The Wreck (13 page)

When he wasn’t out walking, he caught up
on his laundry, picked up a ton of dry cleaning, and puttered around the small
loft he had bought his first year in New York. At the time, he’d considered the
purchase price a small fortune, but the place had appreciated significantly and
was now worth an actual fortune.

While he was doing nothing more than
killing time until he could go back to work, Brian was also making an effort
not to think about his recent longings for home or his desire to see Carly
again. After talking it over with his mother in Florida, he’d decided to chalk
up his odd feelings to the emotional anniversary of the accident and the
roller-coaster ride of the trial. The idea of going home and confronting the
past filled him with the kind of anxiety he seldom experienced, which he took
as a sign that he needed to leave well enough alone.

On Wednesday night, he had dinner with
his ex-wife Beth and her husband Joe, who were in town for a few days.

“You look good, Brian,” she said after
they were seated at the restaurant. “All tanned and rested.”

“Better than my usual look?” he asked
with a self-deprecating smile.

“Which is white and pasty,” Joe joked. He
was a hulking Irishman with bright blue eyes and a big smile. Brian had always
liked him.

“Gee, thanks,” Brian said, chuckling.
“Pregnancy certainly agrees with you, Beth. You’re glowing.”

She snorted with laughter. “I’m glowing,
all right. I’m huge.”

“You’re adorable,” Joe said, kissing his
wife’s hand.

She had short dark hair and big brown
eyes that had once reminded Brian of Carly’s. He’d been disappointed to
discover the likeness was only on the surface. Beth was sweet and loving, but
she wasn’t Carly.

Over dinner Beth and Joe grilled him about
every detail of the trial, which they had followed from their home in Chicago.
While Joe was in the men’s room, Brian reached for Beth’s hand. “It’s great to
see you so happy.”

“I’m beyond happy. I’m ecstatic.”

It showed on her face and in her delighted
smile.

“I can’t wait to be a mom. But what about
you, Bri? Still all work and no play?”

He shrugged. “I love the work. You know
that.”

“There’s more to life than work, but I
won’t waste my breath trying to convince you otherwise. You’re hopeless.” She
paused, studying him intently. “I worry about you.”

Touched, he said, “Can I ask you
something kind of weird?”

She grinned. “How can I say no to that?”

“When we were together, did you ever
think of me as … hollow?” He hesitated. “Like something—”

“Was missing?”

He nodded.

“All the time. On the outside you were
this smooth, well-put-together package, but on the inside…” She shrugged. “Not
so much. I wondered why that was.”

“I was terribly unfair to you, Beth. I’m
sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. I had to go through what I did
with you to get to where I am now. I want you to find what I have with Joe,
Brian. You deserve it.”

How could he tell her he’d once had it
but walked away from it? “Don’t worry about me,” he said with a cavalier smile.
“I’m happy enough.”

Her expression was skeptical, but Joe
returned to the table, and the conversation went in a less serious direction.

After seeing them off in a cab, Brian
took his time walking home. Posters from the recent Tribeca Film Festival were
still affixed to telephone poles and in store windows. Brian liked that he
never knew who he might see in the eclectic neighborhood. He had once dined
next to Robert De Niro in a café and passed Meryl Streep on the sidewalk.

At home he plugged his cell phone into
the charger and noticed he had missed a call from his father. He checked his
watch and found it was after ten, but he returned the call anyway.

“Hey,” Michael said.

“Sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you?”

“No, I was up. How are you? How’s the
vacation?”

“I’m bored out of my mind, and I’ve got
four days to go.”

Michael laughed.

“I had dinner with Beth and Joe tonight.
That’s where I was when you called.”

“How is she?”

“Six months pregnant and loving life. She
said to say hi to you and Mom.”

“That’s nice. Good for her on the baby.”

“So what’s up? You’ve been keeping a low
profile lately.”

“I’m up to my eyeballs in a case.”

“We sort of figured that when you blew us
off in Florida last week,” Brian joked.

“Believe me, I would’ve much rather have been
there.” He gave his son a quick summary of the case.

As he listened, Brian sat down on the
sofa. “Jesus, Dad. You really think it’s someone from Granville?”

“It’s looking that way.”

“And the attacks in other towns?”

“We think they were intended to draw the
focus away from Granville.”

“So he kidnaps and rapes three girls in
other towns just to send the cops on a wild goose chase?”

“It probably wasn’t the sole purpose. He
also succeeded in traumatizing three pretty, popular cheerleaders, and a fourth
one here in town.” He told Brian his theory about the accident and the
five-year pattern.

“You think it’s our guy in the road,”
Brian said, incredulous.

“We’re looking for a connection. Matt says
the M.O.s don’t match up, and he’s right, but the common thread is all the
victims were popular kids. And every one of the girls, including the carjacking
victim, was a cheerleader.”

“The feds will bring in a profiler. He’ll
tell you you’re looking for a loner who was picked on or ignored by popular
kids.”

“If this started with the accident, we
might be looking for someone you and Sam went to school with.”

“I still have my yearbook. I can flip
through it to see if anyone stands out.”

“That would help. Thanks.” Michael paused
before he added, “Listen, there’s one other thing I should tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Carly found the last two notes—one at
the accident site and another at her parents’ house.”

“
What?
What was she doing at the
accident site?”

“She maintains it. Plants flowers, pulls
the weeds.”

