by Sandra Balzo
‘Well, aren't we a ray of sunshine? And speaking of sunshine, maybe you should get outside and absorb some. You're pale as can be.’
‘What is today – Saturday?’
‘AnnaLise, you're too young to lose track of the weekly calendar. Today is Friday.’
‘It's from not working. Not being on a schedule.’
A phone rang and AnnaLise looked around.
‘Isn't that your cell?’ Daisy asked.
‘It is, but where's my purse?’
‘There.’ Her mother pointed at the bag on the chair next to the desk. ‘But it's the newspaper next to your coffee cup that's ringing.’
AnnaLise dug her cell phone out from under the Observer. The caller ID read: ‘Sutherton Auto.’
‘Hello?’
‘Ms Griggs. This is Earl, over at Sutherton Auto? I just got in a used car you might like to see.’
‘I'm sorry Earl, but I don't think I –’
‘It's Japanese, like your Mitsubishi, but the current model year. The owner is anxious to sell and will take any reasonable offer. I told him I'd broker the deal.’
‘Well, I –’
‘It's clean as a whistle or will be if you can give me an hour or two. We're usually closed on Fridays, but I'd be happy to stay until you get here.’
Closed on Fridays? Welcome to the High Country. Our slogan? ‘I'll do what I damned well please.’
AnnaLise looked toward her mother's back, hunched over the keyboard. She was busy working on the blog and AnnaLise did need a car.
‘Sounds good, Earl. I'll come take a look.’ She checked her watch. ‘It's ten-thirty and you said you need an hour to get the car ready to show?’
‘Better give me two,’ he said. ‘It's a beauty but was owned by a student and you know the kind of mess they can make. CDs, clothes, food – you'd swear the girl practically lived in the vehicle.’
The ‘girl’? And a student. It couldn't be. It just plain . . . ‘Earl, what kind of car did you say it was?’
‘I don't believe I did, but we're talking a Toyota.’
‘A Toyota Camry?’
‘Yes, ma'am. A new XLE with all the bells and whistles.’
‘It's red.’ AnnaLise's reply wasn't a question.
‘Barcelona Red Metallic, the manufacturer calls it,’ Lawling said. ‘But how did you know?
Because Suzanne Rosewood drove a red Toyota Camry.
‘Earl, I'll be right over. Meanwhile, don't start cleaning up – or out – that car.’
‘Don't –’ but AnnaLise had already broken the connection, grabbed the keys to her mother's Chrysler, and yanked open the front door to their apartment.
‘Love you, too,’ Daisy said, sounding more absent-minded than sarcastic to her daughter as she hit the sidewalk.
Twenty-nine
AnnaLise drove to Sutherton Auto, not knowing what she was going to do when she got there. She was sure what she'd find, though, and she was right.
‘This is Suzanne Rosewood's car.’
Earl Lawling whistled. ‘Good eye, though it's true that anything that's not a truck, an SUV or another four-wheel drive vehicle does stand out around here. You can be sure, though, that I did have every intention of telling you the previous owner met a violent death.’
‘Of course.’ AnnaLise didn't really believe that, but she didn't much care right now. ‘Her father is selling it?’
Lawling nodded. ‘What with all that's happened, he needs to tie up the loose ends here, then fly back north to make arrangements.’
‘Of course. So sad,’ AnnaLise said, with what she hoped was the right note of sympathy for the scumbag. ‘But with the Porsche totaled, how will he get to Charlotte/Douglas for his flight if he does sell this?’
The High Country was not Boston or New York, where you could flag a cab to the airport. Which, by the way, was between two and two-and-a-half hours away, depending on traffic. And weather.
‘He's taking one of my SUVs as a rental and leaving it at the airport tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ AnnaLise repeated. ‘That's quick.’
‘Like I said, the man's got multiple arrangements to make for both his wife and daughter's resting places.’
‘But what about the investigation – or investigations, also multiple? I'm surprised Mr Rosewood doesn't feel like he needs to stay until those are concluded.’
‘Well, hard for me to answer for the man, but I don't see things can get too much more “concluded” than they already are.’ Lawling opened the driver's side door. ‘Leather-trimmed seats. Nice, huh?’
