Ethan entered the dark, smoke-filled bar and sat down at their usual table. Martin hadn’t yet arrived, but that was no reason to wait on their order. “Same as always,” he told the waitress. She brought him a pitcher of beer.
He finished his first mug quickly, and, after pouring his second, saw Martin come in. He nodded—the only indication that he recognized his friend—and then saw that Martin wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him.
She had a flat, narrow face and a pointy nose. A long purple dress ran from her shoulders to her ankles; it was loose and buried under a coat, so he couldn’t tell what sort of figure she had.
“This must be the famous Ethan Lancaster,” she said when she sat down.
“I take it you’re Diane.”
She nodded. Martin pulled a third chair over. Then, with all three crowded around the two-top, he shrugged an apology in Ethan’s direction. “She wanted to meet you.”
She stretched a hand over the table, waited until Ethan shook it. “I did, indeed. I like to meet all of Martin’s friends.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I have to make sure he’s not cheating on me.” She laughed like she’d made a joke—nobody was fooled. After the laughter had died away, she lit a long, skinny cigarette.
Before Ethan could respond, a mug appeared on the table in front of Martin’s fiancée. She looked over her shoulder, made a face at the waitress who had brought it. (Diane thought she was too attractive to trust, Ethan suspected.) “You can take this away. I’m not going to be having any beer. . . . Bring me a merlot instead.”
The waitress snatched up the mug and walked away without asking any specifics.
“That was rude.”
“Honey, I think it’s just that most people in this place don’t order wine.”
“That’s still no excuse.” She inhaled a long drag off her cigarette, asked Ethan how he liked working at the bank.
He lied like he had to Byron, and then made small talk until she excused herself. “I have to use the restroom.” She kissed Martin on the top of the head before she left.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing bringing her here?” Ethan said now that they were alone.
“She was getting suspicious.”
“Of what?”
“That’s just the way she is.”
“That doesn’t give her any right to come here.”
“She wanted to meet you, all right? Can’t we leave it at that?”
“Don’t bring her here again.”
“Sure. Fine. I didn’t know it’d be such a big deal.” Martin shook his head and poured himself a beer. The waitress put down the glass of wine. Suddenly, Diane was back.
That meant more small talk until she decided it was time to go home. When she did, she abruptly stopped the conversation by putting on her jacket. “It was lovely to meet you. You’ll have to come to the cookout tomorrow night.”
“What cookout?”
“At Martin’s house. . . . I know, he didn’t tell you. That’s because I just sprang it on him today. See, I was going to have it at my apartment, but I started thinking about how much bigger his house was. And he has a much nicer grill. And I knew he wouldn’t mind. So I called up all my guests and told them I was moving the location. Everybody thought it was a great idea.” Then she wandered to and out the door as if that were her goodbye.
Martin stood up in a hurry to follow. “Can you take care of the tab? I promise I won’t bring her again.”
Ethan said he would, and Martin thanked him and ran out the door.
NOW
GINA WOKE UP in a panic. Paul’s face was pale. He wasn’t moving. She slapped his cheeks, checked for breathing, and shouted for him to wake up.
All of it was useless, and she knew it, but she wasn’t thinking rationally.
Then she pushed the corpse’s head out of her lap.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”
She frantically began prying away the rocks that had sealed them in. She had to get out of the cave. She had to get away.
THEN
ETHAN TOOK A cab from the bar to Poppy’s apartment. A lot of weeks had passed since he’d last seen her—too many to count. But he longed for physical contact, something to distract him.
On the drive over, he imagined kissing her stomach to her nipples, her grabbing the headboard and moaning with passion. But the fantasy was cut short when he tried to imagine what she’d say when she opened her door.
“You jerk.” That’s what she’d say, her face twisted up tight and ugly. Behind her would be a half-naked football player. He’d be gleaming from his recent conquest, snickering in Ethan’s direction.
He shook the thought out of his head, told himself that was stupid, and decided to concentrate on the passing cars instead. He knew he’d never guess the right words to say. If he wanted to get back in her pants, he’d have to wing it.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might not be home. Not until after he banged furiously on her door.
He considered his options, slid down the wall into a seated position to wait.
“I never should have brought you,” Martin said. He was back at his house now, and Diane was standing in the bathroom, door open, unzipping her dress.
She turned on the faucet to fill the tub. “Why not?”
“It really pissed Ethan off. Couldn’t you tell?”
“I thought that’s just how he was.”
“I think he felt betrayed.”
“Betrayed? That seems a bit strong, don’t you think?” Her dress fell around her ankles, and she slipped into the tub.
Martin walked into the bathroom so he wouldn’t have to shout over the roar of running water. “You don’t know him like I do.”
“I suppose I don’t. But, frankly, I don’t see why you insist on spending so much time around him. He seems like he has, well, issues.”
