Nine Years Gone (19 page)

I couldn’t find a parking spot near the Girards’ neighborhood, so I had to park illegally in the private lot of an apartment complex a couple of blocks away. Despite what the warning signs told me, I didn’t think it’d be a problem as the lot was only half full. At the worst, a towing company would take my car to some faraway lot, taking with them the duffel bag in my trunk. Considering that the police believed I played a part in Isaac’s death, having two million dollars cash and my gun in a secure parking lot somewhere distant wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

I walked over to Kings Highway Boulevard. A small group of reporters huddled on the sidewalk while two cameramen filmed the neighborhood’s front entrance. The Girard house was at least a couple hundred yards from the main entrance, so I don’t know what they expected to see, but that didn’t seem to deter them, either.

As I walked nearer, one of the reporters tapped another on the shoulder and pointed to me. That started a cascade that resulted in all of them watching me. A reporter I knew peeled off from the rest of the group and walked toward me, holding out his hand for me to shake. I had given David an interview on the phone before Dominique’s execution, but I hadn’t actually seen him in several years. Coffee had stained his teeth a dull yellow, but his eyes were as sharp as thumbtacks and he exuded the slippery charm of a used car salesman. I stopped without shaking his hand.

“You’re the man of the hour,” he said, grinning at me just out of arm’s reach. “Care to give me an interview?”

“Be happy to,” I said, pasting a grin on my face. “New book’s coming out in about three months, and I can always use the publicity.”

“I was hoping we could talk about Tess Girard. Nine years is a long time to be gone. How do you feel about having her back?”

“I don’t have her back,” I said, resuming my walk. “And nine years
is
a long time. A lot can happen in nine years.”

David walked alongside me and peppered me with questions, while the other reporters hung a respectable distance back, presumably hoping to overhear our conversation.

“How do you feel about Dominique Girard now that we’ve found out he’s innocent?”

I didn’t break stride. “Nobody’s innocent. You’re old enough to know that.”

“What do you mean?”

I ignored him the rest of my short walk. Two armed security guards wearing jeans and matching Polo shirts with a shield stitched across the breast stood watch behind the entrance. Neither smiled when I walked up, but one opened the wrought iron gate and waved me forward.

“Steven Hale?” the guard asked. I nodded. “Please hold your arms out to the side. I’m going to pat you down for weapons.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“It’s the procedure we’ve been asked to follow,” said the second guard.

I didn’t like the invasion of privacy, but, having left the money and gun in my trunk, I didn’t have anything incriminating or dangerous on me. I held out my arms while the security guarded patted my ankles, my thighs, waist, and upper torso for weapons. While he did that, his partner spoke into a two-way radio.

“Are we good now?” I asked. The security guard who patted me down took a step back and then bent to retrieve a clipboard and pen from the ground.

“I need you to sign this sheet. Your ride will be here shortly.”

I took the clipboard from his hand and signed in the box he indicated.

“This is a lot of security,” I said, handing him the clipboard.

The guard looked at my signature and nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation. The neighborhood association felt the security was prudent considering the circumstances.”

There were a lot of crazies out there, so maybe hiring extra security was the right move. I nodded and waited while a third man drove up in a green golf cart. The drive to the Girard home took all of two minutes, and when we arrived, the driver stayed and watched until Annette Girard opened the front door and waved me inside. An ugly grimace crossed Annette’s face as I stepped through the threshold and into the entryway.

“She’s waiting for you in her bedroom.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Annette’s glare told me she had significantly more to say, but I didn’t give her the time before taking the steps to the second floor. In contrast to the wood-paneled entryway, the second floor had plain white walls and a thick, light green carpet. At one time, there had been a small sitting room at the top of the steps, but now the furniture was gone. I padded down the hallway and knocked on the fourth door on the left, Tess’s old bedroom. She opened it a crack and smiled when she saw me.

“I thought you were Annette,” she said, opening the door wider. She wore a black and white polka-dot dress and makeup that brought out the blue in her eyes. A tie held her hair back. I looked away.

