Icarus. (49 page)

"How do you know that?"

"I have lived here my entire life, Jack, and even though we are now a very sophisticated town, we are still a small town. And in a small town, people talk and gossip. I am one of those talkers and gossipers, so I hear more than my fair share."

"So you came up here to tell her what?"

"To tell her that she was not going to hurt her beloved husband and ruin her own life and bring shame to this family. I may not be loved but I still know the meaning of a family name."

"How did she take it?"

"As we say in our neck of the woods, we had a little quarrel."

"Tell me."

"Not much to tell. She said I didn't understand, that it wasn't what I thought, and that I should mind my own business. I said I agreed it was none of my business, but that I understood extremely well."

"And then?"

"And then I left. I left her to do what she wanted to do with your friend and hers."

They faced each other in silence, the pain etched in Jack's face, Susanna's unmoved and uninvolved. "Yes," she said, as if he'd asked her a question. "I am indeed an unfeeling and sharp-tongued bitch. And I was not being so unselfish when I came to see her; I enjoyed the pain I was bringing. I was jealous of my little sister and I wished her nothing but ill will. But I didn't wish her what she got and I don't wish you what you have." Her tone softened, just a tad, and for a moment Jack heard a trace of Caroline's voice – that slight drawl, the surprising hoarseness – as Susanna said, "You haven't been down here since she was buried, have you?"

"No," Jack said.

"Do you want to see her grave? If you do, I will show it to you and I will be quiet and say I'm sorry for you and mean it."

– "-"-"IT WASN'T AS bad as he'd imagined.

Partly because it didn't seem real. This wasn't her. This was just a stone. It was not the woman he'd loved and been married to and spent his whole life with. It was a slab of stone and a small patch of earth.

It was a beautiful spot, where Caroline was buried. It was, he knew, her favorite spot on the property. Near the barn, under a magnificent magnolia tree that threw off hundreds and hundreds of large white blooms. He could picture her leading her horse out of the stable, gracefully swinging her leg over his back and gently touching him with her heels. He could see the horse take off like the wind and Caroline laughing, sitting in the saddle so easily, as if they were one creature. He could see her lounging under the tree, her back curled up against the trunk, her eyes closed, her lovely face tilted toward the sunlight.

"In some ways you're the lucky one," he said to the stone in front of him. "You don't have to feel anymore."

– "-"-"THE RESTAURANT WAS as bad as he'd thought it would be.

It hadn't changed very much and he thought he'd prepared himself for it but as he walked in he was overwhelmed by the horrific images that would always stain its memory. Standing in the main room, he could hear the voices, the argument at the far table in the corner as if it were happening this very moment. He could see, looking back toward the bar, the masked figure forcing Caroline up the steps. He could remember his panic and his rush to rescue her.

Jack forced himself to go up to the office. He moved slowly as he ascended, not like that night when he'd bounded up, two and three stairs at a time. He could feel himself barging into the room, getting hit, going down. As he stepped back into the tiny room now, he could see and hear it as if it were happening right in front of him: the fear on Caroline's face, the unintelligible phrases, the jumble of words that cascaded through his fractured thoughts.

Tear down the wool.

What the hell had it meant?

Wooly here… the will is strong… wool candy broken…

It was one of the things that had torn at him all these months. It tore at him still. If he could only make sense of what he'd heard. He'd been right there! He had been so close! But he hadn't been able to fight through his pain, through the fog, through his terror, to understand what he was hearing.

He was right next to her and he couldn't save her.

He was right next to the killer and couldn't identify him.

Wooly… candy… forever…

Gibberish. Meaningless, insane gibberish.

What if…

Bella, the restaurant's manager, was asking him something.

"Do you want a drink, Jack? This has got to be hard for you."

Jack shook his head. He realized he was back downstairs, sitting at the bar. He didn't even remember leaving the upstairs office. "I just want to talk and get the hell out of here, if you want to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you. I told everything to the police."

"Just go over the invitations. For the two football players, Haywood and Neufield."

"Caroline was in charge of the final invitations. A few of us had some input, she discussed it with me. We eliminated a few people, didn't have room for a couple of local business people – nothing strange or out of the ordinary. A day or two before we sent them out, I saw the final list and Caroline had written in 'Raymond Kutchler and friend.' They turned out to be the football players and it was a fake name but that was how they were listed. I asked her about it, who they were, and she said they were nobody, it was a favor for a friend. She also said she'd deliver them herself, no need to mail them."

"Was it a favor for Kid Demeter?"

Bella looked uncomfortable. "I don't know, Jack. She never told me that."

"You were close to Caroline. I know that. She talked about you all the time, said you'd become good friends when she was down here."

"We were. But she was still my boss. She was the soul of discretion, especially around employees. But here's everything I know about Kid and this is it, I swear. Caroline told me he was like a little puppy around her. He was just madly in love with her, had been since he was a boy, and you could see it, the way he looked at her."

"Like she was perfect."

"Like she was beyond perfect. I don't think she took it all that seriously but it kind of thrilled her, if that makes sense. I mean, here was this gorgeous young hunk who couldn't take his eyes off her."

"Do-"

"Do I think she was having an affair with him? Yes. I hate saying it to you but yes. He was the wonderful young thing she'd always wanted. But I also know that whatever their relationship was, she ended it before you came down here. She was very upset. But not sad. Kind of relieved and weirdly happy. You know, the way you are when you make a hard decision it took you forever to make, but then when you make it, it all seems so easy, like it was the only thing you could ever have decided."

"Thank you for saying that."

"I'm just telling you what I saw. And what I knew. Whatever was going on was over."

"Except she was going to give him a job."

