No Way Home (21 page)

“Okay,” Jordan answered. “You’re right.”

“You don’t realize how much Pink loved Michele. He doted on her. How could you even say such a thing?”

“Okay, don’t get mad,” said Jordan. “I wasn’t trying to cut Pink down. I thought maybe the sheriff was threatening his life or something.”

“Royce isn’t that kind of man,” said Lillie.

“Who knows what kind of man he is?” Jordan asked thoughtfully.

Lillie put her head back against the seat as Jordan opened the door of the car and got out. He stood looking up at the misty sky for a moment and then, with his head down and his hands in his pockets, he walked across the bridge and stood beside the willow, looking down at the spot where Michele died.

For a moment Lillie watched him as if he were alone. For years after she had married Pink, when people would ask her about Jordan she would say, “I don’t hate him. I feel sorry for him.” It was a good answer. It indicated that all was well in her life and that he was the one who had lost out. And half of it was true. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t have time to hate him. First there was Michele to care for, and then Pink and Grayson. There was no time to dwell on Jordan. But when she thought of him, whenever she did, when she looked at him now, head lowered, shoulders hunched against the rain, she thought the same thing: How could you leave me? We were everything to one another.

He glanced up, as if he had heard her thoughts, and looked solemnly at her. She opened the car door and walked to the foot of the bridge. Then she crossed over it, reluctantly, to where he stood.

Jordan turned his back on the willow and squinted around at the quiet spot by the river. “What happened here?” he said.

Lillie pulled his jacket close around her. “Do you think the reverend was lying? Did he recognize Tyler?”

Jordan shook his head. “I think he didn’t want to make a mistake.” They looked around at the desolate spot, the crumbling gray stones of the bridge, the muddy river. “She wouldn’t have come down here by herself. She had to be meeting him here.” He shifted his weight. “All right. I guess the next step is obvious.”

Lillie wiped the rain off her face with the back of her hand. “Not to me,” she said.

“I’m going to go see Tyler Ansley.”

Lillie’s eyes widened. “And do what?”

“It’s useless to go to Royce if he’s covered up this far. But if I can take Tyler by surprise—pretend I know more than I do—I might be able to get him to tell me something.”

“That’s true,” she murmured.

“We just have to make sure that Royce doesn’t find out. We don’t want him warning Tyler that I’m on my way.”

“Believe me,” Lillie said grimly, “he’s not going to find out. When will you leave?”

“The sooner the better. This afternoon. The less people who know I’m even in town, the better off we’re going to be. Besides, it’s five hours driving to get there. He’s at the Sentinel, right?”

Lillie nodded.

“I’ll drop you at home. I don’t think I’ll even see my mother. There’ll be a million questions.”

“And if he confesses? Then what?” asked Lillie. They stared at one another, slightly aghast at the idea of facing their daughter’s killer.

“I’ll take him to the police right there. Royce won’t be able to interfere,” Jordan said resolutely.

Lillie chewed her lip. “It’s a terrible thing to accuse a young man of. Maybe he had nothing to do with it.”

“Then a few questions won’t bother him, Lillie. Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you back.”

When they reached her house she looked around to make sure no one was watching as she got out of the car. She shrugged off his sports coat and handed it in to him. She started shivering almost immediately. “Call me, will you?” she said. “Be careful.”

“Go inside,” he said, nodding. “I don’t want you to freeze.”

ONCE SHE GOT INSIDE THE HOUSE
, Lillie went into her room and changed into a warm sweater and a pair of pants. She had worn a good knit dress to go and meet the reverend, as if she had been going to church. The dress was wet from the rain and she hung it up to dry. She looked in the dresser mirror. Her dark hair was curled up in an unruly mass from the dampness.

She felt relieved now, and strangely calm. Jordan was on his way to Tyler and, possibly, the truth. In a way, she wished she could go with him, but Tyler would certainly freeze up if he saw her and besides, Pink would never hear of her going off somewhere with Jordan. He was still suspicious of Jordan after all these years. Perhaps this, finally, would convince him that Jordan’s motives were honest ones.

