Crooked Little Lies (16 page)

“Well, that may be true, but according to a guy I talked to in the service department, Danny or whoever it was brought you the Altima as a loaner after you called them and said you had to get to work.”

They waited through a heartbeat of silence.

“You don’t remember that,” Jeff said.

It was a statement, not a question, and his tone was flat with disappointment, an edge of disgust. She’d let him down—again.

Finally, he told her to go back to the community center. “I’ll have someone from the dealership bring your Navigator. They can switch it out with the Altima.” He said he would come, too. He was reassuring and kind, and he called her sweetheart again.

But this time she wasn’t moved by the endearment. “Okay, but I’m going to the dealership. I want to talk to Danny myself, and I’d like you to be there.”

“All right,” Jeff said. “After you get your Navigator back, if you still want to, we’ll go talk to him.”

“You’re damn right we will!” Lauren rarely cursed, but she was scared and furious, and sick of doubting and defending herself. It made her feel mean.

“We’ll go to the dealership,” she repeated, “and then we’ll go to the police. Because this is some kind of sick joke.” She took a moment, seeing the plausibility. “That’s what this is, Jeff. Some kind of prank.”

He didn’t argue; he said she should wait for him, and Lauren took strength from that. She thought he accepted her theory, that he thought it was plausible, too.

14

J
T came up to where Annie stood with the sheriff. She felt his arm come around her, felt his weight as if he might need her for support, and she was glad for it, for his presence and the relief of someone to hold her up, too, even if only for a moment. She told him about her visit to the morgue. It upset him that she’d gone.

“I should have been the one to go,” he said to the sheriff.

“I tried to call you,” he said. “You were out of range or your cell was dead.”

“I volunteered,” Annie said, and she could still feel the impossibility of saying the words
morgue
and
body
in relation to Bo over the telephone to JT.

JT pulled her closer to his side, and she turned her head, pressing her face into the soft spot beneath his shoulder, where she smelled the weariness of days spent in the same clothes, a fainter memory of his aftershave, the underscore of something sad, like despair. She thought of the gap that had existed between them for most of their years together, closed now by the zipper of calamity. Their unlikely bond was its dark gift, she thought. Tragedy’s incongruous treasure. And she was grateful for it. She thought, until Bo came home, JT was all the family she had in this world. “It wasn’t Bo,” she said, straightening. “That’s the good thing.”

JT made a noise, something between a groan and a word of assent, and lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he stood that way long enough for Annie to wonder if he was crying. Long enough for her to think that if he was, he had a right to his tears. But when he looked up, he was smiling. Not a real smile. Maybe it was intended to reassure her. She didn’t know, couldn’t quite interpret its meaning, really. It seemed grotesque, when the rest of his expression was so bloodshot and gray with exhaustion, the terrible grind of anxiety. But what bothered her more was his refusal to look at her. If their glances happened to catch, he jerked his away. She remembered when he left search and rescue—a job that had been a huge and vital part of his life, a job he’d done thoroughly and well—he’d acted the same way. Evasive, furtive. Too quiet.

What’s wrong?
Annie’s mother had asked repeatedly.
Nothing
, JT had answered.
No need to worry,
he’d said. It was the wife of one of his coworkers who ultimately told Annie’s mom that JT had quit, and when her mom confronted him, he excused himself, saying he didn’t want to burden her. He’d already piled enough on her plate bringing Bo into her life. Something like that.

He always wanted to be the good guy, the rescuer, the fixer. If he knew something about Bo now, something bad, he’d keep it from Annie, forever if he could. He’d feel he was protecting her, saving her. And it annoyed and alarmed her, the thing he might know. She didn’t need saving. What she needed from him was the truth.

He shrugged off his backpack. Annie had watched him unload the pack and check over his equipment: bottled water, a basic first aid kit, a small saw, a utility knife, a couple of heat sheets—the list wasn’t so very different from what you’d take if you were going camping—before reloading it on Monday near midnight. He still knew the drill. That’s what JT had said to her right after he said he wouldn’t quit until Bo was found. He’d stopped short of promising. Annie guessed he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“How long since you slept, man?” the sheriff asked him. “You should go home.”

