by Blake Pierce
She sincerely didn’t think she could get through the night without someone’s help.
It’s an emergency, she decided.
She dialed the number, and Mike answered in his smooth, pleasant voice.
“Riley? What’s wrong?”
Riley struggled to keep from crying again.
“Mike, I’m in bad shape. Something has happened, and I really can’t deal with it. Could you just talk to me for a little while?”
“I’d be glad to. But don’t you think it would be better to talk face to face?”
Riley found herself unable to speak.
“Where are you?” Mike asked.
“I’m—on the road. In a truck stop.”
“How long would it take to get to my office?”
Riley mentally struggled with the question. She could barely remember exactly where she was.
Finally she said, “Maybe an hour and a half.”
“Do you think you’ll be OK driving?”
For a moment, Riley wasn’t sure. But the sound of Mike’s voice had already calmed her down somewhat.
“I think so,” she said.
“Good. I’ll meet you at the office. I’ll be there waiting for you.”
They ended the call. Riley abandoned her sandwich and coffee, went out to her car, and started to drive.
*
It was late by the time Riley arrived at Mike’s office building. She parked and looked at her cell phone. She saw the last exchange of texts she’d had with April.
April had typed …
Will u b home for dinner?
And Riley had replied …
I don’t think so. See U later tonite.
She’d sent that last message many long hours ago. April had never replied. Was she angry, disappointed, bitter?
Maybe all three, Riley thought.
And why shouldn’t she be?
She’d spent the whole day away from home. Her work often kept her away from home. Even when she was in the house, she was often far from home, at least in her mind.
Anyway, April was probably asleep now, and so were Jilly and Gabriela.
Whenever Riley got home, she’d walk into a still, quiet house with no one to greet her, no one to give her a hug and ask how her day had been.
She’d be alone.
And Riley couldn’t help but think she deserved it.
The office building was locked up, but a button beside the door was labeled “After Hours Appointments.” As soon as she pushed the button, a buzzer released the door.
She went inside and found Mike waiting for her in his office doorway. She was surprised to see him looking as neat and dapper as usual, wearing an expensive shirt with a vest.
Riley couldn’t help but smile.
To look at Mike, one wouldn’t guess that it was late at night and long after office hours. He looked like he was in the middle of a typical workday.
They both sat down in his comfortable, softly lit office.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, looking very concerned.
Riley’s throat hurt with anxiety. She gulped hard.
“I’ve been trying to solve my mother’s murder,” she said.
Mike’s eyes widened. They had talked about the trauma of her mother’s death many times.
“Cases don’t get much colder than that,” he said.
“I know, Mike. You see, I got this weird clue from a special source, and I didn’t understand it at first, but—”
Mike interrupted her.
“Riley, hold it for a moment.”
Riley stopped, wondering what was the matter.
Mike said, “You know that I’m a stickler for doctor-patient confidentiality. But be careful what you tell me. If you’re breaking the law, or might break the law in the near future, I’m compelled to intervene. Confidentiality ceases to apply. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Mike was looking intently into her eyes. That gaze told her exactly what he meant.
He had guessed in an instant that Shane Hatcher had been the source of her information. Riley knew that it had been easy for him to guess. After all, Mike had put her in touch with Hatcher to begin with—back when Hatcher was still a prisoner in Sing Sing. Mike had told Riley that Hatcher’s expertise would be a great help on a case she was then trying to solve.
Of course, everything was different now that Hatcher was on the lam. Riley’s whole relationship with him was illegal. If Riley so much as mentioned that she’d been in touch with Hatcher, Mike would have no choice but to tell her superiors, probably Brent Meredith.
“I understand,” Riley said.
“Good,” Mike said. “Now tell me whatever you can.”
Riley suddenly had to fight back her tears.
“I found out something terrible, Mike,” she said. “My mother had an affair shortly before she died. I found the man she was involved with. I talked to him. His name is Byron. He told me all about it. He said he wanted her to divorce Daddy and marry him, but she wouldn’t.”
“That must have been a terrible shock,” Mike said.
Riley held her breath for a moment, then said, “I think maybe Daddy—did something awful.”
Mike’s brow wrinkled with surprise.
“Do you mean he might have been the killer?”
“No, he was overseas when it happened, but he found out about the affair, and Byron thinks … and now I think maybe …”
Her voice trailed off.
Mike said, “Take a moment and try to remember. Maybe when you were little, you knew that something was going on that you didn’t understand. Do you remember anything at all? Just close your eyes, relax. If there’s anything, it will just come to you. When it does, tell me about it.”
Riley closed her eyes and breathed slowly.
She began to remember a scene that had puzzled her all her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
It made no sense to Riley that the scene she was remembering had haunted her for so long. Nothing had actually happened. It was just a conversation that had replayed itself in her mind many times.
The whole thing came back to her again as she sat with her eyes closed in Mike Nevins’s office. She still had no idea what it meant.
