Aubrey liked to run away from everything, too, find that blessed oblivion. The only difference between them: her drugs were legal. Honestly, she understood Tyler getting hooked on drugs more than she understood the strange power he felt when carrying a gun. He claimed it was for protection. All the dealers carried. But she wondered if, deep down, he was just a walking time bomb, and the gun his easy way out.
“There’s nothing to share. I’m not going to get any money from the ‘estate.’ Daisy is going to contest and get everything.”
“Daisy. That bitch don’t deserve a penny of Josh’s money.”
“Tyler, quit talking like you’re some gangsta. You have every bit the command of the language as I do.”
Now she was needling him, and it felt good. He flushed, eyes squinting even further.
“Don’t fuck with me, teacher.”
He made it sound dirty, and small.
“Oh, come off it. Do I need to remind you of that time—”
“Shut up.” This was said flatly, no more affection, just a warning from a brother that she’d gone too far. She’d made her point. The teakettle whistled. They stared at each other for a few more moments. She poured the hot water into the cups, careful not to splash.
“You know I’m telling you the truth. Daisy already let me know she’d be fighting the payout. In her mind, the insurance company screwed up and the money belongs to her. It was her bargain with Josh when we were trying to buy the house. We couldn’t afford the payments, and he asked her to cosign. She agreed on one condition: that she be sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, the one she and his stepfather had taken out on him years before, and she’d have control of the property in case we defaulted. He agreed, thinking once we had a few years under our belts he could go in and change everything back to me. But you know all this already.”
“Then why did Josh add so much money to the policy right before he disappeared?”
“For the thousandth time, I don’t know.”
“But when he did add to the policy, the insurance company put your name down as a default, since you were his wife.”
“And he died before he could sign off on the change to move it back to Daisy.” She smiled meanly. “Daisy was beside herself.”
“That woman never has liked you.”
She shook herself a little, remembering. “None of this matters. It’s blood money. I don’t want it. I’m not going to fight her. She can have it all.”
Tyler sidled up behind her. She felt the cold, hard steel of the weapon in the small of her back. She didn’t flinch. Tyler responded poorly to shows of weakness.
“Have we all been wrong, Aubrey?” he whispered in her ear. “Did you kill him?” The gun traced small circles on her spine. “You can tell me. It’s official now, he’s dead and gone in the eyes of the courts, and you were acquitted. The cops won’t be knocking on your door.”
Aubrey turned around slowly, felt the muzzle trace around her ribs until it was pointing straight into her abdomen.
“You of all people know I didn’t kill him, Tyler. And he has to be dead because Josh would never, ever put me through this hell.”
Tyler used the gun to tease the bottom of her shirt up, revealing the hard flesh of her stomach. She met his eyes. Dared him.
“I loved him more than my own life. Part of me died with him. Killing him would have been like killing myself. Now put that stupid gun away before you accidentally blow off your cock.”
He coughed out a laugh, gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed the cup of tea and sat down at the table. He picked up the saltshaker, unscrewed the top, and poured the contents on the wood. Pictures emerged from the tip of his finger, outlines: an engorged penis, a heart, a big question mark.
Aubrey brought her tea to the table and sat opposite her foster brother.
“I have a little bit of cash. It’s not much. But if it will help get you on your feet, it’s yours. I’m sorry I didn’t know you got out. I would have been there.”
The words were insincere but had the placating effect she was going for.
“I’m clean, though I’m sure you don’t believe me. They had a program, in jail.”
“You’ve been through programs before.”
“It’s different this time.” He went quiet. “Maybe a hundred or so. Just until I can find some work. I’ll pay you back.”
She knew work to Tyler meant something illegal. What was she going to do, tell him to get a straight job? Tyler had lived in the recesses of society his whole life. She didn’t blame him for being who he was: an addict, struggling along like the rest of the world.
She blamed his mother, a whore with a crack habit; his father, a businessman who’d slipped down to Donelson Pike one afternoon and made a deposit, then disappeared forever; and the dealer-slash-pimp who kept his mother’s legs spread and mouth occupied to line his coffers. Tyler had spent the first three years of his life in malnourished squalor until a local cop found him next to his mother’s lifeless body.
His freedom was traded for a series of well-meaning foster parents.
Just like hers.
She rose from the table and went for her purse. Enabler she would be if it meant getting him the hell out of the house. She got it out of her wallet and handed it to him silently. He took the money without meeting her eye, used the edges to turn the salt into pretend lines of coke. She noticed Tyler’s hands shaking and knew without a doubt he was too newly clean. The money would go straight into his arm. Sadness overwhelmed her.
Tyler never had a chance. At least Josh had pulled her from the ashes before she went down the same road.
Why wasn’t he leaving?
“It’s all I’ve got, Tyler.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He didn’t move, so she stood, arms crossed, and waited. God, she just wanted to lie down. Her head had started pounding again; her stomach was roiling.
“You’ve always been good to me, Aubrey.”