Bella looked surprised. Jack heard her draw in some air through her teeth. It made a faint whistling sound. "Yes," she said. "She didn't want anyone to know, but she told me that she was going to get him a job with one of the restaurants. She said he wanted to get away, to start something new. Not here and not New York. She was going to set him up as an assistant manager at one of the restaurants. Maybe London, that's what I remember. She'd told me you never went to the London restaurant anymore, so I figured that's why she'd picked it."

"She was going to send Kid to London?"

"That's what she told me, Jack. And really – now you know everything I know."

Jack kissed Bella on the cheek and left the restaurant.

Yes, he knew everything she knew. And everything the Trottys knew and everything Susanna Rae Hale knew.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

He was getting closer. For the first time he felt like he was getting close.

But he still didn't know nearly enough.

It was getting to the end.

This was almost the last one. Hardly anyone was left.

That was good, it was definitely good, because suddenly it was all very, very tiring.

There was nobody else around, just the old man, and he was right where he was supposed to be. That's what was amazing about people. They were almost always right where they were supposed to be. They were so predictable. And "predictable" was another word for soft.

That was a good one, wasn't it? Who said that? Why was it so hard to remember stuff like that? Stuff like who said "predictable" was another word for soft.

Oh, well. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except what had to be done here and now. And fast. There would be more people soon. There wasn't much time.

It had to be now.

The old man's back was turned. And he had something in his arms. Oh, that was just too perfect…

Go!

Three silent footsteps. Pick the knife up, the long, beautiful knife on the butcher-block table. Three more steps. He heard something. He's turning…

Slash down. Now! He's surprised. Oh, yes, he is. And he's staggering. This won't be hard, he's too old to fight you…

He's bleeding. He can't believe what he's seeing. He can't believe you're here and you're so strong. He can't believe he's going to die. None of them ever believed they were going to die.

Use the knife again. Stick him. Slice him. Slash him open and make sure he can never feel or think or ever, ever, ever tell anything he knows…

But the old man is strong, too. God, how can he be this strong? And why is he still struggling? Doesn't he know it's pointless to fight? It's pointless to struggle against death. Death always wins Stop fighting me!

Is he really this strong? Are you weakening? Is that possible? Are you getting weaker? No. No, no, no, no, no! You're just tired. You just need some sleep.

But no time to sleep.

No time.

You have to run. People are coming. They'll be here soon.

Sleep when it's all done. Sleep when you're safe. Sleep when it's over.

And it's almost over.

The old man wasn't fighting anymore. He wasn't moving anymore. He was perfectly still.

It's almost over…

Patience McCoy decided that she was, in fact, an idiot. How much simpler could this have been? The answer: no simpler. This was Basic Police Investigation 101. They would have done this on Law and Order before the first commercial. So why the hell hadn't she thought of it earlier?

Lewis, the records nerd, hadn't just called her back, he'd actually come to her desk. He'd left his beloved records to give her the news.

"What you got for me, File Boy?" she said.

"Absolutely nothing on Jack Keller except for a liquor license application for his restaurant, which was granted. Long time ago."

"Shit," McCoy said.

"But," Lewis said, "there is something on Caroline Keller."

"What?"

"She called in a complaint. Over ten years ago. She was being harassed."

"Don't drag it out, I don't got the time. Just give it to me."

"Her husband was in England and she was being harassed by a woman. Emma Rhowam. English. She was here visiting." He tapped his file. "It says Ms. Rhowam repeatedly made threatening and obscene phone calls to Mrs. Keller, once assaulted her on the street. Keller got a restraining order, which seems to have worked. Calls stopped, no more assaults. Anything else?"

But McCoy had stopped listening. This didn't have to mean anything, she told herself. Ten or more years was a long time. And there didn't have to be a connection. Could be something simple. The Kellers made fun of this lady's dog. The Kellers served her a bad steak in the restaurant. The Kellers It hit her like a lightning bolt.

Don't think Kellers, she told herself. Think Kid.

What was it Jack had told her about the Destination? Kid's romantic description? Topeka's a town, Cleveland's a city, but Rome is a destination.

Rome is a destination.

But how about Rhowam?

You bet your fucking ass she's a destination. She's the Destination. Gotta be. And nine years ago Emma Rhowam attacked Caroline Keller. McCoy had no idea why but right now, the whys were unimportant. All that mattered was finding her.

If she were involved with Kid, that meant she was probably in New York. McCoy reached for the Manhattan phone book. Could it possibly be this easy? Yes, it damn well could. Emma Rhowam, 627 West Ninth Street.

Son of a bitch.

She called the listed phone number and had to admit she was surprised as hell when a woman's voice said, "Hello?"

"Is this Emma Rhowam?"

"Yes. Yes, it is. Who's calling?"

"Sergeant Patience McCoy, NYPD. Do you know a Kid Demeter, Ms. Rhowam?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I did."

"How about Jack and Caroline Keller. Do you know them, too?"

A pause. "What is this about, may I ask?"

"I'd like to discuss that in person. I can be there in twenty minutes."

"I'm afraid I'm on my way to the airport, Sergeant. I'm off to London. I was on my way out the door when the phone rang."

"Well, I'll tell you what, Ms. Rhowam. How about you change your flight?"

"I'm sorry, but-"

"You'll be sorrier if you don't. Because what I'm gonna do is find out what flight you're on. I can do that with a couple of phone calls; it's easy for us big-shot police types, takes a lot less time than it'll take you to get to the airport. And what'll happen is that if you don't talk to me in person now, you'll get out there to that airport, you'll go to get on board, and two big, scary security guards are gonna grab you, arrest you, put your hands behind your back and cuff you. Then they're gonna bring you here to me. And I'll be angry by that time. So what I suggest is you reschedule your flight and go to England another time. And right now, you wait there in your apartment and I'll be there just as soon as I can. Okay?"