JT answered he was fine, and by the way he said it, Annie could tell he had no intention of going anywhere except back out to look for Bo. In fact, despite his obvious fatigue, there was an eagerness about him, an animation that had been missing for a long while. It was as if the search for Bo had restored meaning and direction to his life. Yet another backhanded gift of calamity, Annie thought.

She said, “Before you go, I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

She looked at the sheriff, then back at JT. “I talked to a detective earlier, and he brought up Leighton.”

“The drug dealer?”

JT knew about him because Annie had told him last summer when the relationship ended. She’d been worried for herself and Bo. “Detective Cosgrove said they don’t know where he is.”

“Christ.” JT looked at the sheriff. “He’s not in Chicago?”

“We’re still checking. There’s a BOLO out.”

“I knew we should have reported that son of a bitch to the cops.”

Annie had talked JT out of it.
He’s gone
, she’d said.
That’s the end of it
. She’d pointed out that Bo had stopped using drugs.
Leave it alone
, she’d begged. And JT had listened to her.

“There’s another guy we’re looking for, an associate of Drake’s. Greg Honey?” Sheriff Audi was addressing JT. “Does the name ring any bells?”

JT said no. He didn’t recognize the man in the photo the sheriff showed him.

“You think Bo could be messed up with drugs again, JT?” the sheriff asked. “You see any sign of that lately?”

JT said he hadn’t. “But that doesn’t mean anything,” he added, and Annie’s heart sank.

Madeleine joined them and after looking JT over, she said, “You need to eat something.”

He shouldered his pack. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense,” Madeleine said. “Do you suppose you’ll be any good to that boy if you drop from starvation? Either of you?” She divided her glance between Annie and JT. “There’s plenty of hot food right here in the kitchen.” She went over the menu, mentioning Cooper’s mother’s chicken soup, Annie’s baked goods, the variety of casseroles, salads, and desserts others had donated. “Plus there are sandwiches,” she added. “C’mon, I’ll fix you a plate. You, too, young lady. You’ll feel better with some decent food in your stomach.”

JT caught Annie’s glance. “If I’m getting my arm twisted, so are you.”

But Annie said “No, thank you” and “Maybe later,” and she wasn’t that surprised when neither Madeleine nor JT argued. They were too tired to fuss at her.

Annie’s gaze followed them as they crossed the room. Madeleine disappeared into the hallway that led to the kitchen, but JT was stopped repeatedly. Some folks, the nicer, more polite ones, only wanted to offer commiseration, but others wanted news, facts, details. Watching, Annie felt pangs of distress, knowing JT found the attention as difficult to handle as she did. She would have joined him if she hadn’t heard the door to the community center open and glanced around to see Lauren coming through it, looking white-faced and shaken. A man was with her, an exceptionally tall, strongly built, good-looking man. They were having a very animated discussion.

“Lauren?” Annie went to meet her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Annie, I don’t want you troubled with it. My husband and I just need to talk to Sheriff Audi a moment.”

“No, we really don’t,” said the husband.

Annie glanced at him, and when their eyes met, his veered away.

“Lauren’s a bit wound up, is all.” He put his arm across her shoulders as if he meant to turn her and guide her back outside.

She balked, holding her ground. “Of course I am. My car’s gone. Stolen.”

“Oh, no,” Annie said. “Are you sure?” She didn’t know why she questioned it. Lauren was clearly upset. So was her husband, but not in quite the same way. Annie’s eyes collided with his again, and she realized he was embarrassed. She imagined if she asked he would say he wished he was anywhere but here. She could sympathize. As small and petty and awful as it was to admit it, sometimes Bo embarrassed her, too.

“She’s been through a lot recently,” Lauren’s husband said, and Annie knew he was referring to Lauren’s accident. His voice was rough with the history of it, the recollection of anguished hours spent pacing the floor while his wife, the mother of his children, was in the ICU, hovering between life and death.

“Don’t make excuses for me, Jeff.”

Lauren didn’t speak the words so much as bite them off, and Annie reached out to her, touching her forearm, saying, “It’s okay,” when it clearly wasn’t.

“Is there something I can help with?” The sheriff joined them.

“My car’s been stolen,” Lauren said. “I think this guy, Danny, from the dealership where it was taken for repairs, took it.”

