* * *
Grace snuck her dog into the art department’s back door for the second day in a row. She should have taken him home but didn’t want to risk going back to the apartment for fear of running into Lara. It had been a day and half since Lara had waved at her from the waiting room at the police station. There’d been several missed calls and a few dozen texts since then. Over the last thirty-six hours their tone had gone from upset to bewildered to angry. Lara had yet to say she was anything close to sorry, so Grace had left the calls unanswered.
After some coaxing Jack curled up into a ball on a blanket she’d tucked beneath her worktable. There were two other students working in the far side of the studio. They hadn’t said anything about the dog the previous day so Grace figured she was okay. She found a blank canvas in her cupboard and set it out on the easel next to a sketch she’d done the day before. A man was trying to walk across a wide river that was covered with thin ice.
Grace sharpened a pencil and put on her headphones. Chopin’s nocturnes filled her head. If she focused on her work everything else in her life always disappeared. She was praying this was still the case as she touched pencil to canvas. In the beginning she was always tentative. The lines were faint, but with time concrete shapes started to emerge. The man had a narrow face and high cheekbones. His long hair was in disarray. A wide river grew out of the mist. A thick pine forest covered the hillside on the opposite shore. The river ice buckled and broke. Great fissures cracked open beneath the man’s feet.
Jack stood up and let out a low growl. Grace held a hand down to quiet him.
“Shhh, Jack. I’m here.”
Jack continued to grumble. He was staring at something out of Grace’s sightline. The fur on his back rose and he barked loudly. Grace pulled off her headphones and turned around.
Jessica stood ten feet away. She was bundled up in a coat and hat. She’d worn makeup to disguise the puffiness around her eyes, but the color she’d applied to her cheeks and lips couldn’t hide her weariness.
She asked if Grace felt like going for a walk.
* * *
Forsaking the more popular spots, they drove to a lonely trailhead near where the river slipped slow and wide across the open land. A cold wind swept across the rocky shores and wide valley. Grace parked her car in the empty lot and stepped out onto the gravel. Other than commenting on the weather and asking Grace about how her preparations for the art show were going, Jessica had barely said a word during the ride from campus. Grace filled in the silence as best she could, prattling on about how she’d spent all of the previous day and most of the night in the art studio. Grace hadn’t felt it necessary to admit that she’d been too afraid to go home. Facing Lara was still something she was hoping to avoid. Short of moving into the art studio, she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage getting away with it for much longer. It seemed a confrontation was inevitable.
Jack shot off toward the river as soon as Grace opened the back door. It was his second walk of the day and it seemed he wasn’t going to waste it.
“I’m sorry I caught you in the middle of working,” said Jessica. “I imagine it’s been difficult to find time to get anything done.”
Grace lied. “It’s okay. I needed a break.”
They walked across the uneven river stones, their arms held wide like puppeteers. Jack was running up and down the shoreline barking at a herd of elk that had gathered under the trees on the opposite bank. They eyed him with thorny impatience.
“I want to apologize,” said Jessica. “I can only imagine how awful that night was for you. It’s not like me to do things like that. I’ve always been so steady.”
“You were in a bad way. It’s lucky I was there.”
“I still shouldn’t have put you through that. You must think I don’t have anyone I can go to.”
“Jessica, I don’t regret being there,” said Grace.
Jessica was too upset to speak so she only nodded.
“Why did Hannah stay away for so long without calling you?” asked Grace.
They jumped a narrow tributary and continued eastward along the river’s banks. All that was visible of Jack was his long tail. It stuck up through the tall tawny grass like a periscope. He was digging for something. Red earth pelted the air.
“Hannah was snowed in up at the cabin. It’s isolated and has no phone or Wi-Fi. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have thought anything if she was out of touch for a few days.” Jessica saw the look on Grace’s face. “The police have cleared her of any involvement. She didn’t set that fire.”
“It just seems odd that you’re so close but she doesn’t get in touch for days.”
“There have always been long gaps. She is, or rather was, married.”
“I just feel that if you’re a couple you should stick together.”
“We don’t really work like that,” said Jessica.
“Has she spoken to you at all about what happened?”
“A little. It’s difficult for her. She’s lost everything.” Jessica hesitated. “I’m hoping we can build something new together.”
“You don’t seem very confident.”
“We’ve never been a proper couple before. I’m not sure how she’ll manage being out in the open. Sometimes I felt she hid me away because she wasn’t sure about being with a woman.”
Grace threw a rock into the churning water. “Did you know about the Polaroids?”
Jessica was looking up at the sky. “It’s not going to rain again. This feels like snow.”
Grace repeated the question.
“Hannah only mentioned them in passing,” said Jessica. “She said the police had found some photos that belonged to Peter.”
“He’d been taking photos of naked women.”