“Good grief, Tyler. Did you find God in prison or something? Get. Scat. Leave. I have stuff to do.”
He smiled at her, a flash of childhood, their adventures, their fears, their moments of innocence. His gold necklace caught the light from the kitchen window. He’d had it as long as she’d known him. It would be easy to pawn, to get some money to put in his arm, but he held on to it like a lifeline.
“I didn’t find God, Aubrey. But I am straight.” He squared his shoulders. “I’ve always been honest with you. I told you from the beginning Hamilton was no good.”
Here we go.
“Tyler, he’s gone. Doing the ‘I told you so’ dance won’t change things.”
“I’m not kidding around, Aubrey. I heard some shit while I was in.”
Aubrey burst out laughing. “About Josh? My Josh? He was training to be a doctor, Tyler, not a criminal. We left that element up to your side of the family.”
Tyler pushed back from the table so hard the chair tipped over onto the floor and Winston jumped.
“It never ends with you, does it?”
“Josh wouldn’t know the first thing about doing anything illegal. You knew him. He wouldn’t even bet on a football game. Good God, listen to yourself.”
“You honestly think—Jesus, Aubrey! When will you see he wasn’t the man you thought he was?”
“Fuck you, Tyler. He was twice the man you’ll ever be.”
He flinched away from her. Her words had always been sharp.
“Tyler—”
His voice was deadly quiet. “You’re from the gutter, Aubrey, just like me, and don’t you ever forget it.”
He stormed from the room. She heard him fling open the front door. Moments later, the engine of the Camry came to life with a roar.
She went to the front door and closed it softly. Leaned back against it.
“Damn.”
Tyler had always been a mess. He’d gotten himself involved in drugs, and ran with a gang of boys whose sole purpose in life was to get into trouble. That same gang of boys grew up and turned into a tight-knit group of serious troublemakers who ran drugs for a branch of the Dixie Mafia.
She didn’t want to know the things Tyler had done. Thirty-one—the same age Josh would be if he’d lived—and he’d been in and out of jail, in and out of rehab, so many times that she couldn’t keep track.
She knew this wasn’t the life he wanted. He’d fallen into it and hadn’t had the energy, or desire, to extricate himself. Or the love. If someone would just love him properly, he might find his way again.
That’s your fault, Aubrey. You know it is. You created him.
She shook off the thought and tried to focus on what he’d told her before he stormed out instead.
He’d always hated Josh, and she’d never fully understood why. Oh, she got it; Tyler had a thing about people he perceived as “better” than him, and he liked to play the role of the protective older brother. Hurt her and I’ll hurt you, those sorts of empty threats.
Except for when the threats weren’t empty.
She’d been attracted to Josh because he was Tyler’s opposite, in every way. Where Tyler was brash and hurtful, Josh was kind and generous. Tyler had little use for morality; Josh spent years trying to teach Aubrey the right way to do things. Tyler was horribly jealous of Josh’s goodness, seeing something inside Josh he would never possess.
Josh was a good man. Decent through and through. Even as a child he’d been gallant and honest and implacable, a source of strength, of honor. He’d grown into a man who wanted nothing more than to help people, which was why he was training to be a doctor.
She was well aware of her tendency to make Josh out to be perfect, a hero even. Her therapist had chided her when Aubrey started to immortalize him and his selflessness.
No one is perfect, Aubrey. One day, you’ll start to remember Josh’s faults, too.
Yes, Josh had a fault.
He’d died.
Dear Josh,
Did I ever tell you that I see my death? It’s nothing concrete, more of an overwhelming moment of imagination, like a dream, but I’m awake. Sometimes it’s a plane spiraling down to earth. Other times it’s a wave crashing over my head. The riptide pulls me out to sea, tumbling me against the sand until I open my mouth and scream water into my lungs. Sometimes it’s a tree on the side of the road, and my car flies into it and my head cracks against the windshield and everything goes black. Sometimes, it’s the handful of pills I want to take.
Oh, Josh, I can’t go on like this. I miss you too much. We were supposed to be in this together. I know you’re dead, but my mind can’t believe that you’re really gone. If I could just know for sure, I’d be able to make a decision about what to do next. But we’re caught in this limbo, between the worlds, where you’ve disappeared and, frankly, so have I.
Always,
Aubrey
CHAPTER 14
Aubrey
Today
After Tyler’s Camry backfired its way away from the curb, Aubrey felt her hands begin to shake, the anger coming in waves. Damn that man. He was forever forcing himself into her life, through coercion or intimidation or manipulation, whatever it took. Why wouldn’t he just go away? He reminded her of the worst parts of her world, the parts she spent so much time locking away, screwing them down into the farthest bit of her soul so she wouldn’t ever have to think about them.
Tyler must have been desperate to rush over when he got out of jail and claim he’d overheard Josh had been wrapped up in something bad. Trying to hurt her, to punish her for gaining her freedom when his was wrenched from him, or leverage the information for something. He was trying to drag her into his unhappiness again. Tyler’s morass was all-encompassing.
