Never Look Away (20 page)

Duckworth, finally, took a sip of his coffee. He smiled. "You're not going to believe this, but this coffee is fantastic. We've got this one guy, he works burglary, makes the best pot of coffee. Better than Starbucks. What are the odds, in a police station, you know? You sure you don't want a cup?"

"No thanks."

"So, what did you tell your wife about where you were going?"

"I told her what I've told you. That I was going up there to meet with this woman."

"Who was going to tell you all the council members who're taking payoffs from this prison outfit."

"That's what she suggested in her email."

"I guess you wouldn't have any trouble producing this email for me," Duckworth said. "When did you receive it?"

"Last Thursday," I said. "And ... I deleted it."

"Oh," Duckworth said. "That seems like an odd thing to do. Why'd you do it?"

"Because," I said slowly, "I didn't want it left in the system."

"At your own office? Why?"

I thought before answering. "I don't think everyone at the
Standard
shares my enthusiasm for pursuing this story."

"What's that mean?"

"Just that I'm learning not to present stories on this prison thing unless they're completely nailed down. I want to make it hard for my superiors to say no to printing something. I like to play my cards close to the chest. So I don't leave emails around for them to read."

Duckworth looked unconvinced, but went in another direction. "Do you remember the email address?"

I took a look around the room and shook my head, disgusted with myself. "No. It was just random numbers and letters strung together. A Hotmail address."

"I see. Okay then," Duckworth said, "tell me about this car that was following you. Make, model?"

"It was dark blue. It was a Buick with tinted windows. A four-door sedan."

Duckworth nodded, impressed. "Did you happen to get a plate number?"

"I tried," I said. "But it was covered with mud. But it was a New York plate."

"I see. Was the whole car covered in mud, or just the plate?"

"The car was pretty clean, actually. Just the plate was dirtied up. Doesn't that tell you they probably did it deliberately?"

"Absolutely," Duckworth said.

"Don't patronize me," I said. "You don't believe a word I'm saying. I can tell. I can see it in your face. But we were there. If you don't believe me talk to whoever was working in the store that day. It's called ..." I struggled to remember the exact name of the place. "Ted's Lakeview General Store. That was it. Jan went in to buy something to drink. Someone there might remember her."

Duckworth looked at me without saying anything.

"What?" I said.

"I believe you were there," he said. "I don't doubt that for a minute."

He was good at keeping me off guard. Just when I was sure he didn't trust what I was saying, he seemed to accept that last part.

"Then what's the problem?"

"So when did you drive home?"

"I stayed until around five-thirty, and when I was sure the woman wasn't going to show, we drove back."

"Both of you," Duckworth said.

"Of course both of us."

"Any stops along the way?"

"Just to my parents' place. To pick up Ethan."

"So both of you went to get your son."

I could tell he already knew the truth here. "No," I said. "I went alone to get Ethan."

"I'm confused," he said, although I doubted that. "How did you end up going to your parents' house alone?"

"Jan wasn't feeling well," I said. "She had a headache. She asked me to drop her off at our house first. She didn't feel well enough to see my parents. Or maybe she didn't want to see them, and just said she had a headache."

Duckworth nodded a little too hard. "Okay, okay. But isn't your parents' place on the way home? I mean, you'd have to pass your parents' house to get to yours coming back from Lake George, then double back to get your son."

"That's true," I said. "But sometimes my parents ... they like to talk. They would have thought it rude not to at least come out to the car to talk to Jan. And she wasn't up to that. That's why I took her home first. What are you getting at? You think I left her up in Lake George?"

When Duckworth didn't say anything right away, I said, "Do I have to bring my son in here? Do I need Ethan as a witness? To tell you my wife came back with me that day?"

"I don't think there's any need for that," Duckworth said. "I wouldn't want to put a four-year-old through anything like that."

"Why's that? Because if he backed me up, you wouldn't believe it anyway? Because he's a kid? And you'd think I coached him?"

"I never said anything of the kind," Duckworth said, taking another sip of coffee.

"At least go up there," I said. "Talk to whoever was working at Ted's store that day."

Duckworth said. "There's no problem there, Mr. Harwood. Your wife's been identified as being in the store at the time you say."

I waited.

"Trouble is what she had to say when she was in there."

"Excuse me?"

"She said you'd driven up there for some sort of surprise. She said she had no idea what she was doing up there."

"What?"

"She didn't know why you were taking her up there. She seemed not to know what you had in mind."