‘Beautiful.’ replied AnnaLise. ‘But what do you mean about the investigation?’
‘Well, they already have the killer.’ Lawling shook his head sadly. ‘I've known Fred Eames for thirty years. He surely doesn't deserve the kind of sorrow he's seen.’
‘You're convinced Joshua Eames killed Suzanne?’
‘Not just me, but pretty much everyone from what I hear. And not just the girl. I stopped down at the police station to see how they were coming on that slug I pulled out of Mrs Rosewood's tire and the chief told me it could've come from the very same gun that killed the daughter.’
Earl Lawling swept his hand toward the car. ‘Why don’t you just slide on in? See how she fits you.’
AnnaLise complied. ‘Mr Eames told me that Josh'd lent that gun to someone.’
About to swing the door closed, Lawling froze. ‘How could that be? It was found right there next to the boy from what the chief told me.’
AnnaLise noticed there was no mention of the sock. ‘Maybe someone brought it back. Like the killer.’
Lawling gave a strangled laugh. ‘Sounds like someone's been watching too much television, though I'm not sure if it's you or Josh coming up with these wild theories.’
‘Josh's been unconscious, or he was until last night.’
‘The boy's woke up?’ Lawling apparently hadn't heard that news, at least. ‘Well then, if you're right, he should be able to tell the police what happened.’
‘Joshua Eames doesn't have any memory of that night, at least not yet. And even if he eventually does remember . . .’ AnnaLise decided to leave it there. Naming Ben Rosewood would not only be stupid, but might land her in a courtroom defending herself against slander charges on top of everything else. ‘Well, even if Josh says he does recall, who knows?’ she ended lamely.
‘Well, I certainly don't,’ Lawling said, dangling the key. ‘And sounds like you don't neither, so how about you take this little beauty out for a test drive?’
AnnaLise hesitated.
‘Multi-stage, heated front seats.’ Lawling reached down to push a button on the door side of her seat. ‘Plus eight-way power-adjustable driver's seat with lumbar support.’
AnnaLise's seat was undulating. ‘Ooh, nice.’ The car really did have everything, including a blue, glowing gauge cluster, navigation system and . . . ‘Oh, my Lord, is that a USB port?’
‘It surely is. I'm telling you, no expense was spared. That Mr Rosewood truly seems to have loved his daughter.’
AnnaLise wasn't so sure Ben loved anything or anyone, except himself. Still . . . she looked around. ‘I do need a car.’
‘And I'm telling you, the price is right. Mr Rosewood said that if you wanted it, he may be willing to negotiate. Might let it go for as little as sixteen.’
‘Thousand?’
Lawling looked offended. ‘This is the V-6, with only eight thousand miles on it. Fully loaded like it is, the vehicle would have fetched over thirty, thirty-five new.’
‘I'm sure it did, but I was really looking for something closer to . . . Did you say if I wanted it? Did Mr Rosewood ask you to offer it to me, specifically?’
‘Why, sure.’ Lawling hiked up his pants. ‘He remarked on your accident and I told him you were likely in the market for a car. He said this was a way of something good coming out of the tragedy.’
‘So Ben Rosewood had you call me?’ AnnaLise asked. ‘Why not do it
himself?’
‘Well, now, this is only my opinion, but I think he was feeling badly about selling the car in the first place, though what with him having to leave and all . . .’
And all, being the operative part. Still . . . AnnaLise ran her hand over the leather covered steering wheel. Her Spyder's had been grubby tan plastic and sticky in places.
‘I suppose it couldn't hurt to take it for a spin.’ She held out her hand for the key. ‘Are you coming?’
‘I believe I can trust you.’ Lawling dropped the key-fob in her hand. ‘In fact,’ he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. ‘I see it's nearly noon, and I promised my girlfriend I'd take her over to the outlet mall. If you don't mind, I'll ask you to park the car right here where you found it and drop the key in there.’
AnnaLise followed his index finger to a box on the wall next to the door of the sales office.
‘Wait. You're going to just let me take it?’ AnnaLise was looking for the ignition on the steering column. 'Don't you want me to leave my ID or charge card or something?'