She thought back to how Pink had reacted when Jordan first contacted her, when Michele was about six, and asked if he could be allowed to see his daughter and possibly take her for short visits when she was well enough. In fact, she remembered, she had been cold to the idea herself at first. But Jordan’s mother, Bessie, who had been steadfast as a grandmother from Michele’s birth, pleaded her son’s case, and Lillie had relented. For years Pink would grumble, or be silent, on the days when Jordan came to get Michele, and Lillie could see that Michele felt guilty about caring for her “new” father. But care about him she did, and Lillie had to insist that Pink put a better face on it, for Michele’s sake. So Pink had learned to live with it. They all had.

The only time he had exploded was several years after the visits started, when Michele was twelve. Jordan asked if she could visit him in New York, and sent a plane ticket. They drove Michele to the airport in Nashville, and Grayson had cried and cried because he was not going to go. Michele had reported this to Jordan, and so the next time Michele was scheduled to visit him, Jordan called and offered to send tickets for both children, so they could both come.

Lillie shuddered, recalling the scene that ensued. Michele eagerly spilled the good news to her beloved little brother, and Pink hit the roof. He had punched a hole in their bedroom wall as he raged at her. “He could have you back any time he snaps his fingers,” he shouted as she pleaded with him to lower his voice. “He’s got my daughter, and now you want to give him my son. He will never, never get my son. Do you hear me?”

Lillie figured that the whole town had heard him, but people were too polite to mention it. Grayson knew better than to cry that time in the face of his disappointment. The subject was never mentioned again.

Yes, Lillie thought nervously, Pink was going to resent this, when he heard. He might have felt it was his place to go. She felt a little dull headache start at the back of her neck when she thought about telling him. But he had no right to be angry, she reminded herself. He didn’t even want to listen to her fears about Tyler. He was hell-bent on putting this blind trust in the sheriff. Well, someone had to help. And if Jordan wanted to take a hand in seeking his daughter’s killer, who could blame him?

Lillie sighed. She knew who would blame him. Still, she thought, there was no avoiding it. Pink had to be told. Perhaps, she thought, she could make him understand it if she put it in the right way. They were not youngsters anymore. They did not have to compete with one another to prove their devotion to their children. They all understood that they were after a greater good.

Armed with her sanguine arguments, Lillie put her coat on and decided to go see Pink before her confidence receded. She got into her car and drove to town.

Pink’s office was on the second floor of a building on the square. Downstairs was a shoe store that catered to older customers. The young people went to the mall for their running shoes and purple spike heels. This store was stocked with shoes of the Red Cross variety, sturdy, comfortable, and timeless in their lack of style. Lillie waved through the rain-splattered window at Ben Duvall, the proprietor, and opened the side door leading up the stairwell. There was a long hallway at the top of the stairs with a floor of well-worn brown-speckled linoleum. The first office on the left belonged to a lawyer, the aptly named Alvin Bickers. The green door was closed, and no light from within illuminated the frosted glass and the black letters that read
ALVIN BICKERS, ESQ., ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
Probably in court, Lillie thought as she passed it by, or maybe working at home. Alvin wasn’t getting any younger and he seemed less inclined to come into the office on cold, rainy days than he used to. There was a men’s room next, and a women’s room across the hall. The last door on the left was Pink’s. A tarnished bronze-colored plaque beside the door read
GRAYSON BURDETTE, REAL ESTATE, NOTARY PUBLIC.
Lillie’s sneakers squeaked softly on the old linoleum as she approached the open door to Pink’s office. She walked in and looked around. There was no one at the front desk. Reba Nunley, a housewife who had recently passed her real estate exam and gotten her license, was sometimes there to field calls and welcome clients. In exchange, Pink let her use the extra office space and leave her answering machine there for prospective clients. Pink’s desk was behind a partition that backed up to Reba’s desk. Lillie knocked on the open door to the hall and called out, “Anybody home?”

Pink came out from behind the partition and looked surprised to see his wife.

“Hi, honey,” she said.

“Hi,” said Pink.

“Where’s Reba? Out to lunch?”

“She had some errands to do.”

“Pink, I’ve got to talk to you.”

“Well, well. This is a pleasant surprise. After you spent the night locked in Michele’s room I figured we weren’t speaking.”

