“Do you remember when you got the charges dropped against AJ, and Paul gave him the ultimatum about joining the military?”
“Your dad told you to marry Paul? Or what? He’d kick you out?”
“Not in so many words, no. I could have enrolled at A&M. But the idea of being on a college campus with all those kids—I didn’t feel like a kid anymore. I didn’t feel much of anything, really. I was depressed, I guess. Angry at myself and Dad. Paul came around a lot then. We’d go riding. He didn’t enjoy it; he wasn’t good at it, but he went as a favor to me, because it was the one place I felt safe, on the back of a horse. After a while, he asked Dad if it would be all right if he pursued a romantic relationship with me.”
“That sounds so—old-school. You were okay with it? What was he, forty when you married?”
“Almost forty-two. I was nineteen.” Lily extended her arms, picking absently at her thumbnail. “I was really scared of what I’d done. I didn’t trust myself. Paul was settled. He had a good life, one I could walk into.” Hide out in. She had wanted that, too. She had wanted to be different, to become someone else. Better, smarter. Instead, she had become more afraid. She was subject to anxiety. She kept to herself, to her home. Her gynecologist had once suggested she might be mildly agoraphobic.
“So your dad okayed it.” Edward’s voice still carried an echo of disbelief. “I mean, it sounds as if, like AJ, you were given an ultimatum.”
“Dad would be angry to hear it called that.” Lily remembered waking in a panic on the morning of her wedding. She remembered sitting on her bed, rocking herself, terrified of the promise she’d made to marry Paul, knowing she didn’t love him, wondering if the gratitude she did feel toward him was enough. Winona had sat beside her, and while Lily’s tears had speckled her bare thighs, Win had taken her hand and smoothed her hair. When Win had found out about the marriage, she’d argued with Lily’s dad, declaring Lily too young to make such a commitment, but he had been unmoved.
“I didn’t think—I mean, happiness—” Lily stammered in her attempt to capture it, the state of her mind at the time. “It wasn’t something—being happy wasn’t a consideration. Paul needed a wife, one he could—” Groom. She almost said it, and while she believed that had been Paul’s intention—part of it, anyway—she couldn’t go that far with her disloyalty. “He was kind to me in the beginning,” she finished lamely.
Edward said nothing, and they sat for several moments, not looking at each other. What were they doing here? What did she want to happen? Lily imagined Edward wondered, too.
“We’re all fallible,” he said. “But the price for our mistakes shouldn’t be our happiness.”
“I regret not being honest with my son. What if it could have made a difference?”
“It’s parenthood, Lily, not perfecthood. At least that’s what I tell myself. You still have a chance with AJ. He’s still in your life.”
“If I do, so do you. You can find Charlie, talk to him.”
Edward turned to her, and she wasn’t sure what was in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t give out advice I’m unwilling to take.”
“You’re unwilling because it’s a risk. You don’t know how AJ will react.”
“No.”
“Having some connection with your son, or in my case, no connection, is better than confessing the truth and risking his hatred. Then it would be real, not something we only imagined.”
Although Edward had described how she felt, Lily didn’t answer.
“I’ve always thought life was a gamble. Maybe that’s my downfall, my Achilles’ heel, but to me, you either play and take your chances or sit on the sidelines, watching everyone else. That isn’t living, really.”
When Lily looked at him now, he smiled slightly, and an understanding that there would be risk involved in any undertaking to repair the damage they’d done as parents seemed to flare between them. There was an acknowledgment, too, of their frailty as human beings that was searing in its honesty and so visceral that Lily felt it as surely as if Edward had taken her hand. But it was clenched in her lap.
Time passed, a space of heartbeats she could feel in her ears.
The waitress came, and Edward asked for the check. When it was paid, he walked Lily out to her car.
“Would you like me to see what I can find out about the investigation?” he asked.
They’d reached her BMW, and turning to him, she said, “Would you?”
“Yes, but you realize it may not be good news. You know Becca Westin was pregnant.”
