Still, Marissa wondered if the Eric Montgomery she’d loved existed anymore. Over the years, she had gotten calls from friends in Aurora Falls and she knew Eric never attended parties, hung out with old friends, played tennis with his father, or took his mother on the motorcycle rides that used to set her screaming and laughing with fearful joy. If he dated, no one in town knew about it.
People said his breezy handsomeness had disappeared. He still had the strong, classic facial features, of course, but most of the time he looked thin lipped and solemn; on bad days he appeared almost forbiddingly grim, his face rigid, a permanent furrow between his eyebrows. She wondered if his devilish smile and killer dimples still existed. He’d lost the mischievous, almost rakish glint in his dark brown eyes. He still wore his wavy blond hair a couple of inches longer than most men his age would have, but the Eric she’d known seemed to have disappeared. Even when he was staring right at you, you felt as if the essential Eric Montgomery was lost somewhere in the mists of time with Gretchen.
Now, in the smothery, overly decorated room, Marissa floundered for the kind of thing she would say to someone she’d known so long, but she felt as if a pane of thick glass separated her from Eric. He saved her embarrassment by not looking directly at her. He was withdrawing a pen and small notebook from his jacket when fifty pounds of blond love, warmth, and happiness bounded into the room carrying a small stuffed teddy bear. The dog jumped up on the couch beside Marissa, who hugged her and rubbed her ears.
Eric looked up from his notebook and allowed himself a small smile. “You’re still a dog lover, I see.”
“This is Lindsay.” Marissa giggled as the dog dropped her teddy bear long enough to give Marissa a sloppy lick on the chin and carefully sniff the gauze and tape paramedics had applied to Marissa’s bruised but no longer bleeding nose. “I got her at an animal shelter in Chicago about two years ago and named her for Lindsay Wagner, who used to play the Bionic Woman on television. She’s exuberant and has a passion for stuffed animals, as you can see.” Marissa smiled as Lindsay the dog snatched up her teddy bear again and gave it a good shaking. “This house is full of her toys.”
“She looks like a good dog.” Eric sounded stiff although he still wore that small, tight smile. “I’m sure she’s a lot of company when Catherine isn’t here.”
“When I came home this summer, Mom fell in love with Lindsay.” Marissa could feel a wave of desolation at the thought of her lost mother and looked down at the golden dog cuddling next to her. “She is a smart, loving, very special girl.”
Eric nodded slowly, then said lightly, “Oh, Marissa Gray, I’ll bet you say that to all the dogs.”
After a jarring moment of surprise, Marissa glanced at Eric to see a hint of his old, familiar grin. Eric Montgomery, man of little humor, had actually been teasing her. Marissa felt as if the wall of glass between them had just developed hairline cracks. She was so startled she simply looked at him and blessed Catherine, who came chattering into the room carrying a tray of drinks and snacks.
“This isn’t the usual way we take statements,” Eric said seriously a few minutes later, his eyebrows drawing down toward the line between his eyes, the charming smile vanishing, “but considering your
insistence
on getting home, Marissa, it will have to do for now.”
Marissa caught his disapproving edge on the word
insistence
. People in Aurora Falls often talked about Eric’s demand for proper protocol. He lacked the casual authority of Sheriff Mitchell Farrell, so popular and admired he’d been elected sheriff time after time since Marissa’s childhood. Three months earlier, he’d turned over his duties to Chief Deputy Montgomery before going home to die of cancer. Although many citizens didn’t like Eric’s cool formality, Sheriff Farrell’s confidence in Eric’s abilities earned their confidence, if not their affection.
“I’ll need you to come to headquarters on Monday morning for something more formal, Marissa,” Eric went on almost sternly, as if he thought she wouldn’t cooperate.
“I’ll be there,” Marissa replied coolly.
“Okay, start at the very beginning, when you were headed for the Addisons’ house.” Eric’s voice was courteous but businesslike. “Catherine said you were late and probably going to drive too fast.”
Catherine flushed and looked at Marissa. “I didn’t say you
would
go too fast, just that you might because you were late.”
Marissa felt a prickle of annoyance with Catherine but kept her expression pleasant. “She always worries that I drive too fast,” Marissa said to Eric. “The weather was bad, though, and I wasn’t going to take any chances just to reach Evelyn Addison’s house on time. I drove below the speed limit.”