“Your mom’s downstairs,” I said. “You look nice. Are you going out?”

“Thank you for saying so,” she said, tilting her head to the side and gesturing for me to come into the room. I followed her in, and she shut the door behind us. “I’ve been giving interviews all morning. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know what that’s like, being a bestselling author and all.” She turned her head, and winked at me over her shoulder. “Your latest book hit number one on Amazon this morning after the story hit the papers.”

I had only half listened to what she said, so I simply nodded. Tess, like her sister, had her own suite of rooms in the Girard house. The main bedroom was probably five hundred square feet and had a sitting area, a fireplace, and an antique four-poster bed, the headboard of which squeaked every time its occupants moved. In addition to the main room, she had a walk-in closet on the left side of the room bigger than my dorm room in college, and an en suite bathroom with Jacuzzi tub. Nothing had changed from my last visit there many years ago.

“You ever hit number one on Amazon before?” she asked.

I glanced at her and shook my head. “First time.”

“I’m glad I could be here for it, then. Hitting number one, though, I bet you’re selling a lot of books. Think you could forward some of those royalties to me?”

I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, so I didn’t say anything.

She frowned. “It was a joke. You’ve got to lighten up.”

“Sorry, but it wasn’t very funny,” I said. “I’m here to deliver Annette’s will like you asked. That’s it.”

“Straight to business, then,” said Tess, nodding and walking to the nearest window. She pulled the curtains closed. “Please take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Strip, Steven.”

“Is this another joke?” I asked.

She shook her head and walked to the second set of windows, where she again pulled the curtains shut. “No joke.”

“May I ask why you want me to take off my clothes?”

“Because despite our long-standing relationship, I think you’re trying to get me arrested. I don’t like that, so I want to make sure you’re not wearing a wire.”

I began unbuttoning my shirt. “Did you see this in a movie or something?”

“I read it in a really wonderful book,” she said.

I slipped my shirt off and began folding it to minimize wrinkles.

“You look good,” said Tess. “Do you work out?”

“I lift weights.”

She stood up, pulled her hair from the back of her neck, and turned. “Unzip me, please.”

“You don’t need to get undressed.”

“I insist.” I waited for her to change her mind. She began shaking her rear instead. “I can get it myself, but it’s easier with help.”

“Fine,” I said, standing up. The zipper ran from her neckline to just above her hips. I pulled it down and then turned as she slipped the dress from her shoulders.

“You don’t want to watch?” she asked.

I shook my head and stared at the door. “Not really.” I sighed. “I assume you want me to take off my pants, too.”

“Of course.”

As I undid my belt, I felt a shift in the air and breath on my back. She put a black lace bra on my shoulder. I swatted it away and let my jeans fall off my hips. As I turned around, I tried to keep my eyes north of the horizon, but I couldn’t help but see that Tess had progressed further than me in undressing.

“You’re still a little overdressed for this party.”

“I’m not wearing a wire. You’d see it by now”

She looked down again at my boxers and then back at my eyes. “You can take them off or I can. Your choice, but I hope you go for the latter.”

I hooked my thumbs into the top of my shorts and pulled down. Tess sighed appreciatively.

“My, my,” she said. “I forgot what a lucky woman Katherine is.” She looked up at my eyes again. “You’re not feeling light-headed are you? Your blood seems to be rushing south right now.”

I took a step back, held my arms out, and turned around. “I’m not wearing a wire. Can I put my clothes on now?”

“No,” she said, nodding toward one of the doors. “But you can take them to the bathroom. The walls are thick enough to muffle sound, so if you had a microphone in your clothes, it won’t hear what we say out here.”

“Are you truly this paranoid?”

“I prefer the word careful.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I gathered both of our clothes and took them to the bathroom. There were several hangers on a hook beside the walk-in shower, so I took the envelope holding Annette’s will from my jacket and used the hangers to hang both of our clothes. When I got back to the bedroom, Tess lay on the bed with a pillow between her legs and over her breasts. She patted the comforter beside her as if she wanted me to sit down. I walked near her and tossed the envelope containing the forged will on the bed. She ignored it and put her foot on my leg near my crotch.

