Chapter 13
ONE EVENING WHEN Connie was tied up at the firehouse, Sierra decided to attend a meeting in Leadville. She was running a little late but people were still grabbing up coffee and cookies—sugar had traditionally been the alcoholic’s friend. When she looked around the church basement for a comfortable spot, she saw a familiar face and headed that way. Neely was sitting in the second row.
“You’re still around?” she asked, taking the chair beside Neely.
“I am. I’m sorry, you’re...?”
“Sierra,” she said, putting out her hand. “I heard you speak a week or two ago and I thought you were doing some traveling. Speaking at meetings. Going to conferences, roundups and that sort of thing.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of that, yes. Steering committee, women’s conference committee, lots of AA work. Now it’s time for a little personal work. And I like this place.”
“It’s a good place,” Sierra agreed.
“I wonder,” Neely said, looking a bit contemplative. “Do you have time for pie and coffee afterward?”
“Sure I do,” she said.
From that moment, Sierra was concentrating more on Neely than on the speaker. Will spoke first and she’d heard him before; she loved listening to him, as a matter of fact. Sober twenty years and so steady, but so aware of his roots in addiction and what it had cost. Then Sophie, sober six years and one of the lucky ones—sobriety had saved her and her family before any irreparable damage. Then Jennifer, sixty years old and sober two years, still struggling mightily, hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Every day and sometimes every hour was a miserable battle for her, but she used all the tools available, many meetings, more than one sponsor, a treatment facility, counseling, family support...
But Sierra was thinking about Neely, filled with admiration and a little awe. Neely was so beautiful and confident. She was taller than Sierra; about five-eight and fit. Her hair was thick, rich brown, shoulder length and swayed when she nodded her head. She was smart—just her presentation at that open meeting was so impressive—emotional and funny and wise, like the poster girl for recovery. She was older than Sierra and had found her sobriety at a younger age—Sierra admired and envied her. She had a kind of reverence for her. Neely was the kind of person she’d fantasized having as a sponsor, not Moody. And before she even really knew Neely, she was immediately thinking of that possibility.
And speak of the devil, Moody was there. This was not his usual meeting—he tended to like the early-morning meeting. He sat in his usual place—third row, far left seat, like he was ready to make a break for it. Sierra didn’t want to talk to Moody tonight because she didn’t want him to horn in on their pie and coffee, which Sierra was already hoping would actually turn into a meal. She wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t want her date with Neely to go by too fast.
Still, she did the right thing and checked in with Moody, saying hello. And then, because duplicity was a definite enemy to sobriety, she told Moody she was going out for coffee with Neely. And he had said, “Good for you.”
“I’m so glad to get out of there,” Neely said as they were leaving. “How would you like to meet at that Denny’s by the highway? Is that too far away for you?”
“No, perfect,” Sierra said, though it was in the opposite direction of the Crossing.
Glad to get out of there? Neely was like a cheerleader for AA, super involved, traveling on a speaking circuit, visiting open meetings, sitting on boards... Even Moody, who was moody, never said he was glad a meeting was over.
They went in their own cars and she couldn’t help but notice Neely had a really nice late-model Lexus. When they were seated in a booth in the restaurant, Neely ordered coffee for both of them.
Sierra couldn’t even remember when she last had a girlfriend. At least she had Connie these days, the best friend she’d ever had. But there was something about a girlfriend that hit all the right buttons. Connie was great and she was completely grateful for him, but there were girl things he would never get. Like cramps, to name just one.
She’d managed to hook up with all the wrong people since she was about fourteen. And once she’d gotten into AA and met people like herself, she’d gotten close to a few but it always felt a little forced. She wanted to feel some chemistry, a strong connection, someone she could really hang on to for ballast. It had felt close a couple of times, but not exciting enough.
“What did you mean you couldn’t wait to get out of there?” Sierra asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Neely said, stirring sugar into her coffee. “I know how important it is for me but there are times I’ve just heard enough and would rather be doing something else.” Then she flashed her gorgeous movie-star smile. “Like this!”
