Faultlines (23 page)

“Sleep together?” Libby came up with the only palatable euphemism she could think of. “The first time was during the summer after his senior year.”

“There was more than one time?” Sandy’s voice was faint with surprise, notes of distress, outright alarm. She looked as if she’d been hit upside the head, as folks in these parts might put it.

Libby answered: there had been a number of occasions. “They saw each other steadily, whenever he was home on vacation until last summer when he was caught.”

“I don’t believe it. How could I not know? I mean, I know he was sexually—” Sandy couldn’t continue.

“Coleta initiated it,” Libby said. “She invited him in for lemonade one day when he was mowing the lawn, and things progressed from there.”

“Well, I guess she didn’t need English to make that happen, did she.” Sandy cut short a dark laugh. “Where was Travis? They always worked the jobs together.”

“Jordan didn’t mention him, and I think he would have—” As Libby spoke, she searched her mind, making sure. “I’m almost positive he would have told me. He’s pretty shook up, really scared.”

“Too scared to lie, you mean.” Sandy’s smile was brief, rueful.

“Yes,” Libby said. “He’s not the only young guy she’s been intimate with. Evidently she’s been the hot topic of a lot of so-called locker room talk around town. I suppose she still could be.”

“Jesus.” Sandy put her head in her hands.

“I know. The times I’ve met her, she seemed very shy and quiet.”

“Still waters.” Sandy smoothed her hair behind her temples. “When I think of the times Emmett and I asked Huck . . . and the attitude we got back, that blank stare as if he didn’t know what we were talking about, and the only thing Jordy kept saying was that it would blow over. How did Huck find out? Did he walk in on them?”

“Not exactly. He found Jordan’s wallet under the bed—his and Coleta’s bed.”

“Oh my God! Really? Something so—”

Stupid,
Libby finished in her mind.

“I remember when it went missing. It was a nightmare, getting everything replaced, his driver’s license, student ID, the credit cards. When I said I was concerned he’d get his identity stolen, he told me not to worry, that it had come out of his pocket when he was swimming at the lake. ‘No one’ll ever find it, Mom—’” Sandy waved her hand breezily. “It doesn’t make sense, though,” she said after a moment.

“I’m not following,” Libby said.

“Huck isn’t with Coleta because he loves her. I know that’s what everyone in town believes, but it’s an act. They’re really just using each other.”

Ruth had said this, Libby remembered. She remembered, too, the day the sergeant and Coleta had come to the cottage with Heidi, bearing the tamales Coleta had made from scratch.
Best you will ever eat. I promise,
Huck had said fondly, and Coleta had blushed. They had certainly fooled Libby.

“He’s in love with my sister, obsessed with her, actually.” Sandy set her elbows on the table. “He only married Coleta to help her get citizenship, and the fact is he only agreed to do that after her family agreed to pay him. He even told Jenna he was doing it for the money.”

“Won’t they get into trouble if INS finds out?” It was the question Libby had posed to Ruth.

“Yeah, well, Huck is like a lot of cops who believe they’re above the law, but then, I’ve lost most of my respect for him lately.” Her smile was more grimace. “Honestly, I don’t think he realized it would take this long, or be this complicated, and I don’t think he planned at all on there being a child, although I’ve got to wonder now if Heidi is even his.”

Before she could finish speaking, Sandy’s gaze locked with Libby’s. She was doing the math, Libby thought, trying to determine if there was a way Jordan was Heidi’s father.

“I think that little girl is too old,” Libby said. She remembered asking Heidi her age the day she’d come with her family to the cottage. The little girl had held up four fingers, and Huck had corrected her, saying almost four.
Four in September,
he’d said.

“I hope you’re right,” Sandy said. She toyed with her water bottle. “I remember several months ago, Jenna asked me if I knew anything about how an annulment worked. She said Huck was looking into it, that he thought there was some way to get out of a marriage through the Catholic Church even after there are kids. I told her I didn’t know, that I couldn’t imagine it.”

“Are they serious? Your sister and Huck?”

“He’s been serious about her since they were in first grade.”

“But she was married to his partner, John, right, who was killed? Forgive me if I’m prying. I don’t mean to. Augie Bright told me the story.”