Jessica picked up a handful of stones and sifted through them, dropping the ones that weren’t flat.
“He really was an asshole.”
Grace started crying. “Some of the women were my friends. They don’t remember anything. Lara brought the photos to Hannah a month ago. She did nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hannah told the police that she couldn’t believe Peter would do something like that, but I don’t trust her. I think she was worried about her and Peter’s reputations. She only cares about herself.”
Jessica sat down on a fallen tree. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”
“There are dozens of women in the photos. The police said they were taken in a basement room at the house.”
Jessica had lowered her voice so much that Grace had to lean in to hear her.
“She’s being interviewed by the police again today,” said Jessica.
“About the photos?”
“No, I don’t think so. Something has happened to Cornelia Hart. It sounded bad.”
“Who is Cornelia Hart?”
“Their personal assistant. She’s missing. They think she’s been harmed.”
“Are you going to say something to Hannah about the photos?”
“That and other stuff. It’s going to be a difficult conversation.”
* * *
“I was hoping I’d be gone before you got home,” said Lara.
Jack sat in front of Lara and wagged his tail while Grace tried to look anywhere but directly at Lara. The entrance to their apartment building was crowded with Lara’s stuff. Hastily packed, her life spilled out of bags and boxes. If Grace had stayed at the studio another hour she could have missed this final encounter entirely.
“I’m going home for a while,” said Lara. “My parents are picking me up.”
“I’m surprised the police are letting you leave town.”
“I haven’t asked them.”
“That’s just like you.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Lara.
Grace looked over Lara’s shoulder. All she could see of their neighbor Sandra was a pair of high-heeled boots. She was standing on the stairs, no doubt listening to
every word. Grace raised her voice.
“Taylor is dead because of you,” said Grace.
“Don’t blame that on me. It wasn’t my fault.”
“She had a right to know about those photos. She may have handled things differently with Peter if she knew what happened. She could have gotten help.”
“We don’t know what went on in that house on the night of the fire.”
“We can make a good guess. We know what Taylor was capable of.”
“You think Taylor killed herself and Peter? Where are the stolen paintings then? She couldn’t have done both.”
Grace didn’t have an answer.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lara. “Haven’t you worked that out yet?”
“When were you going to tell Pippa that she wasn’t crazy?” asked Grace. “She’s been in Wisconsin all this time knowing, but not being able to prove, that something horrible happened to her.”
“It happened to me too, Grace.”
“Yes, it did, and it’s great that you decided to deal with it your own way but there were other people involved.”
“I didn’t think anyone would believe us.”
“You found photos of thirty-two different women. You know damn well that the police would have believed you. You just couldn’t risk letting the world know that Peter Granger was a monster. All you cared about was your own ambitions. You’re just like Hannah. No wonder you loved the same man.”
Lara was clear-eyed but Grace was in tears.
“You just don’t give a shit, do you?” asked Grace.
“I didn’t love him.”
“Is that really all you’re taking from what I just said?”
“I know you’re angry right now but I hope you can forgive me someday.”
“How can I ever forgive you when you’re not sorry?”
Lara crossed her arms. “Clare is devastated. Do you really think it was better that she saw the photo?”
“Yes, I do. She said as much. She now knows her problems weren’t all in her head.”
“Why is everyone so keen on being a victim? You all just wallow in it.” Lara pointed at Grace. “You pretend you’ve moved on from your past but anytime you can’t cope with something you blame it on shit that happened years ago in Collier.”
“I was coping just fine until you told Peter who I was.”
“He could have helped you if you let him.”
“How was his next bestseller going to help me?” asked Grace.
“He would have given you a voice.”
“I already have a voice. I don’t need some man giving me one. Especially not a man like that.”
“Your little paintings aren’t going to make a difference. Peter would have taken your story to the world. Everyone would have known what you went through.”
“Why would that be a good thing?” Grace placed a hand to her chest. “These are my issues. I get to choose how to deal with them.”
“Then make a choice and get on with your life.”
“Give me your keys?” said Grace.
“I may come back.”
Grace held out her hand. “You won’t come back here. Give me the keys.”
Lara handed Grace the keys to the apartment. “I’ll make sure the rent is paid until you find someone else.”
“That’s the least you can do.”
Lara softened her tone. “Grace, your friendship is important to me so I’m going to walk away but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I meant right by Clare, Pippa, and Taylor.”
A phone rang and they both turned to the stairs. Sandra wasn’t alone. Three other tenants had joined her. Grace held tight to Jack’s leash and walked toward them. They moved to the side. Sandra touched her arm as she passed by.
19
Sunday
Chad Nelson had the most beautiful copper-colored hair Macy had ever seen. She was tempted to say something but stopped. He was a teenager, not a child. He didn’t need a woman in her mid-thirties telling him his hair was pretty. He stood next to his father in the police department’s waiting room. They both shook Macy’s hand when she came to greet them. Chad’s handshake was firm and he wasn’t afraid to look her in the eye. Both were good signs.
