Invasion of Privacy

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  The trail became rockier. She came to a place of granite boulders, the kind of place she usually stayed away from because bears liked the caves they made. Kurt had called it "beartown." ... The memory was so sharp she could see it descend like a transparent veil over the present, turning the scene before her into one layered with the emotion of the past.

  She heard a shovel clang against rock.

  "Kurt!"

  Nothing.

  "Kurt! It’s me. I’m alone."

  Shuffling feet. Kurt came around the corner, holding a shovel.

  He dropped it, throwing off some gloves, and held his arms out to her. She saw again the livid scar from the bullet that had nicked him.

  She went. Their bodies met. They held on, Nina holding her arms around his neck and her head pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beat, and smelling dust and sweat. He stroked her hair.

  "Kurt," she said. And "Kurt," again.

  "Don’t let go," he said.

  "No."

  "I love you."

  She didn’t answer. Like ivy vines that had rooted and tangled together, they supported each other. Then he put his arms around her and squeezed her, lifting her from the ground, swaying her back and forth, back and forth.

  After a long time, he set her down carefully, saying, "Now I have everything I want. I’ve held you. But ..."

  "You’ve found something, haven’t you?"

  "Yes."

  "Show me."

  He led her across a grassy space behind the flat boulder Nina could now recognize from Terry’s film. A small black opening about eighteen inches high and two feet wide formed where the boulder met other, smaller rocks. He replaced the gloves he had taken off.

  He reached in. "Don’t be afraid," he said. He pulled out a long bone.

  Leg bones, bones of a big animal. And ... shreds of faded cloth, tattered, musty, begrimed. More bones, many more.

  A skull, blond hair still clinging to it in tufts and patches.

  Tamara?

  His body half propped against rock, half falling toward the dark hole he had exposed, Kurt dug with increasing frenzy, as if afraid a bit of Tamara might remain forever lost in the cave. He continued a heap he had already begun in the dry ditch, made of dirt, rock, pieces of a girl, determined to complete what he had started, intent on his task, as if he’d forgotten that her eyes were taking in the macabre scene.

  The shock of seeing the bones restored Nina to herself. "Kurt, stop!" she said. "The medical examiner has to see this intact. Don’t disturb the scene any more!"

  "I can’t leave her like this," Kurt said.

  "Sit down here with me for a minute. Please let me talk to you."

  He looked irresolutely at the bones, then seemed to fall down beside her. She realized he was exhausted, near collapse.

  "How did you get here?"

  "I got a ride to the lake road," he said. "And then I ran. Do the police know I’m here?"

  "No. I wish I didn’t. And I wish you hadn’t touched anything."

  "Poor Tam. She never deserved this kind of ending. I didn’t plan to dig her up all the way. Just ... once I saw her, I couldn’t leave her like this."

  "We don’t know it’s her yet, do we? I mean, until there’s some record checking."

  "Are you kidding? I bought her the damn belt."

  For the first time, Nina saw a silver buckle, shaped like an eagle’s head, that he clutched in one gloved hand. He took the gloves off again, laying them beside his shovel, and set the buckle on a flat part of the rock.

  "I don’t think I’m going to make it," he said. "I’m cracking up. Those are her bones, Nina."

  "You did what you set out to do. We have to go back now."

  "Better if they shoot me and get it over with. Better for you too. Let me rest for another minute with you." They rested against each other. She felt disoriented by all the pieces of herself that wanted to come forward, mother, lawyer, lover, abandoned one.

  "We’ll get you back. Quickly. Salvage the situation," she whispered.

  "I’m not going back. Please try to understand. I can’t."

  "Then you’ll stay afraid for the rest of your life. In hell."

  "Better than a stinking prison!"

  "Just don’t throw away all hope. Please—I have to tell you something—" She realized he was going to leave, and instinctively pulled his head toward her. He began to kiss her, her cheeks and nose and forehead, her wet eyes. His lips on her mouth were warm and soft, pressing harder as she let her body relax against him. She opened her eyes and looked into his. Time fell away. They were kissing at Fallen Leaf Lake, and they would be married soon....

  "I have to go now," he said, drawing his head away. In a moment he would stand up and take the first step that would lead him forever out of her life....