Sandy said it was okay. “Everyone in town knows everyone else’s business, including mine.” She made a face. “I used to think it was charming, you know, in a
Mayberry RFD
, Aunt Bee kind of way, if you can believe that. But that was back when everything was—”

Ordinary.
The word shimmered, unspoken, in the air.

Ordinary was a sham, Libby thought, an illusion. People, most of them, didn’t have a clue that what passed for ordinary could be over in a breath, in a step from here to there. She thought of her boxwoods, broiling in the bed of Beck’s pickup. She thought of leaving. She’d done what she’d intended to do, said all there was to say, and yet, still, she remained as if glued to her seat.

Sandy said, “John and Huck were like brothers, and that’s how Jordy and Trav were. It was a real source of comfort for Jenna after John died that Travis had Jordy, but she’s always thought Trav was better, smarter, more mature than Jordy. Nothing was ever Trav’s fault.”

When Sandy paused, Libby sensed she was fishing for composure, a way to go on. She said, “It must be very difficult for you and your sister now.”

“You have no idea,” Sandy said, and her voice was thick with emotion; her jaw trembled. “The thing is, Travis
was
special. It was more than the fact that he made good grades and did the right thing. He was steady, and he had a good heart. He shouldn’t have died in such a stupid, senseless way; he shouldn’t have died at all. I don’t know how Jenna or Jordy are going to get through it, but at least Jenna has our parents. Jordy’s got no one. I mean, he has me, but he’s not talking, so—” Sandy shrugged. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Libby thought of the things she might say, that it would take time, that the human spirit could be remarkably resilient. In the end she said nothing.

“Jenna can’t stand the idea that Travis was doing anything as stupid as driving drunk, and I don’t blame her, but I can’t let Jordy go to jail if he isn’t responsible.”

“No.”

“Do you think he’s lying?”

“I want to believe him,” Libby said.

“I do, too.”

But Sandy wasn’t sure. Libby could see her doubt and how it unsettled her. “Is there any word about the girl who was injured? Is she expected to recover?”

“Michelle?” A look crossed Sandy’s expression, some odd mix of disdain and worry. Libby didn’t really know. Sandy said there was no change. “She’s still in a coma.”

If Michelle were to waken, she would settle the question of who was driving, Libby thought. Jordan must be desperate for that to happen. Libby would be if she were innocent, as he claimed to be, but he had never mentioned Michelle. Libby couldn’t decide if that was significant.

Sandy said, “Huck is like family to Jenna and my parents. They love him. I felt that way about him, too, until he started his harassment campaign.”

“But they must not like it, that he’s targeted Jordan.”

“They don’t believe that’s what he’s doing. They think he’s providing Jordy with the guidance and discipline he’s lacking at home. According to them, Jordy has a drinking problem, and I’m in la-la land, letting him get away with it. While we were in the hospital, before Travis died, Jenna even said that to me—words to that effect.”

It hurt; Libby could see the evidence of Sandy’s pain at her sister’s judgment lodged in her eyes, and like a deeply embedded splinter, it festered. “So, I’m guessing Travis was never part of this, he was never pulled over?”

Hell no.
Sandy didn’t say it, but she might as well have. “Huck is like everyone else. He thinks Travis hung the moon. But Huck’s feelings went deeper than most, you know, because Trav was John’s son. Not only was he never pulled over, he was never in the car when Jordy was. To me it’s proof that Huck’s intention all along has been to single Jordy out, to make his life miserable. But he’s always made sure there weren’t any witnesses.”

After a moment, Sandy met Libby’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine what you must be thinking, that I—that Jordy and I both have made the same mistake—it’s—”

“At least you know you aren’t imagining it.” Libby cut Sandy off. “The harassment, I mean.”

“Huck’s motive makes sense now, I guess, but I don’t understand why, with so much on the line, Jordy wouldn’t tell me or, at the very least, his lawyer, what was going on. Or Emmett.”

“The sergeant warned him not to shoot off his mouth about it, or he’d find a way to get Jordan for something a lot worse than a traffic violation.”

“Are you serious? He threatened Jordy?”

Libby nodded. “Not recently, but back right after he found out.”

“That bastard.”

“It shook Jordan. He’s always thought of the sergeant as a friend, like family, as you said.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Huck doesn’t care about Coleta—unless that isn’t behind it. Or maybe it was originally about her, but now—” Sandy’s expression seemed to lighten, as if she’d been struck by some newfound comprehension.

