Somebody I Used to Know (32 page)

“Mr. Maberry has been a little . . . zealous in his pursuit of justice. At least in the first ten years or so after the accident. He made veiled threats at the officers investigating the case back then. He hinted strongly that he was carrying on his own investigation. He filed lawsuits seeking access to documents and then more documents. He was pretty relentless back in the day. Even ruthless.”

“How so?”

“You said there was a witness to the accident, right? Mr. Maberry’s mother, the boy’s grandmother. She saw the whole thing, and somehow she said to police that she thought the driver of the car was a dark-haired man. The Hanfort police actually questioned a suspect shortly after the accident, probably a week or two after the Minors would have pulled up stakes and left town. A guy fitting the description who happened to own a dark SUV and who regularly drove through that neighborhood. The police cleared him, but somehow word got to Maberry that this guy was being questioned by the police.”

“How would that happen?” I asked.

“Small town,” Reece said simply. “Maybe Maberry has a friend on the force. Maybe he paid the right person. It doesn’t always take much. Long story short, the suspect, the
cleared
suspect, ends up taking a beating one night. Broken leg. Fractured jaw. Busted teeth. When the police found out about it, the guy says nobody jumped him. He says he fell down the stairs at his house.”

“How do they know he didn’t?” I asked.

“The injuries,” Reece said, as though it should be obvious to me. “The emergency room doc says no way it was a fall. Unless the guy fell down over and over again. And landed on someone’s fist.”

I wondered how I had ended up in a place where I was even having a conversation about someone like Bill Maberry. I wasn’t supposed to be connected to people like that, even tangentially. I’d seen and heard of people like that at work, but that was work. Yet somehow Bill Maberry had possibly moved into the circle of my personal life.

“So what happened today? What did he say to the police?” I asked.

“He denied any involvement of course. And not only that—he has a pretty good alibi that the police were able to verify. The night of Emily Russell’s death he was with his second wife and a few other friends. They’ve backed his story.”

“Friends can lie,” I said.

“They can. And sometimes do.”

“I know you’re hung up on this Hillman guy, but isn’t it still possible Maberry is the one who killed Emily Russell?” I asked.

“Based on what?” Reece asked.

“I don’t know. She’s Jade’s daughter. Maybe . . .” It sounded good when I started to say it, but in the cold light of day, I couldn’t weave the two strands together. “I don’t know.”

“Believe me, I thought of it. I’ve thought of everything. From what I understand, the family had a rough go of it after their son died.”

“You’d kind of expect that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, but it’s still worth noting,” he said. “Their marriage broke up. The wife, Kendra Maberry, she never fully recovered from the shock of losing her child. She’s had some mental health and substance abuse issues. Mr. Maberry seemed to have moved on. Mrs. Maberry didn’t really.” There was a pause. “But I’m trying to think of a way Maberry would know Emily was Jade’s kid. How would he learn that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “How did he know to beat the crap out of the poor guy who just happened to drive the wrong-colored SUV?”

CHAPTER SIXTY

W
hen I walked in the door of the apartment, Riley danced a little and licked my hand, and we enjoyed a short walk around the complex. The evening felt warmer, the sky was clear after the previous night’s flurries. We had almost reached April, which felt like a milestone. Most of the cold weather was past, and nothing but budding flowers and green leaves and baseball stretched ahead. Even Riley seemed to feel it. Several times we stopped on the walk, and he lifted his head in the air, eyes half closed, as though he just wanted to soak in the warming breeze.

But I was hungry, and I assumed he was as well. So we went back, and I fed him, and then I put something on the stove to feed myself. Spaghetti. The very meal I had intended to have but never ate the night I saw Emily at the grocery store. While I watched the pot boil, I tried to comprehend how much time had passed since that night. On a calendar, not much. A couple of weeks. The blink of an eye if I was talking about my entire life span. But where had that night led me? Far into the past, twenty years. How could such a brief, accidental encounter lead to so much?

