“Did Jerry ever see her again?”
“Not that I’m aware. She never came to Winthrop, that’s for certain. Something like that would have surely caused a stir.” She chuckled softly to herself. “No wonder the boy was quiet. He had a lot of family history to live down.”
“What classes of yours was Jerry in?”
“I taught him English in his junior year.”
“What was he like?”
“Like I said, he was a smart kid, but he didn’t work to his potential. He only showed up for half of his tests, so his grades were low. He sure could write, though. I had the students spend the first ten minutes of each class journaling, and I always enjoyed reading Jerry’s entries.”
“Why? What did he write about?”
“What does any teenage boy write about? Wanting to be somewhere else, mostly. Unlike most small-town kids, it wasn’t the bright lights of the city that Jerry craved. He dreamed about cruising the open road on his motorcycle and traveling to remote places. He drew some pretty sophisticated sketches of his motorcycle in the pages of his journal, as I recall.”
“Do you still have a copy?” Getting to know Jerry through his writing might be insightful. The artistic inclination could fit in with the photo-editing and steganography software they found on his computer. But any hopes he had were dashed with the wagging of the teacher’s head. Her faded red curls brushed the collar of her starched white shirt.
“Long gone, I’m afraid.”
“Anything else you remember about him?”
“Well, there was one person he was close to.” Mrs. Nelson leaned in closer, angling the book toward her for a better look as her eyes skimmed the rows of smiling faces. Her finger landed on a photograph at the bottom of the previous page.
“Lisa Cullen.”
Jackson left his perch on the wall to hover over the book for a closer look. Alex stiffened as he looked at the photograph. The hairs on his neck stood on end. The girl in the photograph looked sixteen or seventeen years old. With her long blond hair and blue eyes, she was the spitting image of Natalie Watson, minus the glasses.
“Did they date?”
“Yes, through most of their final two years. I swear that if it hadn’t been for Lisa, Jerry would not have finished high school. The only time I ever saw him smile was when he was looking at her.”
Alex stared at Jackson. You would have to be blind to miss the uncanny resemblance between the two girls. Maybe if they could find Lisa, they could learn more about Honeywell.
“Is she still in the area? We’d love to talk to her.”
Mrs. Nelson shook her head, using her index finger to poke her Coke-bottle glasses farther up the narrow bridge of her nose.
“I’m afraid not. Her parents moved when Lisa was halfway through her senior year. Jerry closed down after that.”
“Where did they go?”
“California. Santa Rosa, I think. Can’t be sure though. It was a long time ago.”
Alex traded another look with Jackson. Was Lisa part of the reason Jerry had gone to California?
“And Jerry stayed here?”
“For a few years, anyway. The garage fell on hard times, and when his uncle died, Jerry left town.”
“Thanks for your time,” Alex said. “Can I get a copy of their pictures? I’d also like whatever information you have on Lisa Cullen.”
21
Abby’s wide, frightened eyes stared up at Alex as she answered the door. Without thinking, he reached out and grazed his fingers along the soft curve of her cheek. It was meant to be a gesture of comfort, but the twist in his gut as their eyes locked served as a warning that he was crossing into dangerous territory. He dropped his hand away and followed her inside.
Joyce sat hunched on the living-room couch, Tom close at her side, a supportive arm circling her narrow shoulders. Abby perched beside him, anxiety etched into the lines of her face. Alex searched for the right words, but they wouldn’t come. With a heavy heart, he cleared his throat.
“Honeywell’s uncle owned a hunting cabin in Winthrop. We found …” Seeing the tears in Abby’s eyes, he faltered. “We found Natalie.”
“Is she?” Tom asked, in a ragged, breathless voice.
Alex nodded. Joyce wailed. Her shaking hands covered her face. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. Tom clutched her, burying his face in the curve of her back. Abby sat still as a stone, rigid with shock.
“I’m so sorry,” Alex said.
Abby blinked, her eyes huge in her pale face filled with anguish. She raised her shaking hands to cover her face. Alex rose and took a halting step toward her. He wanted to comfort her, to find some way of making this nightmare fade. But he could do nothing but stand stupidly by.
At last, Abby spoke. Her voice trembled with the force of her emotions.
“Find him, Alex,” she said. “Promise me you’ll find him and make him pay.”
All the way home, Abby’s words rang in his ears. He’d promised. It was the one thing he could do for the Watsons now.
The remnants of a fire burned low in the grate as he stepped through the front door of his house. All was quiet. Jill must have gone to bed. Draping his coat over the back of a chair, he crossed through to the kitchen and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. Neat. No need for ice or other niceties. Not tonight.
Glass in hand, he turned toward the door to the living room but then pivoted back to grasp the bottle and take it with him. Slumping into the leather chair across from the fire, Alex poured himself another three fingers of Scotch. Orange flames licked the charred logs as he heard the jingle of dog tags.
Molly approached, head down, tail wagging gently behind her. She stopped by Alex’s feet, and he scratched her ears. As if sensing his mood, she circled twice before settling at his feet.
“Hey.”
