The Silent Sister(57)

The sound of an oboe greeted her in the hallway. It was only playing scales, briskly, then slowly, then briskly again. She was due to work at Grady’s in an hour, but she slowed way down as the oboe began to play an étude, the haunting sound echoing through the deserted hallway.

The air in the building began to smell like Violet. She walked even more slowly, filling her lungs with the woody, dusky scent, knowing it was only in her imagination but not caring. The oboe accompanied her down the hall until she went through the first set of double doors that led outside. In that small vestibule were two bulletin boards, both covered with posters. She stopped. Would it hurt to go to a concert? Nonmusicians went to concerts all the time. She moved from poster to poster to see who’d be in San Diego over the summer. There were so many performances she would love to see! Then one small poster made her stop and stare. THE STUDENT STRING ORCHESTRA OF THE PEABODY CONSERVATORY. Her heart pounded. Matty’d had early acceptance into the Peabody Conservatory at Johns Hopkins. Surely he went; it had been his first choice. He would have finished his sophomore year by now, and the chance that he might be touring with the string orchestra for the summer made amazing, wonderful, extraordinary sense.

She studied the poster for the longest time, squinting at the dark photograph of the orchestra, but it was impossible to make out faces. She committed the date and time to memory, fantasizing about seeing Matty, and maybe if she was very brave—or very stupid—talking to him. She was going to that concert. There was no way she would miss it.

She left the music building, her heart skittering in her chest. She nearly ran the rest of the way to her car, feeling so alive and excited that she couldn’t walk slowly. She doubted the concert would be a sellout, but she would get her ticket right away. She needed a good seat. She needed to sit close enough to be able to scrutinize every musician. She would die if Matty wasn’t one of them.

But she would also die if he was.

* * *

The concert was poorly attended, so much so that she felt embarrassed for both the string orchestra and for San Diego State that it couldn’t turn out a better crowd for a classical concert. The poor attendance, though, had enabled her to get an excellent seat in the middle of the second row and she got there early, sitting alone in the row, staring at the stage and barely breathing as she waited for the musicians to take their seats. Please be here, she pleaded to Matty in her head. Please, please.

Ever so slowly, the seats around her filled. The audience was made up mostly of music students and they talked and laughed like they were in a classroom rather than the small auditorium. She envied them, not for their camaraderie, although that was certainly part of it. She envied them for being able to study music. They could go home tonight and pick up their instruments, while all she could touch was air.

When the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the students and polite applause echoed in the building as the musicians took the stage. She recognized Matty right away. He went directly to the first chair of the second violins, and she caught her breath, pride welling up inside her. He was only heading into his third year at Peabody, and already in a leadership role. He’d always been a strong and passionate musician, though he’d never been at her level. But he was doing well. He was being appreciated.

His dark hair was still a wild mass of curls, but although she wasn’t quite close enough to make out his features, she could tell from the shape of his face alone that they had changed. What if he’d changed along with them? she thought. What if he’d come to hate her?

The orchestra opened with Barber’s Adagio for Strings and no one in the audience seemed to breathe as the wistful music filled the space. She hadn’t anticipated the pain, although perhaps she should have. Why had she thought seeing him, hearing him, was a good idea? It hurt so much. She couldn’t possibly talk to him. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to keep a secret so enormous. She loved him too much to put him in that position. It hurt, too, to see him doing the thing she longed to do: play the violin. Watching him was agony in too many ways to count.

Still, as she sat there choking back tears, she imagined going backstage after the performance. Finding him. Pulling him aside. Pressing a finger to his lips to keep him from saying her name. She would wrap her arms around him and settle into the safety of his embrace. But the fantasy was only a fantasy, and when intermission came and she stood up, she knew she wasn’t going backstage. She was leaving the theater, moving away from temptation. Away from the danger.





26.

Riley

“There were definitely two sets of footprints in the area the night Lisa supposedly killed herself,” Danny said the moment I walked into his trailer. He sat barefoot on his bed, his back against the wall and his computer on his lap.

“How do you know?” I sat down on the bench seat by the table.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled, his gaze never leaving my face. “I hacked into their data system.”

“Whose data system?” I asked, perplexed. “The Kyles’?”

“The state police of ol’ Virginny.” He smiled. “They need much better security.”

“Danny! Tell me you’re kidding. How did you do that?”

“Do you literally want me to tell you how or would you rather just know what I found out?”

“Can they catch you?” That thought wiped all others from my mind. The last thing Danny needed was time in prison.