Chapter Sixteen

I don’t waste time. “Where’s Maura?”

“Close the door,” the other woman says. Her hair is the color of carrots, with lipstick to match. She’s wearing a tailored gray suit with a frilly shirt. I’m not a fashionista, but it looks expensive.

“And you are?”

I turn back and reach for the door. Ellie gives me a quick nod as I close it.

“My name is Bernadette Hamilton. I’m Lynn’s friend.”

I get a sense that they are more than friends, though I don’t care in the slightest. My heart is thumping so hard I’m sure they can see it through my shirt. I turn back to Mrs. Wells, all ready to repeat my question more forcefully, when something makes me pull up.

Slow down, I tell myself.

I have a million questions to ask her, of course, but I also understand that the best interrogations require almost supernatural patience. Mrs. Wells has come to me, not vice versa. She has sought me out. She has even used Ellie as a go-between, so that she didn’t have to show up at my home or office or leave a phone trail. That all took effort.

The obvious conclusion?

She wants something from me.

So I should let her talk. I should let her give up something without being asked. Stay quiet. That is my normal modus operandi. No reason to change that because it’s personal. So I stay calm. Don’t ask her questions. Don’t prompt her or make demands.

Not yet. Take your time. Plan.

But one thing, Leo: There is no way Mrs. Wells is leaving this room without telling me where Maura is.

I stay standing and wait for her to make the first move.

Finally, Mrs. Wells speaks. “The police came to see me.”

I say nothing.

“They said Maura might be involved in a murder of a police officer.” When I still don’t reply, she says, “Is that true?”

I nod. I see her friend Bernadette reach over and put her hand on Mrs. Wells’s.

“Do you really think Maura could be involved in a murder?” Lynn Wells asks.

“Probably, yeah,” I say.

Her eyes widen a bit. I see the hand tighten over hers.

“Maura wouldn’t kill anyone. You know that.”

I bite back a sarcastic rejoinder and stay silent.

“The police officer who visited me. Her name was Reynolds. From somewhere in Pennsylvania. She said you were helping in the investigation?”

Mrs. Wells says it like a question. Again I don’t take the bait.

“I don’t understand, Nap. Why would you be investigating a murder in another state?”

“Did Lieutenant Reynolds tell you the name of the victim?”

“I don’t think so. She just said he was a police officer.”

“His name is Rex Canton.” I keep an eye on her face. Nothing. “Does the name ring a bell?”

She considers it. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Rex was in our high school class.”

“At Westbridge High?”

“Yes.”

The color starts to ebb from her face.

The heck with patience. Sometimes you startle them with the surprise question: “Where’s Maura?”

“I don’t know,” Lynn Wells says.

I lift my right eyebrow, offering up my most incredulous expression.

“I don’t. That’s why I came to you.” She looks up at me. “I hoped you could help me.”

“Help you find Maura?”

“Yes.”

My voice is thick. “I haven’t seen Maura since I was eighteen years old.”

The phone on the desk starts to ring. We all ignore it. I look toward Bernadette, but she only has eyes for Lynn Wells.

“If you want me to help find Maura,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm, professional, matter-of-fact, all while my heart rate is spiking, “you need to tell me what you know.”

Silence.

Lynn Wells looks at Bernadette, who shakes her head. “He can’t help us,” Bernadette says.

Lynn Wells nods. “This was a mistake.” Both women rise. “We shouldn’t have come.”

They both start for the office door.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Lynn Wells’s voice is firm. “We’re leaving now.”

“No,” I say.

Bernadette ignores me and circles toward the door. I shift my body to block her.

“Move,” she says.

I look at Lynn Wells. “Maura is in over her head.”

“You don’t know anything.”

When Bernadette goes for the knob, I’m still in the way.

“Are you going to hold us here by force?”

“Yes.”

I’m not bluffing. I have spent my entire adult life waiting for answers, and now that those answers are standing in front of me, I will not let them walk out the door. No way, no how. I will keep Lynn Wells here until I know what she knows. I don’t care what that takes. I don’t care about the ethics or legalities.

Lynn Wells will not leave this room without telling me all she knows.

I don’t move.

I try the crazy eyes, but they won’t come. There is a quake inside of me, an internal shake, and I think they can see it.

“You can’t trust him,” Bernadette says.

I ignore her and focus on Mrs. Wells. “Fifteen years ago,” I begin, “I came home from a hockey game. I was eighteen years old. A senior in high school. I had a great best friend in my twin brother. And I had a girlfriend I thought was my soul mate. I sat at my kitchen table and waited for my brother to come home . . .”