“Jesus,” he said, almost jumping out of his skin at the unexpected sound of Jill’s voice.
“Sorry, maybe I need to start wearing dog tags, too.” Her smile was wry as she settled on the coffee table. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the fireplace. She studied him with a thoughtful gaze.
“Rough day?”
“Sorry I woke you.”
He took a sip of his drink and glanced back toward the smoldering fire.
“You didn’t. How are you doing?” she asked, perching on the arm of his chair. Alex set his glass down on the end table.
Reaching around him, she rubbed his knotted shoulders. He rolled his head back, feeling the tensions in his shoulders ease.
“You know?” he asked her.
“Jackson called.”
Alex sighed. Picking up his glass, he took another long pull of whiskey.
“We found Natalie’s body buried in the snow.”
“Snow?” Jill’s fingers stilled but remained on his shoulders.
“Outside a cabin in Winthrop. That’s where we found her.”
Jill was silent for a long moment before she resumed the massage.
“How’s the family?”
“About how you’d expect.”
She leaned back. He could feel her eyes on him, and when it was clear that she wasn’t going to move away, he looked at her.
“And how are you?” she asked again.
“Just another day, right?” He shrugged, taking a drink. The words sounded hollow. False bravado at its finest.
“Yeah,” she said, taking the drink from his hand and depositing it on the coffee table. She moved off the arm of the chair and onto his lap. Her arms wound their way around his neck, and her warm body pressed against his. Her hair smelled like jasmine, and the hard, icy shell that had formed around his heart started to crack. His hand slid across her back, feeling her sharp shoulder blades jut underneath the smooth cotton tank top.
Jill pulled back far enough to tilt her face up, her lips brushing his in a gentle kiss. His body’s response was instantaneous. He cupped the back of her neck, and he kissed her hard. The horror of the day faded a
s he pulled her close. He felt his need, his hunger, rise. All thoughts of Abby were pushed aside as he pulled Jill close.
Tonight he just needed her.
22
“OMG Jill, call me,” the instant message read on Jill’s computer monitor. It was from Rachel, in the San Jose office, pinging her with what she could only assume would be news about Jamie. Jill’s heart lurched in her chest, its rhythm accelerating to double time.
Directing her gaze out the office window, she stared down at the gray waters of the ship canal below, waves crested in white peaks. The barren trees outside her window swayed, brittle branches flailing in the furious wind.
Three days had passed since she left Jamie in his icy grave. Each passing hour was agonizing as she waited for news. Surely someone had found his frozen body in the snow. Dana Evans? A neighbor? Her fingers trembled slightly as she dialed.
Rachel picked up quickly, her voice a little breathless.
“Is your door closed?”
“Yeah,” Jill said. In fact, she had spent most of the past few days canceling meetings and burying herself in work within the quiet sanctuary of her office, claiming to be under the weather.
“What’s up?” Jill asked, doing her best to adopt a light, casual tone. There was a momentary pause on the other end of the phone.
“I’m not even sure how to say this. Jamie is dead.”
Jill pressed shaky fingers to her lips, and she struggled to find words.
“What? How?”
“You know he was at his cabin in Tahoe, right? Well, he apparently slipped on the ice on the back deck and fell down the stairs. They found his body last night.”
“Was he alone when he died?” she asked. Her back was rigid, and her hands clenched convulsively around the receiver as she waited for Rachel’s response.
“Apparently so. Get this—Dana Evans found him. I told you something was going on between them.” Rachel clicked her tongue before pulling in a long breath. “Talk about freak accidents. Anyway, I thought I should let you know. The announcement is due to go out any minute, and I didn’t want you to get blindsided.”
“Thanks.”
Jill swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Her head swam for a moment, and she could see Jamie’s sightless eyes glaring up at her from his snowy grave. Her throat ached, and she struggled to draw in a shaky breath.
“You still there?” Rachel asked at length.
“Yeah,” Jill stammered. “Just shocked, you know. Never expected …” Her voice trailed off. “How does something like this happen?” She had to ask the question. The extra time she had taken to clean up after herself should have paid off, but there were no guarantees. The cold fingers of fear closed around her heart, choking out whatever guilt she might have felt.
“From what I understand, it was a freak accident. The investigation was pretty clear-cut.”
Jill could feel the pounding of her pulse slow perceptibly at the revelation. She straightened in the chair and directed her gaze out the window, watching the boats bob on the choppy water.
“Life has crappy timing, you know?” Rachel’s voice trailed off.
“How so?” Jill’s senses snapped back to high alert.
“Well, so close to his promotion and all. I mean, he had accomplished so much. Strange how life works out sometimes.”
Jill managed to say something she hoped passed for agreement. “I’d better go,” she said at last. “I’ll want to be available once the announcement goes out.” She barely heard Rachel’s response before she hung up.
Scarcely an hour later, the email announcing Jamie’s death landed in her inbox. Few details were provided. The message focused on the unexpected tragedy and expressed sympathy for Jamie’s friends and family. From an organizational perspective, the executive team would need some time to figure out the necessary changes. Jamie’s boss promised to forward the details for the memorial service as soon as he could.