“Like this,” Sierra echoed.
“How long have you lived here, Sierra?”
“Oh, not very long. I got here in March so it’s been...five months. I’m from Iowa. My folks live on a farm in Iowa, but my older brother is here and I wanted to be near family, but not on a farm in Iowa.”
“I’ve lived in Vail for the past few years, but I’m originally from Connecticut,” Neely said. “I just love it here. Plus, I wanted to get away from the whole family. They’re all pretty bad for me. I’m thinking of moving, but not out of Colorado. There was a relationship I had to end. A destructive relationship.”
“Do we all have destructive relationships?” Sierra heard herself ask.
“At least one! I attract them like magnets. Don’t you?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t been involved with anyone in a long time,” Sierra said, and then she wondered why she didn’t mention Connie. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for work?”
“Nothing at the moment, but I’m looking to start a small business. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but that’s why I’m scouting around a little bit. Looking for just the right place.”
“What kind of business?” Sierra instantly asked.
Neely grinned beautifully. “Did it go right over your head that I’m not talking about it yet?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess it did.”
“Let’s just say a specialty shop and I’ll tell you more when things start to fall into place. See, my crazy family did one nice thing for me—they left me a little nest egg. If I’m smart, and I am smart, I can turn it into a larger nest egg and take care of myself without ever relying on anyone again.”
“That would be so nice,” Sierra said.
“So, who do you rely on?” Neely asked.
“Well, no one, really,” she said. And then she wondered why she had said that. She relied on lots of people, she just wasn’t financially supported by them at the moment, but only because she didn’t need much to live on. “But I have a lot of nice people nearby if I ever run into trouble. My brother and sister-in-law, my sister-in-law’s dad, people I’ve met around town and...well, I’ve been seeing a very nice guy. He’s a paramedic and firefighter.”
“Oh, sounds hot! I got involved with a guy right after rehab, just a few months sober, and all we did was drive each other crazy until I left him. Then I did it again and again and again. I’m recovering and running from another one right now. I’m still tempted by the wrong people,” Neely said. “I’m starting to think that the only men who are safe for me are the ones I’m not attracted to.”
She’d picked herself a young businessman, she explained. A broker of commodities, a respectable guy who had sophisticated friends, and they drank and used worse than the lowlifes she’d known before. There was a radiologist—didn’t drink at all, and what a supreme asshole. Then she tried a simple blue-collar guy, a mechanic, who was such a demanding, controlling freak she wondered if she’d ever get away. A schoolteacher, a librarian, “And get this! A minister! I think he was the worst of all!”
“And through all that you didn’t drink?” Sierra asked, kind of astonished.
“Nine years. Come on, didn’t I have enough problems?” And then she laughed.
Sierra was captivated. She told Neely things she hadn’t told anyone in quite a while, things she hadn’t told Moody, a lot of them straight out of her notebook. Neely identified, understood, added her own stuff and even though Sierra had experienced that before, there was something about Neely that was so engaging, she felt like a spark ignited inside her. It was, she realized, that female chemistry in friendship that was almost like falling in love. Her nerves of feeling unworthy had shifted to the excitement of being chosen. They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks, they whispered, trading in secrets, they made promises to each other to do this again and again. Neely did something that Sierra recognized but didn’t want to acknowledge—a kind of leap to intimacy. “We should take a little road trip up to Montana for a few days,” she said. She was ready to go on a trip with Sierra? They barely knew each other! And, “Or, how about Santa Fe? It’s wonderful this time of year. And I could stand to look at their shops, for business reasons, of course.” And she laughed.
“Well, that sounds great, but my brother is counting on me and I have a dog. Molly. She’s such a baby when I leave her.”
“A dog?” Neely said as if appalled. “Does she shed?”
“Oh yes. Sully, the owner of the place I’m staying, says she’s ninty percent hair.”
Neely curled her lip. “I’m not much of a dog person.”
“You like cats?” Sierra asked.