Lynn Wells studies my face. I see something I can’t quite comprehend. Her eyes start to water. “I know. Both our lives changed forever that night.”

“Lynn—”

She waves Bernadette to silence.

“What happened?” I ask. “Why did Maura run away?”

Bernadette snaps, “Why don’t you tell us?”

That reply puzzles me, but Lynn puts a hand on Bernadette’s shoulder. “Wait outside.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I need to talk to Nap alone.”

Bernadette protests, but she isn’t going to win this one. I move away from the door just a bit. I’m still not taking chances. I open the door just enough so that Bernadette can slip through. I’m actually crazy enough to keep an eye on Maura’s mom as though she might try to bolt through it too. She doesn’t. Bernadette eventually slides through the opening, throwing a baleful glare in my direction as she does.

Maura’s mom and I are alone now.

“Let’s sit down,” she says.

—

“You know how it was between Maura and me back then.”

Lynn Wells and I have turned the two chairs in front of Ellie’s desk so that they are facing each other. I notice now that there is a wedding band on her left hand. She keeps turning and twisting it as she speaks.

She waits for me to reply, so I say, “I do.”

“It was rough. That was my fault. At least, most of it. I drank too much. I resented how being a single mother held me back from . . . I don’t even know what. More drinking, I guess. And the timing didn’t help, what with Maura being a teenager and all that goes along with that. Plus she was naturally rebellious. Of course, you knew that. It was part of what drew you to her, don’t you think? So you mix all that together and . . .”

She makes two fists and then spreads her fingers, indicating an explosion.

“We were struggling. I was working two jobs. One at a Kohl’s. Another waitressing at a Bennigan’s. Maura worked part-time at Jenson Pet Store for a while. You remember that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why she quit?”

“She said something about allergies to the dogs.”

There is a smile on her face, but there is no joy there. “Mike Jenson kept putting his hand on her ass.”

Even now, even all these years later, I feel the heat rush through me. “Are you serious?”

But of course she is. “Maura said you were hotheaded. She was afraid if she told you . . . Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We lived in Irvington at the time, but when she worked at the pet store, we got a little taste of Westbridge. This woman I worked with at Kohl’s gave me an idea. She said I should move into the cheapest housing in a town with good schools. ‘Your daughter will get the best education that way,’ she said. That made sense to me. Whatever else you can say about Maura, she was whip smart. Anyway, that’s what we did. You two met a short time later . . .”

Lynn Wells fades away.

“I’m stalling,” she says.

“So skip ahead to that night,” I tell her.

She nods. “Maura didn’t come home.”

I keep still.

“I didn’t realize this right away. I was working a late shift and then I went out with some friends. Drinking, of course. I didn’t get home until four in the morning. Maybe four, I don’t even know. I don’t remember. I don’t think I checked her bedroom. Great mom, right? I also don’t know if that would have made a difference. If I saw Maura wasn’t there, what would I have done differently? Probably nothing. I would have figured that she stayed at your place. Or went to the city. She visited friends in Manhattan a lot, though not as much once you two started dating. And when I finally woke up and Maura wasn’t there, well, it was close to noon. I figured she’d gone out already. That made the most sense, right? So I didn’t think much of it. Then I went to work. I had a double shift at Bennigan’s. It was near closing time when the bartender said there was a call for me. That was odd. I got scolded by the manager for that. Anyway, it was Maura.”

In my pocket, I feel my phone vibrate. I ignore it.

“What did she say?”

“I was worried, you know. Because like I said, she never called me at work. So I hurried over and said, ‘You okay, hon?’ and she just said, ‘Mom, I’m going away for a little while. If anyone asks, I’m too upset by what happened and I’m changing schools.’ Then she tells me, ‘Don’t talk to the police.’” She takes a deep breath. “You know what I say back?”

“What?”

The sad smile is back. “I ask her if she’s high. That’s the first thing I ask my daughter who is calling me for help. I say, ‘Are you high or something?’”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m not even sure she heard me. And I didn’t even know what Maura meant by being upset by what happened. See, I was that out of it, Nap. I didn’t even know about your brother and that Styles girl yet. So I just went back to work, you know, waitressing. I got two tables complaining by now. And I was taking an order at a table across from the bar, you know they got all those TVs on?”

I nod.

