The Girl From Home: A Thriller (23 page)

“Jonathan,” Amy says, a touch louder than conversational tone. “I asked you a question.”

“I'm sorry. I zoned out for a moment. What did you say?”

“I said that I assume it's okay if we all stay at Dad's.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. You and Kevin can take Mom and Dad's room. I've been staying in my old room anyway. The kids can share your bedroom downstairs. How's that?”

“Fine. The same funeral home that did Mom's can do Dad's too. They said that they could do the funeral tomorrow morning, which I thought made sense. Kevin and the kids land tonight at eight thirty. Sorry to make you have to do a second airport run, but Kevin only gets ten vacation days a year.”

“It's fine.”

Indeed it is. The least of Jonathan's worries at the moment is that he has to go to Newark Airport twice in one day.

Amy begins to discuss the logistics. She was always good at planning, which was how she ended up with exactly the life she'd always wanted: solid husband, two kids, one of each gender, exactly two years apart, a comfortable house in a nice neighborhood with a good public school system, and a pure-breed dog.

“I was trying to think who we needed to call,” Amy says. “You know, with Mom, there were people she knew from work and she had some friends, but I don't have the first clue as to whether Dad had any people. I Googled Robin and Randi and got a number for Robin that might be her. She still lives in upstate New York somewhere, right?”

Jonathan has no idea where their cousin Robin lives. He hasn't seen her since he was in high school, so he just shrugs.

“Well, I left a message on the number I found for her online. The voice mail greeting was one of those electronic ones that just repeats the number you've called, so I'm not even sure if the person I called is a man or a woman. Randi's totally off the grid. I mean, no Internet presence at all. I figure that if Robin calls me back, I'll ask her to get in touch with Randi. And that's all of Dad's family that I know about. I've heard him mention that he had cousins living someplace in Arizona, but I don't have any idea where, or even what their names are.”

“Yeah, I don't know,” Jonathan says.

“I was also thinking . . . remember the Levinsons? They didn't come to Mom's funeral, but I'm not sure anyone told them about it. Mr. Levinson was Dad's best friend, right? Maybe you could do some Googling and find him.”

Jonathan knows he's not going to lift a finger to find Phillip Levinson. He considers sharing with Amy why he does not want that man at their father's funeral, but decides there's no reason for him to sully her memory of their parents.

“He was Dad's friend like forty years ago, Amy. He's probably dead himself now. Besides, they moved to California a long time ago, didn't they? I don't see him flying across the country to attend Dad's funeral tomorrow.”

Amy considers this. “I guess you're right. And it might be better if it's just our family. But I think you should tell him anyway. Just so he knows.”

“Okay,” Jonathan says, seeing it as a harmless lie. “So how are the kids?” he asks to change the subject for the second time.

If Amy realizes that it's out of character for Jonathan to inquire about her children, she doesn't let on. Instead she says, “They're good. Really good, actually. They were upset about Dad, which is ironic because they both thought he was kind of scary. But that's the way kids are, I guess. Molly was funny. She now thinks that whenever she's going to see an older person, she needs to bring a black dress. Remember when Mom died? We came up here to make that good-bye visit, but I thought Mom was going to linger a little longer and we'd go back home and then I'd come back for the funeral without the kids. But then Mom passed while we were still here, and I didn't have a black dress for Molly. So now whenever we visit Kevin's mother, which we do, you know, once a month or so, Molly asks, ‘Is she going to die?' And I tell her no, that it's just a visit, but Molly still always says, ‘I think we should bring a black dress. You know, just in case. Like what happened to Grandma Linda.' So at least this time I could tell her that she gets to bring a black dress.”

As Amy talks about her children, Jonathan's mind returns to Jackie. It's now been about ten minutes since he called the East Carlisle police. At the time, he imagined that Jackie was at home when Rick had called him, but now he realizes that may not have been the case. Maybe she left her phone behind, and that gave Rick the opportunity to scroll through it. If Jackie isn't home when the cops arrive, Rick will say that their tip was just a crank call.
No disturbance here, Officers. I'm all alone.
Which means that when Jackie does come home, Rick will be there, likely even angrier than he was on the phone with Jonathan.