“I like goldfish,” she said, grinning naughtily. “As long as someone else is feeding them and cleaning the bowl.
Sierra was aware that was about the fourth red flag that she was choosing to ignore. She had been reluctant to mention her boyfriend when he was very important to her. She pretended not to rely on anyone when she did—every day. Neely invited her on a trip, though they’d only met once for pie and coffee. Neely didn’t much care for dogs...
Most women were experienced in negotiating friendships, but Sierra knew she was not. In a way she had been left behind. For her early years she was confined to her family, isolated from the world at large as much as possible. For her teen years on the farm, and by the time her sister and brothers left, she’d discovered booze, taking her out of her reality quite often. While other girls had their bonded friendships, Sierra had not. At least not friendships that were very important. She’d never had a close girlfriend. She wondered if that meant she’d missed a fundamental step in her emotional growth.
Sierra looked at her watch. They’d been there for two and a half hours. “Oh brother, I have to go. I left my dog with Sully and he likes to turn in early.” Then she bit her lip and rather timidly asked, “Do you think you’ll be around awhile?”
“Probably. Let’s exchange numbers. Unless you don’t feel comfortable...”
“No, I like that idea!” she said enthusiastically.
They plugged their numbers into each other’s phones, said farewell for now and all the way back to the Crossing Sierra was filled with hope and fantasies of a bond, having a real girlfriend, being a part of something with someone she understood and who understood her. Connie accepted her and for that she was grateful but it would be nice to be friends with someone who got her. She fantasized doing normal or at least almost normal things—hiking, meeting for dinner, maybe going to one of those boring AA social events together. She told herself just because Neely didn’t like dogs didn’t mean they couldn’t be good friends.
She bragged to Connie. “I met the coolest woman at the last meeting and we went out for coffee. She’s so classy, so funny and smart and we hit it off. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a close girlfriend? Almost never.”
“Aren’t you and Maggie close?” he asked.
“We’re getting closer, but Maggie doesn’t really understand me the way Neely does. Neely has been through it all. And she’s so much fun.”
“Good for you, babe.”
When Sierra didn’t hear from Neely for three days she called her.
“Hey, Neely, how’s it going?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Sierra! Just thought I’d check on you and see how you’re getting by.”
“Oh. Yeah. Pretty busy. Can I call you back?”
“Sure...”
There was a faint beeping on Sierra’s cell phone as Neely signed off. She might’ve been in the middle of something important, Sierra thought. Or maybe she’d been at a meeting somewhere.
But when Neely didn’t call back, Sierra sulked. She grieved a loss she hadn’t even had. Then she abandoned her dreams of having a best girlfriend. When she explained this to Connie, he just frowned. “Kind of sounds like she wasn’t very genuine,” he said.
“Know what bothered me most of all?” Sierra asked. “She doesn’t like animals. Her lip curled when I told her about Molly. And I still wanted to be her friend.”
“Maybe she’s allergic,” Connie said.
“She’s not,” Sierra said, even though she didn’t know that for sure.
* * *
When Tom asked Cal if he could bring a friend by the barn to have a look at what they were doing, the answer was simple. “Of course, Tom! You’re as invested in this remodel as I am!”
He was not expecting Tom to bring a woman. Cal was introduced to Lola and found himself squinting at her, trying to remember where he’d seen her before.
“Home Depot,” she supplied. “We’ve seen each other there, though I don’t think we’ve officially met.”
“Sorry, Cal, I should have told you it was Lola. I didn’t even think of it.”
“That’s no problem. So—we’re a couple of months of finishing work away from being done here, but we’re living here. As long as I keep the work site clean. The upstairs master and bath are nearly finished. We’re close down here. Maggie’s ordering stuff. Don’t even ask me what stuff...”
“Hi, Lola,” Maggie said, coming down the stairs, her belly leading the way. “I didn’t know Tom was bringing you out here.”
“We discovered we have a shared interest in remodeling,” Lola said. “I’ve put a lot of work into that old house I live in and it’s looking pretty good.”