Before Libby could prompt her, though, Sandy gathered her things and said she had to go; she was late. Libby followed her to the parking lot, and when they reached Libby’s truck, Sandy turned to her, saying, “I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I know it can’t have been easy for you to talk to me.”

“What will you do now?” Libby asked.

“Well, one thing’s for sure, I won’t be asking for help from the cops in this town.”

“It seems to me the sergeant is risking his job. His whole career could be destroyed.”

“He may have lost sight of that.”

“You’re suggesting he isn’t rational,” Libby said.

“I don’t know. It’s all so crazy.” Sandy looked into the middle distance. “There was a witness, a trucker from Detroit, who was on 440 and saw what happened that night. At first he identified Travis as the driver, but then he changed his story. Roger hired a private detective when that happened, and while he was digging around, he found another witness, a local guy, Ricky Burrows—”

“Ricky Burrows?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I do, but—”

“When the detective showed Ricky photographs of Jordy and Travis and asked which one of them was driving, Ricky swore it was Trav, the same as the trucker.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He not only witnessed the accident, but told the detective he was almost involved in it. We need Ricky to tell the police, to be a witness at the trial, if it comes to that, but the detective can’t find him. Do you know where he is, how to get in touch with him?”

“I wish I did—” Libby loosened her gaze.
I don’t think he’s who he says he is
. Ruth’s warning from a week ago came to Libby’s mind. Ruth had heard it from the Graysons, who’d bought the parcel of land with the old farmhouse on it next door. Ruth had thought she’d already told Libby about the sale, her new neighbors. They weren’t moved in there yet full-time, Ruth had said, but already Mr. Grayson had called the local law enforcement about a man the family had found sleeping in one of the bedrooms. They’d caught the same man cooking on the old woodstove.
As if he owns the place,
Mr. Grayson had said. And in fact that’s what the man told them. He had insisted to the Graysons that they, and not he, were the trespassers. Mr. Grayson had told Ruth that the deputy who’d responded to their report of an intruder had identified the man as Ricky Burrows. Mr. Grayson had also told Ruth that around a month or so ago, they’d found a gutted hog on their property.
Exactly like the slaughtered hog you found on your property,
Ruth had said to Libby. She’d added that the Graysons believed Ricky was responsible, but when Libby asked why—why would Ricky do something so awful?—Ruth couldn’t answer.

“What is it, Libby?” Sandy prompted. “What do you know about him?”

“I’m not sure my information is accurate,” Libby began.
It doesn’t matter what his motive is. He’s not rational.
Ruth’s voice rose again in Libby’s brain. But Ruth was basing her opinion on what the Graysons had told her. It wasn’t much better, really, than the gossip they both deplored. She hadn’t repeated it to Robert, either, for the same reason. It was hearsay.

“Please tell me what you know. It could make the difference for Jordy.”

It was the way Sandy put it, in terms of what was at stake for Jordan, that pushed Libby to relate the details of the Graysons’ encounters with Ricky, but when she finished, she added a caveat. “Who knows if he’s still around there?”

“You said he’s worked for Augie Bright. I could call him and see if I could find Ricky on a job site.”

“Yes, but, Sandy, I think you should go to the police—”

“In Wyatt? No way. Huck has threatened Jordy and pressured at least one witness. If he finds out about Ricky, he’ll pressure him, too. I’ve got to get to him first.”

“I think it might have already happened,” Libby said, and she went on, telling Sandy about finding Huckabee and Ricky together at the police department in town on Monday. She repeated the bit Huckabee had said, that Ricky had finally gotten his story straight. “I don’t know what he meant,” Libby said.

“Huck got to Ricky,” Sandy said, her shoulders falling. “He’s threatened him, too, somehow; I’d bet money on it.”

“Can you go over his head?”

“I don’t think it would do any good, not with the good ol’ boy network we’ve got in this town.”

“You could go to another town. Greeley, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Sandy said, and she smiled, briefly. “I’ve got to run; I’ve left a client waiting. But thank you for this, talking to me. I’ll never be able to make up for what I did, the trouble and pain I caused you, but that was my mistake. No one should blame Jordy.”