  Paul sprang from the bushes and pushed Kurt off her. For a moment Nina just sat there, unable to take it in.

  They rolled into the side of a boulder and Kurt’s head hit it with a crack, but he managed to push Paul away. Before he could stagger up, Paul had grabbed his legs and brought him down again. His expression was distorted with anger.

  "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Nina shouted. Kurt forced Paul’s head into a crevice between two rocks and she heard herself screaming, and saw for the first time that Wish stood behind the pile of bones waving Paul’s revolver and yelling at them to cut it out.

  Kurt raised a rock above Paul’s pinned body and Nina shouted, "No!" and he heard her, turning to look at her, startled. Paul rolled away and jumped up.

  This time Kurt had no chance. Paul moved toward him, light on his feet, and they grappled again. Paul wrestled him down and smashed him in the face.

  Wish seemed paralyzed, the gun dangling from his hand. A trickle of blood ran down Kurt’s face.

  Nina picked up a good-size rock, jumped on Paul’s broad back as he drew his arm back to pummel him some more, and hit him on the back of the head. He let out a grunt, toppled over, and lay on his back, his eyes closed.

  "Did you kill him?" Wish said, running up. Kurt sat up slowly, unbuttoned his torn shirt and held it to his face.

  "Shit," Paul said weakly from the ground. "It feels like she did." He tried to raise his head and Nina helped him sit up.

  "What are all these bones?" Wish asked.

  She moved toward them, but Paul said, "Stay away from him," never taking his eyes off Kurt.

  "We’ll talk later," Nina said. "Did you come in the van? Help me get these two down there." Paul groaned. "We’re going to Boulder Hospital. Wish, help Kurt up. Give me the gun—you’re going to shoot someone by accident. Come on, help him up! Go on in front with him, and I’ll help Paul."

  They would take him back now. He had almost escaped, and they had prevented it, reshaped his future. The responsibility was staggering. Should she have followed him here? Had she just condemned him?

  Kurt leaned on Wish as he limped back down the trail. He didn’t look at Nina, and he didn’t try to take off into the forest. If he had, she might have let him go. She would never know. He went quietly, wiping his face on his shirt.

  30

  "YOU ALMOST BROKE KURT’S NOSE," NINA SAID, SETTLING herself beside Paul’s hospital bed the next afternoon. Paul looked fine except for the bandage in the back of his head, which he was showing her now.

  "You almost bashed my brains in," Paul said. "But you missed. I’ll be released this afternoon."

  "There are brains in there?" Nina said. "I hadn’t noticed."

  Paul saw the expression on her face, and adopted a less jaunty tone. "Look at it from my point of view. He escaped from jail. Flight tends to make people think you’re guilty. The police were after him. Fugitives, and the people they’re with, tend to get shot. He put you in danger. You didn’t wait for me. I saw him grabbing you, and—"

  "You didn’t have to jump him. You had your gun. You wanted to beat him up. You were angry, so you taught him a lesson. He’s your employer. What’s the matter
with you?"

  "If it comes to that, you’re my employer. Has he started paying any of the bills yet?"

  "I don’t want you hovering over me, jumping my clients, acting like a gorilla! I hired you to investigate the case!"

  "Come on, Nina! I love you! I’m trying to take care of you!"

  "Love," Nina said. "You jerk. You’re both jerks." She reached out and smoothed his forehead.

  "You have this ... bad habit ... of being the eye of the cyclone," Paul said, wincing in pain as he tried to get up on his elbow.

  "What do you want? Shall I call the nurse?"

  "I want you to bend down here and kiss me and say ’my hero.’ Please." His eyes fastened on hers with a little-boy expression that was laughably incongruent with his big hairy male body. She bent down to give him a chaste peck on the cheek, but he turned his head fast and his lips found hers, startling, warm, and full of wanting.

  "Mmm," he said. "Cavewoman hit man on head, take him into lair, do nasty things to him."

  "Shut up, Paul. You really are a caveman. You go too far."

  "Okay, okay. I’m sorry I got carried away. Maybe I should have let him run," Paul said. "That’s one way to finish up a case, except that you’d probably be in jail as an accessory to his escape."

  "I wish I’d never gone up there. I didn’t have time to think it through."