“I’m sorry for dragging you away from a weekend with your grandparents, but this really couldn’t wait,” said Macy.
Chad’s father was understandably wary. “The officers that came to see us yesterday evening didn’t seem to know what this was all about. My ex-wife said it had to do with an errand Chad ran.”
“That is correct,” she said. “The officers should have also told you that I would have been happy to meet with you in Missoula, but I guess they didn’t get that message. Anyway, I do appreciate you coming back to Bolton on such short notice.”
Macy led them into a conference room and offered them coffee and juice. She was grateful someone had thought to pick up some pastries as well. At the moment she was running on an empty stomach and five hours of sleep. She’d left Luke and Aiden the same way she’d found them the night before, sleeping soundly. Aiden had stirred, mumbled something about getting up for a quick breakfast with her, and immediately dozed off again. She’d tucked the covers around her son and her boyfriend and kissed them both good-bye. Outside, frost covered the rooftops and the previous night’s puddles were frozen solid. Macy’s breath had been thick in the air.
Alisa came into the conference room and stood close to Macy so she wouldn’t be overheard.
“Just got a call from Helena. They’ve confirmed it was Cornelia Hart’s blood,” she said.
Macy kept her expression in check. The last thing she needed was for Chad to get any more anxious than he was already. The news was troubling, but she made it sound as if Alisa had just told her she’d won the lottery.
“That’s great news. Thank you for letting me know,” said Macy. “Alisa, why don’t you join us as well. It will save me from having to brief you afterwards.”
Macy smiled up at Chad and Ted Nelson. They were both taller than her and Chad didn’t appear to be anywhere near his full height. He was also physically awkward. She asked them to please have a seat and watched as Chad struggled to fold himself into the chair.
“Chad, I want to assure you that you’re not in any trouble. I’m going to show you a video and once you’ve seen it, I want you to tell me whether it is you in the video.”
Macy turned her laptop so Chad and his father could watch the security-camera footage from the print shop.
“On Thursday a teenage boy fitting your description went into Print Works on Woodstock Road and picked up a job that had been ordered online. He paid cash and left on a bicycle. Can you confirm this is you in the video?”
A blush crept up Chad’s neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
Macy turned off the video and moved the laptop to the side. She folded her hands on the table in front of her.
“Have you ever heard of a man named Peter Granger?”
Chad’s father blanched and Macy threw him a warning look. “I really need Chad to answer.”
“He’s the writer they’re talking about on the news,” said Chad.
“Have you ever met him?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I understand people hire you for odd jobs. Is that what’s going on in this video? Did someone pay you to pick up an order at Print Works?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave his father a worried glance.
His father reassured him. “It’s okay, Chad. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Why don’t you walk me through what happened?” said Macy.
“I was at the library putting up flyers on the bulletin board for a concert. I guess he must have seen me. He came to talk to me when I was getting my bike.”
“Did he give you his name?”
“He told me to call him Mark. He said his car was broken down and asked how much I would charge to pick up something at Print Works for him.”
“Do you think you can describe him for us?”
Chad hesitated for the first time.
“How about I ask you some questions to get you started,” said Macy. “Was he white or black?”
“Oh, he was white.”
“What about his height and build?”
“He was tall and thin.”
“You’re quite tall. Was he taller than you?”
“Yes.” His face lit up like he suddenly remembered everything clearly. “He had a thin face. He had on sunglasses and a baseball cap so I can’t tell you much more.”
“What about clothing? What was he wearing?”
He raised his voice slightly. “It was a Chicago White Sox hat and a black jacket. Does that help?”
“It certainly does. Did he have an accent?”
Chad shrugged. “Nothing weird like that. He actually seemed really nice.”
“What happened after you went to Print Works? Did he tell you where you were to meet afterwards?”
“No, he gave me his phone number and some cash and told me to call him when I was finished and he’d tell me where to meet him. But right after I picked it up there was already a text from him telling me to go to 18 Addison Road.”
“Do you still have his number?”
Chad pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and scrolled through his recent calls.
“It’s this one,” he said.
Macy reached for his phone.
“Do you mind? I need to write it down,” said Macy.
Macy handed a sheet of paper to Alisa and told her to run a trace on the number and find out what she could about the residence.
“What happened when you went to Addison Road?” asked Macy.
“He wasn’t there, but he’d left a note on the door asking me to leave the printouts on the porch behind some plants and said my money was in an envelope under the matt.”
“Did you see him again?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Did you keep the envelope?”
Chad made a face. He touched his chin. “Actually, it might be…” He shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure I threw it away.”
Silent Rain Page 25
