A nod, but then a shrug. “I think it started even before that. He’s been getting-I don’t know… more distant. We don’t even… we’re not close like we used to be. We hardly ever…”
“Okay.”
“He’s, like, ‘everyone’s all against me.’ Thinks everyone is taking advantage of him. It’s always everybody else’s fault. He didn’t use to be this negative about everything.”
“It’s gotta be work,” Cal said. “That has to be getting him down. If I was in his shoes, I’d be worried sick. Things’ll turn around sooner or later.”
“It’s not just… I can’t talk about it.”
Cal pulled Celeste toward him, hugged her. “Come on. This is me. When have we ever not been able to talk about stuff?”
From the living room, Crystal shouted: “Rain Tuesday!”
Celeste said, “It’s hard for me to say the words.”
“Just say them.”
“I… I wonder if he’s seeing someone.”
Cal loosened the hug to put some space between them. He looked her in the eye and said, “What are you talking about?”
“He’s away so much. He says he’s going out and I ask him where and he just says ‘out.’ Like to the bar or something. And he’s gone a long time.”
“Maybe that’s all he’s doing.”
“I don’t think so. One time, he said he’d been out drinking, but I didn’t smell anything on his breath at all.”
Cal smiled. “First time a guy’s been in trouble for coming home sober.”
Celeste allowed herself a short laugh, and sniffed. “Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m imagining it. But he’s so tense. Not just about not working, but he just seems more secretive. I get this feeling that he’s hiding something from me. What’s he going to hide if not an affair?”
“You’re jumping to conclusions. Unless there’s someone you actually suspect.”
“No, there’s no one I’m aware of. I mean, Dwayne had a girl working for him at the office, where he keeps the trucks and the paving equipment and everything, but he had to let her go, and honestly, if he’d want her instead of me-she’s got a face like a train crash-I wouldn’t know what the hell to make of it. But if he’s not fooling around on me, then where the hell is he going?”
“Have you talked to him? Have you sat him down and hashed it out?”
“I’ve tried, but he just brushes me off. Says he’s working through some stuff.”
“Maybe he is.”
Celeste forced a laugh. “I don’t suppose I could hire you?”
“What?”
“You know, to follow him around, see what he’s up to.”
“That’s a joke, right?” Cal said.
She nodded. “Of course it’s a joke.”
“Because that’s just wrong on so many levels.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “I’m sorry I even said it. As a joke.”
“It’s okay. You’re just under-”
Cal’s cell phone started to ring. He dug into his jacket, pulled it out. “It’s him,” he said.
“Who?”
Bringing his voice down to a whisper, he said, “Crystal’s dad. I’ll take it outside.”
He tapped the phone, held it to his ear, and, while heading out the back door, said, “Hello?”
“This Mr. Weaver?”
“Is this Gerald Brighton?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“I did some work for Lucy and in the course of things got to know her and Crystal,” Cal said, standing in the driveway along the side of the house.
“This about Lucy’s dad getting killed in that drive-in thing? That was terrible, and I meant to get up there, but I just wasn’t able to get away. You a lawyer or something sorting all that stuff out? Because if there was something left to Lucy, I think I may be entitled to some of that.”
Cal said, “I have some bad news for you, Mr. Brighton. Have you been watching the news today?”
A pause. “Not really.”
“We’ve been dealing with something of a catastrophe here in Promise Falls. The water supply’s been contaminated.” Cal took a breath. “I’m afraid Lucy is dead.”
A beat, then, “What?”
“Lucy died this morning,” Cal told him. “I’m sorry.”
“What about Crystal? Is Crystal okay?”
“Crystal didn’t consume any water and did not require medical treatment. She’s not sick. But she was in the house with her mother when she died. I think she’s pretty traumatized by what’s happened.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“When can you get out here?” Cal asked.
“Uh, well, let me see…”
“Crystal needs you.”
“Sure, I know. I’m just trying to get my head around this news, you know? Are you totally sure about this? The police haven’t called me or anything.”
“I’m sure, Mr. Brighton.”
“Where’s Crystal now?”
“She’s in my care.”
“And who are you again?”
“I’m a licensed private investigator, Mr. Brighton. If you need some references or reassurances about me, I can provide-”
“No, no, that’s okay. So she’s with you.”
“That’s what I said.”
“And she’s okay.”
“Yes.”
“Thing is, I might have a little trouble coming up with the airfare. I’m kind of maxed out on my cards. I mean, I want to be there. I do. I want to look after Crystal. I just don’t know how fast I can get there. You know what I’m saying?”
“Find a way,” Cal said.
“I’ll have to ask around, see if I can scrape up the cash. But Crystal’s okay, right? I mean, she’s not in any immediate danger.”
Cal used his free hand to make some space between his collar and neck. It was feeling hot.
“Mr. Brighton, forgive me for sticking my nose in where it might not belong, but your daughter just lost her mom, and she’s a very special little girl who needs all the support she can get right now, and if you don’t get your ass on a fucking plane and get out here and take some responsibility for this situation, I will personally fly out there and dangle you off the Golden Gate Bridge. Are you hearing me?”
“Yes,” Gerald Brighton said. “I hear you. Let me, uh, let me see what I can do and I’ll get back to you.”
“I look forward to your call,” Cal said, and slipped the phone back into his jacket.
He heard a noise to his right. Dwayne was coming out the side door of the freestanding double garage that sat on the back corner of the property. He took a set of keys from his pocket, inserted one into a lock, turned it, then put the keys back where he’d gotten them.
He turned and saw Cal standing there.
“You been watching me?” he asked.
“I just got off the phone,” Cal said.
“Let me guess,” Dwayne said. “You’re inviting some more people to stay over at my house. Well, why the hell not?”
He started walking Cal’s way.
“I’m not the enemy,” Cal said.
“Who said you were?”
“I care about Celeste and you. If there’s anything going on I can help you guys out with, just tell me.”
Dwayne kept on walking, past Cal and toward his truck.
“Thanks very much, but I got everything under control,” he said. Then Dwayne opened the door, hauled himself up into the driver’s seat, backed the vehicle onto the street, and drove off.
TWENTY-THREE
Duckworth
“I haven’t touched him,” Garvey Ottman said. “I mean, other than to drag him out and put him there. Which I guess, technically, is touching him.”
We were standing at the edge of the reservoir behind the treatment plant in the shadow of the water tower. It was a large man-made pond with a concrete bottom, a kind of gigantic kids’ wading pool. It was fed by streams and nearby rivers; then from here water moved through the treatment plant and, finally, was pumped up into the tower, where simple gravity delivered it to all the homes and businesses of Promise Falls.
Tate Whitehead’s body was resting, faceup, dead eyes open, on the concrete walkway that encircled the reservoir. His clothes were still drenched. According to Ottman, he had only pulled him out of the water about half an hour ago.