Then the phone rang, and it was Gina calling. I felt pleasantly surprised to see her name pop up on the caller ID screen. I hoped—again, I always hoped—she was looking for a way for Andrew and me to spend time together. Baseball was about to start, and he and I occasionally watched the Reds’ opening-day game together. Maybe she would let that tradition stand . . .

“Nick?” she said.

“Yeah?”

The steam from the pot rose past my face. Gina sounded breathless, rushed.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be home,” she said.

“Is something the matter?”

I heard the hesitation. Something was going on.

“Gina?” I asked.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “Andrew’s fine. We’re both fine. I wasn’t going to call you about this. It didn’t seem like a big deal, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

I put down the wooden spoon I was holding. “I’m worried now. What is it, Gina?”

“Okay. Andrew had a little incident today.”

“What kind of incident?” I asked. “Did he fall?”

“I know you’re crazy about that boy, so I need you to remain cool about this. It might be nothing. It’s
probably
nothing.” She took a deep breath. “He was coming home from his friend Jay’s house. You know Jay?”

“Sure.”

“It’s only a few blocks, so he was walking back. And, look, Nick . . . Jesus, it scares me just to say it. But someone pulled up in a car and tried to get Andrew to get in.”

Steam continued to rise from the boiling pot on the stove, and the water rolled and cascaded, a few drops sloshing over the edge and sizzling on the hot burner. I placed my hand on the counter to steady myself.

“A man?” I asked. “He tried to get Andrew?”

“The person was wearing a hat and sunglasses. He offered Andrew a ride. He said Andrew needed to go with him, and if he did, everything would be fine.”

I tried to listen. It sounded like Gina might have been crying. Gina never cried. Not when we got married, not when we split up, not when Andrew got shots at the doctor. She never cried. She was a rock. But she sounded like she was sniffling. “The man in the car said the most awful thing, Nick. Oh, shit, I really don’t want to tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“Please don’t be hurt by this. Don’t take it personally or anything.”

“What did he say?”

“The man said that he was a friend of yours. He said you had sent him to get Andrew, and if he got in the car, he’d take him to you.”

I held the phone against my ear while I eased my body down to the floor. When I was finally on the ground, I sat with my back against the cabinet under the sink, my free hand resting on my forehead. Riley came along and nosed against my side. The pot continued to boil and spit on the stove.

“Andrew got away, Nick. He’s a smart boy. He knew you wouldn’t do that, so he ran. He ran right back here and came tearing through the door. He’s fine. I locked all the doors and called the police. They just left.”

“Are you alone?” I asked.

“I’m . . . Dale’s coming over. He’s going to spend the night.”

“Good,” I said.

“And the police are going to up their patrols or whatever,” she said, sounding confident. “Nick, the police are also on their way over to see you. I’m not supposed to call, but I had to tell you. I didn’t want them to be the ones to break this to you.”

“That’s fine,” I said, feeling shaky.

“They’re going to ask you questions.”

“I’m not worried about it,” I said. “I’m worried about you and Andrew.”

“Nick . . . we’re okay. Really. I’m trying to remember that this guy might just be a weirdo who wants to scare kids. Or he’s . . . I don’t know. I just know Andrew is home now. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.”

Someone rang the front doorbell.

“Okay,” I said. “They’re here. The police.”

“Then I’m getting off the phone,” she said.

“I’m going to check back with you later.”

“That’s fine.”

I stood up and turned off the burner. Riley followed me to the front of the apartment to answer the bell.

*   *   *

When I pulled the door open, I came face-to-face with Detective Reece. Again.

I told him up front what my intentions were.

“I’m going to my family,” I said.

He held up his hand. “Not yet.”

“You have to let me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, except ask you a few questions.” He pointed into the apartment. “Can we sit? Please?”

But I refused to move.

“You know what this is about,” I said. “It’s not about me. It’s those people, that Maberry guy.”

Reece gently placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the apartment and then closing the door. “You think this was Maberry who tried to pick your kid up?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think it either. Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind for the tiniest little second.”