Aubrey felt the rabbit hole closing in on her, so she did the only thing she knew to do. She took an Ativan and put on her running shoes.
One foot in front of the other. Again and again and again and again.
Pace became breath became her body, all of her parts working together to find some meditative calm. The hangover began to recede. She let the memories wash over her.
She tested her emotions. Thought about the previous night. Chase. She tried to ignore the warm flush of excitement that coursed through her, followed by anger and regret. It was wrong, wrong to think of him and Josh at the same time. She would have to find a way to separate the two in her thoughts.
Where was Chase now?
She didn’t know anything about his life in Chicago. Did he have a woman? A house? Did he spend his Saturday afternoons mowing the yard so he could watch the game on Sunday in peace? No, he was probably combing the bars, looking for another strange woman to screw.
She pushed the pace, upped her flow.
Come on, Aubrey. You’re making pretty big assumptions. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he did enjoy your company. Face it, nothing about the last twenty-four hours was normal, by any stretch of the imagination. You’re under stress, and stress does wonky things to your mind.
Running relieved that stress and allowed her to think rationally. After a while, she was able to see there were two plausible scenarios for what happened last night.
Either she’d been used by a player on the road who had no intention of ever calling her again, or he’d actually liked her and his note stating he wanted to see her again was sincere. That was all. There were no machinations, no clandestine insights to be gained. They were just a man and a woman who’d had sex. All the weirdness in her life aside, it boiled down to that. She’d gotten paranoid. She read into everything, looked for ulterior motives, unspoken statements, danger.
And her mind had finally played the biggest trick of all on her. She’d wanted to believe he was Josh so badly, she’d almost convinced herself last night it was his arms she slept in.
Her feet pounded the pavement, and she felt more settled. The grass of Dragon Park ended, and she veered off onto Blakemore. She’d run through the Vanderbilt campus, look at all the happy kids, and pretend she was one of them. She put Tyler and Chase and Josh and Meghan and Daisy out of her mind, and let her legs take her into oblivion.
She didn’t see the dark blue sedan following her around the edges of the park.
CHAPTER 15
Aubrey was done in, her legs shaking from the exertion. She needed to go home, but she veered away from her turn. She didn’t know what possessed her to take one more lap around Dragon Park and return to the tree.
That was a lie. She knew exactly what drove her there. And though she didn’t want to indulge the demon, she did it anyway.
It had been years since they’d played the game. It was a childhood fancy, something silly. As teens it had become the most singularly romantic thing that Aubrey could ever imagine. But once they were together—dating, engaged, married—there was no reason to continue. They had instant access to each other anytime they liked. They didn’t need to arrange illicit assignations.
But after Josh went missing, the lovers’ oak called to her. It seemed fitting, since they were separated, that she resurrect their old method of communicating. When they were kids, the tree’s hidden hole had probably once been the home of a squirrel, or some birds, but when the city started spraying for mosquitoes, the tree had been vacated.
She wrote him a letter and stashed it in the oak’s trunk, in the little indentation that seemed made for their missives.
For the first year, after the media shit storm died down, after she went back to work, when she was trying to return to an even keel, she’d run to the tree every night, put her hand in the small hole, and feel for a new piece of paper. Hoping. Praying.
; There never was one. The crevice was always void of anything but the pages she’d laid there.
Aubrey coped the only way she knew how. She wrote more letters. And more. But now she did it on the computer and clicked the Send button when she was finished. She’d left Josh’s email account open, hoping against hope that one day he’d see her notes and write back.
Insanity is filled with wishful thoughts.
Of course, she knew that was impossible. The blood at the house confirmed it. He’d been gravely injured the night he went missing. Injured enough that the DA tried his best to hang a murder charge on Aubrey’s slender shoulders based on the blood pool alone.
The letters were her one link to the world in those first maddeningly scary months. Especially the time she was incarcerated, before the trial, when she’d lost her temper and punched the investigating cop and they’d tossed her in county overnight. She’d mouthed off to the judge and he’d given her three more days to cool her heels while they decided whether to make things official. She couldn’t sleep, not a wink. The jail’s doctor had finally given her Ambien because they were afraid she was going to get psychotic without proper rest. She slept. The sleep of the dead. Every night for two months, they gave her the pills.
When she got out, she couldn’t sleep without them. She liked the deep oblivion of the pills. They kept her sane. Every night, she’d write until the pills washed her brain clean of thoughts and sleep dragged her under.
The letters didn’t take a cohesive form. Some were long, rambling accounts of her moments, some short snippets. Some were angry, some full of longing. Some pleaded, some accused.
But none were ever answered.
As the days stretched into months stretched into years, she continued the habit. Her therapist had suggested it as a way for her to cope, and Aubrey found the idea appealing. It made her feel and look weak, so she didn’t tell anyone what she was doing. After a while, she realized she was using the letters to hold on to her sanity. Even during that time, the time she didn’t like to remember, when she’d slipped, she kept writing. The letters became her lifeline, a way she could talk to Josh again.
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