I could say that about you, too, Martin thought. He knew the only reason she wanted to meet Ethan was to make sure her fiancée wasn’t cheating on her. If Martin had done so in the past, he could understand her concerns. But since the abortion she’d had in college, he’d been nothing but loyal. And, at that moment, he decided it was time she explain her suspicions.
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“What do you mean? I do trust you.”
“Please drop the games, honey. I want to know what’s bothering you. Especially since we’re going to get married.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you. I trust you completely. I trust you with my life and my soul.”
Martin shook his head with disappointment. He left the bathroom and closed the door. He wasn’t sure if she wanted privacy, but he was sure he did.
He went downstairs to the kitchen, popped open a beer. At the same time, a roach scurried across the floor.
Martin didn’t hesitate. The toe of his shoe came down on it swiftly. Its shell cracked, and an uneasy but rewarding sense of power welled up inside him.
A sharp kick into the side of his butt, and Ethan was awake. “What the hell . . .” he said, lifting his head from between his arms. He squinted from the hall light as he tried to make out the person standing over him.
“What are you doing here?” Poppy asked.
“I came to see you.”
“Do you know what time it is?”
His eyes had adjusted enough by now to see the details in her face. Clearly, she was angry. “No.” Then he looked at his watch.
“It’s three a.m.,” she said.
He pushed himself back up the wall until he was standing comfortably. “It wasn’t that late when I arrived.”
“Well, it is now. You should go home.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk. Just for a couple of minutes.”
Poppy rolled her eyes, which were buried underneath heavy pink eye shadow and black mascara. “I don’t think I’m interested in anything you
have to tell me.”
“No. Wait,” he said, before she could get her key in the lock. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I’ve had a lot on my mind. My ma almost died recently.”
“Was this before or after you snuck out on me?”
“I’m sorry about that, too.”
Poppy crossed her arms over her chest, studied Ethan for a moment. “Fine. You can come in. We can talk. But we’re gonna keep it short because I don’t want to be up all night.”
NOW
BETWEEN THE HUNGER and the exhaustion, Martin wasn’t sure how much longer he could last in the cave. But he kept these concerns to himself. Cynthia was certainly suffering the same discomforts he was and talking about them wouldn’t make anybody feel better.
When they reached their first fork, they chose a direction. Martin crammed a tongue depressor into a crevice to serve as a trail marker, and Cynthia climbed into the tunnel they had chosen.
THEN
“I KNOW I shouldn’t have run out on you,” Ethan said, once they were inside Poppy’s apartment. “But I got scared.”
“Why?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve . . .”
She sat down on the couch to take off her shoes. “Since you’ve what?”
“You know.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I was scared of waking up the next morning and seeing you look at me like—what a nice guy, too bad he’s no good in bed.”
“I would never—”
“I planned on visiting sooner, but when Ma almost died . . .”
Poppy leaned back on the couch to give Ethan her full attention. He could see her nipples pressing against her tank top. He sat down beside her. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
“No, I want to know.” The anger had dissipated from her voice.
“Can’t we just leave it with my apology?” He stared into her eyes and waited for her to respond.
A second passed. He could almost hear her heartbeat speed up.
Another second.
Her breathing was ragged. Her eyes quivered. Her lips moved like she was looking for words that she couldn’t find.
Is she ever going to speak?
Then he realized that he didn’t want her to. Anything she said could open up many more hours of conversation. And the way she was breathing . . .
Had she missed him?
Another second.
She squeaked out a syllable, but he pounced, locking his lips to hers before she could finish a single word. He jerked her tank top over her head and kissed her nipples.
He could hardly believe how easy it’d been. Only minutes ago, he had been outside her door with her staring angrily at him. Maybe she was just an easy girl.
She climbed on top of him and kissed his neck. Suddenly, all his thoughts fled. They became a tangled knot of violent passion. They had sex on the sofa and then on the floor. When he awoke the next morning to the buzz from her alarm, he made sure to kiss her and tell her goodbye before leaving.
NOW
THE TUNNEL GOT increasingly damp and narrow the deeper Cynthia and Martin climbed. They crouched low to dodge jagged rocks. Cynthia’s headlamp marched farther into the darkness with every step, yet never revealing enough to promise an escape.
After walking in silence for God-knows-how-long, Martin licked his dry lips and stopped moving.
“What’s the matter?” Cynthia asked.
“I’m tired. I need to rest.”
Cynthia nodded an okay and sat down on the damp floor. Martin did the same. The stale, empty smell of the cave mingled with the stench of their sweat, making a pungent odor they couldn’t get away from.
After several minutes of silence, Cynthia blurted out, “What’d he mean?” She blinked, and her eyelids felt like sandpaper.
“Who?”
“Ethan. When he said it wasn’t the way you had ‘talked about doing it.’”
