Walk Into Silence

by Susan McBride

  “He cheated on her, for sure, with that rich bitch he married. Jenny knew it was going on, but she let it slide because she loved Finn more.”

  Jo tasted something nasty in her mouth. She tried not to think of how easily Kevin Harrison had gone on with his life while his ex-wife had mourned their son so deeply, it had as good as killed her. She certainly hoped the soon-to-be chief of surgery would take greater care with the child who had yet to be born.

  “Did your husband live here with Jenny Dielman when they were married?” Hank asked as Jo turned away from the wedding picture and forced her head back into the conversation. “Is this the house where their boy fell from the tree and died?”

  Jo returned to the chair she’d vacated, her eyes on Alana, who still leaned against her husband’s desk, hands placed protectively on her belly.

  For an instant, her face shut down, and all the sweetness and light disappeared from her voice. “My word, what a question, Detective,” she said tightly. “I’m not sure Kevin would want me to talk about that. It’s not something we discuss much, even in private. It’s very painful for him. He doesn’t like to bring up the past. It’s a sore spot, as you can imagine.”

  How sore? Jo wondered. Sore enough to want his ex-wife permanently out of the picture so she couldn’t cause a stink?

  “How about this?” Alana’s tone softened again. “I’ll leave discussing Jenny up to Kevin. But I will answer your question about this house. Jenny Dielman never lived here. Their place in Northwood Hills was sold as soon as the divorce was final. I do know Kevin tore down that old tree house before he moved out.”

  Jo’s heart stopped. “He tore it down?”

  “He razed it to the ground. Can you blame him?”

  Did he tear it down because of guilt? Or to cover up evidence?

  “I got this place for us,” Alana went on, “and we moved in right after we married. I didn’t want Kevin to wallow in the past. I wanted him to come into our relationship with a clean slate.”

  “Did it work?” Jo asked flat-out. “Could he forget so easily?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Alana wrinkled her tiny nose.

  “Did your husband keep in touch with Jenny after their divorce?”

  Alana glanced at Hank as if he might stop this line of questioning. But he didn’t. “Why would he stay in touch with Jenny? He didn’t owe her alimony, not once she found herself a new husband. Kevin didn’t owe her anything.”

  “Something was up, and she wouldn’t tell me what.”

  Jo knew there had to be more to it than that.

  “So they weren’t in contact the last few weeks?”

  Alana opened her mouth, then pinched it closed. She glanced at the door. “My husband spent a good chunk of his life with that woman. More than she deserved. But, as Kevin will tell you, they were over and done even before Finn died, whether Jenny knew it or not. So there’s no earthly reason why Kevin would’ve contacted her. She only brought him pain.”

  “He didn’t worry about how she was holding up?” Jo asked. “Or how she was handling Finn’s death with the three-year anniversary approaching?”

  “Kevin isn’t stuck in the past,” Alana reiterated, but she cast her eyes down.

  “Did you know Jenny?” Jo asked. “Had you met her?”

  Alana shook her head, red-gold hair shimmying around her pretty face. “I’m sorry, y’all, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about this. Kevin should be down any minute. Though I can’t imagine how he can help. He only found out about Jenny when he turned on the news last night. He was shaken up, I know, because he couldn’t sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, he left the bed. I found him right in here”—she gestured at the desk—“sitting in his chair in the dark, staring into space.”

  “What time did he get home on Monday evening, Mrs. Harrison?” Hank asked.

  Alana looked back at the door. “You don’t know my husband, or you wouldn’t even ask such a thing.”

  Jo heard the tap of footsteps on the limestone and turned her head, like Alana, watching as a broad-shouldered man with damp hair and pressed khakis strode into the room.

  “Forgive me for being late, but it’s been a hell of a day,” Dr. Harrison announced, the same excuse his wife had already given.

  At least they had their stories straight.