It felt like a punch to the gut.

"That's crazy," I said. "Jan knew why we were going up there. Whoever told you that's lying."

"Why would someone lie about that?" Duckworth asked.

"I have no idea. But it's not true. Jan wouldn't have said that. It makes no sense for her to have said that."

"Why did Mrs. Harwood tell you that you'd be happier if she was gone? Maybe even dead?"

"What?" I said again.

"You heard me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you denying she ever said that?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not for several seconds. Finally, quietly, I said, "Gina's."

"Yes?"

"Almost two weeks ago, I think. We were having dinner--we were going to have dinner--at Gina's. This is what you're referring to."

"Suppose you tell me."

"Jan was very distraught through dinner. She said some crazy things. And then she had this outburst--probably loud enough for anyone in the restaurant to hear--that I'd be happy to be rid of her. Something along those lines. But not that I wanted her dead. She never said that."

"So you would be happy if you could be rid of her, but not if it meant she had to die."

"No! None of it's true. I mean, yes, she said I'd be happier without her, but it's not true. I don't know why she'd think that, unless it's all tied in to her depression. Did you talk to Gina? Because if she's saying Jan said I wanted her dead, that's horseshit."

"About Jan's depression," Duckworth said, "it's kind of interesting that the only one who's noticed your wife has been suffering from that is you."

I was shaking my head violently. "That's not true. That's not true at all. Talk to her doctor. Talk to Dr. Samuels. He'll tell you."

Duckworth gave me a pitying look. "Your wife never went to see Dr. Samuels."

"For Christ's sake," I said. "Get him on the phone."

"I've talked to him," Duckworth said. "Jan Harwood never went to see him about her depression."

I think I did a pretty good impression of a slack-jawed idiot at that moment. I stared at him, openmouthed, trying to make sense of the news.

Finally, I said, "That's a load of horseshit, too."

But it only took me another couple of seconds to realize it was possible Jan could have lied to me about going to see the doctor, just so I'd get off her case. But this clown at the Lake George store, suggesting Jan didn't know why I'd brought her along, that person was a goddamn liar, there was no doubt in my mind about that.

"So everyone's full of shit," Duckworth said. "What about the security cameras and the computers at Five Mountains? Are they full of shit, too?"

"The ticket thing?" I asked. "Is that what you mean?"

"Why were only two tickets charged to your wife's card, Mr. Harwood? One adult, one child. Was it because you knew you wouldn't be taking your wife with you? Did you take her card out of her purse when you were online, or had you written down the details earlier?"

"I didn't order them," I said. "Jan ordered them. And she was there, at the park. I can't explain the ticket thing. Maybe ... maybe, when she came back from the car, she realized she'd printed out the wrong thing, that there wasn't a ticket for her, and she paid cash to get in."

"We've looked at all the security footage at the gates, and we can't find her. Not coming in, and not going out."

"Then there's something wrong with it," I said. "Maybe there's some footage that's missing."

I pointed at him, then started stabbing the table with my index finger to make a point. "Look, I see what you're doing here, and you've got it wrong. The first thing you need to do is check out this thing with Jan's birth certificate, these people I thought were her parents, but who turned out not to be."

"So show it to me," Duckworth said.

"I don't ... have it."

"It's at your house?"

I shook my head. "It had been hidden. It was in an envelope, behind a baseboard in the linen closet. But I looked today, when I got back from Rochester, and it was gone."

"Well."

"Come on. Can't you call those things up anyway? The state has records. You can get a copy of it. Can't you do that?"

Duckworth nodded slowly. "I suppose I could."

"But you're not going to. Because you don't believe anything I've told you."

"Which story would you like me to believe, Mr. Harwood? The one about your wife wanting to kill herself, or the one about her being in the witness protection program? Or have you got a third one waiting in the wings?"

I put my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. "My wife's out there somewhere and you need to be looking for her."

"You know what would save me a lot of time in that regard?" Duckworth asked.

I raised my head. "What?"

"You could tell me where she is. What did you do with her, Mr. Harwood? What did you do with your wife?"

TWENTY-FOUR

"I didn't do anything with her!" I shouted at Barry Duckworth. "I swear to God I didn't. Why the hell would I want to hurt her? I love her! She's my wife, for God's sake. We have a son!"

Duckworth sat expressionless, unruffled.

"I am not lying to you!" I said. "I'm not making this up! Jan's been depressed. She
told
me she went to the doctor. So maybe she didn't go, maybe she didn't tell me the truth about that. But that's what she told
me."

