to dig it out, for sensing its presence there like a stowaway on a ship. She topped it off with the garbage from the kitchen and pressed the button to raise the garage door so she could wheel the bin to the curb before she lost her nerve. No matter that it was only midmorning.

  As her ears filled with the sound of heavy plastic rolling across pavement, it was no surprise to see Clara’s front door open and her friend bound out. Clara jogged across the street but paused at the end of Izzy’s driveway, as if it had occurred to her to wait for an invitation. They hadn’t spoken since the night Clara tried to warn her off Paul, though Izzy had seen her huddled with Natalie and Hallie on the Tiffins’ porch last night, watching Detective Bryant guide the handcuffed doctor roughly into the backseat of his patrol car as Izzy and Benny retreated inside to give their statements to another officer. Izzy had been too shocked to register Clara’s presence with anything other than embarrassment—she had every right to be thinking I told you so. The lights didn’t flash, there wasn’t much of a scene, but this wouldn’t be the end. Izzy would never back down from pressing charges—there was too much at stake.