Stride shrugged. "I've told you about Maggie. I think she still cares about me and won't admit it. She's probably a little jealous. This is about her, not you."
"She doesn't think I'm right for you."
"Did she say that?"
"No," Andrea said. "Women just know these things."
"Well, let's leave us to worry about us, and Maggie can worry about Maggie. Okay?"
Andrea nodded. She finished her glass of wine and poured the dregs of the bottle into both of their glasses, spilling a few drops on the glass coffee table. She rubbed it off with her finger, then licked her fingertip.
Stride sat next to her in the living room. The picture window, opposite the sofa, exposed a view of the city below them and the lake, darkening in the twilight. He had changed into a short-sleeved green polo shirt and old jeans. Andrea reached over, touching the thick scar on his upper arm.
"You've never told me about the bullet, you know," she said.
"It was years ago."
"So tell me," Andrea urged him.
"It was a suicide attempt," he said. "I was a lousy shot."
"Jon-a-than," she said, drawing out the syllables in exasperation. "Don't you ever give your morbid humor a rest?"
He smiled. "Okay, it was a hunting accident."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I hunted something that hunted me back."
"You're impossible. Come on, I really want to know. Please tell me."
Stride sighed. It wasn't a part of his life he enjoyed dredging up, because he had spent a year unliving it with Cindy and a therapist.
"A few years ago, I ended up in the middle of a domestic dispute. We used to own a cabin west of Ely, and the couple that owned the place near us-well, the husband basically flipped out. He was a very good friend of mine. We were close. But he was a fragile guy, a veteran, and he lost his job and his marbles all at once. His wife called me one evening, told me he was waving a gun around, threatening to kill her and kill the kids. I knew him, knew he was serious. But I didn't call for backup, because I thought that was a good way for a lot of people to end up dead, him included. Instead, I went to talk to him."
"What happened?"
"I got inside, and he pointed a revolver with a six-inch barrel at me. Biggest fucking gun you've ever seen, right in front of my face. Seems he didn't want to talk. Well, I talked anyway. I was getting through to him, too, or so I thought. I got him to let the kids go outside. A few minutes later, I got him to let his wife go outside, although she didn't want to go. So it was just him and me. I really thought I was home free. My only challenge was to make sure he didn't kill himself. But I guess I underestimated him. He pointed the gun at his head, and I shouted at him. I started forward, hands up, trying to make him stop, to put the gun down. Instead, he pointed the gun right at my chest and pulled the trigger, just like that, no warning. I was already diving. The bullet sliced through my shoulder, spun me around, threw me to the floor. And then, with that little interruption out of the way, he put the gun in his mouth and blew out the back of his head with me screaming at him."
Andrea caressed his face. "I don't know what to say."
"See what happens when you get me drunk?" Stride said. "You get me to say things that upset you."
"My fault. I pushed. But I'm glad you told me."
"Well, enough of that, okay? Do you want to open another bottle?"
Andrea shook her head. "I've got to go to school tomorrow, remember? I don't think the kids would appreciate me having a hangover."
"So how come we didn't date in high school?" he asked. It was the kind of question driven by several glasses of wine.
"I think it's because you had already graduated by the time I was a freshman," Andrea said.
"Oh, yeah. Just as well. I bet you wouldn't have given me a second glance."
Andrea shook her head. "I would have given you a second glance and a third glance."
"No, I don't think so," Stride said. "I was one of those intense, brooding loners. And you-you were a cheerleader, I bet, and in all the clubs, and with lots of boyfriends."
Andrea grinned. "Cheerleader, yes. Science club, yes. Boyfriends, no."
"Come on."
"Seriously! I got asked out all the time, but it usually didn't go beyond a first date." She cupped her breasts. "Once they figured out they weren't going to get their hands on these, they lost interest"
"Well, it is kind of like blowing out the birthday candles and not eating the cake," Stride said.
"Oh, don't pull that typical guy crap on me. I'm sure you were a perfect gentleman in high school."
Stride laughed. "There's no such thing as a sixteen-year-old gentleman."
"Anyway, you were lucky in high school," Andrea said. "You found your soul mate. You met Cindy during your senior year, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And that was that, wasn't it?" she asked.
Stride smiled wistfully. "Yes, that was that. I was hooked. Love at first sight. It really was that fast"
She snuggled closer to him on the sofa, clutching his arm. Her cat, who was sleeping on Stride's lap, looked up, offended by the interruption.
"What was it about Cindy?" Andrea asked softly.
Stride stared into the distance, where he could still picture Cindy in his mind. Over time, the picture had lost a little focus. It wasn't a close-up anymore. It was a portrait, getting farther away.
"She wouldn't let me be a loner," he said. "She teased me and poked holes in all my defenses. And she was the most spiritual person I ever met. Not so much religious, but spiritual. She helped me see the things I loved, the lake, the woods, in a new light Once I saw it through her, none of it was the same. It was better."
He looked down at the cat, which was sleeping again, unimpressed with his memories. He looked over at Andrea, still nestled against his shoulder.
She was crying.
The next morning, Dan called Kevin Lowry to the stand.
Kevin made a perfect witness, a strapping, clean-cut teenager, looking slightly uncomfortable in his white shirt and tie. He shifted and squirmed to fit his husky body into the witness stand. His eyes darted around the courtroom, nervously studying the jury and then making eye contact with Emily Stoner. He gave her a small smile of support, but Emily didn't react.
Dan quickly covered the early days of Kevin's relationship with Rachel and then moved on to Graeme.
"Kevin, we've heard testimony that Rachel's relationship with Graeme changed abruptly. They were close, and then they weren't Is that what you observed?"
Kevin nodded. "Oh, yeah. Big time. About two years ago, Rachel did a turnaround. She wouldn't go near Mr. Stoner anymore. She told me she hated him."
"Did she say why?"
"No. I asked her about it once, and she said-well, she called him something pretty harsh."
"What did she call him, Kevin?"
Kevin looked uncomfortable. "She said he was a fucking pervert."
"Did you observe Mr. Stoner's behavior during this time?" Dan asked.
"When I saw them together, he was real nice to her. Same as always. Although, I don't know, it was like he was trying too hard. Like right around the start of the school year, Mr. Stoner bought Rachel a new car."
Stride frowned. Something about Rachel's car bothered him. He remembered feeling that way from the beginning. But they had searched it thoroughly and found nothing.
"Did that make Rachel happy?"
Kevin shook his head. "No. I mean, she liked the car okay. She always hated driving that old hand-me-down from her mother. But she was sort of sarcastic about the new car. She said Mr. Stoner had to buy it for her, he didn't have a choice."
"Did she say what that meant?"