Eric nodded.
“By the time I neared the place where I wrecked, the snow had increased and I slowed down to thirty-five miles an hour,” Marissa continued, her throat tightening. She looked at Lindsay, who was trying to tuck the teddy bear under the afghan. “That’s when I saw…something. It climbed across that icy guardrail so easily! Then it walked into my lane, stopped, and stared at me.” Marissa raised her eyes and looked at Eric with near defiance. “It seemed to be
daring
me to hit it.”
Catherine, James, and Eric stared at her. Marissa thought even Lindsay, who’d successfully hidden her toy, was looking at her with especially probing dark brown eyes. “Well, it’s true!” Marissa burst out defensively.
“Are you certain someone didn’t run in front of you and freeze?” Catherine asked Marissa, and then quickly turned to Eric, speaking as if she were explaining a child’s behavior. “The snow was obviously worse than Marissa had expected and she got frightened and confused and couldn’t see clearly. Someone must have just run out in front of her and froze.”
“That is
not
what happened,” Marissa snapped.
Everyone’s gaze fastened on Marissa again as Eric said, “But visibility was
very
poor. With all that snow and your headlights on low—I presume you know to turn your headlights on low so they won’t—”
“Refract light on the snow and half-blind me. Yes, I know that, Eric, and my headlights were on low beam.”
“But you still say you saw a person.”
“It wasn’t just a person stupidly trying to cross the highway in a snowstorm. It was someone dressed up like a Halloween ghoul who climbed the guardrail and deliberately stood in front of me!”
“I see,” Eric said in the careful voice one would use with a hysteric.
Her own tension and the doubt she saw in three pairs of eyes suddenly made Marissa flashingly angry with everyone in the room. She glowered at James and Catherine, then fastened her gaze on Eric and burst out, “You’re all looking at me like I’m crazy, but I’m in full possession of all my faculties just as I was minutes before I had the wreck. That’s why I am
certain,
Mr. Chief Deputy, that someone walked onto the lane of a highway, then deliberately stopped in front of my car!”
Before Eric could answer, Marissa drew a deep breath and continued, seething, “You also might remember, Eric, that I have twenty-fifteen vision.”
Eric tilted his head slightly and said coldly, “I do remember that, Marissa. I remember very well that you have above-average vision.”
Oh God, Marissa thought. Her excellent vision—how she’d mentioned it to the police when Gretchen died, how little attention they’d paid, how she’d had no time to make them acknowledge its importance. Her throat tightened, and for a moment she didn’t think she could continue talking to Eric. Then she made a decision. She’d failed to convince everyone of what she’d seen then. She wouldn’t fail now.
Marissa drew a deep breath. “I just had my eyes checked two months ago and my vision is still twenty-fifteen. That’s why I believe you can trust the accuracy of my description of this ‘person of interest,’ as you cops say, in spite of the bad weather.” She looked straight at Eric and spoke firmly. “The man—I assume it was a man—was tall. He wore a long, dark, coat—by
long
I mean down to the ankles—with the hood up. The coat was shiny—obviously made for wet weather. Very long, ragged dark and white hair hung to his chest from beneath the hood.
“Inside the hood was a mask,” Marissa charged on, even though she could see Eric wanted to ask a question. “The mask was loose and rubbery, something that completely covered the head, not a little plastic thing held on by a string around the back. The eyes in the mask were huge, made to look like deep holes in the skull.” She paused. “Actually, the mask looked a lot like the one the killer wears in the movie
Scream,
but not exactly. I couldn’t see the person’s eyes at all at that time. I
did
see him walk into my lane and take a stance, legs slightly apart.” Her voice began to tremble. “It—he—made absolutely no move to evade the car. He just stood motionless, staring right at me.”
Marissa ended with another glare at Eric, then turned her gaze to Lindsay and gave her ears such a vigorous rubbing the dog yelped. Marissa murmured, “I’m sorry, baby,” and laid her head on the dog’s neck so no one would see the tears flowing into her eyes.
Another wave of uncomfortable silence washed through the room. All Marissa heard was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, and humiliation filled her. Was she five instead of twenty-five? Temper and tears. Lord. She couldn’t raise her head and look at anyone.