  "Not to change the subject, but what now? Am I fired?"

  "I need you even more now. But I suppose you’re going to quit if you don’t get fired."

  "I’ll stick around if you want me to, now that he’s back where he belongs, until all this gets sorted out. Someone has to watch out for you, and I’m the best. What does he say?"

  "He’s leaving it up to me."

  "He asked for it," Paul said. Nina thought to herself, they don’t have to like each other. She needed Paul. Kurt needed Paul. She didn’t push it.

  She said, "He’s in bad shape psychologically, Paul. He’s in maximum security now down in Placerville. It’s as if he had to find Tamara, to see if his worst fear would be realized. And it was. He doesn’t seem to care what happens to him anymore. I’m very worried about him."

  "I told you before, and I’ll say it again," Paul said. "You’re much too close to this case. Don’t tie your emotional well-being to this joker."

  "I’m trying to stay cool. I have to."

  "Are they going to charge Scott with Tamara Sweet’s murder?"

  "Well, I called the D.A.’s office this morning and talked to Collier Hallowell. It’s too early to say, but I don’t think Hallowell has enough evidence to charge him at this point. It’s a twelve-year-old murder. I talked to him this morning. If I guess right, he’s not going to seek an indictment and file formal charges against Kurt for Tamara Sweet’s murder."

  "That’s good, right? So why do you look so gloomy?" Paul said.

  "Because I think he’s going to pull a legal maneuver that’s much smarter. He’s going to get the evidence in that implicates Kurt in Tamara’s murder indirectly."

  "I thought you couldn’t do that. I mean, show the guy might have murdered somebody before, so he’s a bad guy who probably did the current murder."

  "That’s generally true. You can’t bring in evidence of a prior crime to show bad character or a predisposition to commit another crime. But that general rule is riddled with exceptions. One of the exceptions is that you can bring in evidence of a previous crime to show the motive for a subsequent crime."

  "So?"

  "The prosecution theory now seems to be that Kurt killed Tamara. Terry made a film that delved too deeply, and he killed her to stop the film from being released. So Tamara’s murder would be the motive for Terry’s murder."

  "But the film doesn’t nail Scott as the killer!"

  "It’s probably suggestive enough, with the talk about the mystery boyfriend, to get the Tamara Sweet evidence in. By the way, Hallowell says Doc Clauson, the medical examiner, did a quick autopsy. He says the remains are consistent with death occurring years ago, though he can’t date the time of death precisely. He says Tamara was shot twice in the pelvis right there, near the rock. They even found a .30-06 rifle casing."

  "Don’t tell me," Paul said. "Remington?"

  "Yes. Which could point to Terry as well as Kurt. The problem is, I can’t let Collier talk to Kurt. He has to be thinking that only the killer could have marched up there and dug up the remains. Anyway, he’d never believe Kurt went up there to the ridge just because a rock in the film looked similar."

  "Do you believe it?"

  "I watched the film again last night. It did look like the same turn in the trail, the same square white rock. I couldn’t have made the connection, but Kurt—a forest to him is like a city. The rock was like a traffic light at the corner of a road."

  "Which would bring us back to Terry London," Paul said. "And nobody knows where she was the night Tamara Sweet died. I’ve checked. She wasn’t even questioned. She only knew Tamara because it’s a small town if you’re a local, and they both liked to go to poetry readings and that artsy-fartsy stuff. They didn’t go around together, and no one would think she would know anything."

  "Of course, we know from Kurt that Terry made her move on him not long after Tamara disappeared. The police are at a disadvantage. Twelve years have gone by, and the only one of the three of them still alive isn’t talking to them."

  "The good old Fifth Amendment," Paul said. "The defendant zips his mouth, and nobody can hold it against him."

  "Don’t be knocking the Constitution," Nina said. "The good old Fifth Amendment is an important protection against the state."

  "And sometimes the guilty go free."

  "You still think like a cop, Paul."

  "Yes. That’s why I’m so good as a defense investigator," Paul said. "Speaking of being good, my old friends the cops arrived this morning to take a statement about the events of yesterday. I carefully explained how you had this wild idea about where he might be and didn’t want to bother them with it, and how you just happened to be in the neighborhood and took a look-see, and how you were trying everything in your power to persuade Kurt to come back in, and how you left a message for me to come armed, just in case, et cetera et cetera. You’re off the hook. I even gave Kurt a break, said I didn’t realize he’d agreed to turn himself in. I taped the statement. It’s right here under the covers."

