Lake of Tears (17 page)

“And Brian?” Meg asked.

“Yeah.” Andrew knew to keep it short. “He’s dead. Died out there in the mountains. Fell off a cliff and got shot on the way down. He died and he died.”

“I’m so sorry,” Meg said, touching his face.

Why was he telling her this? He didn’t want to break down in front of her. Instead he pulled her to him and rolled back onto the sleeping bag. The wind swept through the trees above them, the moon was edging over the tops of the branches, all the signs were in his favor. He needed to feel something other than the pain and guilt he had been living with since he got home.

He needed Meg to help him.

He kissed her, not gentle, with all the hunger he had ever felt. “Please,” he asked. “Please let me.”

Her mouth opened and he drank her. Then he pulled at her clothes, needing to feel her skin. She kept opening and he kept moving deeper into her. She was Meg, and then she was more. She was the earth, a warm place to be safe, he wanted to be in her.

He heard her cry out as he entered her, but he couldn’t stop. What he was after was the explosion that covered everything for a while, that took over the world for moments and made him forget. It came so fast he wasn’t ready for it: the wind, the leaves, the stars, all swept through him and then he collapsed on top of her.

Quietness descended. He wouldn’t have known she was crying if he hadn’t felt her tears wet his hand.

“Hey,” he whispered to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, but her voice quivered.

He wrapped his arms around her. “Wasn’t it good for you?”

“I just wasn’t quite ready for it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I wanted it, too. I did. It’s just that I, well, I hadn’t done it before.”

Andrew sat up and looked down at her. The glimpses of her white body shone in the firelight in the mess of her clothes. He reached out and touched her belly. “Your first time? Oh, baby, I would have been more careful if I’d known. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it was fine.”

But he could hear in her voice it wasn’t, and he felt like he had failed again. He had taken her with no thought, no contraception, no carefulness. What was the matter with him? It was like he wasn’t human anymore, just an animal surviving. He turned away from her and looked at the fire.

To be burnt to nothing in a fire, that wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

When Fred from the crime lab called, Claire was on her way home. It had been a very long day, and now that she was acting sheriff she could never turn her phone off. Not that she often did as a deputy, either.

“What have you got?” she asked, no wasting time on pleasantries.

“There’s certainly evidence of Ms. Johansen in Whitman’s car. But we knew that going in to the search. Long blond hair is in both the front and back seat. Don’t know it’s hers, but we’re guessing. Fingerprints galore, those we matched.” Fred paused and then said, “The weird thing is there is a long blond hair in the trunk too. No blood or anything—we used the luminal spray, didn’t see a thing. But there is this one long hair in a rather odd place.”

“She wasn’t necessarily bleeding when she was killed. And she could have put something in the trunk and left a hair behind.”

“Yes, but we found it toward the back of the trunk, not near the front where it would be likely to be if she were just getting something in or out of it. And it was caught on a piece of metal that holds the back seats in place. Looking at where it is, I’m guessing the person would have had to have climbed in the trunk.”

“Okay, I’ll follow up on this. Thanks.”

“Good luck. I’ll send you all the fingerprint info and the hair samples tomorrow.”

When Claire hung up, she sat and thought about Terry. Amy had been watching his movements, and he had just left on the train for an overnight run to Chicago. He’d be back tomorrow. The hair was inconclusive, but definitely meant he should be looked at more carefully. Plus, if what Andrew said was true and Tammy Lee was thinking of dumping Terry, that would certainly give him motive.

She walked over to Amy’s desk and gave her the news.

Amy shook her head. “I’m not getting a good feeling from this guy. No one I have talked to has had much good to say about him.”

“Still not enough reason to arrest him.” Claire said. “But why don’t you do a little more sniffing, go to that bar he frequents, see what you can learn, and then when he gets back tomorrow, let’s bring him in for a little talk. I think it’s time he sees the inside of this place and we have a little face time with him.”

They sat down to dinner together across from each other at the kitchen table. Doug remembered they almost always ate in the kitchen, even though there was a dining room with a big table and six chairs. Only on holidays did they eat in the dining room. Just more cozy in the kitchen, Grandma would say.

She had made scrambled eggs and boiled some potatoes. It wasn’t much of a meal, and still she hardly ate any of it.

“Grandma, don’t you have any meat in the house?”

“Oh, Dougie, it’s so dear. I only have some social security to live on, and that’s gotta last me the whole month. Barely pays the bills. It’s hard getting old and sick. No fun.”

It was not like his grandmother to complain. But when he looked over at her, he wondered if she was really the same woman anymore. Like him. You go through something and it changes you so much, you’re never the same. You can’t go back to what you once were.

He remembered how easily he had moved through life in high school. He had been a star football player, all the girls wanted to go out with him. Now he was damaged inside and out, and no woman wanted anything to do with him. It was like they smelled the dead on him, the dying he was doing inside.

