The One I Left Behind (38 page)

“That’s enough,” Sid said, standing.

“Why don’t you show us your arms, Tara?” Charlie said, standing now, hovering over her. Charlie was breathing hard, almost wheezing.

Tara stared up at him in disbelief. Then she turned and looked at Reggie, dark eyes smoldering, their message clear:
you betrayed me
.

Reggie held her breath, waited for Tara to turn the tables and tell them all the truth about Reggie:
while we’re at it, why don’t we look at Reggie’s legs, too?
But she stayed silent, glaring. This was worse than Reggie’s having her secret revealed. It was like having her heart doused in ice water.

Charlie reached for Tara’s sleeve, and she flinched. Sid grabbed Charlie’s wrist, holding it tight. He knocked a glass from the table and it shattered on the floor.

“Problem here, kids?” Reuben asked. He’d moved in swiftly and was now right behind Sid.

“Nah,” Sid said, dropping Charlie’s arm and sitting back down. “No problem at all, right, cuz?”

Charlie sat, too, pulling his hand away from Tara’s arm. He was breathing like a steam train.

“Glad to hear it.” Reuben nodded. “Why don’t you all just finish up your dinners and go on home, then?” He studied them a minute, then turned and walked back to the bar.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sid said, standing and throwing money to cover the bill down on the table.

No one else moved. Tara was glaring at Reggie. Charlie was glaring at Tara. And Reggie was looking at the shards of glass and melting ice cubes on the floor.

“Come on,” Sid said. “Before they kick our asses out.” Reggie stood and Tara and Charlie followed.

T
HE LIGHTS IN THE
parking lot were out. They stood a second, letting their eyes adjust, then moved toward Sid’s car.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be showing my face in there any time soon,” said Sid.

“It’s your fault,” Tara snapped at Charlie. “If you hadn’t made such a damn scene in there—”

“Oh sure,” Charlie said. “Blame me. You’ve been slicing and dicing yourself, breaking into dead ladies’ apartments, and now you’re turning into this complete slut. You’re not psychic, Tara. You’re psycho!”

Sid lunged forward, grabbed Charlie’s T-shirt, and put his face right in front of Charlie’s. “That’s enough, Charlie.”

Charlie pushed at Sid’s chest with both hands, sending the older boy toppling backward onto the asphalt.

“Jesus!” Sid yelped, starting to get himself back up off the ground. Charlie lunged at him, and they both went down, rolling around. Sid struggled to get Charlie off him and to duck the hits and kicks.

Tara raced forward, grabbing the back of Charlie’s shirt. “Get off him!” she yelled. Charlie swung back, and Tara lost her balance, falling onto the parking lot. “Asshole!” she yelped. Reggie went to help her up, and Tara jerked away from Reggie. “What the fuck did you do?” she asked. “What did you say to him?”

“I’m sorry,” Reggie said.

Tara shook her head violently. “You’ve ruined everything!” she hissed.

Sid and Charlie were up again, holding on to each other. Charlie was smaller than Sid, but his movements seemed more careful, more directed than Sid’s, who moved like a slow, gangly scarecrow.

Charlie grabbed Sid’s throat, and Sid was trying to pry Charlie’s fingers off.

Tara jumped up and clawed at Charlie’s arms. “Let him go!” She was standing sideways, up against Sid, her left leg behind him.

Reggie stood paralyzed, knowing she should do something, but unsure what it should be. Sid was making horrible choking sounds. Reggie approached Charlie, saw that his arms were bleeding from the scratches Tara was giving him. “Please, Charlie,” Reggie said. “This isn’t who you are.”

Charlie looked at his own hands wrapped around Sid’s neck in disbelief, like they weren’t his at all, then let go. Sid gasped for breath, hands clutching at his crushed throat.

Reggie leaned toward Charlie, touched his bleeding arm. “It’s all my fault,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said those things about Tara. I was just mad . . . jealous, and I . . .” She stumbled over words and knew that if she didn’t say it now, she never would.

I love you.

She screamed the words inside her head, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was a pathetic “I’m sorry.”

“Get away from me!” Charlie yelled, shaking her off. “All of you! Everyone just leave me alone.”