“You want to fuck for old time’s sake?” she asked, tossing the pillow that had covered her over the envelope. I turned my head and looked at the bathroom door. “You can look, Steven. Might jog your memory, remind you why you should come with me.”

“I came to deliver that will and to talk. That’s it.”

“Would sleeping with me really be so bad?” I decided not to respond. She began running her foot along the outside of my thigh. “Look at me.”

I hesitated and then looked straight at her face. She held up a hand, her fingers together as if she were giving an oath.

“I swear that what happens in this bedroom stays in this bedroom. I won’t tell Katherine unless you want me to. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even want to join in.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d say no to that.”

Tess lowered her voice and leaned toward me. “If you think she’d say no to a threesome out of hand, I’m guessing you two haven’t talked about your college experiences very much.”

“Be that as it may,” I said, pushing her foot from my thigh. “I brought what you asked for. The will is simple. Ninety percent of your mother’s assets will go to Samantha, and ten percent will go to that charity you asked for. It’s signed and notarized as if it had gone into effect in 2005. I didn’t have a copy of your mother’s signature, so you’re alone on that one.”

“I’ve been signing things for my mother since high school. That won’t be a problem.” She smiled. “You sure you don’t want to have a go while you’re here? It’d be fun.”

I shook my head “Now that you have the will, I want to talk about my options.”

Tess looked thoughtful. “Options, options, options.” She took a breath. “We can do whatever you want, and my only requirement is that you’re gentle. It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone.”

I closed my eyes. “I was meaning my options in reference to your other request.”

Tess scooted so that her back was to the bed’s headrest. Thankfully, she covered herself with another pillow. “I suppose in that case, your options are only limited by your imagination. You should start, though, by considering whether you want to hire somebody or if you want to kill Annette yourself. If it were me, I’d do it myself. You don’t have a lot of time, and it’s hard to find reliable help. Doing it yourself would be more satisfying, too.”

“I’m not interested in killing Annette.”

Tess put up her hands. “Then you’ve answered your own question. Hire somebody. Get to it quickly, though, because you don’t have a lot of time. We all have schedules to keep.”

“I’m not going to do that, either.”

Tess tilted her head to the side and softened her voice. “Sweetheart, I gave you other options before. I said you could come with me, and we would run away and live the rest of our lives together. We’d be happy. You turned me down, remember? I don’t know what else you want from me.”

I started to ask what else I could do, but she spoke over me.

“We can still do that. We can run away, this afternoon, even. Just you and me. We don’t even have to go right away. Is that why you turned me down before? Do you want to tell Katherine and your friends goodbye?”

I wanted to tell her that I turned her down because she was insane, but I didn’t think she’d appreciate that. I said nothing and watched as the smile slowly slipped off her face.

“If you don’t want to be with me, and if you refuse to take care of my mother, I guess you do have one other option. You can kill yourself. I really don’t want you to do that, though, not when you have other choices you can make. It’s like my guidance counselor in high school said: suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

I shook my head and then crossed my arms. “I’m not going to do that, either. Frankly, I don’t even know why I’m here. Moses is in jail, the police know you’re alive, and any evidence that I was involved in your kidnapping has long since been taken care of. You don’t have anything on me.”

“You are so adorable when you try to be tough.” Tess took a breath. “Okay, fine. I’ll play along, Mr. Tough Guy. Did you find the presents I left at your house?”

“Yes.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What’d you find?”

“The child pornography and Polaroid film wrappings in Ashley’s room, the brooch in Katherine’s jewelry box, the pills taped to my desk drawer, and the journal in my air duct.”

Tess shot me a disappointed look. “It sounds like you didn’t look very hard.”

I tried not to grimace, but I did anyway. “What else did you put in the house?”