Seemed the same with Grandma. She was just shuffling through life, moving from the toilet to the recliner to the kitchen and back again. Not really living. Just waiting to die.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. Wish I could stay and take care of you.”

She patted his hand. “Don’t be sorry for me. I’ve had a good life, most of it. Just wish it were over, that’s all. I’m no good for anyone now, and can’t even pay my doctor bills. I’m afraid they’re going to take the house.”

Doug looked around the old place. He could tell that nothing had been done on the upkeep for years. Windows were cracked, paint peeling off the clapboard, gutters hanging loose from the roof. But she had lived in it most of her life.

“Do you want to move?” he asked.

“No, I want to die right here. Is that too much to ask?” She got up and started to clear the table.

“You go lie down, Grandma. I’ll take care of this.” Doug ran a sink full of hot water and used the last few drops in the bottle of dishwashing soap. He washed all the dishes and the pots and pans that had accumulated on the stove. He wiped down the stove and the refrigerator and the table. He thought of washing the floor, but then thought, what’s the use? At least the kitchen was clean. People wouldn’t think she had neglected her duties.

When he peeked into the living room, she was sleeping in her recliner. Her face had smoothed out and her hands were folded in her lap. He had always loved her and this was one last thing he could do for her.

He walked up the stairs to his room to get the gun.

Andrew hated not working. He’d lie in bed as long as he could stand it, then get up and go downstairs and drink coffee with his mom. She would make him some eggs without even asking what he wanted. The radio would be on, giving the weather report, so important in farming. After that, classical music would fill the room and she would clean up the kitchen, humming softly to herself, not usually matching the music but playing off of it.

His mom never asked what he was going to do—either with his day or with his life. It was one of the many things he liked about her. She knew how to let a man be alone. Sometimes he’d wander out and try to help his dad, but there wasn’t that much to do. Harvest was over and his dad was usually tinkering away on the old tractor or some other piece of machinery, just to pass the time. He didn’t really want any help, and Andrew wasn’t that good at it.

After breakfast Andrew pulled on a jacket and went outside, but rather than try to find his dad he decided to walk the fields, see if he could scare up some pheasants just to see them fly their bullet-flight low over the broken cornstalks.

He still felt horrible about last night with Meg. She had assured him that he had done nothing wrong, that she had wanted it too, but had just been taken by surprise. Yeah, I guess, your first time and the dink of a guy doesn’t even know enough to take it slow. Next time he would do it right. If there was a next time.

She had kissed him as sweetly as ever when he dropped her off a few blocks from her house, but he wondered. She was so young. She knew so little of what life could be like. Her mother was only trying to protect her from men like him. Maybe Meg wouldn’t want to see him again.

Maybe he should leave her alone. It would be better for her. He had little to offer anyone right now.

He walked to the edge of the field, a place where he knew he could get pretty good cell phone reception. He needed to talk to Doug, find out what he was doing. Maybe they should meet and talk things over. He owed at least that to Doug. After all, more than just Brian had died that day on the ridge.

Andrew dialed Doug’s cell phone number, which he knew by heart. He didn’t expect to get through.

The phone rang and rang. Andrew counted up to ten and then disconnected. No voice mail, nothing. He’d expected this result, but he had hoped, since Doug had called him yesterday, that he might have left the phone on and maybe even would answer it.

Then Andrew remembered that the number Doug had called from yesterday had not been the cell phone number. He looked it up and hit dial. The phone rang three times, then someone answered with a very tentative, “Hello.”

It wasn’t Doug, but it was a man.

“Yes, is Doug there?”

“Doug who?” the man asked.

“Doug Nelson.”

The man cleared his voice. “This is the Nelson residence, but I don’t think Doug is here. It’s his grandmother’s house. She’s been killed. I need to call the police. Just came over to drop off some eggs for her. Was Doug here?”

“I think so. He called me from there.”

“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings, but it looks like someone came in the house and shot his grandma. She always left the door unlocked. We all do. That way I can check on her. Who are you?”

“I’m—” Andrew wasn’t sure what to say. “I guess I’m a friend of Doug’s.”

“Well, let him know if you talk to him. She hasn’t been that close to her family in a long time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, she was doing poorly, but she didn’t deserve this. She had nothing worth stealing, that’s for sure.”

Andrew hung up the phone. Now his number would be recorded as having called her. And he knew that Doug had been there the night before. What the hell was going on with Doug? Would he have killed his grandmother?

Doug had always wanted control in a world that had gone crazy. He was the one who was always planning what the three of them would do after their tour of duty.

Doug was the one who had persuaded them to take the vow.

Andrew knew he had to get in touch with him before anything else happened.

In a way, he was responsible for it all.