“Well, usually it’s on sports, but someone flipped it over to the news station. That’s when I saw . . .” She shakes her head. “God, how awful. They didn’t say any names. So I didn’t even know it was your brother or anything. Just two Westbridge students got run over by a train. So maybe now Maura’s call made a little bit of sense to me. I figured she was upset by this, wanted a few days away to deal with it. I didn’t know what to do, but I’ve learned a few things in my life. One was not to react too quickly. I’m not the smartest woman. Sometimes if you have a choice of taking Road A or Road B you should just stay where you are until you know the lay of the land. So I calmly finished my shift. Like I said, it all made sense. Except, well, what about the part about not talking to cops? That part bothered me, but I was too busy working to think about it much. So anyway, when my shift was over, I went out to my car. I was supposed to meet up with a guy I’d started seeing, but I didn’t want to anymore. I just wanted to get home and hunker down. So I walked out to the lot. It was pretty empty by then. And there were these men there waiting for me.”

She turns away and blinks.

“Men?” I repeat.

“Four of them.”

“You mean like cops?”

“That’s what they said. They flashed badges at me.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanted to know where Maura was.”

I’m picturing this. Bennigan’s had closed down years ago, replaced by another chain restaurant called the Macaroni Grill, but I know the parking lot.

“What did you tell them?”

“I said I didn’t know.”

“Okay.”

“They were very polite. The lead guy, the one who did all the talking, he had this pale skin and whispery voice. Gave me the chills. His fingernails were too long. I don’t like that on a man. He said that Maura wasn’t in trouble. He said that if she just came forward now it would all be okay. He was very persistent.”

“But you didn’t know.”

“Right.”

“So then what?”

“So then . . .” I see her eyes fill with tears. She reaches her hand up and puts it on her own throat. “I don’t even know how to tell this part.”

I reach out now and put my hand on hers. “It’s okay.”

Something has changed in the room. You can feel it like an electric surge.

“What happened next, Mrs. Wells?”

“What happened next . . .” She stops, shrugs. “It’s a week later.”

I pause. Then I say, “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Next thing I remember I hear pounding on my back door. I open my eyes, and I’m in my own bed. I peek through the shade to see who was there.”

She looks at me.

“It was you, Nap.”

I remember this, of course. I remember going to their house and pounding on that back door, searching for Maura, who had not contacted me since my brother’s death other than to say that the news about my brother was too awful, that she was going away.

That we were over.

“I didn’t answer the door,” she says.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

I wave it off. “You said something about it being a week later.”

“That’s just it. See, I thought it was the next morning, but a full week had passed. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to re-create what had happened. The most likely thing was that I drank myself into an extended blackout, right? I figured the pale man with the whispery voice thanked me for my time, told me to get in touch if I heard from Maura, and left me. Then I got in my car and went on a bender.” She tilted her head. “Doesn’t that sound like the most likely explanation, Nap?”

The room feels ten degrees cooler.

“But I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“What do you think happened?” I ask.

“I think the pale man with the whispery voice did something to me.”

I can hear my breathing like seashells pressed against my ears. “Like what?”

“I think they took me someplace and asked me about Maura again. I had these memories when I first woke up. Bad memories. But they disappeared, like after a dream. You ever have that? You wake up and you remember the nightmare and you think you’ll never forget it and then the images just slip away?”

I hear myself say, “Yes.”

“That’s what it was like. I know it was bad. Like the worst dream possible. I reach out and try to remember, but it’s like grabbing smoke.”

I nod more just to have something to do, some way to handle the blows. “So what did you do?”

“I just . . .” Lynn Wells shrugs. “I went to work at Kohl’s. I thought I’d get in huge trouble for missing shifts, but they said I called in sick.”

“And you don’t remember doing that.”

“No. The same thing when I went to Bennigan’s. They said I called in sick too.”

I lean back now, try to take it in.

“I . . . I got paranoid too. I kept thinking I was being followed. I would see a man reading a newspaper and I’d be sure he was watching me. You started coming around the house too, Nap. I remember snapping at you to go away, but I couldn’t keep that up. I knew I had to do something until Maura told me what was going on. So I did what she said. I told you that lie about her transferring schools. I contacted Westbridge High too. I told them we were moving and would let them know where to forward Maura’s records. The school didn’t really ask too many questions. I think a lot of your classmates were devastated and taking time off.”

Lynn Wells puts her hand to her throat again. “I need some water.”

I get up and circle behind the desk. Ellie keeps a small fridge under the windowsill. I wonder why Mrs. Wells came to me via Ellie, but there are more pressing matters. I open the fridge, see the anally laid-out water bottles, and grab one for her.