  He reached out to pump Jo’s hand and then her partner’s. “I needed a shower to feel civilized.” He glanced at Alana. “Thanks for keeping them company, hon.” He rubbed his hands together. “Could anyone use a drink?”

  When Jo and Hank both declined, he asked, “Coffee?”

  “Actually, that’d be great.” Jo figured she could use the warmth and the caffeine, despite the edge she felt just being in Harrison’s presence. His voice sounded much the same as it had on the phone, a smooth baritone, less angry than he’d been when he’d told her that Jenny had gotten what she deserved. His ex-wife wasn’t dead then, just missing.

  “Make that two,” Hank said, lifting his fingers.

  Dr. Harrison faced his wife. “You think you could handle that, Allie? I know Maria’s left, but could you put on a pot and throw a tray together with some cheese and crackers?”

  “Anything for you,” Alana said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a pinch.” She approached her husband and offered her cheek for a kiss. He placed his palm gently on her abdomen and whispered in her ear.

  When he released her, Alana headed straight for the door, like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. The flat heels of her shoes clicked on the tiles until they could be heard no more.

  “Your wife told us you’re expecting,” Hank said, kick-starting the conversation. “Congratulations.”

  Harrison chuckled. “Allie might as well just wear a sign, right? Yeah, we’re over the moon.” His eyes lit up in the same way Alana’s had, and Jo wondered if he’d felt that way when Jenny had gotten pregnant. “A baby changes everything, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, it damn well does,” Hank agreed and embarked on more small talk about kids, leaving Jo the opportunity to observe and to listen.

  At first glance, the man certainly didn’t appear to be a monster, though she well knew that people weren’t always who they seemed on the surface. Not every wife beater lived in a trailer park and walked around in sleeveless undershirts. Some of them lived in mansions and had little Polo men on their sweaters and socks.

  Dr. Harrison clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Shall we get started? I know you have questions about Jenny.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe what’s happened. I’ll help you however I can.”

  “We appreciate that, sir.” Hank settled back into his chair, appearing far more relaxed than Jo felt. She stuck to the edge of her seat, elbows on thighs and knees bent, as if ready to leap.

  Harrison slung his arm across the back of the sofa, showing off toned muscles beneath the snug cashmere. He was tall and lean, probably kept fit with all those hunting trips with his buddies, slaughtering Bambi.

  Did you kill your ex-wife, Doctor? Did you do it?

  He turned and caught Jo staring.

  She looked away, at the wall of framed photographs above the desk, trying to imagine how Jenny had ended up with Kevin Harrison when Kimberly had mentioned their father, the doctor, who’d been so abusive. Had she been repeating the cycle?

  “What can I do for you exactly?” Harrison asked. He settled his hands in his lap, entwined his long fingers, the light glinting off the gold of his watch and his wide wedding band. “I’m not sure how I’ll help. I hadn’t seen Jenny in several years.”

  “Your wife said you heard about Mrs. Dielman’s death on TV last night,” Hank said.

  “I did.” He blew out a slow breath. “It was such a shock to catch on the news that she was dead. It’s horrible to imagine how she ended up in that situation.” He rubbed his thumbs together, one over the other. “It felt unreal, like hearing about a movie plot, not something that happened to someone I use
d to know.”

  “Someone I used to know.” Jo bristled at his choice of words. Not someone I once loved or someone with whom I buried a child.

  She curled her fingers around the chair cushion, digging her nails deep into tweed.

  Hank kept up the dialogue. “That’s a common reaction, Dr. Harrison. You said you hadn’t seen Jenny in a few years, but had you been in touch recently?”

  There might have been the slightest hesitation before he said, “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Harrison wrinkled his brow. “I’m fairly sure, yes.”

  Fairly sure? Jo sought out the lie in his face, but his expression didn’t change a bit.

  Hank leaned forward. “So you’re saying you had no contact with Jenny before Monday evening, when she went missing?”

  He pursed his lips. “I didn’t contact her, no.”

