Authors: Rebecca Forster
“But wait. Go back. Daniel knew all along that Xavier had been released?” Hannah asked.
“He made a big stink about not getting the letter, but he had. I can’t believe I bought his outraged act,” Archer said, disgusted that he had been so easily duped.
“But how did he find Xavier once he was out?” Josie asked as she moved into Archer. She was shivering partly from the wet-cold of the fog and partly because of the memory of her ordeal.
“He went in through the back door and offered to conduct a psychiatric examination of Xavier before he was released. He told the prison health officials that he wanted to help Hernandez acclimate once he got out. Daniel asked that they advise him of where Hernandez would be living and his medications. That was one thing Cuwin Martin actually did right. He sent all that information to Daniel and then forgot about Xavier. Cuwin figured he was taken care of.”
“God, that was smart,” Josie muttered. “Daniel never showed up on the visitor’s list but he had access to Xavier.”
“I still don’t get it.” Hannah turned toward them. Her fingers were tapping, but not as frenetically as they had in the last few days. “Daniel was doing okay. People had forgotten about what happened.”
“He hadn’t forgotten,” Josie answered. “Neither had Isaiah Wilson or Peter Siddon.”
“So Daniel just took advantage of everyone and nobody figured it out.” Hannah raised her green eyes and Archer almost smiled. She had an amazing way of boiling things down.
“Yep,” Archer answered. “We all cut him slack because he was on the list. Problem was, he made the list. He played us every step of the way.”
“Is the lady who worked for him going to get arrested?” Hannah asked just as Max tired of looking over the wall. He got down on all fours, turned a few circles and curled up at her feet.
“Gay? No. He used her, too,” Josie said. “She was in love with Daniel and was so impressed with his compassion. Gay made the calendar with the pictures on it because Daniel told her it would help Xavier remember his past. He never told her who was in those pic. . .” Suddenly, Josie lost interest in what she was saying. She nodded toward the street. “Look.”
A contingency of officers on horseback was making its way slowly and solemnly down the street. Looking majestic and ghostly, they cut through the fog that muffled the clopping of the horse’s hooves.
“Liz would have loved this,” Archer noted.
“She deserves it,” Josie said.
“She deserved better,” Hannah sighed. “But I know she’s seeing it all.”
Josie smiled and dropped her hand from Hannah’s shoulder. Given all the things that had happened in this girl’s life it was amazing she still had that kind of faith. That Hannah couldn’t pinpoint where her faith lay didn’t matter. She simply accepted that it was there as her mind went back to Gay and the choices women make.
“How could Gay be so stupid?” Hannah insisted.
“How could she not?” Josie laughed. “Daniel convinced her he loved her. When he signed over the red Toyota to her and registered it to his address, she thought he was getting ready to make the relationship permanent.”
“She sold out for an old car?” Hannah said. “That’s lame.”
“She just heard what she wanted to hear.” Josie shook her head in solidarity with that woman. She and Gay had a lot in common. During Hernandez’s trial, she thought nothing of using words that would be interpreted to suit her defense rather than discover the truth. It was a game; it was a challenge; it was wrong.
“We all did the same thing,” Archer admitted. “I just thought he was a buffoon. I’m so sorry, Jo.”
“No worries,” she assured him before her gaze encompassed Hannah and Max, too. “I’m home now. We all are.”
Archer kissed her, pulled her back into him, and wrapped his arms around her.
“I hope Gay realizes how lucky she is. Her fingerprints were on the photos and calendar, her car was at the pier, he drove her car to Erika’s house. Daniel could argue that she was jealous of Erika and wanted vengeance on Josie for hurting the man she loved.”
“He might even have killed her if he thought he needed to,” Josie noted.
“It sounds stupid,” Hannah said.
“It sounds crazy,” Archer agreed, “but it was also kind of brilliant when you think about it. He averted any suspicion by admitting he was near the pier with his bike group the day Josie disappeared. I never asked if he finished the ride – which he didn’t. He veered off, hid out in the underground parking garage and waited for Hernandez to meet Josie. Once contact was made, he went up to put the list in the Jeep – that’s when he ripped his bike shorts - then hustled back to the parking garage to act as a Good Samaritan. He helps Hernandez get Josie in the car, locks the bike, drives Xavier back to the storage unit, switches to his own car and takes off with Josie unconscious beside him. He comes back later and loads the bike in the SUV. The Toyota is at his place where Gay can get it if she needs it, and she’s none the wiser. She was used to them switching off cars by this time.
“Next it’s Erika’s turn,” Archer continued. “Daniel has Xavier handle the wine glasses, drives to her place alone, somehow talks his way in, they have a drink, he plants the glasses in the trash, and that’s it. He’s back in the office by the time I burst in like an idiot. There were so many things that should have tipped me off.”
“Maybe your radar wasn’t working because you were worried out of your mind,” Josie chuckled.
“Who told you that?” Archer murmured and pulled her closer.
“But why did you go to the pier in the first place?” Hannah asked Josie.
“I’m assuming Xavier called,” Josie said. “I would have met him if he asked because he had been a client. I probably would have met Daniel if he called. The truth is, I don’t remember anything other than waking up in that building.”
