by Julie Hyzy
* * *
I grabbed the shoulder of my car’s passenger seat, twisting to see behind as I prepared to back out of my driveway. My rear tires had barely made it to the sidewalk when movement in my peripheral vision made me stop.
A man on my porch peered into my front window. I threw my car into Park, pulled the keys out, and opened the door.
Hunched, with his hands cupped around his face, the man jumped back when Bootsie leapt onto the sill. In the space of the four seconds it took me to get out of the car I decided it couldn’t be McClowery. The guy on my porch, now knocking on the window in a manner that suggested impatience, wasn’t nearly as tall as the FBI agent. He wore a dark jacket, blue jeans, and a baseball cap.
When I slammed the car door, he spun.
Three thoughts bombarded me at once, freezing me in place: I should have anticipated this; I had anticipated this, but never imagined experiencing such a visceral reaction; and, in what world had I ever found him attractive?
“Eric?” I remained standing on the far side of my car, one hand propped on the roof. I hoped it read as casual. In truth, I needed a moment to steady my nerves. Not only was I experiencing a turbulent roil of surprise, the sight of him brought forth a rush of memories. Whatever good times we’d had together had been eclipsed by the pain he’d delivered when he left me for my sister. That I was overjoyed with the eventual outcome was beside the point. Seeing him again, after all that had transpired, was a shock to the system.
“Grace!” he said with more enthusiasm than he had a right to. “You’re home. I thought I’d have to come back.”
I strove to personify self-assurance. The woodpecker-speed pulse pounding in my ears and the sparkles of contempt clouding my vision had other ideas. Keep calm, I told myself. Oh yeah, and remember to breathe.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He loped down the front stairs, his head tilted to one side, his grin widening with every step. The baseball cap sported an impolite phrase emblazoned in orange. Sallow and thin, Eric was far less handsome than I remembered, his beard both new and spotty, bringing to mind a dog with the mange. “You look wonderful, Grace. It’s great to see you again. Really.”
Had I initially been drawn to him because, like Liza, he had the ability to turn on the charm at a moment’s notice? I’d never met anyone so talented at faking sincerity. I’d grown up with Liza; maybe that relationship had imprinted itself on me so strongly that I’d subconsciously sought out a similar personality—and found Eric.
Mentally shaking off the psychological analysis, I repeated myself. “What are you doing here?”
When he made a move to come around the front of the car, I was struck with the horrifying notion he intended to give me a hug.
My hand shot up like a stop sign, halting him in his tracks. “Don’t even think about it.” He gave me a sheepish “can’t blame a guy for trying” look, which I ignored. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Come on, Grace. No hard feelings.” He did his best to look abashed, hanging his head and even going so far as to kick a nonexistent pebble. “I thought by now you would have, you know, gotten over me.”
The laugh that bubbled out of me satisfied my soul far more than any words could have. “Yeah, who’d a thunk?” I asked, deadpan.
He shifted his weight, watching with enough of a guarded expression that I knew my sarcasm had hit its mark.
“And now, for the third and final time: Why are you here? And where’s my sister?”
My tagged-on inquiry seemed to throw him. But only for a second. “Ha ha, Grace.” He pistol-pointed at me. “Good one.”
An awkward silence filled the cold air between us. I let it stretch.
Stomping his feet, he pulled his bare hands up to his face and blew on them. “Now that you’re home, maybe I can come in and we can talk?”
“I’m on my way out.” I half hoped that admission would tempt him to try breaking in. My alarm would bring the cops running. Maybe McClowery, too.
He jerked his chin toward the house. “Is Liza home?”
“She’s gone.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really.
“What do you mean?” He took a panicked step forward. “Where did she go?”
“Your friend Nina showed up and Liza got spooked.” I shrugged to convey that my sister’s departure was no big loss. “Why, exactly, did you follow her here? And why is she suddenly so afraid of you?”
Eric’s Windbreaker offered feeble protection from the cold. His jeans were frayed and floppy. Incongruously, he wore black wing-tips, albeit scuffed ones. Warming his hands with his breath again, he shot a longing look at my house. “Can’t we talk about this inside?”
When I pulled out my cell phone, he stepped backward. “Are you calling Liza?”
“I’m calling the police.” I punched Rodriguez’s number in and poised my finger above the lime-green telephone icon. “Answer my questions or I’ll turn you in.”
“For what?” His bluster was beginning to slip. “What would the police want with me?”
“Isn’t that a fun question?” I asked. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Has anyone else been here?” he asked. “I mean, looking for me?”
“Maybe.”
“Who?”
“How about you answer me, first. Why are you after Liza?”
“She left me,” he said. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Traveling across the country to get away from someone is a big deal. Having that person follow you across the country—with a sidekick of the opposite sex—makes me very curious. Now, let’s try this again.” Speaking very slowly, I repeated my question. “Why did you follow her here?”
“I screwed up.” His regretful, abashed, rejected-suitor persona returned to the stage. “I messed things up and I hurt her. I can’t live without her.” His voice trembled. “I need her back.”