  "Thanks," Nina said absently.

  "Aren’t you going to reach under the covers and find it?" Paul said in a silky voice, pulling the covers down to his waist.

  "Give me the doggone tape. I have to go."

  "Well. There will be plenty of time to explore under the covers later."

  "Paul."

  He gave her the tape. "Don’t fret so much. If Scott is innocent, we’ll find a way to raise the ol’ reasonable doubt. Justice tends to be done."

  "I’ve heard that unwritten rule. I’m ... uh, sorry I hit you, Paul."

  "I forgive you. I’m sorry I beat up on your boyfriend."

  "I don’t appreciate that statement."

  "You were kissing him back."

  She had no answer for that one. Paul’s tone was joking, but he was hurt, and he was letting her know it.

  Paul pushed up on his arm to watch her go. She had already stepped toward the open door when a uniformed cop blocked her way, papers in his hand, saying, "Excuse me, ma’am! Excuse me!" So she waited irritably, thinking, like Dorothy Parker, what fresh hell is this? He brandished a paper, and when she didn’t take it immediately, pushed it into her unwilling hand. "You’ve been served, ma’am," he said swiftly. "Contact Collier Hallowell if you have any questions. Witness in the Scott trial."

  Paul laughed at the look on her face. The cop smiled too, passing Nina and walking up to his bedside. "Mr. van Wagoner, I presume," he said, offering a second page, which Paul, still laughing, took.

  "Hey!" said Paul.

  "You folks have a delightful day," said the officer.

  After leaving
the hospital, Nina drove Bob and his cousins down to the beach at Ski Run Boulevard, where Matt ran his parasailing business during the summer months.

  Daylight savings meant no sunset until eight. Four tourists from Japan were receiving instructions from him on how to wear the harness hooked to the parachute and a long boat line. One by one, they ran down the beach while Matt took off in the boat, to be borne aloft, several hundred feet above Lake Tahoe, flying into the orange sunset.

  While Matt huddled with his tourists, Nina waded out into the cold, calm water and had her first swim of the summer, gliding through ripples of pink and orange light until she was tired, then rolling onto her back and looking back at the beach. She was the only swimmer. From this far out, the people on the beach became silhouettes. A trick of the sunset erased the line between lake and sky, so she seemed to be floating in air. For a few minutes she forgot her worries and rested quietly in the arms of the water.

  Then the sun slipped below the mountains, and the lake turned indigo. She swam quickly back, wrapped up in a thick towel, and stretched out on the sandy blanket. She and the kids ate their sandwiches, enjoying the warm summery evening. Bob seemed back to normal, and she hoped he was over the latest troubling news.

  Relaxed, she watched Matt check the harness of the only young woman in the group, then get into the boat. The boat moved out into the lake, and the woman half-ran, half-dragged toward the water, hanging on to the harness with all her might. With a whoosh, the parachute lifted behind her. Just at the edge of the water her feet left the ground as if by magic, and the tricolored chute rose gracefully into the air, the legs of the little figure underneath still chugging energetically. Matt looked back as he steered the boat to make sure she was all right.

  Good old younger brother, Nina thought, remembering how he had taken her in the year before and given Bob a father figure and both of them a home. He had done a lot with a little. Matt had never made it to college and never had a cent handed to him. He made his way by combining an inventive mind with hard work. His fierce love for his wife and children had put an end to the aimlessness and negativity that afflicted him in his early twenties, before he moved to Tahoe.

  They watched the boat with its flyer tethered overhead, the parachute high enough to again pick up bright rays from the invisible sun. Then the boat turned and came back toward shore. Slowly, slowly, as Matt carefully slowed the motor, the parasailor fell from the sky into the sea, and Matt pulled her into the boat and brought her back. He started folding the parachutes in the deepening twilight, and Nina gathered up the kids’ stuff and helped them pack up the trash. Her rest was over. She was on duty. Matt would finish up and pick Andrea up at the shelter. He and Andrea had planned a late dinner out together.