Still nothing.

"Look, I don't know how to explain that no one else noticed how Jan was feeling. Maybe ... maybe she could only be herself when she was with me. When she was with others, she put on this act, put on a happy face, to get by." I shook my head in frustration. "I don't know what to tell you." Then, an idea. "You should talk to Leanne. Have you talked to her yet? They work together. Leanne sees Jan day in and day out. Even if Jan was able to hide how she was feeling with most people, Leanne would pick something up."

"Leanne." Duckworth said the name slowly.

"Leanne Kowalski," I said. "She'd be in the book. Her husband's name, I'm trying to think. It starts with an 'L,' too. Lionel, or Lyall, something like that."

"I'll have to check that out," Duckworth said. There was something in his tone, like he either didn't think Leanne was worth talking to, or he'd already done it. "How would you describe Jan's relationship with Leanne?"

"Relationship?"

"Good friends?"

"I've told you this. They just worked together. Leanne generally acts like she's got a pickle up her ass."

"They ever do things together?" Duckworth asked.

"Like what?"

"Lunch, shopping? Catch a movie?"

"No."

"They didn't hang out sometimes after work?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? No. Why's this important?"

"No reason," Duckworth said.

"Look, just talk to her. Talk to anyone. Talk to every goddamn person you can find. You're not going to find anyone who thinks I have anything to do with Jan's disappearance. I love her."

"I'm sure," Duckworth said.

"Fuck this," I said. "You have this so completely wrong." I pushed back my chair and stood up. "Am I under arrest or anything?"

"Absolutely not," Duckworth said.

"Do I need a lawyer?"

"Do you think you need a lawyer?" he asked.

There was no smart way to answer that. If I said yes, I looked guilty. If I said no, I looked like a fool.

"I'm going to need a ride back to my car and--no, forget it. I'll find my own way back to my parents' place."

"About that," Duckworth said. "Before we sat down for our little chat, I popped out to see about search warrants. We're seizing both of your cars, Mr. Harwood, and we're going to be conducting a search of your house."

"You're what?"

"So maybe getting in touch with a lawyer would be a good thing."

"You're going to search my house?" I said.

"We're already doing it," he said.

"You think I've hidden Jan in our house? Are you serious?"

As if on cue, my cell phone rang. I flipped it open, recognized my parents' number.

"Hello?"

"David?" My mother.

"Yes?"

"They're towing away your car!"

"I know, Mom, I just found out that--"

"I went out and told them they couldn't do that, that you can park for free for three hours on that side of the street, but--"

"Mom, there's nothing you can do about it."

"You need to get here fast! They're loading it onto the back of another truck right now! Your father's out there telling them they've made a mistake but--"

"Mom! Listen to me! I'm at the police station and I need a ride--"

"One of my men can give you a lift," Duckworth said.

I glanced at him. "Go fuck yourself."

"What?" said Mom.

"Send Dad down here," I said. "Can you do that?"

"Are you okay? Are you in some kind of--"

"Mom, just send Dad and I'll explain it when I get there." I closed the phone and slipped it back into my coat.

"You son of a bitch," I said to Duckworth. "You goddamn son of a bitch. I'm not the bad guy here. You're going to have people searching my house when they should be searching all over Promise Falls. What if my wife's tried to take her life? What if she's somewhere and needs help? What if she needs medical attention? And what are you doing? Turning my life upside down?"

Duckworth opened the door for me and I went through it. I was heading for the main lobby, with Duckworth following, making sure, I supposed, that I got out of the building without causing any trouble. I was nearly to the front doors, people going this way and that, when I stopped suddenly, turned, and said to him, "You didn't even ask anyone to check the witness protection thing, did you?"

Duckworth said nothing.

"You
have
to look into Jan's background. I know, at first, I thought maybe Jan had killed herself. That's the way it was looking to me. But there's more going on here than I realized. And I don't even know what the hell it is."

"I can assure you, Mr. Harwood, that I'll be following this investigation wherever it goes."

"I'm telling you," I said, leaning in close to him, getting right in his face, "I did not kill my wife."

"Well," said a familiar voice off to one side.

Duckworth and I both turned to see Stan Reeves, the city hall councilor, standing there. A grin was creeping across his face.

"I'll be damned," he said, looking at me. "If it's not the holier-than-thou David Harwood of the
Standard
. The things you hear when you're just dropping by to pay a parking ticket."