Cindy’s mind raced. “The end of March?” She didn’t remember Clint mentioning anything about spending a day with Al in March. She reviewed Clint’s schedule in her mind again. He’d gone to a conference in Washington, D.C. during a week-end in March. Other than that, he’d been with her. She’d had no idea that Al had been at the conference as well.
“Oh yes,” she said, “I remember, the conference in Washington, D.C.”
“In Boston,” Al repeated, “the end of March. We didn’t go to a conference, just had a great time.”
“Very easy,” she replied. She had no intention of letting him know that she knew nothing about it. Or that all kinds of lies were piling up fast.
“We went to the Grande Hotel. He must have told you.”
“Of course,” Cindy said. “There are just so many details to think of now.”
“Sure,” Al said. “Really, I’m sorry.”
Clint never told her he was going to the Grande Hotel with anyone in March. Despite the warm sun overhead, a long chill went through her spine.
Al knew Clint since they were kids. Cindy suddenly wanted to ask him about Heather Krane, but thought better of it. If she told him about the photo, it would spread all over town. That was the last thing Cindy wanted.
“I knew Clint for such a long time,” Al said then.
“I’d love to learn more,” Cindy said. “It’s natural to want to know about Clint’s life when he was young and growing up.”
“Of course it is,” Al said, “It makes you feel closer to him now.”
“Right,” Cindy said. “I only knew him a year before we married—”
“We all know that,” he interrupted. “No one could get over it. That family of his, they’re an interesting bunch. And Clint was their golden boy. They didn’t take too well to his girlfriends. Not a one of them. The guys always joked about it. We couldn’t believe they actually let him get married. We heard that you and Marge got along great.”
Al put his towel down and started stretching.
Clint had probably told him that. It was Clint’s favorite fantasy. She’d tried to tell Clint how hard his family was on her, but he couldn’t hear it, always thought they were getting along great. Cindy had thought it wouldn’t matter so much, once she and Clint were married. She couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been.
She was relieved when Al left and she could sit alone and figure out what had just happened. He and Clint had been in Boston for a day in March? What in the world was he was talking about? She ruffled through the few past months in her mind again. There was no question, Clint had only been out of town once, at the end of March to a conference on offshore drilling in Washington, D. C. He’d written a paper to present at it .
Something was terribly off. She got up from the rock, brushed herself off, and started back, eager to check Clint’s records and calendar. There had to be receipts from the trip, notes, memorandums. It was part of Clint’s job.
The minute she got home she went right into his office.
It was amazing to see how much stuff was packed into Clint’s drawers. There were also plenty of files in the unopened boxes in the back of the room that hadn’t been sorted out yet .
As Cindy ruffled through Clint’s papers she found different calendars from years gone by, all crumpled together. She put them in another pile, shocked at how messy everything was. She kept her records clearly and simply. When something was over, she threw it away. Her calendar was for this year only.
She waded through one calendar of his after another and finally, dug out the one for this past March. The conference in Washington, D.C. was written on it. Cindy sighed a sigh of relief. But then her eyes were drawn to the bottom of the page. There was a note in red ink that said his presentation had been cancelled. Cindy gasped. He’d never told her that. She scoured through this page and others to see any mention of Boston, or the Hotel Grande. Not a word. She was sure that Clint was gone that week-end, though, and that he told her he was going to the conference in Washington, D.C.
Cindy sat back in the wooden chair and put her head in her hands. A sharp pain ran through her right temple. There was no doubt about it, Clint had lied, perhaps again and again. She was suddenly frightened to go further. What else she would find? More than anything in the world, she had trusted Clint completely, and told him so many times. He’d smiled when she said that.
“You can trust me with everything,” he’d said. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Was she an idiot? She felt as though she hadn’t really known the man she married. Had he been living his life on a slippery slope?
She got up for a moment, went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. It was easy to doubt everything now, to be afraid to trust her judgment ever again. But Cindy refused to. There was definitely a part of his world he was hiding, but she didn’t know why. Maybe he needed some time away with his friends and didn’t know how to ask for it? She had to be careful before thinking the worst. She had to be tough with herself now. It was time to gather facts. She had to see where the silver thread really lead her. This was no time for playing head games.
Cindy would have to go over every paper of his, see how he lived, what he was up to, what he had to hide. And who would have wanted him dead . She couldn’t wait until Ann got out of the hospital. Too much was happening too fast. But first, she had to see Heather in person. And she had to do it today.
Chapter 11
Cindy, in Clint’s small car, headed to Philadelphia. She was determined to meet Heather face to face. She needed to know whatever Heather could tell her.
Before she left, Cindy had dialed Heather’s number, just to see if she was there. A light voice had answered.
“Hi, who’s there?”
Cindy had hung up. She was there, she was home. That was all Cindy needed to know.
The drive was quick and easy. The car almost flew on its own. When she got down to Philadelphia, she checked the map and followed the streets that curved around until she found Heather’s block .
Heather lived in a three story brownstone on a residential, tree lined street. Cindy pulled up and parked right across from her house. She’d planned to get out of the car as soon as she got there, go to the door, ring the bell and introduce herself . But suddenly she thought better of it. Cindy had no idea how Heather would react. She could close the door in Cindy’s face. If Cindy refused to leave, she could call the police. Cindy couldn’t risk that. She had to confront Heather in person, show her the photo, ask her about it directly.
It was just about lunch time. Cindy decided to wait in the car, across the street, and keep her eye on the brownstone until Heather came out. Cindy was prepared to sit there and wait all day, or even all night long if need be. When Heather came out, Cindy would follow her in the car, see where she went. At the perfect moment, when Heather was alone, Cindy would get out, go over to her, and show her the photo.
After about half an hour of watching the house, Cindy began to wonder what would happen if Heather came out surrounded by friends? They might all be going to lunch. And, when Cindy did confront Heather, what if she couldn’t get her to talk? It was also possible that she would lie. Cindy was convinced she was sharp enough, though, to pick up on that.
Cindy turned on the radio. The station was playing oldies. She flipped to another station, news. Restless, Cindy turned it off . Just at that moment, the door to Heather’s brownstone opened and out she came, with a little boy in a stroller. She carefully pushed the stroller down the front stairs, one step at a time. It was shocking to see her in person, like this. Just as in the photo, she was tall and beautiful. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, she seemed happy and carefree, going about her normal day.