They all stood frozen, wide-eyed.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Charlie hissed, lunging forward one more time, pushing Sid with both hands. Sid’s feet caught on Tara’s leg, and he flipped backward, legs flying up, head hitting the pavement with a sickening crack.

For a second, no one moved. Time stopped, and Reggie felt herself slip away and view the scene as if she were looking down at a photograph. There was Charlie, arms in front of him like Frankenstein’s monster; Tara stood sideways, the left leg Sid had fallen over planted firmly against the pavement; and Reggie’s eyes were on Charlie as she wished she could take it all back.

“Sid?” Tara called. “Oh Jesus, Sid?” She went down on all fours to check on him.

Charlie nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “He’s okay,” Charlie said.

Tara looked up. “No! He’s not fucking okay. His head’s hurt. There’s a lot of blood.”

“He’ll get up in a second,” Charlie said. “He’s just stunned.”

Reggie got down and studied Sid’s crumpled body in the dim light. His eyes were open and a dark pool of blood surrounded his head. Reggie put her hand in front of Sid’s nose and mouth. “Guys, I don’t think he’s breathing at all. I think he’s hurt bad.” Her voice rose in pitch.

She had done this. Her love for Charlie, her jealousy. If she hadn’t said those things to him, he and Sid wouldn’t have fought. Sid wouldn’t be lying here on the asphalt.

The rotten spot deep inside her was spreading.

“He’s dead!” moaned Tara, looking up at Charlie. “He’s fucking dead and you killed him!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Charlie yelled. He was rocking. “I thought—oh, shit! It was an accident!” He came over, kicked at Sid’s body. “Get up!” he yelled.

“We’ve gotta get help,” Reggie said, standing, backing up slowly, moving toward the front door of Reuben’s.

“No,” Tara said, jumping up and grabbing Reggie. She clamped her hand tightly around Reggie’s arm, pulled her back. “It’s too late for that. What we’ve gotta do is get out of here. Now.”

A car turned into the parking lot, its headlights illuminating the whole gruesome scene: Reggie looked down at Sid’s face, pale and stonelike, and saw the lake of blood spreading out behind his head like a halo. The car sat for a few seconds, idling, and with the bright lights in her face, Reggie couldn’t see who was inside.

“Run!” Tara squealed, pulling on Reggie, dragging her away. And Reggie and Charlie ran, following Tara. Reggie turned to look over her shoulder and saw the car back up, turn around, and leave the parking lot, tires squealing.

It was a light-colored sedan with only the driver inside.

Chapter 40

October 23, 2010

Brighton Falls, Connecticut

“R
EGGIE,”
G
EORGE SAID WHEN
he greeted her at the door. “Everything okay?”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course.” He stood aside and she stepped in.

“Come on back to my office,” he said, leading the way down the hall.

George sat down behind the heavy wooden desk and Reggie took the upholstered chair across the desk from him. After the chaos of Stu Berr’s office, George’s seemed almost like a monastery. The wood floors were clean and polished, the books in neat rows on the small set of shelves built into the wall. A green banker’s lamp illuminated the desktop, which was empty except for a few invoices George had been going over. The sense of order comforted Reggie, made her believe in a world where things just might turn out okay.

“Your mom all right?” he asked, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the neat desktop. Even his glasses were spare and clean with neat wire rims.

“She’s fine. You know, considering.”

He nodded understandingly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been over much to help out. I’ve been swamped with work. We lost one of our big suppliers, and we’ve run into some snags with the construction on the new Brattleboro warehouse.”

“It’s okay. We’re holding our own, I guess. Look, George, I need a favor.”

“Shoot,” he said.

“I was hoping you’d go to the police station with me.”

“The police station?”

“I think I know who Neptune is. I’ve got evidence, but I’m afraid they won’t believe me. Especially that young cop Levi. I’m going to need all the help I can get. My friend Len is on his way down from Vermont, but I don’t want to wait.”

George’s eyes were huge. “You know who Neptune is?”

Reggie nodded. “What do you know about Stu Berr?”

“The detective?”

“He and my mom were involved in high school,” she said.

“Yes,” George said. “I remember. She also dated his brother Bo. Things got a little messy, as I recall.”

“I think Stu Berr might be Neptune,” Reggie said.