“How should I know what he meant?” Martin shook his head with frustration. “It was just nonsense. That’s all. We’ve been down here a while now. I guess the cave has taken a toll on his psyche.”
THEN
ETHAN ARRIVED AT Martin’s for the barbecue at exactly seven o’clock. Except for someone smoking on the deck, he was the only guest there. Diane took his coat without putting down her wine, and Martin offered to show him around the house.
“I think it’s going to be a blow out,” Martin said, as he led his friend from the living room to the kitchen. “We’re going to live it up tonight.”
“Looks like somebody already is.”
“Diane? Yeah, I know. She’s been drinking ever since she got home. She doesn’t do it often, but if she does, it usually means she has something on her mind.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Don’t know yet.” Martin stopped and threw his arms out dramatically. “This, as you’ve probably guessed, is the kitchen.” All stainless steel and white tile.
“Lovely.”
Then Martin walked Ethan through the remaining rooms. He concluded the tour in the master bedroom, noting that the windows opened onto a “majestic view of my neighbor’s house.”
Ethan smiled but said nothing.
“Come on. Let’s go back downstairs, and I’ll fix you a drink.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
They turned to leave, and what Ethan hadn’t seen when he came in, he did now. Among the half a dozen photographs on the dresser was one of a family—fading and yellow. Just a couple and their child.
The man in the photograph looked—except for his long hair and mustache—a lot like Martin.
Ethan picked up the photograph to examine it. “Who’s this?”
“Mom and Dad and me, when I was real young.”
“This is the fucker who left you guys high and dry, huh?”
“Come on. Let’s go back downstairs.”
Ethan followed Martin out of the room without another comment. There was no need for one. He already knew what had to be done.
Martin introduced him to two new guests and then went to get Ethan a beer from the fridge. It was all smiles and handshakes until Martin returned. But deep in Ethan’s head, underneath the conversation, he heard the flapping of wings.
He squinted his eyebrows, concentrated on suppressing the sound, and laughed at a joke he hadn’t heard.
More guests arrived. The sun went down. Martin put steaks on the grill while Diane continued to drink. Except for her drinking, Martin thought things were going well.
Then her speech slurred, and she lost her graceful walk to a stumble. Her friends noticed, but only whispered to each other their concern.
Martin tried to reassure them that she didn’t do this often. “I mean, she’s not a lush.”
They didn’t laugh.
“All right, Diane,” he said after he’d dragged her out onto the deck. They were alone here, so he felt free to be direct. “What’s going on?”
She patted his cheek, a drunken grin stretched across her face. “We’re having a barbecue. What’d you think we were doing, silly?”
“Answer my question. I know you’re mad about something. You only do this when you’re mad about something.”
“I’m not mad about anything.” She took another sip of her wine.
“Diane . . .”
Then she wobbled toward him like she wanted a kiss, but missed his mouth entirely and started to laugh. “Hey, you want to go upstairs and fool around?”
“Diane, answer my question!”
“All right, all right.” She gathered herself together and stood as straight as she could. Her eyes glazed over with a blurry intensity. “Sometimes it’s those who are suspicious who are trusted to be least.”
“What?” Martin asked, trying to make sense of Diane’s drunk talk.
Diane laughed again, her hand shaking so much that red wine spilled out of her glass and onto the deck. Martin looked through the sliding glass door at their guests. Except for
the occasional glance, everyone seemed to be ignoring them.
He grabbed her shoulders. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you . . .” She was making him furious. Not that he knew what he would do, but—
She patted his chest. “Okay. I’ll tell you.” Then she chuckled a couple more times before she could regain her composure. “First, I have to know if you love me.”
“You know I love you.”
“I mean really, really, really love me.”
“We’re getting married, aren’t we?”
“Do you really, really, really love me?”
He said he did.
“And no matter what, we’re getting married?”
This was going to be bad, he could tell. But he answered yes anyway.
“You promise?”
“Please tell me already.”
She finished what was left of her wine and placed the glass on the railing beside her. “Here it is. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night. Trust is a very important part of a relationship. I want to start this marriage with everything out in the open.”
“Is this about Cynthia again?”
She shook her head dramatically. “No. Sort of. But it’s more about . . . me.”
“You?”
“And the pregnancy in college.” Then she turned to the railing, her cheeks bulging out like she might vomit, and froze with her head hanging over the side.
Ethan smiled and nodded at a group of people he was surrounded by but wasn’t listening to. None of Diane’s guests interested him. However, he had chosen to participate in this conversation because of their proximity to the door and the view he could get of their hosts outside.
He was trying to determine whether he could get upstairs and back before they returned. But until Diane leaned her head over the railing, their body language revealed no clear sign.
Martin put his hands on Diane’s shoulders—maybe to comfort her, maybe to stabilize her. Either way, it was the moment Ethan had been waiting for.
A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trust Page 53