“Yes, and that her mother claims AJ and Becca were involved behind Shea’s back. If it’s true, and if AJ didn’t want the baby, it means he would have had a motive.”
“What Becca’s mother says is considered hearsay by the court. They’ll need DNA to prove paternity. Other than AJ’s laptop and cell phone that were found at the bus station, was anything else missing from his apartment?”
“His truck and his handgun, a .45.”
Edward looked out into the middle distance. “There was no sign of forced entry, I heard.”
“No. Paul thinks he’s a suspect because he has a key to the apartment, which is ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but it’s standard procedure, looking at family members. The way the girl was killed—” Edward paused. Do you know? The question was implicit in his eyes.
“She was stabbed,” Lily said.
“Eleven times, and she was choked, but there was no sign of ligature. Someone used their bare hands. They suspect she may have been sexually assaulted, too.”
“My God.” Lily felt light-headed. She felt her vision darken at its periphery, and she leaned against the car. Edward put his hand on her arm, and his touch steadied her.
“Whoever did it left a note.”
“A note?” This was a new detail to Lily.
“It was written—not in lipstick, the other stuff, the liner. It said, ‘Fixed you.’”
Lily took a moment, processing the words, Fixed you, running them through her mind. “They did fix her, didn’t they?”
“I want to help you and AJ,” Edward said after a moment, “but I don’t want to get too deeply involved, not unless Paul agrees.”
Lily nodded. She understood the risk. If Paul found out she’d met with Edward today, he might suspect there had been other occasions, if he didn’t already. But what was there to know? Lily wondered. Today was the first time Edward had touched her intimately. She still felt it, the weight of his fingertips resting in the hollow of her throat.
She was almost to the ranch when her phone rang. She pulled off the highway, digging it out of her purse, heart tapping with anticipation that possibly it was Edward. But then, seeing it was her dad, she was seized with anxiety. He’s found something, she thought.
“Dad?”
“Ah, thank God, Lily.”
“What is it? Did you find AJ? Is he all right?”
“No, no, I’m sorry. Nothing like that. The safe, here at the house—it was robbed.”
“What? Did someone break in?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t lock up before I left. Sometimes I don’t, you know, if I’m not going to be gone long.
You forgot. Lily didn’t say it. She rested her head on the seat back.
“They got your mom’s jewelry and about five thousand in cash I kept in there.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yeah. They think because the safe wasn’t damaged, whoever got into it knew the combination. They think it was AJ.”
10
After Dru made the 911 call, she and the girls went into the great room to wait for the Wyatt police. Dru sat with Shea and Kate on the sofa, but Leigh and Vanessa paced. They were angry. Dru sensed they blamed Shea. She must have felt it, too, because she told them to go. “Mom and Kate and I can handle it,” she said, and while she was shaky and pale, there was a stubborn set to her jaw that Dru recognized.
“I’d like n
othing better, trust me, but what if he’s out there?” Leigh asked.
“He?” Shea asked. “AJ? Do you mean AJ?”
“Your fiancé is off the ledge.” Leigh hurled the allegation at Shea, a small bomb.
“Shut up, Leigh,” Kate said.
“It’s not helping,” Dru said, keeping her voice low. You, she wanted to say to Leigh, you aren’t helping. She could slap the girl, she thought.
“Leigh’s right, though.” Vanessa—Ms. Big Mouth—spoke up. “He said he couldn’t stop, so who’s next? One of us?”
“My husband is worried sick,” Leigh said. “Connor wants me out of here. When I called him, he told me to make the cops bring me home. He said it’s not safe any other way.”
“I thought we were friends.” Shea’s glance darted between Vanessa and Leigh.
“We are.” Their protest was rendered in harmony.
“It’s just AJ—there’s something off about him.” Leigh softened her tone. Did she assume Shea would agree with her now? Dru wondered.
“You don’t see it,” Vanessa said, “and I get that. I mean, love is blind, right?”