“It’s better than good,” Tom said. “It looks as good as my house. Maybe better.”
“When Tom started telling me about this barn remodel, I couldn’t wait to see it. Thanks for letting me have a peek. We were talking about remodeling and found out it’s kind of a passion with both of us. Tom has actually flipped a couple of fixer-uppers. And that’s my dream job.”
“I thought you were taking classes toward your degree?” Maggie said.
“I thought the most practical thing for me would be a teaching degree,” Lola said. “I’m good with kids. And there’s some security in teaching, not to mention a small pension. Plus, there’s good vacation time—time I could put toward renovation. If I can find the right project.”
“Let me show you the upstairs,” Tom said. “We’re finishing the bathrooms up there and when we’re done with the tile and stone we’ll paint and carpet. That’ll go fast. We’ve got some new materials for the countertops and floors—not as porous, doesn’t stain...”
He was leading her up the stairs and when they were out of sight, Cal turned to Maggie. He showed her a half smile and lifted brow.
“A shared passion for home renovation,” Maggie said with a grin.
“They probably sound like us in bed,” Cal said. “Oh, oh, oh, how about travertine on the front walk...”
She put her arms around his neck, pressing up against him. “Oh baby, show me that marble with the waterfall edge...”
He got kicked by the baby. “You’re carrying a wild woman,” he said. “Have I told you how terrified I am?”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she reassured him. “Little girls always love their daddy best. Should we go upstairs and help Tom show Lola all his handiwork?”
“Give him a break,” Cal said. “Did he seem awkward to you?”
“Not at all.”
Cal’s phone rang and he picked it up off the kitchen counter. He looked at the screen and said, “This is work, babe. Make my apologies?”
“Sure,” she said.
Cal went into their bedroom, which would become his office in just a few weeks. For the time being it was a bedroom that sometimes doubled as an office if he needed a room with a door that closed. This particular caller was a woman Cal had worked with when he was with the law firm in Detroit. Cal had reached out to her for help with Sierra’s situation.
Alison started off as a paralegal before Cal met her. By the time he joined the Detroit firm, she was doing a lot of their investigating, which turned out to be her niche and her passion. Being in criminal defense, he had relied on her quite a bit. She was young, sharp, energetic and resourceful.
“Hey, Alison,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Quite a lot more than you might expect,” she said. He scribbled on a notepad while she ran down a list of the information she’d gathered, ending with, “Finally, this Derek Cox, I can’t locate him. Let me rephrase—I’ve located several, none in the Detroit area, none in the age range we discussed. If his name is Derek Cox and if he exists, he’s in the wind. The police have listed Sierra as a person of interest in their investigation into a hit–and-run but she isn’t a suspect, at least not at this time. They haven’t issued a warrant. Frankly, they suspect foul play in the disappearance of Sierra and the abandonment of her car, the car notably involved in the accident.”
“As I told you before, that’s one of the many reasons I’m looking into this. She saw a man here who looked like him. She couldn’t confirm that it was him. But it shook her up enough to come to me with her story. She’s afraid of him. How did you get this information?”
“An accident report and a brief conversation with the sergeant in traffic. I don’t get the feeling the case is getting a lot of attention. I hope I didn’t stir things up by inquiring.”
“How did you inquire?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.
“Insurance companies always want a few clarifications about accident details. Is there anything else I can do?”
“You can keep looking for this Cox,” he said. “It would help to know where he is. It would help to know where he isn’t, for that matter.”
“I’ll need a little more information, Cal. If your sister could answer a few questions—where he worked, where he lived, where he’s originally from. I need a little more to go on than he was driving her car that night.”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I’ll get back to you.”
He just sat for a moment after they disconnected. He was going to have to talk to Sierra. She had to know what he found out and if he was to help her, he would have to probe. He didn’t look forward to it. He left a message on Sierra’s cell phone. “We have to talk, whenever you’re free. I have some information for you. Important stuff. Let me know when you have time. Time alone.”
