Somebody I Used to Know (40 page)

“My God, Heather.” I had to walk away from her. I moved across the deck, my back to her. When I turned around, she remained in the same spot, her arms folded across her chest. “We
dated
after that. Back then . . . and now. We laid in bed together. We had sex, and all that time you knew what you had done. You knew what it did to me when Marissa died.”

“I couldn’t change the past. None of us could.”

“You could have accepted responsibility.”

Heather came forward and returned to her seat. She slumped into it, her shoulders drooping forward. “I was a mess back then. I was angry. I was jealous. You remember how I was. How I could be.” She looked up at me and removed the sunglasses. I saw her eyes for the first time that day. They were clear and piercing. “I’m not like that anymore. That’s not me, that person who set that fire.”

“None of us are who we used to be,” I said. “Or who we seemed to be.”

And I thought of Marissa, who had also committed a crime when she was in college and failed to take responsibility for it. But one was an accident and one was murder. No, Heather hadn’t intended to kill anyone. But she acted out of anger and jealousy. Four innocent people got in her way.

“I’m telling the police,” I said.

She was out of the chair, reaching for me, placing her hands over mine so I couldn’t move. “No,” she said. “You don’t have any real evidence, Nick. And I have children.”

“Those four kids probably wanted to have children too.”

Heather took a step back, letting go of my hands, and then with a sudden movement, she slapped me across the face. The blow surprised me, leaving a stinging sensation across my cheek and awakening the pain from my accident. I touched my nose, making sure it wasn’t bleeding again.

Heather backed away from me, heading toward the door of her house, but she stopped before she lifted her hand to go inside.

“You’re so good, Nick. Aren’t you? You . . . Sir Galahad. Sitting on the sideline judging everyone else. Pining over Marissa these last twenty years while the rest of us lived. That’s why I have kids. That’s why I have
something
to live for. Don’t tell the police, Nick. It won’t help anyone.”

Her eyes looked open and pleading. I saw through them for perhaps the first time to the person beneath. Someone scared. Someone who loved her children. Someone who in some strange and twisted way had always cared about me. Someone who killed and went on with life, passing as the most normal of people.

“Don’t tell them, Nick,” she said.

I turned and walked off the deck.

I sat in the car a long time. Thinking.

Thinking.

And then I drove to the police station.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

I
spent an hour explaining everything to Reece, while he dispatched a car to Heather’s house to take her in to the station. I told him about all of it: Nate’s suspicions about the origin of the fire, the 911 call, Roger Kirby’s admission that someone confronted Marissa on the night of the fire, and my long, unusual history with Heather.

When we were finished, he said he’d look into it. All of it. But he didn’t sound that hopeful.

“That fire was a long time ago, Nick. Without a confession . . . it’s tough to see how anyone gets convicted.”

His words were a splash of cold water. I told myself I’d done all I could do.

Then I asked him how Jade was doing.

“She’s already on her way to Hanfort,” he said. “That’s where the crime was committed. That’s where she’ll face the music.”

“Will it be bad for her?” I asked.

He paused for a second. “As bad as having your son run over and killed in the street? As bad as having your child killed in a fire? Not even close.”

We shook hands. Again. I needed to get my dog.

*   *   *

I parked my rental car and prepared myself for the worst. The woman at the front desk didn’t make me feel any better. When I gave her my name and the name of my dog, her face remained impassive. She held up an index finger and asked me to wait while she went to the back.

It couldn’t be good. Not if she needed to go to the back.

It was never good when they went to the back.

He’s just a dog,
I told myself. Not like the people who died. Not like the children who were killed.
Just a dog. Just a dog.

But I didn’t believe it, not for a minute.

And when she led Riley out by a leash, I dropped down onto my knees.

“Oh, Riley,” I said. “Are you really okay, boy?”

He looked at me impassively, his expression asking where I’d been and why I’d left him overnight among strangers. But when I bent down and rubbed his back and ears, he started licking my face.

“Is he really okay?” I asked.

“He’s fine,” the technician said. “We kept him overnight and checked him out. The doctor says no broken bones, no internal injuries. He slept well and ate this morning.”

“What was wrong with him, then?” I asked.

“He’s an old dog. He probably just got overexcited. And he has a little lump on his head. Keep an eye on him for a couple of days, but chances are he’s going to be fine.”

I took Riley right home, and when we went inside I fed him his favorite food and gave him a treat from the cabinet. He ate more than normal and gulped the treat down like he’d never tasted anything so good before. We were both tired, and when the food was gone, he curled up in his bed and let out a long, contented sigh.

I needed to shower and change my clothes.

I needed to get my car fixed, even though I suspected it was totaled.

I needed to get back to work. I needed life to be normal again.

I emptied my pockets.

I found the piece of paper Jade had handed me in the police station the night before.

“Oh,” I said.

Riley raised his head.

I unfolded it. In Jade’s handwriting, the same handwriting on the note in Emily Russell’s pocket, was written another address.

This one in Wisconsin.

Would I let the love of a lifetime pass me by again?

The watch sat on my nightstand. I picked it up, fastened it to my wrist.

“Riley?” I said. “Are you well enough for a road trip?”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to all my friends and family for their love and support, especially Kristie Lowry and Kara Thurmond.

Thanks to all the readers, bloggers, reviewers, librarians, and booksellers who keep books and the love of reading alive.