“Jonathan, you're doing it again,” Amy says in a singsong voice. “What's up with you, anyway? I'm tempted to think it's Dad, but I know you better than that.”

“I'm sorry,” Jonathan says.

“I asked you if the lovely Natasha was at Dad's house.”

Amy never made any secret that Natasha was far from her favorite person on earth. Jonathan could hardly blame her. Few women liked his wife, so there was no reason for Amy to be any different.

“No . . . well, I guess I might as well tell you. We're separated now. Since right before Thanksgiving. And I haven't told Natasha about Dad or even where I'm living these days.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you're not,” he says with a laugh.

“No, I am. She's your wife, and you're my brother, so I am really sorry.”

He's still wondering whether it's true when his phone rings. It's Jackie's number. His first instinct is to let it go to voice mail, to avoid a second confrontation with Rick Williams.

Then again, it might be Jackie. He can't risk missing her, so he answers.

“Hello . . . ?”

“Jonathan . . . what the hell happened?”

It's Jackie, thank God. His relief is short-lived, however. He'd just as soon not have this discussion in front of his sister.

“Are you okay?” he says.

“Not really. The police got an anonymous call that there was a domestic disturbance at my house. Did you call them?”

Jonathan can feel his sister's stare. “I just picked up my sister at the airport. Can I call you back in about an hour?”

“No,” Jackie says in a whisper. Jonathan imagines that she's secreted herself in the bathroom, and is cowering in fear. “I don't think you understand what's going on. Rick's downstairs with the police right now. I need to go in a second and talk to them, too. I realized that I forgot my phone, and when I came back, I saw that a call to you was made while I was out. I figured that Rick called you and then you called the police. Tell me what's going on.”

He doesn't have much choice. He needs to tell Jackie that her husband knows about them. Having his sister hear about his sordid life is now of secondary concern. Jonathan's worried first and foremost about the retribution Rick will exact against Jackie.

“Yes,” Jonathan says. “It was just like you said. I'm sorry, but I felt like I had no choice.”

“Jesus, Jonathan.”

“Can you leave?” Jonathan asks. “I mean when the police do. I don't want you alone with him.”

“I don't know,” she says. “I'll try, and then I'll call you.”

Jonathan quickly looks over at his sister, and then back to the highway. “I'm sorry if I made things worse, but he was making threats, and I didn't know what else to do.”

There's a long pause. “I know,” Jackie says, and then she ends the connection.

*  *  *

Jonathan hopes that by acting as if nothing unusual has occurred, his sister will not see the need to ask him about the call. So he tosses his cell phone into the cup holder and continues to stare straight ahead, as if he's transfixed by the beauty of the New Jersey Turnpike.

His sister isn't going to let it go without further comment, however.

“What the hell, Johnny?” she says.

“It's complicated.”

“Yeah, it sure sounds like it. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“What?”

“You said the word
police
and something about threats being made.”

There are just so many lies he can keep track of. He might as well tell his sister what's going on. Some of it, at least.

“Do you remember Jacqueline Lawson?”

“From high school? Queen of the Cliquesters?”

Jonathan laughs. “Yeah. That one.”

“What about her?”

“Well . . . let's just say that we reconnected at the reunion.”

“Ah. Is that why you and Natasha separated?”

“No, the thing with Natasha happened first. And it was her idea. So, at least that's not my fault. Well, not entirely. But I take total blame for having the brilliant idea to start a relationship with a married woman. I suppose you also remember Ricky Williams, right?”

Amy was two years behind Jonathan at ECHS, so a different generation of Cliquesters and football gods ruled her senior class. Still, Ricky Williams was the big man on campus in Amy's sophomore year, so Jonathan assumed she'd recall the name.