He tried to slap on the professional lawyer face rather than the worried brother. Not only did he have to face Maggie, there was company in the house. He gave himself a few extra minutes. When he walked into the great room, Maggie, Tom and Lola were all engrossed in studying the fireplace, something that had been installed before they’d moved in.
“This was one of the first things we added,” Tom was saying. “Barns don’t usually have fireplaces. Or so many windows...”
Cal wasn’t listening.
* * *
Sierra worked at the diner in the morning and then hurried back to the Crossing for lunch and to meet Cal. When she’d returned his call last night she had asked him if it was about her car and Michigan, and he had said, “Yes.”
“Is it all coming to a head now?” she had asked.
“All I have right now is information about the incident. The rest is still unknown to me.”
She was sure then.
Sierra hadn’t slept well. Her mind had been a little too busy. She’d spent years running away from things but sobriety made her see the folly of that. She’d learned many useful things, but high on the list were the benefits in facing your mistakes, taking responsibility and making amends. That was freedom. You couldn’t run away to get free, you had to face the truth to be free.
When Cal arrived at the Crossing, he spent a few minutes visiting with Sully, then put his arm around Sierra’s shoulders and walked her over to the front porch on Sully’s house. Until the barn was finished, Cal met some clients at the Crossing, either at Sully’s kitchen table or on the front porch where they’d have a measure of privacy.
“You have circles under your eyes,” Cal said.
“I had a little trouble sleeping,” she said. “Just lay it on me. What do you know?”
“There was an accident, just as you suspected and feared. A cyclist was critically injured, but he did make a full recovery. It’s still a felony hit-and-run but they know it was a man driving. Sierra, I can only think of one way they could know that. There must be a witness. The witness could be the victim. I hired the detective I worked with at my old firm—she knows how to surf the public record documents, arrests and accidents, that sort of thing. She also knows how to finesse information by pretending to be an insurance agent, a banker, a lawyer—she’s very good. And very sneaky. The police know it was your car, a man at the wheel, that your car was abandoned. And that you disappeared. There’s even been some conjecture of foul play in your disappearance or the greater possibility that you and the driver ran off to avoid arrest. They want to talk to you. You’re a person of interest in the case. Not a suspect, but a person of interest.”
“Who could become a suspect,” she said.
“If they have evidence to support that. They’ve been looking for the identity of a man. I suppose they’re looking for this Derek Cox. My investigator couldn’t find him. She needs more information like where he worked, lived, where he grew up, where his family is, anything at all to heat up his trail, provide a map of sorts. I hate to put you through this but can you tell me everything again? We need to have as many details as possible.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “He said so many things. He said he’d made money in real estate but I knew tons of people who were licensed Realtors and even busting their butts, it was hard to make money. He said he ran a messenger service for a couple of years and that’s how he made all his connections. He also said he had owned a small valet parking service and made a bundle that way but before all that, he said he had been in the military and gone to Afghanistan. You know what I think? I think he was lying about everything. I think he was dealing. He always had something, usually pot. Sometimes he had ecstasy and oxy. He said he was from Maine, he said he was from California. I never went to his apartment. He said he lived three blocks from me but who knows if that’s true. I didn’t even date him. I hung out with him and other people, mostly—a bar crowd—and he came by work to take me to lunch. I’ll give you the names of some of my so-called friends, but they weren’t close friends. It’s not like we knew each other’s families; they weren’t friends from school or anything. I just hung out with him at the bar a couple of times, talked to him on the phone, then we had one official date. I let him come home with me once. Just once. And that’s when things got weird.”
“Weird how?”