“Okay. What else?”
“There isn’t anything else.”
I wiggled the phone. “Don’t lie to me.”
Comprehension dawned on him—a little late, but with sufficient force to get him to drop the beleaguered husband act. “You’re different, Grace. What happened?”
I remained silent.
He hesitated, weighing his options, eyeing my phone as though it held the solution he sought. A stalemate on my driveway—not quite the efficient morning I had planned.
Rubbing his neck bristle, he finally broke the protracted silence. “Here it is, okay? Liza has information. Information that I don’t want shared with anyone. And I mean anyone. I’m in a bind here—I’m in trouble.”
“Go on.”
“Liza is mad right now. I . . .” He waved a hand in the air. “I really hurt her. I didn’t realize how much until after she’d left me.”
“So you’re here to apologize?” I couldn’t help my skepticism.
He squared his shoulders spoiling for a fight. He hadn’t expected me to push back, and it was almost painful to watch his brain switch gears and reassess strategy. How had I ever considered this guy anything beyond a conniving hustler?
“No, Grace,” he said, dropping all pretense. “I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to convince Liza not to talk with anyone about anything.”
“That’s real specific.”
“You don’t want to know.”
I’d suspected Liza of withholding information from the moment she’d shown up at Marshfield. While vindication bolstered my ego, it didn’t resolve the problems at hand.
“Pretend I do want to know.”
He pulled his mouth into a tight line. I couldn’t tell if it was a calculated move to buy time or an effort to warm up his lips. “Liza hasn’t spoken with your boss, Bennett Marshfield, has she?”
“What does Bennett have to do with any of this?”
“Has she?”
“I refuse to answer,” I said, “unless you tell me what this has to do with Bennett.”
His hands came up, shaking violently, as though throttling an invisible opponent. “Don’t you get it? This could be life-and-death for me. Who has Liza talked to?”
Suave and in control when he’d first arrived, he’d now lost himself in a high frenzy I couldn’t understand.
In crazed distress, he took another step forward. “Who has she talked to, Grace?”
I was tired of playing this game. “Good question,” I said, hitting the Talk button. “Let’s see if the police know.”
His eyes flashed, wide and frightened. Slapping at my hand to dislodge the phone, he shouted, “No, no, no.”
I held tight, racing around the back of my car as the call connected.
“Where are you staying, Eric?” I asked. “I’m sure they’ll want to know.”
The anger in his expression was murderous. Could Eric have killed the fake Fed? Fear and awareness kicked in with a high-powered jolt. Eric was capable, all right. At this moment, I had no doubt.
“Rodriguez?” I battled a tremor in my voice. “Eric Soames is here, on my driveway.”
By the time I’d gotten the words out, Eric had turned and fled. “He took off west on Granville,” I said above Rodriguez’s exclamation. “He’ll be gone by the time you get here.”
“What is he wearing?”
I told him, then listened while Rodriguez directed activity on his end. I heard him issue a BOLO, or Be on the Lookout, for a man matching Eric’s description. When he returned to me, he said, “We’ll do our best to nab him before he disappears again.”
I took in my surroundings. “I don’t see any unfamiliar vehicles on the street. I’m guessing he didn’t drive here. Too bad. We could have set up a stakeout around his car.”
“Good thinking, but yeah, too bad. Did you talk with him?”
“At length,” I said, then recapped our conversation.
“Sounds like Liza could put her husband behind bars if she has a mind to. Spouses aren’t required to testify against each other, but that doesn’t mean they can’t. If your sister is ticked off enough, she could probably inflict real damage.”
“And if he killed your victim, that Ochoa guy, what’s to stop him from killing Liza to keep her quiet?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The wind kicked up, whipping my hair across my face. “You’re at the station on a Saturday?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to take it easy for a while?”
“Open homicide investigation. No rest until we close it. Back to your sister for a minute. Eric knows she’s here, obviously.”
“I told him she left,” I said, and then remembered to explain about Nina Buchman’s visit the night before. I was beginning to forget who I’d told what. “No idea if Eric believed me.”
“We’ll proceed as though we expect him to return. I’ll have uniforms keep an eye on your house until we get answers.”
As soon as we hung up, I dialed another number and stomped my feet to keep warm. I’d dressed for the weather, but cold began to seep in.
“Two phone calls in one day, Gracie?” Bennett asked when he picked up. “What’s the occasion?”
I’d called him shortly before I left the house this morning to alert him to Agent McClowery’s threat to drop by.
“Eric left here a moment ago.”
Bennett’s mood shifted. “Are you all right? What happened? Do you need me to come there?”
“I’m fine and thank you, but I’ve already talked with Rodriguez. They’re after him. The reason I’m calling you is because Eric came here looking for Liza, but then cornered me to ask if Liza had spoken to you.” I waited for that to sink in. “As far as I know, you and Liza have had only the one conversation in my office. Is that right?”
“That’s correct.”
