He shook his head. “Don’t know how we didn’t catch her earlier. She was just tossing the clamshells out her driver’s side window, for all the world to see.”
“Did she say why she did it?”
“Said Dylan Jax had cheated on her best friend, Cassie, and spread a rumor that Cassie had an STD, so she decided to pay him back.”
“But why the entire street? Why not just dump the shells on his lawn?”
“Because,” Lew said, refilling his Dunkin’ cup from the coffee-maker. “She figured if she did that everyone would know he was the target and would blame Cassie.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked.
“Probably have to clean up her mess and apologize to everyone on the block.”
“No community service?” Dix asked.
“I don’t think so,” Lew said.
“Wow,” Dix said. “To be a teen girl. You can get away with anything.”
My mind returned to the papers on my desk, to those girls, who had disappeared. How many of them had gotten away with anything? Few, probably. And how many of them had paid for sins not their own? Had been made to answer for voices in someone else’s head? “Yeah,” I said. “Teen girls have all the luck.”
Dix laughed. I didn’t.
“Hey,” Chief Lynch said. “How’s it going?”
Lewis tensed, ready to take insult. He and the chief, both so ready to be wronged. “Isn’t today your day off?” he asked the chief. He was right. Weird that Lynch had come in. Or not so weird. He didn’t seem to have hobbies or a large social circle.
“Just needed something from my office,” the chief said, failing to take umbrage at Lew’s remark. Interesting. His day off must’ve mellowed him.
“Lew is wrapping up the case of the clam vandal.” I played peacekeeper.
“Great. Can I see you for a minute?” Chief asked me. “It’s not about the woods case,” he told Lewis.
“Whatever,” Lewis said. We began to walk when I heard him add, “Better not be.”
Lynch heard it but said nothing. In his office, he said, “Take a seat.” He remained standing, his hands in motion. He was nervous. Why?
I sat and asked, “What’s up?”
“I learned something about your sister.” He sat in his chair, but his hands kept moving.
“What?” His shoulders were creeping toward his ears. Shit. Had he found her? Was she dead? How?
“Susan was pregnant.”
“What?” No. No way. “She’d barely kissed a boy.” I knew exactly who she’d kissed. Marcus Shannon and Greg LeRoy. It was my job, as her brother, to keep tabs on her.
“Lucy said she was a couple of months along. Susan planned to … take care of it, and come home once she’d recovered.”
I felt hot. The station noises sounded softer, like when you’re underwater and can’t hear the sharp edges of the world. “No,” I said. It’s all I could think. No. Susan, pregnant? By whom? I pushed myself out of the chair and strode to the window. And then his words caught up to me. I turned. “Lucy told you? What? When?”
“This morning. I guessed that maybe Susan had been pregnant. I presented it as fact to Lucy, and she confirmed it.”
For twenty-seven years, little Lucy MacManus had lied to my parents, to me. She’d told us she’d never seen Susan. Had no idea where she’d gone. Had no idea why she’d left.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
My mind, buzzing. “Susan was going to take care of it?” That was a euphemism for abortion. “We were Catholic. She’d never—”
“Lucy said Susan didn’t want to be a mother, she wasn’t ready.”
“Of course she wasn’t!” She’d been a child. No way was she ready to have a baby.
“Lucy said—”
“Lucy said?” I yelled. “How come Lucy never said a fucking word to us? She practically lived at our house. Ate dinner with us at least once a week. Had a crush on David back in the day—and now you say she just kept all this to herself while we lost our minds?”
“She felt badly. She apologized. Back then, she thought Susan would return in a day or two. Abortions weren’t legal, so she thought she was protecting her.”
“Protecting her?” My hollow laugh bounced off the walls. “That little bitch.”
“Look, calm down.”