Mike said, “Tell me what you’re remembering.”
With her eyes still closed, Riley described the memory to Mike.
“I was maybe five years old. I walked into the kitchen, and Mommy and my sister, Wendy, were talking. Wendy was about fifteen years old. Mommy was crying. Wendy kept saying, ‘Mother, please do it.’ She was crying too. ‘You’ll be much happier. I’ll be much happier. So will Riley. We’ll all be happy.’ But Mommy kept sobbing. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I talked to the chaplain. He told me why. I just can’t.’”
That was all there was to it. Why had this stayed with her for so long?
Suddenly, it was as if a light turned on inside Riley’s mind. She opened her eyes and looked up at Mike.
He said, “Now you understand what was going on, don’t you?”
Riley nodded. “They were talking about Byron. Mother told Wendy that Byron wanted her to divorce my father and marry him. Wendy wanted her to do it. She begged her to do it. But my mother couldn’t. It had something to do with something a chaplain had told her.”
In a very gentle voice, Mike said, “It was a different time, Riley. Wives were expected to stay with their husbands. And if she asked a military chaplain what to do, he’d have told her that she couldn’t leave him. He’d have said it could be a matter of life or death. Her husband was serving overseas in a combat zone. Getting news like that might get him killed. It sometimes happened. ‘Dear John’ letters were all too often followed by death on the battlefront.”
A tide of sadness swept over Riley—sadness for her mother, her sister, and herself.
“Wendy ran away not long after that,” Riley said. “I think Mother blamed herself for that. She kept thinking that everything was her fault, even
everything that was wrong with Daddy, the way he treated her and everybody else. She denied herself her one chance at happiness, but she blamed herself even so. She blamed herself right up until the day she died.”
Riley was sobbing now. She opened her eyes and Mike handed her a handkerchief.
“She could have been happy,” Riley said. “When I think about what might have been …”
She couldn’t imagine it, much less put it into words—the life she might have lived if her mother had divorced her father and married Byron.
Now there was something else she needed to say.
“I had a nightmare last night, Mike,” she said. “I was pushing people away, everyone I loved and cared about—just shoving them aside, because I thought they were standing in my way. Finally there was no one left except him—the man who killed my mother.”
“What do you think your dream meant?” Mike asked.
Riley paused. She hadn’t let herself really think about it until now.
“There might be a terrible price to pay for what I learn. I could wind up all alone …”
Her voice trailed off again, and Mike said exactly what she was thinking.
“With only the demons of your past to keep you company.”
Riley nodded.
“Riley, there’s one thing I’ve learned as a therapist. The past is gone, the past is absent. You’ve got to live in the present. We all do. The here and now is as scary as hell, for all of us, all the time. It’s the hardest thing in the world to deal with—much harder than making peace with the past. Think about your mother, consumed with guilt, dying with that burden on her shoulders. Learn from her example. You don’t want to wind up like her.”
Everything Mike was saying made perfect sense to Riley.
And of course, that was exactly why Riley had come to him for help.
Riley wiped her eyes and drew a deep breath. She felt her body relax.
“What are you planning to do next?” Mike asked.
Riley shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything more I can do—to find my mother’s killer, I mean. I’ll just have to live with the possibility that my father had something to do with her death. I’ll never really know.”
“What have you got going on tomorrow? Are you supposed to work on the Matchbook Killer case?”
“No, I won’t get back to that until Monday.”
“Then spend tomorrow with your kids.”
Riley could hardly believe how simple that sounded.
Could she really do that?
What was stopping her?
“Thanks, Mike,” she said. “Thanks so much.”
Mike smiled warmly.
“I’m glad to help. Now go on home. It’s time for both of us to get some sleep.”
*
When Riley woke up the next morning, bright sunlight was pouring in through her bedroom window. She looked at the clock and saw that it was almost ten o’clock.
Yesterday had left her so exhausted that she had woken up much later than usual.
Alarmed, she almost jumped out of bed to get ready for work.
But then she remembered that it was Sunday—and not like many other Sundays in her life. No case was pressing. She didn’t have to work today.
It was a strange feeling. She wondered if she could get used to it. She had slept hard, without any dreams she could remember. Now she closed her eyes and drifted off again. In what seemed like no time at all, she was awakened by a wonderful smell.
Bacon, she realized. Coffee.
She heard a knock at the door and April’s voice.
“Mom, are you going to sleep all day?”
Riley sat up in bed, fully awake. April came in through the door with a smile on her face and a tray full of food. April carried the tray over to her, walking carefully not to spill anything.
Then Jilly appeared in the doorway, smiling as well.
“Good morning, Mom,” she said.
Riley felt overwhelmed with gratitude.
“Thanks so much!” she told both girls.
“Oh, don’t thank us,” Jilly said. “Gabriela did the cooking.”
“But it was Jilly’s idea,” April added.