‘Well, I'm fairly sure I know where to find you if you don't bring her back. Besides, this way you can take a nice long test drive and see what you really think without worrying about me back here waiting on you.’
‘All right, if you're sure.’ AnnaLise conceded. ‘Where's the ignition?’
‘Right there.’ Lawling pointed to a button on the dash.
AnnaLise looked at the fob in her hand which, now that she noticed, didn't have an actual key attached. ‘Ohh, this is one of those keyless ignitions.’
‘Not just that, but it's also a remote starter.’
Wait. ‘You mean in the winter I could stand inside at a window and start my car like on the commercials?’
‘Yup, as long as that window's not more than, say eighty feet away from your car.’ Earl seemed to sense he had a live one. ‘See, you just push unlock on this remote twice quick and then hold it down for three seconds.’
Voila. Like magic, the Camry started.
Ben had purchased this scientific marvel for an eighteen-year-old? AnnaLise bought the Spyder – already rode hard and put away wet – when she moved from Sutherton. It hadn't even had remote locks, much less a remote starter.
‘To turn the car off, you just push unlock. Not only that,’ Earl continued, ‘but if you set the temperature you want the car to maintain, it'll have it all toasty for you by the time you climb in.’
AnnaLise was thinking about those long, cold Wisconsin winters. Longer and colder, seemingly, than what she remembered from growing up in the High Country.
She tried not to seem too eager. ‘Well, then, what's to be done with this?’ she asked, holding up the fob.
‘Anything you want. Your handbag or pocket, or right here in the cupholder, and you're good to go.’
‘Gotcha.’ AnnaLise dropped it into her jeans pocket. Asking another question – this one about what would happen if she left the fob in the cupholder and got out and locked the car –would only serve to damage her bargaining position even more. ‘Thanks, Earl. I'm sure I won't have it out long.’
‘Take your time. Like I said, no hurry.’ Lawling had already started away toward what she presumed was his black SUV, dialing his cell as he walked.
Probably calling his girlfriend toward the trip to the mall. Shopping in the High Country – like getting to the airport – was often a major expedition.
Inching down the gravel driveway so as not to ding the Toyota's finish, AnnaLise wondered where she should go on her expedition. So far the car drove like a dream, but she knew that if she were to splurge for the Camry she needed to put the unfamiliar vehicle through more demanding paces than a few miles of state highway before driving it through the mountains and back to Wisconsin alone.
Girding herself, AnnaLise turned right toward the Blue Ridge Parkway. Heading north on the highway took her past the upper entrance of Sutherton Mountain and then, as the road veered west, the gated access to Grandfather Mountain. Here, visitors could pay an entry fee and explore the pristine landmark including, if one were so inclined, crossing a mile-high swinging bridge on foot.
AnnaLise had never been so inclined. In fact, she'd have to be prone and comatose to even consider it.
Which reminded her of Josh. Now conscious but apparently clueless in the hospital. If Ben was leaving tomorrow, he must not consider Josh a threat. And, therefore, Ben wasn't a threat to Josh, a least in a physical sense.
Deep in her thoughts, AnnaLise missed the entrance to the Parkway, only realizing when the road she was on dipped under the Blue Ridge. Five years away from the High Country hadn't helped her sense of direction, which had never been particularly good anyway. In fact, after she'd gotten her driver's license, she'd become very adept at avoiding any routes that would take her on roads she viewed to be ‘scary.’
Like a nonagenarian who preferred to make only right turns, AnnaLise would get there eventually, but it might take her awhile. In the mountains it took a long while and the paralyzing fear really had shadowed her teen years. She'd be a fool to let it continue through to her thirties..
AnnaLise finally found a place where she could turn around safely and head back to the Parkway entrance. Taking a right at the small Blue Ridge sign this time, she followed the road as it snaked around and stopped at a stop sign. This part of the Parkway circled Grandfather Mountain. Counterclockwise took you north around the mountain to the Linn Cove Viaduct. Clockwise, or south, was less challenging and had the advantage of putting you on the side of the two-lane road closest to the mountain instead of to the abyss.