“Calm down? You want me to calm down? I just found out my missing sister might’ve died on some butcher’s table, and you want me to be calm about it?” It’s what must’ve happened. She’d gone to a back-alley doctor, one who took money in exchange for silence. Something must’ve gone wrong. I saw Susan, her long hair hanging off the edge of a filthy table, steel instruments by her torso, her body covered by a bloody sheet.
“Look, I know this is upsetting, but—”
Lewis pushed the door in and said, “What’s going on? You okay, Mike?” He looked at me, and then glared at the chief. “What the hell did you do?” he demanded.
“Me?” Chief Lynch put his hands up. “We were just talking.”
“I don’t think so. What did you do?”
The mood in the room was bright red. Lewis looked ready to take a swing. “Stop,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.” Lew was right. I wasn’t fine. Fine was a dead star whose light would never reach me. My sister had been pregnant twenty-seven years ago, and I hadn’t known. None of us had known. This would kill my mother. We’d not only lost Susan, we’d lost her baby. There were two to mourn now.
“I’ve got to go home.” I stared at the floor and plowed ahead.
“But—” Lewis said.
“I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” I opened the door and charged through and out, nearly stepping on Jinx’s tail. Jinx was the station’s dog, a German Shepherd trained to sniff out drugs and take down bad guys if the situation warranted it.
“Hey!” Jim said, on behalf of his dog.
“Everything okay?” dispatch called, but I didn’t answer, didn’t stop. I pushed through the doors and went outside, my breathing labored.
Pregnant. I turned the fact around and around. Who had she had sex with? Did the father know she was expecting? Had she told anyone other than Lucy? How hadn’t we noticed? I reviewed the few boys who’d expressed interest in Susan: the dweeb from her choir, Mark; the skinny kid on the track team, Joe; and Frank, who I’d suspected wasn’t really interested in girls. None seemed a likely suspect, which meant that someone who wasn’t on my radar, on anyone’s radar, had impregnated my sister.
I got home and contemplated calling Lucy to yell at her for twenty-seven years of silence. But what good would it do? Maybe it would relieve the pressure in my brain for a minute or two. No longer than that. I thought about phoning a brother, but Dave was on vacation with his family, and I wasn’t sure what Bobby would say. He was the only one still living at home when Susan went missing, and his life was affected in ways the rest of ours weren’t. He had to listen to Mom cry and Dad vow to take the legs off the monster who’d taken Susan. He couldn’t catch a break, except to escape to a friend’s house. My parents monitored his movements closely. They weren’t going to lose another child. No, sir. And phoning my sister, Carol? I felt uneasy. She’d wed and had children young. I wondered if she’d be sympathetic to Susan’s decision to have an abortion. And, somehow, I couldn’t bear to break the news to someone who’d judge her harshly for it.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the stained carpet, trying to come up with answers to a question I’d never known to ask.
Who had knocked up my baby sister?
CHIEF THOMAS LYNCH
THURSDAY, MAY 20, 1999
1250 HOURS
“What the fuck did you do?” Lewis demanded.
“Watch your tone, Detective.”
“In the five years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen him explode. He was fine when he came in to see you. Did you suspend him for showing up in the woods?” When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Did you fire him?”
/>
“Fire him? No!”
“What the dickens is going on in here?” Mrs. Dunsmore demanded before slamming the door closed. “Please tell me you two have joined the Idyll Players and are practicing a two-man scene called ‘We Don’t Know How to Behave in an Office.’”
Wright and I stared at her, confused. She pounced on our silence and said, “You’ve got every man out there, including citizens, listening to you two carry on. By all means, if you want an audience, I can open this door.”
“No,” I said. “I forgot it was open. Finny stormed out without closing it.”
“And why was Detective Finnegan screaming?” she asked.
I cut a glance to Wright, then back to her, and moved my head, fractionally.
“Oh, come on!” he said. “Now you two are in cahoots to keep secrets?”
Mrs. Dunsmore said, “Hardly. Was it about Susan?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Dunsmore said, “It’s about his missing sister, Susan.”
“Oh,” Wright said.