Riley could hardly believe her ears. It was such a sweet gesture from all three of them—Gabriela, April, and Jilly. She remembered how sad, guilty, and alone she’d felt yesterday—and how terribly far away from home.
It was as if her little family knew that she needed something to make her feel better.
Riley propped the pillows behind her and started to eat. The girls sat down on the edge of her bed.
“So,” Riley asked, “what does everybody want to do today?”
April’s eyes widened.
“You mean you’re taking the day off?” April asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Riley said. “So—any ideas?”
April and Jilly looked at each other, then at Riley.
“There’s a street fair in Old Town,” April said. “How about that?”
Riley remembered her curtailed date with Blaine Friday night, and how she’d seen booths and displays being prepared—all promising lots of arts and crafts and music.
“I thought that was yesterday,” Riley said.
“It opened yesterday,” April said. “It runs through today.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Riley said. “Let’s go as soon as everybody finishes eating.”
April and Jilly laughed.
April said, “Everybody else has eaten except you.”
“You’d better catch up with the rest of us!” Jilly said.
The girls scampered out of the room and Riley hastened to finish her breakfast.
*
Awhile later, Riley and Gabriela wandered among the artists’ displays while the girls dashed from booth to booth.
“Look at the bolsos!” Gabriela exclaimed, pointing.
Riley followed Gabriela to a booth displaying handmade handbags. Riley saw right away why they had caught Gabriela’s attention. They were colorfully woven in what resembled a Guatemalan style.
“Would you like me to buy you one?” Riley asked.
“Oh, I have one already,” Gabriela said.
“But it’s getting old.”
While Gabriela hesitated, Riley waved to the woman running the booth, claimed the bag, and paid for it. Gabriela smiled and said gracias two or three times. The girls came running toward them.
“Listen! Music!” April said.
Gabriela and Riley followed the girls into the large hall that Riley and Blaine had visited Friday night. Sure enough, the same band was there, playing a lively tune. The place was thoroughly decorated now, and people were dancing on the wide floor.
Just then the bandleader noticed Riley. He smiled at her, waved, and cut the song short. Then he led the band in “One More Night.”
Riley stood there smiling and blushing.
“What’s that all about?” April asked. “Who’s that guy?”
“Just a friend of Blaine’s,” Riley said.
April looked at her impishly, obviously trying to figure out what her mother was blushing about. Jilly interrupted before April could ask a lot of nosy questions.
“Hey, isn’t everybody else hungry? I sure am.”
Riley chuckled to herself. No, she wasn’t hungry. She’d had breakfast much later than the others, after all. But it only seemed fair to join the rest of them for something to eat.
They all continued walking, looking for a place to eat, and they ended up passing by Blaine’s Grill. The place was bustling with business, and Blaine had set tables out on the sidewalk. Riley felt self-conscious to be here; she hadn’t intended it.
She was relieved to see anyway that it didn’t look as though they could possibly get a table.
Riley saw Blaine’s daughter, Crystal, wandering among the tables, apparently helping out with the extra business. She suddenly spotted them.
“April!” Crystal cried excitedly.
Crystal ran from the restaurant as April ran for her, and the two hugged as if they were long-lost friends.
“What are you doing here!?” Crystal asked.
“Just walking around,” April said.
“Oh my god, you have to come sit down and eat here! I will be so offended if you don’t!”
Without waiting for an answer, Crystal turned and waved to a group of busboys, and like magic, an extra table was set up outside. The other waiting patrons looked at Riley and her group jealously as they were ushered past the long line and seated.
Riley, Gabriela, and the girls sat down.
“I’ll be right back!” Crystal said.
A moment later she rushed off into the busy restaurant, and suddenly a waiter appeared. They were clearly all getting the VIP treatment. Was it because of Crystal and April? Riley wondered. Or because of me?
“Can I take your order?” the waiter asked.
Gabriela was looking at the menu indecisively, and the girls started playfully arguing about what they wanted.
Riley remembered the delicious raspberry cheesecake she’d had on Friday.
“Just surprise us all with something sweet,” she said.
Riley noticed that Blaine himself was taking an order elsewhere. She felt a pang of sadness at how she’d left things with him on Friday. She wondered if he was still on speaking terms with her.
But then Crystal went over to him and said something in his ear, and Blaine glanced their way and waved and smiled warmly at Riley.
Maybe he’ll give me another chance, she thought.
But then something else caught Riley’s eye. A man about her father’s age was sitting at a table with his family—a wife, grown children, and grandchildren. All of them were laughing and having a wonderful time.
For a moment, the man looked just like Byron Chaney—or at least how Byron would have looked if his life had unfolded very differently. There was a woman at the table—the man’s daughter, Riley guessed—who looked much like Riley. She was smiling and teasing her father.
Riley felt a deep pang of sadness. There it was, only a few feet away—the life she might have lived.
From where she was sitting, it looked perfect—not riddled with mistakes and regrets and failures like the life she’d actually lived.
