“You could have come to me,” I said. “Told me the trouble you were in. Figured a way out of it. You didn’t have to sell us out.”
“And what would you have done?” he said. “Were you going to pull a hundred thousand bucks out of your ass? Huh?”
I shook my head sadly and said, “Why don’t you get to the part where Brie found out.”
Sixty
Jayne was in the kitchen when the phone rang.
She’d been holding one of the cordless receivers that was linked to the household landline, given that Andrew had taken her cell phone with him. She’d been hoping he’d call, tell her more about what he planned to do. He’d been vague about his intentions when he’d left. Wanted to drop by Isabel and Norman’s house to return his phone, he’d said. But she knew he had much more on his mind than that.
She suspected — no, feared — he’d gone to confront whoever it was who’d hired that man to kill Brie.
She’d wanted to think Andrew had more sense than to take the law into his own hands. She’d wanted to think he’d go straight to Detective Hardy with whatever information he had. But what she wanted him to do, and what she believed he would do, were two entirely different things. And she understood why he wouldn’t have wanted to go to Detective Hardy, who had hounded him for six years.
So when the phone in her hand rang, she thought it might be him. She hit the button and put the phone straight to her ear.
“Yes?”
“It’s Nan Sokolow.”
“Oh God, yes, yes, thanks for calling. Are they going to let you in to see Tyler?”
“I’ve been,” she said.
“How is he? He must be terrified.”
“He’s okay. Look, they have a strong circumstantial case against him, but I’m working on a strategy. An alternative way that things could have happened. That Tyler ran because he was in shock, that he thought the killer was still in the house.”
“But you believe him, right? You know he couldn’t have done it.”
“Ms. Keeling, it doesn’t matter to me whether he did it or not. What matters is that we build a credible defense for him. It’s going to take some work.”
Jayne could hear it in the lawyer’s voice, that she believed her brother really had killed Candace DiCarlo.
“But what if—”
Before Jayne could complete her question, the doorbell rang.
“I have to go,” Jayne said. Still clutching the phone, she ran to the front door, opened it, and found Detective Hardy standing there.
“Where’s Andrew?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“He took your phone,” the detective said.
“Yes.”
“And he’s turned it off,” Hardy said. “I can’t reach him, can’t track him. You must have some idea where he was going.”
“I don’t. I wish I knew.”
“Did he tell you he thought he knew who was responsible for Brie’s death?”
Jayne hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
“Did he tell you who it was?”
“No.”
“Do you have a guess?”
“No.”
“What was his state of mind when you last saw him?”
“Seriously?” Jayne asked. “A man took him into the woods and made him dig up his own wife. What would your state of mind be?”
Hardy sighed in frustration and turned to look at the street. When she spun back around to face Jayne, she said, “We have to find him. If he calls you, you have to let me know where he is.”
“Please, God, tell me you still don’t think he killed her? Tell me you’re not still after him for that.”
“No, I don’t think he’s killed anyone. Not yet. But I want to stop him before he does. I think he’s armed. I think he took the gun from that man who made him dig up his wife’s grave. We have to stop him before he does something stupid.”
Sixty-One
Andrew
Greg said, “You remember there was a while there when Brie was helping us out in the office.”
I remembered. It wasn’t the fanciest headquarters. It was an office trailer, white metal, a few windows, a basic bathroom, with all the architectural charm of a kid’s playhouse made out of a refrigerator’s cardboard delivery carton. We had leased it and set it up on a vacant lot in Milford’s west end, hoping one day to construct something more permanent. We were really busy, putting together all those bids for several jobs — the ones I now knew we’d lost because of Greg — and Brie, who was good with numbers and putting together proposals, had come in for a week or two to get us organized.
“Go on,” I said.
“We were both out at a site when a call came into the office, from one of our competitors. Dumbass called the office instead of my cell. Brie took the call. Recognized the name on the caller ID as the company we most wanted — well, that you most wanted — to beat for the Wilkins job, that auto repair shop we were going to build. Brie asked if she could take a message and the guy, flustered, hung up, but not before he’d said the meeting was all set.”
“She knew something was up,” I said. “We’d already lost the Frampton job.”
Greg nodded. “Yeah, the condo thing.” He shook his head. “Brie figured something was up, followed me. Saw me meet with the guy, saw him pass me an envelope. She, uh, she confronted me about it later. Said she wouldn’t tell you, that I had to man up, tell you myself. And if I didn’t, she would.”
“The fishing trip,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“But you had no plans to confess.”
“I... I couldn’t. And hear me out, okay? I was... I was thinking of you.”
“Really.”
“If I’d confessed, you being kind of a Boy Scout and all, you’d insist on going to the police. The whole thing would unravel. They’d have killed you, too. I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I’m telling you all this, so that maybe you’ll understand. I did something awful, but at least they didn’t kill you.”
My cheeks felt hot. It felt as though my eyes were filling with blood, that I was looking at Greg through a red filter.
Just shoot the fucker now.
No, I couldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway.
“I explained the situation to them. They recommended someone, this Matt guy.”
“He did it while we were at the cabins,” I said. “You knew it would happen. You had her killed, and then let the world think I’d done it.”
“Yeah, but you were alive,” Greg said.
“And when that fake Brie showed up this week, it freaked you out.”
Greg nodded. “I called him, asked him if somehow he’d fucked it up.” He looked at me pleadingly. “Would you at least give me a head start?” he asked.
“No.”
“I know you’re going to turn me in. I get that. Even an hour. Give me a chance to pack a bag, you know. Say goodbye to Julie. I know you won’t believe this, but it’s been eating me up for years.” He paused. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
I had no reply for that. But I had one last question. “Tell me about Candace Di—”
Before I could get out my question, Isabel let out a cry. The homeless man who’d made an appearance my last time here was making his way toward us, and his entrance into the scene had startled not just Isabel, but all three of us.
“Hey,” he said, looking at Greg.
Greg glanced nervously at him. “Not now, Neil,” he said.
But Neil kept coming. “I saw your girl come in with a Dunkin’s box.” Neil, for the first time, focused on Isabel and me. “Some kind of meetin’ going on?”