“What?” He pushed forward in his chair, leaning forward, as close to Reggie as he could be with the desk between them.

Reggie reached down into her messenger bag and pulled out the file on Vera, the note from Tara, and showed them to George, filling him in.

“He was the one in the Yankees cap who talked to her in that bar that night. He said he was questioning her, that he thought she might be Neptune.”

“Vera?” George chortled. “That’s crazy!”

Reggie nodded. “I know. I think he was trying to distract me, to throw me off his trail.”

George shook his head. “It’s absurd.”

“What if Stu was the one who promised to marry her? What if he was luring these women away in whatever twisted way he could manage?”

George pushed back, rubbed his face with his hands. “My God,” he said. “Just imagine it. He’d be in the perfect position to commit those crimes and get away with it. He was the detective working the case! No one understood how the hands got left on the steps of the police station without anyone noticing. But everyone was used to seeing Stu Berr come and go.”

Reggie nodded. “I need to go to the police, show them the note from Tara. I’m worried though—the cops there all know Stu. They’ll stand up for him, maybe even refuse to look at evidence.”

“I’ll go with you,” George said. “It may take some convincing, but this is the last day, Reg. If he’s following the same pattern, he’ll kill her tonight, dump her body in the morning.”

Reggie shut her eyes tight, trying to blink away the image of Tara, naked, wrist wrapped in gauze on some early-morning-dew-covered field. “I know. Thanks for offering to go with me. Whatever happens, it’ll be easier with you there.”

“It’s no problem at all.” He stood.

“Wait,” Reggie said. “Before we go, there’s one more thing I need to ask.”

“Okay,” he said, sitting back in his chair. He looked suddenly worried.

Just ask,
Reggie told herself. Best to get it over with. To know for sure one way or the other.

“You and my mother were involved once, weren’t you? Before you got together with Lorraine.”

“Reggie.” He sighed. “We’ve been over all of this, haven’t we? And I told you—”

“You told me what you thought I should hear. My whole childhood and adolescence, you worked so hard to protect me from the truth—you and Lorraine created this whole mythical reality about who my mother was and where she went when she wasn’t home. Now I think there are other things you were hiding from me, too.”

“Such as?”

“Are you my father, George?”

His face turned to the side, like the words had slapped him. Recovering, he took in a breath and faced her, but only stared.

“Please, George. No more secrets.”

He nodded wearily. “She never wanted you to know,” he said. “Your mother said I could be as involved in your life as I liked in the role of family friend, but that I mustn’t ever tell you the truth. She thought it was better, I guess, for you to imagine all the people your father might have been than to have all the complications of it being me.”

Reggie bit her lip, remembered the way Vera used to talk about George: calling him a dud, teasing him about his ducks.

“Does Lorraine know?”

“No . . . Well, maybe. I think she suspects, but she’s never asked. She knew about my history with your mother, such as it was.” He looked down at his shoes.

It amazed Reggie—the tangled nest of secrets they’d all been living inside.

Reggie wondered what to say next. She felt a little like she’d been dropped into a bad daytime television movie: daughter realizing the man who’d been a father figure to her was her actual father after all—she could practically hear the cheesy music building to some sort of climax. And here was the part where she was supposed to say something touching, something meaningful; something that would end with the two of them in a tearful embrace.

Her mind went blank, everything spinning too fast to grab hold of any one thought or idea long enough to say it out loud.

George gave her a weak smile and stood up. “We’d better be on our way. Just let me go grab my coat and turn some lights off. Be right back.”

Back to the practical world.

Reggie sank back into her chair. It would be over soon. They just had to make the police check out Stu, go down to his boat. Maybe that’s where he was keeping her.

Reggie tucked the file on Vera and note from Tara back into her bag. There, at the bottom, was George’s swan.

George. Her father, George. It would take some getting used to, yet on some deep level, she knew it to be true. She felt it, a part of him inside her—the logical, practical part. She understood the genetic origin of her love for order, for plans and blueprints, for seeing the beauty and possibility in a single piece of wood.

She ran her fingers over the carved wooden swan, pulled it out of the bag.

It’s the ugly duckling. All her life she compares herself to others, thinks she doesn’t fit in; then she grows up and realizes she’s really a beautiful swan.