“It was more like I passed out there,” Lillie replied. “Honestly, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well, you seem to have settled down a bit. That’s a good sign.”

Lillie shrugged. “In a way.”

“You should have stuck around. The compliments for our son were quite impressive.”

“He deserved them,” said Lillie.

“He really wants you to be proud of him. He wants you to think about him.”

“I do think about him, Pink. Come on.”

“Well,” said Pink, “you do a poor job of showing it sometimes. Excuse me.” He went behind the partition and picked up the phone, which had begun to ring. “Burdette here. How may I help you?”

Lillie walked across the office and gazed at the bulletin board with the new listings and the property descriptions below grainy photos. There was not much for sale.

“You’re in luck,” Pink said to his caller. “I have exactly what you want. How about if I meet you here, at four say. We’re talking about your dream house. That’s right. Four o’clock.”

Pink came out from behind the partition and Lillie turned to face him. “Pink, I’ve got something to tell you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, tell,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Jordan showed up this morning.”

Pink’s fleshy face sagged. “Well, well,” he said, “what a nice surprise.”

“He called last night when I got home. I told him about my suspicions. I guess he thought it was serious. He decided to come down.”

Pink smiled mirthlessly. “When you say ‘jump,’ he says ‘how high?’ Is that it?”

Lillie ignored his sarcasm. “We went to see the Reverend Davis today and we showed him Tyler’s picture.” She could see Pink stiffen at this. “He wasn’t able to say positively that it was Tyler that he saw.”

“That’s just great,” said Pink, lifting a set of keys off the pegboard behind him on the partition and jingling them from one hand to the other. “You two must have made a cute team. A couple of detectives.”

“I wanted to tell you this in case anyone might have seen us and mentioned it to you,” Lillie said awkwardly.

“Oh, nothing surprises me anymore,” said Pink, the keys rattling in his hands. “He’ll do anything to get to you and you love it. You just eat it up.”

“Jordan has left for the Sentinel. He’s going to try to question Tyler. We still think that he might be the one.”

Pink slammed the keys down on the edge of the desk. “What?” he cried. “What the hell are you—”

“Pink,” Lillie interrupted him. “We think if Jordan can take him by surprise, maybe Tyler will tell him something. It’s worth a try.”

“Oh, really,” Pink said sarcastically. “That’s what ‘we think,’ is it? Well, think about this. What is Royce Ansley going to say when he finds out that you’re accusing his son of murder? What’s inside that head of yours? Besides Jordan Hill. Cotton wool?”

“Jordan made an interesting suggestion,” Lillie said coldly. “He wondered if Royce Ansley might be putting pressure on you.”

Pink’s florid, angry face suddenly turned white. He stared at his wife with narrowed eyes. “What are you saying?” he demanded in a low voice.

She felt immediately guilty and wished she could take it back. “Nothing,” she said. “He was looking for any explanation. I mean, it’s apparent that Royce is doing nothing about this case. And look at the way he rushed Tyler off to that military school. He wasn’t even supposed to go. Jordan just thought you might have suspected it, maybe even said something to the sheriff. You’ve got to realize that he’s grasping at anything. We all are.”

Pink began to pace the room as if he were in a trance. “He’ll say anything to get what he wants,” he marveled. “He accuses me, to make himself look good, and you let him do it. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for him. I love it.” Pink let out a strangled laugh.

“Pink, this is not about Jordan. This has nothing to do with him.”

Pink turned on her, his face contorted in fury. “It has everything to do with him. He’s come back here to worm you away from me and you’re so stupid you go along with it. I guess you’ve forgotten how he left you. You and Michele. Sick as she was.”

“I have not forgotten anything,” said Lillie. “I came over here to explain to you what we’re trying to do, but I can see you aren’t even able to listen.”

“I suppose I should just sit back and let him wreck my family. Let him use my daughter’s death as a weapon against me. That’s right. My daughter. Not his. Mine. I paid the bills. I sat up nights with her. I sacrificed for her. I did. And now Sir Galahad comes along and it’s his daughter.”

“Oh, let’s stop all this, Pink. It’s petty. We haven’t got time for it.”