Jill’s fingers rested lightly on the keyboard. She read the announcement for the third time, thinking about how ritualized the ending of a life was. All those decisions about the funeral, the coffin, the service, and the graveyard.
She closed her eyes. Unwelcome memories flooded back in a rush. Two polished coffins, one long and one short, flanked by a kaleidoscope of flowers at the front of the church. Her stepfather’s drawn face. The sidelong glances of friends and strangers cast her way. The feeling that she might suffocate in the oppressive silence of the house, left alone with her stepfather.
In the days that followed, the office was quieter than usual. Team members went on with their work, bugs were fixed, and Jill uncovered the source of the software slowdown. The project was back on track.
Early Monday morning, Jill flew to San Jose for the memorial service. Not to do so would have raised questions. The mood in the chapel was somber, and the procession of prayers and speeches passed in a blur as a deep numbness settled over Jill. Only the sight of Jamie’s younger brother gave her a jolt. He looked like a smaller, younger carbon copy of Jamie.
Staring at the front of the sanctuary, Jill didn’t think about Jamie. She didn’t think about her mother. She didn’t think about anything at all. Even Dana Evans’s wailing exit from the church barely registered.
On the way out of the church after the service, Rachel cast a sly, sidelong glance at Jill. “Don’t be surprised when Barry comes looking for you.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes, a clear sign that she knew more than she was letting on. She’d met Barry Reynolds, Jamie’s boss, a few times during project reviews but had not anticipated an audience so soon after Jamie’s death.
“About what?” she stammered.
“You’ll see.” Rachel’s enigmatic smile made Jill’s pulse skyrocket. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she stepped out of the chapel and into the California sun.
Safely ensconced back in the guest office at ZyraNet’s headquarters, Jill closed the door and tried to bury herself in work.
Staring blankly at the computer screen, her eyes strayed down the hallway to Jamie’s corner office. The door was open, and she could see the empty desk. She didn’t want to think about Jamie, but she couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in. It was the beginning and not the end of their relationship that filled her head: Jamie as she remembered him best—sharp, witty, and engaging. If only he hadn’t backed her into a corner. If only he’d been honest.
The gentle rap on the door took her by surprise. She started at the interruption. Glancing up, she half expected to see Jamie’s face. Instead, she saw Barry.
Jill forced a shaky smile. Mentally, she collected herself. Get it together, girl.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Barry said as he eased the office door open.
“I think everyone’s on edge.” Jill angled her eyes down toward the carpet, struggling to maintain her composure.
“Rightfully so. How are you doing?” Barry leaned against the doorjamb, voice warming with compassion. She wondered how many of these conversations he’d had over the past few days. Of course, none quite like this, she acknowledged. She had a special relationship with Jamie.
“I’m hanging in.”
“Good. When do you head back to Seattle?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Are you free for dinner? I know it’s short notice …”
Jill glanced up in surprise. What could he possibly want to talk about? Had Jamie shared some of his doubts about her? Did Barry know something about their relationship?
“Sure. Of course.”
“How about A.P. Stumps—say, seven o’clock?”
“See you there,” she said with a tight smile as Barry turned to go. A.P. Stumps. Of all of the places to pick, he had to choose that one. She had spent an hour waiting there for Jamie only a few short weeks ago. She wondered if the bartender would remember the scathing message she had asked him to pass on to Jamie as part of her grand exit. She sincerely hoped not.
The hostess seated
them at a table for two by the window. Jill looked over the menu, pausing as she felt Barry’s eyes on her. Her smile was subdued as she met his gaze over the top of the menu.
“How is the Seattle team taking the news?” Barry asked.
“They’re okay.” She set the menu down on the table, pausing to take a long sip of water. “It was a shock for them. For all of us,” she amended.
Barry nodded slowly. He studied her face, and she stilled herself, quelling her impulse to squirm. She kept her features arranged in a cool mask.
Fortunately, the waitress arrived just then, and they ordered dinner. She sipped the Pinot Noir slowly and waited for him to say what was really on his mind. At last, Barry spoke.
“You’ve done a good job getting the project back on track.”
“Thanks. The team has really stepped up. Feedback on the public beta has been positive, and the bug count is starting to ramp down. We’re on track.”
“Rachel said that after weeks of the team frantically reviewing code, you were the one to actually identify and fix the issue. Pretty impressive.”
“We were taking a narrow view of the problem. The code itself was fine. It wasn’t until I took a look at it from a more holistic perspective that the conflict with the antivirus software became apparent. Working around it was the easy part.”
“You’ve got good instincts.” Barry tipped his glass at her in a silent salute.
The first course arrived, and Jill picked up her fork to start working on her salad. Barry hesitated, looking at her over the rim of her wine glass. His expression was inscrutable.
“I’ve been thinking about your role.”
Jill tensed. About what, exactly? About firing her? About stripping her of her management title and making her an individual contributor on the team? Her resolution of the code issues at least showed that she still had her engineering chops. Setting her fork down, Jill met his gaze directly.
Dead and Gone Page 238