Oh, they were so magnanimous in their judgment of Shea and her choices. Dru’s jaw tightened. That she, too, judged AJ wasn’t lost on her, but she wouldn’t club Shea over the head with it.
Thankfully, now, the far wall opposite the sofa was washed in a faint-hued rainbow of red-and-blue light, announcing the arrival of a squad car. Dru went to the front door, opening it. The sun was down, the light clear and mellow, and she was relieved to recognize Ken Carter exiting the driver’s side of the Wyatt patrol car. Amy’s brother. Someone familiar. Another officer, shorter than Ken, and heavier set, came with him.
“Patrol Sergeant Daryl Henley.” He introduced himself when Dru greeted him.
Turning to Ken, she said, “I’m sorry we’re meeting again under such circumstances.”
“I was real sorry to hear from Amy about the wedding,” he said.
“Thank you,” Dru said. “Coming from Houston, I thought maybe living in Wyatt, I was leaving this kind of crime behind. Especially having it hit this close to home,” she added.
“I hear you,” Ken said. “You know Amy and I were raised here, and I joined the force here, figuring to keep it on the quiet side, but this is shaping up to be as big an investigation as the one we dealt with last year. The car accident—?”
“I remember,” Dru said. “I had both those boys, Jordy Cline and Travis Simmons, in my sixth-grade math class. It was so awful what their families went through—what the whole town went through.”
“It’s been a difficult time, that’s for sure. The WPD is still dealing with the impact, still shorthanded.”
Dru wasn’t surprised. The accident itself had been horrible enough, but then there had been all the ensuing legal fallout, radiating damage along a network of unforeseen fault lines. Dru imagined similar consequences would rattle even a big-city police department. “I guess this sort of thing goes on everywhere,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, especially in towns like Wyatt, where the population is growing,” Ken said.
Dru liked it, his easy courtesy and friendly manner. It reassured her. “We’re in here,” she said, leading the way into the great room.
“Hey, y’all.” Ken looked around at each of the girls.
Of course he knew them, Dru thought. Even though he was several years older, Dru imagined through his work as a police officer he probably knew almost everyone.
“Could I see the note?” Ken got down to business.
Dru picked it up from the coffee table. “We’ve all touched it,” she said. It occurred to her they shouldn’t have passed it around.
Ken took it at the corner between his thumb and forefinger and studied it.
Daryl left to get an evidence bag.
Ken said, “Looks like it’s written in lipstick.”
“It’s lip liner,” Shea said. “You use it to outline your lips, then fill them in with lipstick. Well, not you—”
“I get it.” Ken half smiled.
Daryl came back, and Ken slotted the note carefully into a clear plastic wrapper. He asked Leigh a series of questions: What time and why did she go to her car? Did she see anything out of the ordinary there other than the note? Her answers sounded unremarkable to Dru, and Ken didn’t appear overly concerned, either.
“What will you do with the note?” Kate asked.
“We’ll get it over to the lab, get it checked for fingerprints, see if we can run down the source of the lip liner. None of y’all recognize it, do you? The color, maybe?”
Leigh and Vanessa said no. Shea, looking at Kate, said, “It kind of looks like that Revlon pencil we bought right before finals. We each got one, remember?”
“Not really, no,” Kate said.
“You have a receipt?” Ken asked.
“I doubt it. It was three or four weeks ago. I don’t even remember the name of the shade. Something pink.” Shea looked at Kate. “Are you sure—?”
“No.” Kate cut Shea off. “I don’t remember, okay?”
“Okay.” Shea let it go.
They were all jittery, even short-tempered.
Ken pocketed his notepad.
Daryl said, “We’ll talk to your neighbors. Maybe one of them saw something.”
When Leigh asked if Ken and Daryl would take her home, Daryl suggested he and Ken would follow her and Vanessa. “We’ll set up a patrol, too,” he said. “We’ll monitor your neighborhoods, as often as we can, as often as the manpower we have will allow.”