“Vaguely,” she says. “Wasn't he a football player?”

“Yes. Another acceptable answer would have been a Class-A douche bag. Anyway, he's her husband, and right before I picked you up, he called me. Apparently he knows about Jackie and me, and made it quite clear he was going to take it out on her. Long story short, after I drop you at Dad's, I'm going to meet up with Jackie to see how much damage I caused.”

“Is that why you decided to move into Dad's? To be closer to Jackie?”

The question confuses Jonathan. As he processes it, he realizes that of course that would be his sister's assumption, but that's only because her chronology is off.

“No . . . Natasha kicked me out first. I went to Dad's because . . . well, the truth is that I didn't have any place to live.”

Amy still looks confused. “I figured you'd take a suite at the Four Seasons or something. To be closer to work.”

It's as if Jonathan's whole life is unraveling again, this time in a single conversation with his sister. It wasn't how he envisioned their reunion beginning. He feels enough shame to lie to her, but then recalls his father's plea to be better than that.

“I've also been let go from my job,” he says. “If it's okay, I don't want to get into all the gory details right now. Suffice to say, when it rains, it pours. And sometimes it pours down shit.”

“I'm sorry,” Amy says. “Just know that I'm here for you, if you ever want to talk. Okay?”

“Thanks, Amy. Really.”

Amy puts her hand on her brother's shoulder and sighs. “Well, I got to say this, Johnny—your life isn't boring, that's for sure.”

J
ackie comes out of the bathroom and down the stairs to see the two police officers still talking to Rick. She can tell that Rick is trying his best to remain calm. He's wearing what she thinks of as his lying face. The one she sees whenever he tells her that he was out at a business dinner when he comes home reeking of perfume.

“No,” Rick is saying with that face right now, “everything is fine. In fact, my wife was out until about a minute before you both arrived.” He sees Jackie making her way down the stairs. “Isn't that right, honey?”

“Isn't what right?” she says, stalling.

“Your husband just told us that you weren't home this morning,” one of the cops says. He's closer to the age of her son, Robert, than to her own, and so thin that his uniform hangs off him. “Where were you?”

“At the gym,” she says.

The other police officer looks to be slightly older than his partner and has twenty pounds on him. “Which gym?” he asks.

“Bally's.”

“The one off Hardenbrooke Lane?” the skinny cop asks.

“Yeah. The kids leave for school at seven thirty, and then I go to the eight a.m. Pilates class.”

Jackie's tempted to just explain everything—well, maybe not everything, but some of it. She could tell them that her husband went through her phone and found a number he didn't recognize, and even though Rick chases every skirt he sees, he's also a jealous prick, so he called that number and threatened the man who answered, who was a friend, nothing more, but who was understandably concerned for her well-being, so he called the cops.

She sees no good coming from that scenario, however. For starters, the police would ask for the man's name to verify her story, and that'll involve Jonathan, which she'd rather not do. On top of which, she'd be lying about her relationship with Jonathan, and she wouldn't even be accusing Rick of doing anything illegal. Not really. These two male cops aren't going to arrest Rick because he called the phone number of a guy he thought was sleeping with his wife.

“Can we speak for a moment in private?” the larger officer asks.

“Sure,” Jackie says, “we can talk in here.”

She leads him into the den. When they are behind closed doors, the cop looks at Jackie with concern, then says in a low voice, “Okay, ma'am, you need to listen. If your husband has gotten physical with you, he's not going to stop, no matter what he says or how sweet he acts right after. And that means you need to get out of here. Right now. For your sake, and for the sake of your kids. And if you have concerns about your safety, we can protect you. You and your kids. I guarantee it.”

The cop hands Jackie his business card. Officer Craig Sinoway.

Jackie knows that she should take the police up on their offer of protection and get the hell out of there. But no matter what the police promise, she'll never be safe from Rick.

“Thank you, Officer Sinoway,” Jackie says, reading the name off the business card. “I really appreciate your concern. But I'm fine.”