“What’s going on? Why would he bring up your name? Are you in danger? Is that why you opted to skip the FAAC this year?” A blip in my brain reminded me that the convention was in full swing. “Isn’t that an odd coincidence?” I asked. “Eric shows up the day the convention opens, and this is the first time in years you’re not attending?”
“Hold on a minute there, Gracie,” he said in his most authoritative tone. “You’re jumping subjects and imagining connections where none exist.”
“Then what’s going on? You’ve been very mysterious lately. Eric bringing up your name makes me nervous.”
“There’s no need for you to be nervous, I promise you.”
“Bennett.” My tremulous tone was the product of frustration and cold. “What is going on?”
“Nothing at all. Nothing to worry about.”
It wasn’t like Bennett to stonewall me. “Please,” I said.
“Gracie,” he said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How about the truth?”
He went silent for far too long. As much as it made my insides scream with impatience, I waited. Finally, he said. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
The question took me aback. “Nothing important, why?”
“Come see me tomorrow afternoon. Say around two o’clock. Will you do that?”
“Of course, but what’s going on?”
“Leave your sister under Mr. Tooney’s care. If he’s unavailable, let me know and I’ll make other arrangements.”
“Bennett?”
“Tomorrow, Gracie,” he said, and hung up.
Chapter 24
“This is beginning to get old,” Liza said Sunday morning when I informed her that I planned to send her over to Tooney’s house again. “Don’t you lighten up on the weekend? What do you need to do that’s so important that I can’t come along?”
I wanted to answer: “Practically everything,” but chose instead to deflect. “A meeting at Marshfield. Not everyone is available during the week, so we’re required to hold off-hour conferences like this from time to time.”
Playing with the cornflakes in her cereal bowl, she regarded me thoughtfully. “Convenient excuse,” she said before taking a spoonful. “Don’t know if I believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter what you believe.” I stood at the pantry door, pretending to decide between oatmeal and raisin toast. Rather than silently debating breakfast food choices, however, I was arguing the merits and pitfalls of telling Liza about Eric’s visit the day before.
I’d chosen not to say anything to her and had waited until after she’d gone to bed last night to whisper updates to Bruce and Scott. They’d agreed with me. Letting Liza know that Eric had stopped by would do none of us any good. She’d sworn that she’d left him and had no intention of ever going back, but if there was one thing I could count on from my sister, it’s that she rarely told the truth. Sharing the fact that Eric had come looking for her could send her skittering right back into his arms.
I made a face. That would get her out of my life again, wouldn’t it?
“Do you take this much time to pick your food every morning?” Liza asked, snapping me out of my reverie.
“Not usually.” I snagged the raisin bread.
“Where are your roommates?”
“Bruce and Scott took off early today.” I didn’t mention that I keenly felt the loss of our trio’s Sunday-morning newspaper ritual.
“Seems like they’re out more than they’re in,” she said. “Is that normal, or is it because of me?”
Chalk one up to Liza’s perceptiveness. “There’s a lot of extra work to be done with so many people in town for the convention.”
She finished her cereal as I began toasting my bread. “Look,” she said, getting me to turn around. She’d gotten to her feet to carry her bowl to the sink, where she rinsed it and added it to the dishwasher. “I can be taught.”
“A
wesome.” I went back to my toast.
“Maybe you’ll see that it isn’t so terrible having me around.”
However faint, the suggestion of extending her stay made my stomach drop toward my feet. I was glad I had my back turned.
When I didn’t respond, she stood next to me. My toast popped just then and I set to buttering it.
“Is it so bad?” she asked. “Having me here?”
“It’s an adjustment,” I said, veering away from the topic of prolonging her time in Emberstowne. “You and I have never gotten along the way sisters should. That makes it harder.”
“I can change,” she said.
Was that desperation I detected? Or another attempt to play me? “No one is asking you to change, Liza.”
Her face dropped like I’d slapped her. “Excuse me; you’ve been trying to get me to be like you since we were little.”
Pressing my two buttered toast sides together, I sliced them on a diagonal. “When we were kids, yeah. You’re probably right. Whenever I perceived you were making a mistake, I corrected you.”
“And you still do that today.”
Facing her, I shook the butter knife from side to side. “No. I stopped a long time ago. Remember when Mom and Dad found out that you’d been stealing money from the people you babysat for? And drinking their liquor?”
“Only after the kids were in bed.”
“Seriously? You still think that’s a defense?”
“None of the kids ever got hurt.”
“You got lucky.” I put the knife down. “My point is that Mom and Dad came to me and asked me to have a talk with you. A heart-to-heart. They were crazy with worry and had tried reasoning, punishment, threats. Nothing worked. Your transgressions kept escalating.”
“You did talk to me.”
“Only after I told Mom and Dad that I’d been trying, all along. That I’d given up and couldn’t do it anymore.” Showdown time here. “Yeah, I talked with you, but if you recall, I didn’t ask you to change. What I told you was that I wouldn’t tolerate your bad behavior any longer. That until you made the decision to show consideration to the people in your life who cared about you, I was done.”