“What was Daniel going to get out of all this?” Hannah pressed.
“Star status. He would be given credit for rescuing Josie and Erika before Xavier killed them,” Archer answered. “And the two women he hated most in the world would live out their lives beholden to him.”
“But when he panicked and killed Erika, his plan changed,” Josie said. “He had to leave me where I was. Then Liz called about Xavier, and Daniel thought he was home free. If Xavier died, everyone would assume he took the secret of our whereabouts to his grave. Daniel would simply be back where he started. No harm, no foul.”
“What about Peter Siddon and Reverend Wilson?” Hannah insisted.
“Someone had tipped the local authorities to Siddon’s history. He thought it was me. Reverend Wilson? That poor man just never got over his daughter’s death. My disappearance gave him reason to resurrect her memory and broadcast his grief. Everybody blamed me for ruining their lives.” Josie put aside her tea and looked over at the procession. “I’ll never stop blaming myself either.”
“It was a long time ago, Jo,” Archer said, kissing her lightly, breathing in the scent of her hair. “You did what you were supposed to do. You were just smarter than the rest of them.”
Hannah looked over at Josie and their eyes met, but Josie really wasn’t seeing Hannah when she said:
“No one should be that smart.”
With that, she turned to watch the hearse carrying Liz Driscoll’s body disappear into the fog.
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Prologue
He hung his head out the window like a dog on
a Sunday drive. The whipping wind roared in his
ears and slicked back his long hair, baring a wide
high forehead. His eyes narrowed, squinting against
the force of hot air hitting his face at 75 miles an hour.
Sinister. That's how he
looked. Like he could
take anyone down.
Women could fall at his feet and he wouldn't
give two cents even if they were naked.
That's the kind of man he was.
But if they were naked, he'd give 'em a grin for
sure.
"Hah!" he laughed once, but it was more of a
shout, just to make sure he was still alive and kickin'.
He was feeling neither here nor there. He had
a woman. She didn't make him happy. Thinking
about her, he stepped on the gas and the ribbon
of road blurred, turning molten under his wheels.
The asphalt was hot as hell; still steaming though
the day had been done for hours.
Hot! Hot! Good when you’re with a woman, bad when
you're in the desert.
Lord, that was funny. True things were the big
gest kick of all.
But damn if this wasn't the most lonesome strip of land in all New Mexico and him a lonesome cowboy ridin' it on the back of some hunkin' old steed. Cowboys were the good guys. Had a code to live by guns to carry. And cows and horses, they just needed a stick in the ribs, a kick in the rear to get 'em going. No need to talk. No questions. No answers.
Do you feel happy? Sad? What are you feeling now? Good. Good. You 'll be going home soon. Do you feel anxious? You're so quiet. Do you feel? Good. Good.
He was hot like a stovetop. Hot like a pot about to boil and damn if he wasn't sitting right on the burner, all these thoughts in his head making his lid start to dance. He'd blow the top of his head right off and out would tumble all those good jokes, and lines that would make women weep. Hot damn. Make 'em weep.
He shook his head hard and wrapped one hand tighter around the steering wheel while he pushed farther out the window, head and shoulders now. The old car swerved but he got it back on track, straight on that dotted line.
He loved those dotted lines. Man perforating the world. Tear here. Send the part with him on it back for a refund.
He shook his head like the dog he was pretending to be. His lips went slack and he heard them flapping, even over the noise of the wind. What an ugly sound and he wasn't an ugly guy. So he turned into the wind and it blew his head empty. When he turned it back, the hot air ran straight at him and made his eyes tear.
Life was wonderful again. Television was a blessing. Doctors cured themselves of cancer with a thought. Smart and fancy women could be had with a smile and a wink.
Damn, life was good.
It had taken a while but he was cookin'. He was the most scrumptious thing on the
menu.
"Whoeee!" he hollered, and the wind lashed
that sound around and threw it right back at him
as he hung his head out the window. He pulled it
back inside just a snail's trail before the semi
whizzed by.
He thought about that close call and making
love and a cigarette all at the same time. The close
call was past so he tossed aside the image of his
head rolling around on the asphalt. His lady was
a pain in the ass; thinking about her was idiotic.
The cigarette, though, he could do something
about that.
Two fingers burrowed into his shirt pocket. He was already tasting that first good drag and swore
he could feel that swirly smoke deep in his lungs.
But the pack was empty and crinkled under his
fingers. His smile was gone. He didn't feel like hol
lerin' anymore.
Two hands slapped atop the steering wheel and
he drove with his eyes straight forward on the
lonely road. He just wanted one lousy cigarette.
But anger wasn't right. He plastered a grin on
his face. The new him. New and improved. He ac
celerated down the four lane, singing at the top of
his lungs in a voice that he was almost sure didn't
belong to him. It was too smooth.
Smooth like the turn of the wheel, the slide of
the stop he made four miles down. He was still
singing when he palmed the keys and unwound
his long legs, and stood like a rock 'n' roll god in
a pool of fluorescent light at the Circle K convenience
store.