“I didn’t get it until much later. He couldn’t get it up. He had trouble. I told him it was all right and to just forget it but he was so angry. He wanted to keep trying. It was when I pushed at him and told him I was done, boing! Then he couldn’t complete. He can’t get it up in a normal situation. He liked that I wasn’t into it. Then he didn’t want to leave. He was rough. I couldn’t get rid of him until morning, and then he showed up at the office where I worked with flowers. Flowers like we’d had a lovely, romantic evening, which we hadn’t. He called and called. He said he was sorry and that’s never happened to him before, which now I know is bullshit. I told him to settle down, we weren’t engaged, just casual friends, and he got worse. Calling, showing up where I was, parking out in front of my house, hanging out in parking lots waiting for me. I finally got mad and told him I didn’t want to see him or talk to him again but he didn’t back off. Everytime I turned around, there he was. When I talked to the police and asked them if they could do anything they were perfectly nice, they told me to be careful, to stop answering my phone if it was him and to call the police if he became threatening. I blocked his number, I dropped Facebook, I deleted his emails and he couldn’t get a text through. Then came that night.”
“How long did this go on?” Cal asked, making notes.
“Only a couple of weeks, that’s all. I talked to him at a bar, I gave him my number, I talked to him on the phone about three times. I saw him for lunch, at the bar after work a few times and there were lots of people around—people I saw after work all the time.”
“People you worked with?”
“A couple of them came from the company I worked for. I hadn’t had the job that long, didn’t know too many people. I found the people who liked to go out right away. I had a talent for it.” She laughed hollowly. “I was doing clerical work for Union Insurance.”
“I need some names, Sierra.”
“Sure. I can give you the names of some friends. My old roommate and her boyfriend. My old boss—but she was a battle-ax and I never shared anything about my life with her. She hated me. I wasn’t crazy about her. I was... I wasn’t the best employee.”
“In those two weeks did you ever learn anything more about the guy? Can you think of anything?”
She shook her head. “Just the stuff I told you—he had a lot of stories. A lot of jokes. He buddied up to people. He gave them dope, like pot or ecstasy. They couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to hang out with him. After all, he was so much fun and he liked me. It was awful. I didn’t want to explain why I knew he was bad news.”
“Think about it and make me a list—any connections that could give us information about the guy because he’s gone. And I’d like your permission to tell Maggie about this. She’s very good at confidences, so don’t worry about that.”
“Why do you have to tell her?” she asked, feeling her eyes brighten with tears she knew she wouldn’t be able to shed.
“Because, Sierra, we have to go back. You have to talk to the police. They’re looking for you. They want to question you. I’m sure they want to know how the accident happened. Maybe they hope you can get them to the guy.”
“Why? The guy he hit recovered. Can’t we just stay away?”
“Here’s the deal, Sierra. They know it was your car, they know you’ve disappeared, they know there was a felony hit-and-run. If you know they’re looking for you in a felony investigation and you don’t come forward, they can hit you with obstruction. Or you can wait till they find you, and it can sneak up on you. At the most inconvenient moment, you can find yourself taken into custody for questioning and I want to be with you. I don’t want that to happen while I’m busy having a baby. Let me tell Maggie why I have to go back with you and let’s get this done.”
“And what if we get there and they lock me up?” she asked.
“Cooperating now is the safest thing to do. Once you tell the police where you are and how you can be reached, they probably won’t restrict you. I don’t think they will anyway. You’re not their primary suspect.”
“Who could be a witness?” she asked, frowning in confusion.
Cal shook his head. “Another motorist? Maybe even the victim?”
“Cal. He drove a red Nissan GT—a sports car. It was almost new. Candy-apple red.”
“That might help, but it’s a popular car. They’re going to ask you why you ran if you weren’t driving the car.”
“Can they make me press charges against him? Seeing him again terrifies me.”
Cal just locked eyes with her, looking at her steadily. “You might have to be braver than you’ve ever been. If I thought there was an easier way, I’d tell you.”
She laughed without humor. “Eventually you always have to pay the bill.”
“It was not your fault,” Cal said.
“Oh, I know that,” she said. “But running away made me feel like a victim. And by saying nothing, I hid him. And because I was too afraid of him to act, he might be getting away with everything. Now I have to ask myself—how many people has he hurt in this past year?”
“What are we going to do about that?” Cal asked her.
“I’m going to tell the truth. And pray.”