“The trouble in your marriage wasn’t about kids. She may have thought that was a magic bullet to make everything better, but you know that’s not true. Her problems went deeper than that.”
“So I take it you believe her about the rape.”
“I believe something terrible happened to her. The details? I have no idea. She admits she was drunk. She admits she passed out. She doesn’t remember where this happened or when it happened. On the other hand, she’s certain it was Devin Card in that bedroom. That wouldn’t be enough in a court of law, but it probably would have been enough to ruin Card politically if she came forward.”
“Ned Baer certainly thought so,” Stride said.
“And Ned found Andrea.”
“Yes, he did, and he was planning to write the story.”
“Do you think Ned told Devin Card that he’d located the woman behind the allegations?” Serena hesitated before saying the next name. “Or if not Card, did he tell Peter Stanhope?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t ask either of them about it back then, because doing that would have risked exposing Andrea. And remember, I really thought Ned drowned at the Deeps. I had no reason to think he’d been murdered. It may have been in the back of my head, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Peter Stanhope texted me,” Serena told him. “He wants to meet tomorrow. An off-the-record conversation.”
“You said yes?”
“I want to hear what he has to say.”
“He knows finding Ned’s body will put a focus on Devin. And himself. They’ll both be suspects. Of course, so am I.”
“And Andrea, too.”
“True.”
“We both know she’s capable of losing control,” Serena murmured.
“I know that, but I don’t think she did it.”
Serena stretched out next to him in bed. She put a bare leg over his calf and molded her skin against his body. Her face was inches from his own. “Jonny, what really happened between you and Ned Baer?”
He closed his eyes and remembered that night. He could see it again, vividly, as if no time had passed. The Deeps. The boiling hot evening. Ned on the cliff, his clothes wet from diving.
Stride stared at his wife. “Honestly? I wanted to kill him.”
* * * * *
As Stride crossed the footbridge over the Deeps, the river pounded through the narrows below him, erupting into foam. Its thunder was so loud that he couldn’t hear anything else. The violence of the water fed the violence that pulsed in his chest, and the heat of the evening bathed his body in sweat. He made his way along the wet rocks on the cliff, and his hands clenched into fists as he saw Ned Baer. He’d never met this man, but he already hated him.
The water roared; his mind roared. He had to do something to protect Andrea. To save her. She’d disintegrated in front of him as she confessed the truth. She’d cried that she couldn’t survive the humiliation, the lies, the attacks if her secret was exposed. Tears had poured down her face. She’d screamed and begged: stop him!
Do something. Anything. Whatever it takes.
You’re my husband.
“Don’t fall,” a voice said.
Ned Baer grinned at him as he dried his thinning hair with a towel. His clothes were sopping wet, making him look even skinnier than he was.
“Don’t fall,” Ned said again. “I hear if you drown, they never find your body.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t be diving here. It’s not safe.”
“Gotta beat the heat somehow,” Ned replied, in a voice that whined like the chirp of a cricket.
“I’ve pulled a lot of people out of the lake who thought that,” Stride replied.
Ned focused on him with beady black eyes that looked too big for his face. “You sound like a cop.”
“I am. You’re Ned Baer, right?”
“Yeah. Who are you? What do you want?”
“My name’s Jonathan Stride.” He paused and then told him, “Andrea is my wife.”
Ned slung the towel around his neck. He knelt down and grabbed a can of beer from a six-pack. One can was already empty and crumpled on the ground. “Really. No shit.”
“I want to talk about the story you’re writing.”
“I don’t think we have much to talk about. Your wife’s the one who says Devin Card raped her when she was a teenager. You know it, I know it. I’m going to print it.”
“You can’t prove it was her,” Stride retorted.
“Oh, I have enough to cover my ass. I can put Card and your wife in the same house at the same party.”
“Along with how many others?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have an anonymous source who saw them go upstairs together. Plus, your wife went to pieces when I confronted her. She said I’d ruin her life by printing her name. That sounds like an admission to me.”
“And it doesn’t matter to you if you ruin someone’s life?”
“That’s what shrinks are for. Look, once she sent the letter, she knew the risks. You go after a public figure, you better have a thick skin. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”
Stride felt dizzy in the heat. “Andrea says you broke into our house. If that’s true, I’ll have you arrested.”
Ned laughed. “That’s weak, Stride. You try any bullshit like that and I’ll have your badge.”
“We could sue you.”
“For printing the truth? Yeah, give that a try. That lasts all of five minutes until my lawyer asks your wife under oath if she sent the letter. The fact is, you’re wasting my time here. Hollow threats aren’t going to intimidate me.”
Sweat burned in Stride’s eyes, and he wiped it away. His voice was a low hiss. “If you print this, you’re killing her.”
Ned shrugged. “Fifty thousand.”
“What?”
“Fifty thousand dollars, and I’ll spike the story.”
“You want a bribe? You’re blackmailing me? Are you serious?”
“Hey, you want me to act dumb, that’s not free. Talk it over with your wife. I’ll hold the story for twenty-four hours if you want to think about it.”
“Go to hell.”