Not, “What missing sister?” or “Who’s Susan?”
“You knew?” I asked him.
Wright said, “Yes, but he doesn’t know I know. I had a buddy whose father joined the BPD back in 1978. He knew about the case. Girl goes missing, and she’s the sister of a cop? It was news. Anyway, years later, I mentioned Mike’s last name and my buddy asks if he could be the Michael Finnegan. Guess Mike got into it with a cop at the station over his sister’s case once. Threw a punch. Got suspended. Decided to move here not long after.” Well, go figure. I wasn’t the only cop who’d made my way to Idyll after making poor decisions back home.
“He doesn’t know you know?” I asked.
Wright’s laugh was a short, sharp bark. “He really underestimates me at times.”
“Did you know he thought Colleen—”
“Might’ve been his sister? Of course. Dummy left a DNA report in the box for anyone to find. Thank God he stuck it in the one police station where curiosity runs low. So, did you find her? Is that what wound his clock?”
“Did you?” Mrs. Dunsmore echoed.
“No. I discovered Susan was pregnant when she went missing. That got him hot under the collar.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Dunsmore said.
“Maybe she took off with the baby’s father?” Wright suggested. He grimaced and shook his head. “No. That didn’t happen.”
“Don’t think so,” I said. “Her best friend says she was going to have an abortion.”
Mrs. Dunsmore said, “Now I see.”
“See what?” Wright asked.
“Why he was upset. He finds out his sister was pregnant and planning an abortion, and who finds it out?” She pointed at me. “This guy. Michael has been searching twenty-seven years, and he never knew. Plus, he feels guilty. He told his family not to alert the police at first, when she went missing. She’d run away before and come home. He was a rookie and was worried it would reflect badly on him if he went running for help at the first sign of trouble, so he sat on it.”
“That’s why they waited a week to file the report,” I muttered.
Wright said, “Poor Mike.”
She cleared her throat. “Great. Now I’ve got to figure out what to tell the gossips out there.” Damn. The entire station had heard Finnegan’s blow up. There had to be some explanation. “I know,” she said. “Chief, I’m distributing the physical-fitness memo.”
“But I thought you said … oh. But the detectives aren’t subject to that.”
“The memo doesn’t state that,” she said.
“You think they’ll buy it?” I asked.
She said, “I think they’ll project their own rage onto the plan and see his reaction as reasonable.”
“The plan is not bad.” Since when did everyone become so damn opposed to fitness?
She said, “Excuse me, gentleman, while I go clear up this mess.”
“And make me a target,” I pointed out.
“You drafted the memo. Your idea. Your consequences.” She left.
“She really loves to stick it to me.” I rubbed my hair. Checked my watch. I could leave any time since I hadn’t needed to come in. Maybe I should’ve waited another day to tell Finny. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it here. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Mrs. Dunsmore stayed true to her word. When I left my office, all eyes were on me.
“Chief, are you for real with this?” Hopkins asked. He held up the fitness memo.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Even the detectives have to participate?” Everyone paid attention. No one pretended to work.
“Yup.”
“What about police chiefs?” Yankowitz asked. Jinx barked. Everyone laughed.
“I’m happy to meet the physical-fitness requirements.” Was I? Most of the stuff I felt confident about, but how was my run time?
“Get your sneakers laced up, Dix,” Hopkins called. The men chuckled. As if Hopkins should talk. No way he could’ve caught a running nine-year-old. He’d be hard-pressed to catch his shadow.
“Enough,” I said. “This has nothing to do with Dix. I’ve had this plan in the works for months. Was just waiting for the weather to turn nice before I unveiled it.”
“Great. We can suffer heart attacks outside in the sunshine.”
“Have a good night,” I called. “Stay safe.”
The whispers at my back were strong enough to send me sailing. Outside the station, Wright stood, waiting, one foot propped against the bricks. “How’d it go?” he asked.