AnnaLise planned to go safely south for this first foray, so she turned left onto the Parkway, which should have taken her in that direction. It was only when she caught a glimpse of a ‘North’ sign that she realized she'd gotten turned around and was heading the wrong way.
No worry, she told herself. Although the Linn Cove Viaduct was much higher than the bridge on her own Sutherton Mountain, it had an absolutely gorgeous view. In AnnaLise's experience, though, it was tough to appreciate that when you're sobbing hysterically from fear.
Still, there had to be at least one or two scenic overlooks before she'd reach the viaduct itself. She could pull through the gravel apron of the overlook and back onto the Parkway heading the other way – blissfully and safely southward.
AnnaLise checked her rear-view mirror and saw to her dismay that a dark SUV was closing in on her. The maximum speed on the Parkway was forty-five miles per hour, even lower in some sections. But no matter the posted limit, it always seemed about ten miles an hour too fast for AnnaLise. Other motorists disagreed – especially locals who actually needed to get somewhere and were sick and tired of timid tourists puttering along.
With no way to pull over and let the other vehicle pass, AnnaLise pressed lightly on the Camry's gas. The car jumped forward, startling her. The Spyder hadn't been nearly as responsive.
More nervous by the moment, she nevertheless chanced another look in the rear-view and, though reassured the other vehicle was still well back, she did manage to miss a turn-off for one of the Parkway's scenic overlooks.
Damn. Ahead she could see the Linn Cove Viaduct snaking alongside Grandfather Mountain, supported by nothing more than giant, concrete toothpicks. Whether AnnaLise liked it or not, she would be on the bridge in mere moments, with nothing to be done but remember she was a big girl and push through her fear. Preferably without wetting any undergarments.
One more curve, and the sound of the road under the Camry's tires changed from the rumble of asphalt to the whoosh of concrete. An engineering wonder: An S-curve four football-fields long and cast in 153 fifty-ton segments so it could be lowered into place without damaging even the surface of one of the oldest mountains in the world. The only work done on the ground was the drilling for the footings of the seven abutments – AnnaLise's concrete toothpicks – that supported the viaduct.
AnnaLise knew all these facts and figure
s as she crept along, white-knuckled hands strangling the steering wheel while she tried to concentrate only on the road in front of her and ignore the nothingness to her right and the SUV nosing ever closer behind. She even appreciated the vision and tenacity of the engineers determined to complete the most complicated concrete bridge ever built and do it at a height of over four thousand feet.
But she dared not focus on any of that. All AnnaLise should think about was getting to the end of their viaduct. Turning the steering wheel at just the right angle to hold the curve, feeding the Camry just the right amount of gas as it came out of the turn. Every small movement was exaggerated in importance, every millisecond like an eon.
And through it all, AnnaLise wanted nothing more than to let go and close her eyes. To let the big kid in the schoolyard finally tag her in a game she knew she was destined to lose anyway.
Just to get it over with.
‘Chicken-shit.’ AnnaLise had said it aloud, and now she said it even louder. ‘Chicken-shit!’
Her mother drove this road. ‘Hell, ninety-year-old Mrs Peebly drives this road,’ AnnaLise yelled into thin air. ‘I am no . . . chicken-shit!’
Her hands were relaxing on the wheel and she tried to become one with the last of the curves, riding inside it instead of fighting its centrifugal allure. Skimming along the beautiful stretch of road, instead of fearing it. Delighting in the changing colors of the trees below while hugging that last bend like a downhill skier.
And AnnaLise was, finally, on solid earth.
She didn't dare look back, but she wanted to. Maybe let out a hoot and a holler. ‘I did it,’ AnnaLise said, also aloud. ‘Not only that, but I genuinely enjoyed it.’ A hesitation. ‘At least the last part.’
She heard a light tap-tap of a horn behind her and glanced in the mirror. Could that be Earl in the SUV? The Blue Ridge was one possible way to the mall he said he and his girlfriend wanted to visit and, in fact, the most direct route. Since the windows of the bigger vehicle were tinted, AnnaLise couldn't make out who was driving or even how many people were inside.
She raised her hand in greeting, in case it was Earl, or in apology if it wasn't. AnnaLise was feeling a little light-headed as the adrenaline faded away.