Reece didn’t act the least bit in a hurry. He sat on the sofa and didn’t say anything until I sat down as well. He looked as calm as a man waiting for a bus that wasn’t scheduled to come for another two hours.

“Where were you this afternoon?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” I said. “No, not this.”

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Work. You can check. You called me there.”

“On a Sunday?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It happens sometimes. I’m getting caught up. Do I need to call my lawyer?”

I reached for my phone. I had Brosius programmed. I could reach him in a minute.

“Have things been okay with your ex-wife and son?” he asked.

“She told you they have. Right? She couldn’t have said anything else.”

“And you don’t know anyone who would attempt to pick Andrew up this way?” he asked. “No friends? Relatives?”

“I don’t have any relatives here. And Andrew knows my friends. No. I’m telling you, it’s Maberry. We just talked about it.”

“And what interest would he have in your son?” Reece asked. He sounded curious and not dismissive. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know the kid. He doesn’t even know you exist.”

I wanted to burst. I stood up. I raised my hands to my head. I nearly screamed.

“I don’t know,” I said, managing to keep my voice somewhat level. “What else could it be?”

“This person in the car, your stepson gave us a description. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. The suspect wore a hat and sunglasses and spoke in a soft voice. He said the person seemed older, and they were driving an expensive car, some kind of dark luxury sedan. Does it ring any bells?”

I almost said it. Roger Kirby? I didn’t really know any other older well-off people. But Roger Kirby? Why? Just to scare me?

So I reminded Reece of him. Kirby’s name had come up the night before when I was telling him about Jade.

“This is the guy you thought was having an affair with Marissa?” Reece asked.

“Yes. That’s the one.”

I expected Reece to dismiss my wild connection, but he wrote something down in his notebook.

“And that’s it?” he asked. “No one else? Troubles at work?”

“Haven’t we been over this enough?”

“What about this new boyfriend your ex-wife has?” Reece asked.

“What about him?”

“Have you met him?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’m thrilled he’s spending the night with Gina and Andrew tonight. So can I go?”

Reece gave me a long look. “Why are you going over there?”

“I want to see Andrew,” I said. “I want to know he’s safe. Sometimes we can only do that with our own eyes.”

Reece looked down at his notebook again. He nodded to himself and tucked it back into his pocket. He didn’t say anything to me, but he stood up, and I had the sense our conversation was over.

I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone.

At the door, Reece stopped and looked over at me.

“This is three times I’m here in the last two months, Mr. Hansen. Normally when that happens with someone . . .”

“They’re really in the soup,” I said.

“I hope I’m not wrong about you,” Reece said, and then he walked out ahead of me.

*   *   *

I didn’t stay long inside Gina’s house. Dale was there, and Andrew was already getting ready for bed, but I was able to have a few minutes alone with him in his room.

The kid was unruffled. He acted as though the incident with the stranger was no big deal, the kind of thing that happened to kids all the time. He said his mother taught him never to get into a car with a stranger no matter what they said. And he followed her instructions.

“I ran fast,” he said. “No one could have caught me.”

“I bet.”

“Maybe I’ll go out for track someday.”

“Maybe you will.” I looked at the clock on his bedside table. “Okay, time for bed. You’ve had an adventurous day.”

Before I left the room, he said, “You look tired, Nick. You should sleep too.”

“I’m on my way,” I said.

But I didn’t return home. I went through a drive-through and bought the biggest coffee they had and a couple of greasy burgers. I drove back to Gina’s street and parked across from her house.

I stayed there all night, watching.

I wouldn’t leave them alone. No chance in hell.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

S
omeone tapped on the window. I jumped.

It took a moment for my circumstances to come back to me.

The street. Gina’s house. Andrew. I’d fallen asleep.

I looked out the window.

Gina waved at me. I rolled down the window. My neck ached, and I was cold despite wrapping myself in a coat. A sour, stale taste filled my mouth. I needed to brush my teeth.