“Thank you,” she says.

She twists open the top and takes a deep pull like, well, an alcoholic. “You quit drinking,” I say.

“You’re always an alcoholic,” she says. “But, yes, it’s been thirteen years since my last drink.”

I nod my approval, not that she needs it.

“I owe Bernadette for that. She’s my rock. Just when I was at my lowest, I found her. We got legally married two years ago.”

I don’t know what to say to that—I want to get back on topic—so I just say, “Okay.” Then I add, “When did you next hear from Maura?”

She takes another swig and twists the top back on the bottle.

“Days passed. Then weeks. I jumped every time the phone rang. I thought about telling someone, but who? Maura had said not to go to the police, and after what I experienced with that pale guy, well, like I said, if you aren’t sure about Road A or B, just stay where you are. But I was scared. I had terrible dreams. I could hear that whispery voice asking me over and over about where Maura was. I didn’t know what to do. The whole town was grieving over your brother and Diana. Diana’s father, the police chief, he came by one day. He wanted to know about Maura too.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The same thing I told everyone else. Maura was freaked out by what happened. I said she was staying with my cousin in Milwaukee for a while and then transferring schools.”

“Was there a cousin in Milwaukee?”

She nods. “He said he would cover for me.”

“So when did you hear from Maura again?”

She stares at the water bottle, one hand on the white top, the other cupping the bottom. “Three months later.”

I stand there, trying not to look stunned. “So for three months . . . ?”

“I had no idea where she was. I had no contact. Nothing.”

I don’t know what to say. My phone vibrates again.

“I worried a million times over. Maura was a smart girl, resourceful, but you know what I figured?”

I shake my head.

“I figured she was dead. I figured the pale man with the whispery voice found her and killed her. I was trying to stay calm, but really, what could I do? If I went to the police, what would I say? Who would believe me about that missing week or any of it, really? Whoever those guys were, they either killed her—or if I made too much noise, I was going to help them kill her. Do you see my choices? Going to the police wasn’t going to help her. Maura either was making it on her own or . . .”

“Or she was dead,” I say.

Lynn Wells nods.

“So where did you finally see her?”

“At a Starbucks in Ramsey. I went to the bathroom in the back and suddenly she came in behind me.”

“Wait, she didn’t call you first?”

“No.”

“She just showed up?”

“Yes.”

I try to comprehend this.

“So what happened?”

“She said she was in danger, but that she’d be okay.”

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

“That was all she said?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t ask—?”

“Of course I asked.” For the first time, Lynn Wells has raised her voice. “I grabbed her arm and desperately hung on. I begged her to tell me more. I apologized for everything I did wrong. She hugged me, and then she pushed me away. She got out the door and headed out the back. I followed her, but . . . you don’t get it.”

“So explain it to me.”

“When I came out of the bathroom . . . there were men there again.”

I give it a second to make sure I’m hearing right. “The same men?”

“Not literally the same, but . . . one headed out the back door too. I got to my car and then . . .”

“Then what?”

When Lynn Wells looks up—when I see the tears come to her eyes and her hand go to her throat again—I feel my heart plummet down a mine shaft. “Some might say that the pressure of seeing my daughter again sent me on another bender.”

I reach out again and take her hand. “How many days this time?”

“Three. But you see it now, don’t you?”

I nod. “Maura knew.”

“Yes.”

“She knew that they would interrogate you. Maybe with drugs. Maybe harshly. And if you didn’t know anything—”

“I couldn’t help them.”

“More than that,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Maura was keeping you safe,” I tell her. “Whatever made her run, if you knew about it, you’d be in danger too.”

“Oh my God . . .”

I try to focus.

“So what then?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you saying you haven’t seen Maura since that day in Starbucks?”

“No. I’ve seen her six times.”

“In the past fifteen years?”

Lynn Wells nods. “Always by surprise. Always a quick visit to let me know she’s okay. For a while she set up an email account for us. We never sent anything. We would both just leave it in our draft files. We both had the password. She used a VPN to keep it anonymous. But then she started to think that was too risky. And in a way, oddly, she had nothing to say to me. I told her about my life. About my quitting drinking and Bernadette. But she never said anything about her own life. It was torture for me.” She holds the water bottle a little too tightly. “I have no idea where she’s been or what she’s been doing.”

My mobile phone vibrates again.

This time I glance at it. It’s Augie. I put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“We found Hank.”