Big thanks to Loren Jaggers and the entire NAL publicity team for getting the word out about my books. Special thanks to Jan McInroy for the thorough copyediting.

Huge thanks to my editor, Danielle Perez, for her ability to gently push me—and the book—in all the right directions.

Huge thanks to my agent, Laney Katz Becker, for her loyalty, drive, and friendship.

And special thanks to Molly McCaffrey for everything else.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. Nick is hung up on Marissa twenty years after her presumed death. Do you believe that someone could still have feelings for a college love after so much time? Do we ever forget our first real loves? Do you think part of the reason Nick hasn’t been able to move past his relationship with Marissa is that he has idealized her and/or their relationship since she supposedly died?

2. Nick gets a great deal of happiness from his relationship with his stepson, Andrew. Do you think Nick has a significant role to play in Andrew’s life?

3. Nick relies a great deal on Laurel. Do you think they have an equitable relationship in which they both benefit? Or is Nick taking advantage of Laurel?

4. Do you think the police handled the initial investigation of Marissa’s death appropriately? Or did they make assumptions and overlook obvious clues?

5. Why do you think Nick and Heather maintain their on-again, off-again relationship? What is each of them getting from the other? Do you trust Heather’s motives for being with Nick?

6. What do you think of the reason for Marissa’s family disappearing? Do you think her parents did the right thing? How far would you go to protect your child from legal jeopardy?

7. The Maberrys lost a child and never really received justice for it. Do you empathize with them? Do you understand why they behave the way they do?

8. Jade has been through a great deal: the pregnancy, the accident, and then the adoption of her child. Do you think she can ever move on from these things and have a normal life?

9. Roger Kirby plays a pivotal role as a friend of the Minor family. Did you know or suspect he was covering up for them the whole time?

10. Were you surprised that Marissa was still alive? Do you think she’s gotten off easy over the years, since she was able to have a normal life and raise her own children?

11. What do you think of Riley, Nick’s dog? Were you surprised that he played such a heroic role at the end of the story?

12. What do you think is going to happen when Nick travels to see Marissa? Will they be able to resume their relationship after twenty years? What challenges will they face as they try to pick up where they left off?

Don’t miss another exciting novel of suspense by David Bell.

THE FORGOTTEN GIRL

Now available from New American Library.

PROLOGUE

T
he detective came into the room. He wore a sport coat and tie, the collar of his shirt open. He didn’t look at Jason. He tossed a small notebook onto the table, pulled a chair out, and sat down. He flipped the notebook open and scanned one of the pages.

“Can I go yet?” Jason asked. “You said this wouldn’t take long.”

“Easy,” the detective said.

“You said this would be a friendly chat, that I didn’t need a lawyer or my parents.”

The detective looked up. “Haven’t I been friendly?” He pointed to the empty Coke can on the table. “I got you a soda.” He flipped the notebook closed and smiled, but it looked forced. “We’re almost finished here. I just want to go over some things we talked about before. Now, you said you and your friend, Logan Shaw, fought pretty hard the other night. You told me you landed a couple of good ones against the side of his head.”

“One,” Jason said. “One good one.”

“One good one,” the detective said. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. And you were fighting over a girl?”

“Yes. Regan.”

“Regan Maines.” The detective nodded. “So you two guys fight over a girl. Okay, no big deal, right? Boys will be boys and all that. And you end up clocking your friend pretty good. Again, no big deal. Who hasn’t gotten into a little dustup with one of their friends? Happens all the time, right?”

“I’ve never been in a fight before.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

The detective made a disapproving face. “Okay. Not all guys fight with their friends. Okay. So you fight with your friend, and you deck him, and then he goes off into the woods because he’s pissed at you. In fact, you said he was crying a little, right?”

“Yes.”

“Were you crying too?” the detective asked, the corner of his mouth rising into a little sneer.

“I might have been. Yes.”

“And you’re eighteen?”

“I’d like to call my dad,” Jason said.

“Easy. We’re almost finished here. I know your old man. He’s a good guy.” The detective scratched his head. “Okay, all of this stuff you’ve done seems pretty normal to me, except maybe for the crying. But after that, after your friend goes off into the woods and you don’t see him anymore, that’s where it gets tricky for me. You see, here’s what I don’t understand. Your friend disappears after you have a fight with him, and you know everyone’s looking for him. By the way, his father, Mr. Shaw, he’s very upset about his son being missing. Very upset.”

“He didn’t care much about Logan when he was here.”

“Hey,” the detective said. “Don’t be smart. That man’s a good father. He’s a pillar of this community. He always does the right thing. And speaking of the right thing . . . you knew all these people were looking for Logan, the guy you punched upside the head, and yet, you didn’t tell us about that fight you had. Did you? Not the first time we talked to you. You said everything seemed normal when you last saw him. But then a few hours later, after we’d talked to some other people and came back to you again, you decided to tell us about this fight. Do you see why that doesn’t make sense to me?”

“I told you—I was angry with Logan.”

“That’s why you decked him. Because he wanted your girl—”

“No, that’s why I didn’t say anything about the fight the first time you came by the house. Logan can be . . .”

“What? Can be what?”

“Manipulative, I guess. He has moods. I figured he was just mad and wanted to take it out on all of us by going away for a while. He knew we’d worry eventually. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting to me. When you came back to my house, and I found out people were really worried . . . his dad, for example . . . that’s when I told you about the fight. It was only a few hours later. And nothing’s changed since then. My story’s the same now as it was three days ago.”