“Eh. Not bad. They bought it. You need me?” I asked. Certain he’d say no. If Wright were on fire, he wouldn’t ask me for help.
“Yeah. Buy me a drink, after I check out. We’ll meet at 5:30.”
I stood agape, certain I’d heard him wrong.
“Meet you at Suds,” he said.
Wright was seated at a table at the back of Suds, where he could survey the small crowd and drink his beer in relative quiet. Donna Daniels stood at the bar. She wore an orange tank top that was affecting the old timers’ hearts. Her lip curled when she saw me, into a snarl.
“Hi, Donna. Can I get a Brooklyn?” I asked.
She held my gaze. “All out,” she said.
“How about a Coors?”
“You want a lime with it?” She shouted the words.
“No.”
“Just a minute.”
I’d seen snails move with more hustle. Wright watched, amused. Lucky him. Six minutes later, I got my beer. “Donna seems upset with you,” he said when I sat at his table.
“She resents me for being gay.” His back stiffened. Wright hated it when I mentioned that I was gay. Maybe that’s why I did it. “She wanted a chance at me.”
“Whoa. How did you get your ego through that door?” he asked.
“It’s true. Plus, she loves my boyfriend.” He leaned back a foot. “And she saw me piss him off the other day.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “You asked.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got to be at a baseball field in thirty-six minutes to pick up Joshua.” His son, aged nine.
“Baseball? What’s he play?”
“First base, third base. He’s not exactly in the majors yet.”
“Speaking of ball, who’s team captain for our charity game?”
He rotated his glass. “Dix. Why?”
“Curious. Haven’t heard much about it. I play shortstop and third.”
He looked over my left shoulder. “Billy usually plays shortstop, and Hopkins plays third.”
“Hopkins?” I asked, deadpan.
“Yeah.”
“Why do I get the feeling no one wants me to play on the team?”
“Probably an oversight. You haven’t played since you got here. Guys assumed you weren’t interested.” He never blinked. He was lying. “Back to the matter at hand,” he said. “About Mike’s sister, Susan. How’d you find out she was pregnant?”
“Her best friend from back in th
e day, Lucy, told me.”
“But she didn’t tell the family?”
“She was terrified. Scared for Susan and herself. And maybe it was easier, talking to somebody outside Boston, who never knew her as a child. Plus, she has a daughter in high school. I think me calling, it just happened at the right time. She looks at her daughter and sees what Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan saw when they looked at Susan. I think she wanted to tell someone, and telling me, a stranger, was easier than facing the Finnegans.”
“Makes sense.” He rapped out a soft beat on the table. “I want to help, with the case.”
“You’re not supposed to know about it, remember?”
He twisted his plain gold wedding band, not that he had much space to move it. He must’ve gained weight since he married, though it was tough to imagine him thinner. “Yeah, well, I do. Besides, we don’t need to tell Mike I’m helping.”
“Aren’t you busy trying to identify the corpse in the woods?” I asked.
“Busy?” He traced a line through the condensation on his glass. “Not exactly. With the woods case, I need to keep Mike involved, and he’s only part-time. If I hunkered down, I’d have her identified inside of a week.”
“You’re slowing down an active investigation to keep our part-time detective involved so that … what? His feelings don’t get hurt?”
“We’re going to find out who she is, and who put her in the ground. If it takes a few days longer, so be it.”
I wasn’t sure Finny would agree with this assessment. I thought he’d argue to identify the corpse stat and then notify her family, given where he stood with respect to that equation.
“You want to work a case, with me?” I emphasized the last word, hoping it would scare him off.
“Not at all, but I don’t see you turning it over to me, so if that’s what it takes …”
“You really don’t like me, do you?” I asked.
“I could say the same.” He pushed his drink away from him.
“I don’t—”
“Save it. Let’s just try to find Susan, yeah?”
It didn’t look like I was getting rid of him. Now that I had a lead, some help would be useful. “You can help me find where she was going for her abortion.”
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