  “Did she contact you? Think hard, Doc,” Hank advised him. “Because if we find out later that you weren’t up-front with us, we will have a problem with that, you understand? And I’d hate for that to happen, ’cause you’ve got a baby on the way and a big promotion coming. I imagine that’s plenty of stress without having the police on your ass.”

  Harrison fixed his gaze across the room at the photos of Alana. Then he cleared his throat, looked at Hank, and quietly said, “Look, I told you I didn’t contact her, Detective Phelps, and that’s the God’s honest truth. But I didn’t say she hadn’t called me.”

  Jenny called him? Jo’s heart skipped a couple of beats.

  Hank started to speak, but she jumped ahead, too impatient to wait.

  “Let me get this right, Dr. Harrison. You’re saying that Jenny phoned you? Not the other way around?”

  “Yes.”

  “When exactly did this happen?”

  Harrison sighed and slid his palms over his thighs. “It was a week ago, I guess. She left a message on our voice mail. She sounded strange, really wound up, and I was almost afraid to return the call. It had been so long since we’d spoken, and I didn’t want to get into it—” He stopped himself.

  Didn’t want to get into what? Discussing Finn’s death and his part in it?

  “Did you return the call?” Jo pressed.

  “Yes.” He didn’t sound too happy about it. “I waited until the next morning. Then I made myself do it. Whatever it was seemed urgent, and I knew she’d keep trying if I ignored her. Jenny could be pretty irrational when she was emotional. The call didn’t last but a couple of minutes. She hung up on me in the end.”

  Jo stared at him, disgusted, knowing he’d wasted precious time.

  Why had he not come forward? What the hell was wrong with him, keeping a secret like that? Damn, but he needed a kick in the pants.

  She shoved her anger aside, only a vague tremor in her voice as she asked, “What did she want from you?”

  Harrison cleared his throat, eyeing the doorway, as if willing his wife to reappear with the coffee so he wouldn’t have to answer.

  “Dr. Harrison, what did Jenny Dielman want to discuss with you?” Hank repeated in a stern tone. No more buddy-bonding there.

  Harrison sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Finnegan . . .” He sighed the name. “She wanted to rehash the night he died.”

  “She wanted to talk about the accident?” Jo said.

  “Yes. She wanted to go over every detail, moments I’ve tried so hard to forget.” He kneaded his hands. “But she begged me, said she needed to hear it so she could make some sense out of it. So I did.” He pursed his lips, jaw taut. “I relived that awful night for her, talking her through it again . . . dragging myself through it again. But Christ Almighty—” His face flushed, fingers curling against thighs. “She wasn’t satisfied with my performance. She got angry at me, screamed that I was a liar, and hung up.”

  “Why?” Jo didn’t get it. He was leaving something out, she was sure of it. A big chunk was missing. “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know why, Detective. The whole conversation was pretty crazy.”

  He wasn’t telling them everything. He couldn’t be.

  “Jenny and I—we didn’t understand each other, and it got worse after Finn died.” He lowered his voice and continued. “She told me that she had dreams about him, that he spoke to her. He wanted her to find the truth. He couldn’t see, she told me, because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She wasn’t making sense.”

  Jo willed him to go on, and he did.

  He shook his head. “She said she should never have left the house that night. That it was as much her fault as mine. Then she yelled at me for ignoring Finn, for taking a phone call when I should’ve been getting him ready for his bath.” He rubbed his chin. “The worst part was, she was right.”

  “He had ADHD,” Jo said.

  Harrison blinked, looking at her. “Yeah, he did. He was on Ritalin. He was a sweet boy, but out of control sometimes.” He wet his lips. “I wasn’t good with him. I wasn’t as patient with him as Jenny.”

  Jo didn’t care about his excuses. “Do you think the anniversary of Finn’s death triggered Jenny’s call? Had she phoned before that?”

  “No, never,” he said, absolute. “I just wish she could have let it go.”