“Suit yourself. Then I run the piece.” Ned squatted on the rocks and hunted inside a zippered hip pack. He took out a black digital watch, strapped it to his wrist, and checked the time. “I think we’re done here, Stride. Why don’t you go home and hold your wife’s hand? Seems like she’ll need it.”
Stride felt another wave of violence wash over him like a flood. All of his muscles coiled into knots, ready to spring. It was easy to imagine his hands around this man’s throat. It was easy to feel his slippery finger curling around the trigger of his gun and sending a bullet into this man’s forehead.
No one would know. Ned Baer would simply disappear. The story would go away, and Andrea would keep her secret.
He heard his wife’s voice again: “Save me!”
But he couldn’t do that. There were lines he couldn’t cross. What was going to happen was going to happen, and he had no way to stop it.
Stride didn’t say anything more.
He turned around and left the Deeps, with Ned still on the cliff behind him.
* * * * *
“What did you do next?” Serena asked.
“I drove north. Alone. I’d never felt more powerless in my life. I drove up the lakeshore and sat by the water for hours. I didn’t go back home until after midnight.”
“Was Andrea there?”
“Yes. She was asleep. We didn’t talk. The strange thing is, we never talked about it again. That was our style. By the next morning, it was like nothing had ever happened. Even when Ned disappeared, we pretended the whole thing didn’t exist. She thought I’d killed him, but she never said a word to me about it.”
“How did you find
Ned at the Deeps?” Serena asked. “How did you know that’s where he was?”
“I talked to the owner of the motel where he was staying. Ned asked him for directions.”
“Did Andrea know that’s where you were going?”
Stride nodded. “I called her. She was so out of control that night, I wanted to make sure she was still okay. That she hadn’t done anything crazy. I told her that I was going to find Ned at the Deeps and do what I could to stop him from running the article. Except I think she already knew I wouldn’t be able to do a thing.”
“So she could have gone out there herself,” Serena said.
“She could have, but I don’t think she did. She said she called Steve and told him to follow me. That explains how Steve found the body.”
Serena shook her head. She wasn’t going to let Stride be noble, not when his whole future was at stake. “I’m sorry, Jonny, but you don’t know that’s how it happened. You don’t know that at all. Andrea knew where Ned was. She was desperate to stop him. She could have followed you up there and confronted Ned herself after you left. With a gun. And when Ned was dead, that’s when she called Steve to tell him she was afraid of what you were going to do. Because she knew when Steve found the body, he’d protect his best friend.”
12
“Do you know who you remind me of?” Cat asked Brayden Pell a little breathlessly from across the long bench at Hoops brewery. “Ryan Tedder. You know, the singer from One Republic? I mean, I know he’s a lot older, but you guys could be brothers.”
“Actually, Ryan is my brother,” Brayden replied.
Cat’s eyes widened into saucers and she practically leaped across the table. “Oh, my God! Are you serious?”
Brayden winked. “No.”
She sat back on the bench with a pout. “You’re teasing me.”
“A little.”
His lips bent into a crooked smile, and his deep dark eyes twinkled at her. She had to look away in embarrassment, because she felt her face flushing deep red. Instead, she watched the crowd in the brewery. It was almost eleven o’clock, but the benches stretching across the beer hall were mostly full. Tourists stood two deep at the taps. The space was brightly lit with circular chandeliers and decorated in blond fir wood. Noise reverberated off the ceiling.
She fidgeted on the long bench and grabbed a square piece of Sammy’s pizza they’d had delivered to the beer hall. She took a drink from a tall glass of pop and gestured at Brayden’s mug of coffee. “You know, you can drink beer even if I can’t. Stride said you’re off-shift, right? I mean, babysitting me isn’t really like being on duty.”
“It is to me. And I’m not babysitting, Cat. You’re under threat, and I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”
“So how does that work exactly?” she asked.
“I pick you up. I drive you where you want to go. I keep an eye on the surroundings wherever you are. Like here. I survey the people around us every few minutes, and I make sure no one’s watching you. I note everyone who comes in and assess whether someone looks like a threat. But it’s not like I have to be your shadow and constant companion, either. If you feel smothered, you’re more likely to ditch me, and I don’t want that. So if you want space around your friends, tell me, and I’ll back off. Just be aware that I’ll still be in the background.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She bit her lip and added, “You don’t have to back off. I don’t feel smothered.”
“Good.”
“Have you ever done this before? Protecting somebody?”
Brayden shook his head. “Not really. I’m a street cop. Mostly it’s domestic disturbances and break-ins and drug busts.”
“So why’d you volunteer to be with me on your days off?”
“Stride put out the word that he needed someone. I think you’ll find that most of the cops on the force would do just about anything for him.”
“I like that. I would, too.”
She watched Brayden sip his coffee. As he did, his eyes checked out the beer hall again. He wasn’t in uniform; no one would peg him as a cop. She knew she was staring at him, being way too obvious, but she couldn’t help herself. He was so attractive. He was a decade older than she was, but she had never cared about age. There was something tough in his face when he looked at everyone else and something gentle when he looked at her.