But her husband said no, it was a misunderstanding. He introduced himself. “I’m Jeff Wilder,” he said, and he shook hands with Annie and then the sheriff. “I think Lauren is a bit confused. Her Navigator was taken to the dealership yesterday for repairs, but today when it wasn’t ready in time for her to go to work, they brought her a loaner, a Nissan Altima. She’s not much of a car person. She gets the makes and models mixed up all the time.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jeff, even brain-damaged, I think I know the difference between a sedan and an SUV.” Lauren was visibly shaking.

No one spoke. Jeff looked at the ceiling. The sheriff plowed his hand over his head.

“Where’s the key to the Altima?” Lauren asked, making it sound like a demand. “Not in my purse.” She fumbled it into her hands, and there was something sad and desperate about the way she pawed through it. “Here are the Navigator keys.” She dangled them. “But there aren’t any others.”

Jeff shot a fast-fading smile in Annie’s and the sheriff’s direction. His eyes were freighted with emotion. He seemed to beg their indulgence, their understanding. He turned his attention to his wife and her purse. “The keys to the loaner must be in there.”

Lauren dropped to her knees and after dumping the contents onto the floor, she scrabbled through them.

Annie squatted beside her. “Did you check your jacket?”

Lauren sat back, feeling in her jacket pockets, face flooded with hope that came as quickly as it went.

“Maybe you locked them in the car?” Jeff might have been addressing a child, one who was overly tired and on the verge of collapse.

Or he might have been speaking to someone who had been very ill, Annie thought, as Lauren had been. Judging from Jeff’s demeanor, his weary patience, it seemed he’d been down this road with her, or one like it, many times before.

Lauren said no in a way that seemed more a denial than a protest.

When she turned her gaze to Annie’s, her eyes were filled with pleading. They clung to Annie’s own eyes as if Annie couldn’t possibly know the scope of the disaster that was taking shape. She helped Lauren repack her purse. They got to their feet, and Annie was glad when Jeff tucked Lauren close to his side.

“Let’s go and see,” he suggested.

“At least, then you’ll know,” Annie said when Lauren looked at her.

“I’m really sorry about your brother,” Jeff said.

Annie thanked him.

“I don’t guess you’ve heard anything.” He shifted his glance from Annie to the sheriff.

“We’re looking at several possibilities,” Audi said.

The pause, no more than a heartbeat of silence, felt awkward to Annie, and she would have spoken if the sheriff hadn’t.

“You were out of town on Friday, the day your wife saw Bo?” He was asking Jeff, who looked taken aback, Annie thought, but then, she was mystified by the sheriff’s question, too.

“I didn’t leave until that afternoon,” Jeff answered. “Why?”

“Well, when the detectives interviewed your wife this morning, she said you don’t like her driving by herself, but she was alone on Friday and for the rest of the weekend. You didn’t come back until Sunday. She could have driven anywhere. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but her doctor cleared it, so—” Jeff shrugged.

“Stopping like that, for a pedestrian, it could be dangerous.”

“I’m standing right here,” Lauren said strongly, “and I’m not deaf. I didn’t go anywhere other than to the warehouse and home . . . and the farm, the Fishers’ farm,” she added, but she was frowning as if there might be other places, destinations that eluded her.

Annie couldn’t imagine it, how it would feel to lose the whole thread of your days, where you’d gone, what you’d done.

“It’s all right now,” Jeff said, hugging Lauren more firmly. “We’ll get it sorted out. Don’t worry.”

“But this isn’t—I just don’t see how I could have—” Lauren twisted out of Jeff’s embrace, and looking from the sheriff to Annie, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Annie said, because there was nothing else anyone could say. She followed them. “Lauren? Will you let me know—” She stopped, suddenly unsure of what she wanted.

But Lauren’s gaze softened in nearly the exact way Annie’s mother’s gaze used to, and Lauren did what her mother would have done—she pulled Annie into her embrace and held on to her. “I’ll be back,” she said, and her voice slipped and caught. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find Bo, okay? Don’t worry about this with the car. It’s nothing. I’m fine, truly.”

Annie nodded, watching Lauren go, feeling anxious for her. It wasn’t nothing. It was weird. It wouldn’t be so terrible if Lauren had only misplaced her car. Annie had done that a time or two, for long enough that she’d considered reporting it stolen, but if Jeff was right, if Lauren had driven another car, one the dealership had loaned her—

Well, as Lauren herself had asked, how could you forget something like that?