The Running Girls(51)
The police were with them now, two uniformed officers following them like shadows as they crossed over to the muddy brown sand of the beach. Maurice said something to him, but it was inaudible in the noise of the swirling wind. Randall didn’t want to be here. The weather aside, his leg was causing him a great deal of pain and every step brought with it painful memories both of his time inside and of those days leading to Annie’s death.
A storm had been brewing back then as well and had eventually hit after Randall was arrested. It was strange how so many of his past memories were picture-perfect clear, like being at the movies, while so much of his recent past was such a cloudy, indecipherable mess. He followed Maurice onto the sand, the boisterous water only yards away, and recalled how he’d walked this very spot with Annie two days before she’d gone missing.
She’d been angry then, after Randall had told her what he’d done; he’d been angry with himself for his deception. He’d come close to telling Laurie about it yesterday, though he couldn’t see the possible relevance, and may well have done so had it not been for the insistence of the lawyer.
Betrayal came in many different forms.
When they’d first got together, they’d discussed their former lovers. Randall had been forced to fight his ego, and his pathetic male jealousy, as Annie had counted off her former partners as if reciting a rosary. When it had been his turn, Annie had smiled at his awkwardness and had tilted her head at every name he mentioned. He’d come close to not mentioning Sadie, and that filled him with a double regret: that he’d come so close to lying to Annie, and that he’d wanted to betray Sadie’s memory.
“Do they need to stay so close?” said Maurice, interrupting his reverie as he looked back at the two police officers following them across the sand.
“They’re only doing their job, Maurice,” said Randall, grimacing as his right foot caught in the sand, sending a jarring pain up the side of his body.
“It’s humiliating,” Maurice said, oblivious to Randall’s pain.
Randall shuffled onward, the loose sand morphing into wet, dank mud, as he tried to recall what he’d been thinking about. Lately, holding on to recent memories was like recalling a dream a few minutes after waking. Snapshots lingered just out of reach, so Randall did what he always did on these occasions and thought of Annie.
So many memories came to him when he thought about her that it was often unbearable. He closed his eyes, and let the sounds and smells of the gulf dissipate until all he could see was Annie running along the beach, her red hair flowing behind her. The warmth from the vision was enough to give him strength. “I want to go back,” he said to Maurice, “and I think maybe you should go home too.”
Maurice was too involved in an embittered war with the weather to pay him much attention. The wind billowed against his rain jacket, a ruffling noise escaping as he ran his hands across his face. “What?” he shouted.
“Home,” said Randall, turning back inland. He still couldn’t understand why Maurice was there, why all of a sudden he was taking an interest in him after all these years.
The police officers didn’t avert their gaze as he walked past them. Randall understood he was prejudged and couldn’t blame them for their conclusions. All he cared about now was getting back to the house, sending Maurice away, and spending some time alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
David was still asleep as Laurie left for work. She suspected he was pretending and considered calling him out on it, before deciding she didn’t have the energy to start the day with conflict.
Laurie’s first duty of the day was to attend the emergency evacuation meeting with the mayor, the city manager, members of the armed forces, and the chief of police, where it was ultimately decided that an advised evacuation would begin immediately for the West End, where properties were not protected by the seawall. Hurricane Heather was still a category 4, and the Hurricane Center was concerned that it could make landfall in Texas within the next few days. The most pressing challenge was getting the news out without causing panic. Thankfully, many people had already begun preparations, so it was hoped there would be no repeat of the excess delays experienced during Rita and Ike.
The meeting had now thinned out and it was just her, Lieutenant Filmore, and the current chief of police, who was all of a sudden taking a strong interest in Grace Harrington’s murder. “We now have a missing father to add to our woes?” he asked them.
“I’m afraid so.”
Glen Harrington was indeed still missing. His phone was switched off and undetectable, and his work hadn’t heard from him. Gemma had informed Laurie that Sandra and Tilly had spent the evening on the sofa watching black-and-white movies as Sandra had slowly drunk herself into oblivion. With their permission, Gemma had checked both Sandra and Tilly’s phones and laptops, and no messages had come through from Glen.
“Doesn’t look good, does it?” said the chief, glancing at Filmore, who shifted in his seat. “You think he’s good for it?” he asked, changing his attention to Laurie.
“He certainly has a taste for young women. This all came about after Tilly Moorfield found out Mr. Harrington had been seen with his daughter’s then girlfriend.”
Both men squirmed a little in their seats. “Yes, I read about that in this morning’s paper. Does it mean he killed his daughter?”