Ken said, “Don’t hesitate to call if you see anything suspicious, or if anything makes you worry. Dispatch’ll send somebody. The same goes if you remember anything else, whether it’s about this note or some other aspect of this investigation. Let me know, no matter how insignificant you think it is. Sometimes it’s the smallest piece that can complete the puzzle.” His glance logged them each in turn as if he sensed that one of them was withholding something, but when no one spoke, he turned to go, Daryl behind him, Dru in their wake.
“I got a text from Becca.”
Dru recognized Kate’s voice.
Ken made a sound, “Ah,” as if to say, There it is.
He turned. Dru and Daryl did, too.
Shea, Vanessa, and Leigh were all staring at Kate in astonishment.
“Before she was killed?” Ken asked. “It’s pertinent to the investigation?”
“Yes. At least it might be.” Kate rubbed her crossed arms briskly.
A pause that seemed breathless to Dru held for a moment.
“She wanted me to meet her on Tuesday,” Kate said.
“Where?” Ken asked. “In Dallas?”
“No. She was here in Wyatt. She asked if I’d could come to her house.”
“We picked up the jars on Tuesday,” Shea said. “When did you go to her house? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t go—she texted later and canceled.”
“Wait a minute,” Ken said. “Back up. Tell me about Tuesday, everything that happened, in order.”
Kate explained their mission to pick up the mason jars, that Becca had begged off, supposedly sick to her stomach.
“You knew she was faking.” Shea was upset.
“Maybe she wasn’t,” Vanessa said. “Maybe she had morning sickness.”
Kate said, “I didn’t say anything because Becca made me promise not to.”
“But you didn’t go to Becca Westin’s house, is that right?” Ken’s brow was creased; the effect was almost comical. He was confused in the way men could be by women’s conversations.
Kate said, “No. I texted her when Shea dropped me off at home after we got back from Fredericksburg and told her I was on my way to her house, but she texted back and said she had to go to Dallas.”
“Did she indicate where in Dallas she was going, or who she was going to see?” Daryl asked.
“No. She just said she was sorry and hoped no one w
ould hate her.”
“What did that mean?” Shea asked.
“I don’t know. It was weird.”
“Did you know Becca was pregnant, that it was morning sickness that kept her home on Tuesday?” Ken asked.
“You know I would have told you if I had known anything like that.” Kate addressed her answer to Shea.
“Are you saying you had knowledge from Becca that there was something else bothering her? Something other than her being pregnant?” Ken was persistent.
“No, only what everyone else has said. She seemed really stressed lately.”
“So, on Tuesday, when you texted back and forth—that was the last time you heard from her,” Ken said.
“Yes,” Kate said.
“Is there a reason you withheld this information?” Ken’s eyes were locked on Kate.
She stared at the floor.
“Can you give me a reason, Kate?” Ken repeated the question.
“I didn’t think it was important?” Her voice rose as if she were asking him.
“What changed your mind?” Ken wasn’t letting her off.
“It was what you said before, that you wanted to know about anything we remembered, no matter how insignificant.”
Kate’s response was reasonable. She was looking at Ken, maintaining eye contact with him, but something was off.
Dru remembered the Christmas a few years ago when Rob had bought Shea an iPad. It had gone missing the following New Year’s Day after Shea hosted a holiday sleepover for several girlfriends, including, of course, her best friend, Kate. Shea had thought at first she’d lost it. She’d been reluctant to tell Dru, or Rob, for fear she’d be blamed, so she’d waited a couple of days to confess it was gone, and then she’d insisted someone must have broken into the house, that none of her friends would steal from her.
When Charla had found it a week later at the bottom of Kate’s overnight tote that had been stuffed under her bed since the night of the sleepover, Kate had looked Dru right in the eye and claimed she’d picked it up by accident, without realizing it, and she’d apologized profusely. Dru knew if she thought about it, she’d remember other incidents when she’d felt Kate wasn’t telling the truth. She’d assumed Kate had outgrown the tendency to lie, but maybe not.
The Truth We Bury: A Novel Page 13