  Jo thought of what Dr. Patil had mentioned about Jenny’s nightmares and her guilt over Finn’s death. It sounded like she’d been looking for answers from Kevin and hadn’t exactly found what she’d wanted.

  “Did she call again, or leave any more messages on your voice mail?”

  Harrison’s fingers went through his hair. “No,” he replied. “None that I’m aware of.”

  Hank cleared his throat, ducking back into his good-old-boy tone. “I hate to ask you this, Dr. Harrison, because you seem like a decent guy. But was your marriage to Jenny violent in any manner?”

  Harrison’s shoulders stiffened beneath the blue sweater. “Violent? What are you implying?”

  What do you think? Did you push her, slap her, or twist her arm behind her back so that it left a spiral fracture?

  “Was there ever physical abuse during your marriage?” Hank pressed.

  The man’s cheeks drained of color. “Are you asking if I hit Jenny?”

  “That’s what I’m asking, yes.”

  “Where in God’s name is this coming from?” He turned on Jo, as if it were her fault. “Are you accusing me of something? What does that have to do with Jenny’s death?”

  Hank pushed at the air with his hands. “Whoa, simmer down, Doc. We’re not accusing you of anything, just trying to get our facts straight. There’s a question of some old fractures on your ex-wife’s postmortem X-rays, and we’ve heard tales of a troubled marriage. But I’d like to hear it from you. If I’m wrong, set me straight.”

  Sic him, partner.

  Jo sat so still, she might as well have been invisible. She had to remind herself to breathe.

  “I don’t know what old fractures you saw or who you’ve been talking to,” Harrison said, “and I sure as hell don’t know who could’ve suggested such a thing to you.”

  “X-rays don’t lie,” Hank shot back.

  “You think I hurt her? You think I broke her bones? That’s not what happened. It was never that simple with me and Jenny.” He pinched his nose, sat like that for the longest moment before he allowed himself to go on. “Look, you have to understand that handling Jenny and Finn—they were tricky.” He leaned forward, beseeching. “I’m not claiming to be the most patient man in the world, but I would never have hurt either of them intentionally. You have no idea what it was like to live with a hyperactive son and a woman who was never happy.”

  And you weren’t responsible for any of that unhappiness? Selfish bastard, Jo thought.

  “After our son died”—he shook his head—“she was impossible. She didn’t eat, wouldn’t leave the bed. She was catatonic for days. Yes, I wanted to shake her hard enough to wake her up again, to force her to go on with her life, but I never beat my wife. Y
ou got that? Never.”

  “Got it,” Hank said.

  Jo heard her own heart thudding in her ears, wondering what the hell was going on. Who was lying, and who was telling the truth?

  Patrick Dielman? Lisa Barton? Kevin Harrison? Jenny’s sister?

  “I can’t do this.” Harrison pushed off the couch and stood. He looked downright grim. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. I don’t think I should talk to you anymore without my lawyer. I’ve already said more than I should.”

  “One last question, please?”

  Jo had begun to rise from her chair but hesitated as Hank spoke.

  Her partner remained seated, arms resting on thighs.

  “All right,” Harrison said and sighed. “One more question.”

  “Where were you between five and nine p.m. on Monday evening of this week?”

  The night Jenny vanished.

  Jo heard the tap-tap of Alana’s footsteps; she saw the glint of the silver tray coming through the door to the library as Hank repeated, more loudly, “Your whereabouts on Monday evening?”

  The tap-tap stopped.

  “You think I had something to do with Jenny’s death?”

  “What’s going on here?” Alana set the tray down with a clatter.

  Jo watched the creamer tip, the white puddle spreading across the silver tray.

  Harrison didn’t answer. His eyes were on Hank as he calmly replied, “If I had wanted her gone, I could have let it happen right after Finn died. She tried to kill herself, you know. Did your source tell you that? She swallowed a shitload of Valium.” He wiped a hand across his mouth; his fingers shook. “I saved her life. If I hadn’t found her and rushed her to the ER, she would’ve been gone. So why would I kill her now?”