At last, Lindsay craned her head sideways far enough to lick away the salty tears from Marissa’s face. The dog seemed to be putting her whole heart into the task and Marissa feared Lindsay planned a full-body bath. She looked up, managed a, “Thank you, Lindsay,” gently pushed the dog’s ardent face away, pulled a tissue from the pocket of her robe, and began wiping her face.
Immediately Catherine stood over her holding a foil-wrapped antibacterial wipe. Marissa looked at it and burst out with a weak, teary giggle. “Gosh, Catherine, do you keep these tucked down the front of your dress?”
Catherine gave her a deadpan look. “At all times, in case a dog decides to wash my face.”
Laughter, a bit edgy but still laughter, circled the room. Marissa wiped her face with the cold, astringent wipe and sniffed mightily. “I apologize to everyone for my tantrum. I’m afraid my manners aren’t quite up to par tonight.”
Two voices spoke at once. “It’s all right, sweetie—you were almost
killed
!” This from Catherine. “Yes, you’re safe and sound. Those few tears were just aftershock.” This from James. In a moment, a soft, deep voice said slowly, “Go ahead and cry all you need to, Marissa. Sometimes crying is all that helps. I ought to know.” Marissa lifted her gaze to see Eric giving her a look of deep understanding that touched her more than any words of sympathy ever could.
3
At three
A.M.
Eric Montgomery stood on the edge of Falls Way looking at the jagged path Marissa Gray’s car had left on its shattering trip down to the Orenda River. The emergency crews had abandoned the area, and the carloads of sightseers were safely at home by now. Flares still marked the presence of the semitruck as well as the gaping hole in the guardrail. The blinding snow of a few hours ago had dwindled to a diaphanous veil. Behind Eric, a few scattered houses clung to the hill overlooking the river. Red, green, blue, and yellow Christmas lights glowed from some of them, reflecting on the dark, icy water that had almost turned Marissa’s sporty car into her coffin.
Eric pictured Marissa wearing her huge bunny slippers, her nose buried under a mound of gauze and adhesive tape, and the garish afghan wrapped around her as she clutched her dog and defiantly insisted something resembling a ghoul had walked in front of her car on Falls Way. Someone else might think she’d had a few drinks before she left for the party. Eric knew Marissa would admit if she’d had even
one
drink before she left the house and she wouldn’t make up a ridiculous story about a monster to explain why she wrecked.
Eric believed Marissa had seen
something
—maybe a deer or a big dog—and in the near whiteout caused by the snow she’d dodged the animal and gone sailing through the guardrail. She’d been knocked unconscious, then awakened to find herself literally hanging on the steeply sloped riverbank, trapped by her seat belt, waiting for help while snow, ice, and cold wind battered her car. Her fright and semi-consciousness had caused her mind to create a malevolent creature trying to get at her in the prison of her Mustang.
That sounded good, but Eric had trouble accepting it. Marissa had always been imaginative. He used to think she should have become an author of suspense novels instead of a journalist. Still, when she was young and he’d met her when she came to his house to visit Gretchen, Marissa had struck him as an outwardly high-spirited girl with a levelheaded core—a girl who would never confuse fiction with reality. She was far more mature than his sister, Gretchen, seemed to have her feet firmly on the ground, and tonight had been remarkably fearless.
Eric had rarely spoken to Marissa since Gretchen’s death, but he’d kept track of her and hadn’t heard anything to make him believe Marissa had changed. She admitted now that after the wreck at first she thought she was seeing a monster trying to get in the car. When her mind had cleared, though, she realized the “creature” still lurking by the car was actually a person in wild disguise. Eric sighed. All he could do was hope on Monday when she gave him her formal statement she would be rested and recovered from her initial panic and give a plausible statement with no mention of a creature or a monster.
Eric took a deep breath of the chilling air. A towboat pushed five barges down the river. Moving slowly and quietly, surrounded by mist and the last feathering of snow, they looked almost magical. Eric closed his eyes, recalling with almost jolting clarity hot summer days when the sun glared off the water and he relaxed almost to the point of drowsiness aboard Bernard Gray’s cabin cruiser, the
Annemarie
. Ironically, the woman for whom Dr. Gray named the boat suffered from severe seasickness. She never went boating but urged her husband, who spent long days performing surgery, to enjoy himself on weekends.