“I guess you know the stories about me, huh?” Cat asked. “I mean, not just that actor and all the craziness last winter. I suppose Stride told you about my background before then.”
“He did. A bit.”
“I was basically a hooker when Stride and Serena took me in. I was on and off the streets. I just figured you should know who you’re dealing with.” She rolled her eyes and made an L on her forehead.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Stride told me your mother was murdered when you were a kid, and you got shunted off to some awful foster parents. Now look at where you are. Sounds to me like you’ve come a long way.”
She flushed again. “That’s sweet. Thanks.”
“I hear you have a kid,” Brayden said.
“Yeah. Well, I let another family take him. They’re great. I still see him all the time. But I know what you’re thinking. A baby at seventeen, pretty stupid.”
“I don’t think that at all. You had a child and gave him a better future, but you’re still involved in his life. He’ll grow up knowing who you are and what you did for him. That takes a lot of guts.”
“Stride gives me the same pep talk all the time.”
“Well, he’s right.”
Cat offered up a half-smile and twisted a few strands of chestnut hair nervously between her fingers. She checked her phone. “I’m sorry we’re just hanging out here. I don’t know where Curt and Colleen are. They’re late.”
“That’s okay. I’m enjoying getting to know you.”
“Well, you know pretty much everything about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“What would you like to know?” Brayden asked. His dark eyes were so penetrating that she felt as if she had to look away again.
“Anything, I guess. Have you always lived in Duluth?”
“No. I grew up in Minneapolis. I moved up here when I was eighteen.”
“Why Duluth?”
His mouth broke into a broader grin. He smoothed his blond hair back. “I wasn’t exactly an angel back in high school. My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on much of anything, and he didn’t want me staying in the house after I graduated. I figured it was time for a do-over in my life. I love being around the lake, so I picked Duluth. I enrolled in police training classes, and I worked as a security guard for a few years in the interim. I’ve been on the force for five years.”
“Do you like it?”
“I do.”
Cat pushed the pizza box around with her fingers. “I don’t see a ring.”
She tried to make it sound casual, and to her ears, she failed completely.
“No,” he replied. “No ring.”
“That’s surprising. I mean, you must be—that is, you probably—oh, I don’t know what I mean. I’m just surprised.”
“I dated the same girl for several years after I came here,” Brayden told her. “She’s a nurse at Essentia. We lived together for a while. I figured we’d get married, but that’s not how it went. She decided the life of a cop’s wife wasn’t for her. I respect that. It’s definitely not for everyone.”
Cat wanted him to keep talking to her. It didn’t even matter what he said. His voice had a quiet music about it that made him sound like an artist or a teacher, not a tough cop. She liked it. She thought she could listen to him for hours. But before he could say anything more, a different voice cut through the beer hall like a shrill fire alarm.
“ahoy, hoops!”
It was Curt.
He sto
od in the doorway, arms over his head like an Olympic champion, the usual cocky grin on his face. He sidled through the brewery, slapping palms with his friends and with total strangers. Cat winced, and she wasn’t even sure why. Her crush on Curt suddenly felt stupid and immature, as if Brayden would judge her for knowing him. All the cops in Duluth knew that Curt was a petty criminal.
“Kitty Cat!” Curt bellowed as he saw her.
He headed for the bench, dragging a short blond girl behind him. The two of them squeezed onto the wooden seat next to Cat. “Sorry we’re late. Colleen was sketching down on the Point, and we got bridged. Two boats, took forever. Anyway, we’re here! Colleen, Cat, Cat, Colleen.”
Colleen reached across Curt to shake Cat’s hand, and her grip was moist and limp. “The famous Cat,” she said, in a girlish voice that was hard to hear. “I’m Colleen Hunt.”
Curt’s new girlfriend was not what Cat had expected. She couldn’t be much older than Cat herself, definitely still in her teens. She was cute but not a beauty queen, and the intimidated look she shot Cat showed a combination of meekness and jealousy, which helped Cat’s ego. Her blond hair was straight and parted in the middle, and she had pencil-thin dark eyebrows and chocolate brown eyes. Her skin was very pale. She wore a light blue summer dress that revealed matchstick arms and legs. She didn’t look like Curt’s type, and it occurred to Cat that if Curt was dating this girl, he must really feel something for her. A better question was what a white bread suburban flower like Colleen saw in a sleazy city boy like Curt. Then again, sweet girls liked to walk on the wild side sometimes.
“Who’s the dude?” Curt asked, noticing Brayden for the first time and realizing that Cat and Brayden were together. She took a little pleasure in the fact that Curt didn’t look entirely happy about it.
Brayden extended a hand. “Officer Brayden Pell.”
Curt’s eyes narrowed at the word officer. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I know you. One of Duluth’s finest.”
“Yes, I think we’ve met a couple of times, Curt,” Brayden replied drily.
Curt didn’t say anything, but he glanced at Cat, and his eyebrows asked the question: What the hell is a cop doing here? Cat explained, and to Curt’s credit, he looked horrified to hear what had happened at the Deeps after he’d left.
Funeral for a Friend Page 9