As Brian ran a hand through his hair, he
absorbed that intriguing piece of information and was swamped with helplessness
and fear. “He was in her parents’ yard. Mom said she walks everywhere. She’s
totally vulnerable.”

“You talked to Mom about Carly?”

“I just asked how she was doing. Don’t
make it into something it’s not.”

“That’s interesting, because she asked me
about you earlier.”

“She did?”

Michael chuckled. “But I won’t make it
into something it’s not. Don’t worry.”

“Dad, she could be in danger. You have to
do something.”

“We’re keeping an eye on her. She’s
fiercely independent, so she won’t make it easy.”

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence that
the notes were put in places where she was likely to find them, do you?”

“I’m not sure, son. She doesn’t live at
home anymore, but everyone knows her parents are in Europe for a month. So it’s
possible our guy assumed she’d be taking care of the house in their absence.
I’d be more concerned if the note had been left at her place.”

“You have to promise me you’ll keep her
safe, Dad. You can’t let anything happen to her.”

“I’m doing everything I can to keep this
whole town safe,” Michael said, sounding weary. “Tomorrow we’re going public
with what we know. We’ll also be going into the high school to talk to the
students about traveling in groups and keeping an eye out for each other. If I
have to, I’ll institute a curfew to keep them in at night. It won’t be a tough
sell. They’ve been freaked out since Tanya Lewis was attacked,” he said,
referring to the high school student from Granville who’d been raped in
January.

“How is she?”

“Still recovering at home. She’s had
surgery twice to repair the damage that animal did.”

“I just can’t believe something like this
could be happening in Granville.”

“I know. I told Matt earlier I’m actually
relieved to have the feds stepping in. We need the help.”

“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep. I’m
here if you need to talk or anything.”

“Thanks.”

“It sure would be something if you could
tie this guy to the accident, wouldn’t it?” Brian asked softly.

“You and I have always had our suspicions
there was more to it.”

“People said we were grasping at straws,”
Brian said. “Take care of Carly, Dad. Please.”

“I will. I’ll keep you posted.”

After they ended the call, Brian sat in
the dark for a long time, his head spinning with everything his father had told
him. The idea of Carly being in danger made him sick with fear. Eventually, he
changed into sweats and a T-shirt and went to bed. But for hours he was awake
trying to think through the facts of the case as a prosecutor, not as a
concerned son, a grieving brother, or a regretful ex-boyfriend.

If the crime spree had begun with the
accident, didn’t it stand to reason that the perp had been targeting someone in
the car?
Or someone who wasn’t
. Brian sat straight up in bed. The
accident had occurred on the road that led to his house and Carly’s.
Had she
been the intended target? Or was it me?

“Okay, man, get it together,” he muttered
as he realized he was breathing heavily and his heart was beating hard, like it
would if he—or someone he loved—was in imminent danger. Unable to shake the
feeling he was on to something, he got up to get his cell phone. As he waited for
his father to answer, Brian paced back and forth in his small living room.

“Westbury,” Michael said, his voice
hoarse with sleep.

“Dad.”

“Brian? What’s wrong? Christ, it’s four
in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, but I was thinking… What if
the person he was hoping to kill in the accident wasn’t in the car?”

“I don’t follow,” Michael said with a big
yawn.

“What if he’d been counting on Carly
being in that car with the others like she should’ve been?”

Silence.

“Dad?”

“Are you suggesting he’s targeting
Carly?”

“He put notes in places she was likely to
find them.”

“How do you know it wasn’t you he was
after?”

“Because he prefers girls—young girls.
Cheerleaders.”

“Carly’s not young anymore. At least not
by his standards.”

“Mom said she looks exactly the same.”

“She does,” Michael agreed. “I hear what
you’re saying, son. I do. But if he was after Carly, wouldn’t he have acted on
it by now?”

“Maybe he is by going after girls that
remind him of Carly. He could be building up to the main event.”

“It’s a stretch, Bri.”

“Do you remember the one piece of advice
you gave me when I started with the DA’s office? I’m trusting my gut, Dad.”

“I’ll mention it at our meeting tomorrow,
and I’ll talk to her to make sure she’s being careful.”

“Thank you,” Brian said, releasing a long
deep breath. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“No problem. Now, turn off that
prosecutor’s brain and go to sleep, you hear your old man?”

“Yes, sir,” Brian said with a small
smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

T
he next morning, as Michael sat at the
head of the conference room table and listened to the monotone recitation of
the known facts of the case, his stomach turned with disgust. He had read the
reports, seen the horrific photos, and memorized the victims’ chilling
accounts, but to hear it all again with the added suspicion that the man they
were hunting could also be responsible for the death of his own son… It was
almost more than Michael could stand.

“Penetrated multiple times,” the
detective from Smithfield was saying. “Our victim is still hospitalized,
recovering from the three rounds with him she remembers, and possibly more
after she mercifully lost consciousness. She also suffered from exposure after
spending a night naked and bound in the woods.”

“The woods seem to be a possible signature,
like the notes,” Federal Agent Nathan Barclay commented.

The others nodded in agreement. Michael
struggled to maintain his professional composure as rage threatened to consume
him. Every one of these victims was someone’s little girl, just as Sam had been
his little boy.

“How’s it possible this guy hasn’t left a
shred of DNA behind?” Federal Agent Jeff DiNardo asked.

“He had our girl gargle something she
said smelled like Windex,” the detective from Cranston said. “That took care of
the DNA in her mouth.”