Missing Pieces(55)
Sarah returned the last of the files to the box and caught sight of another audiotape at the bottom. She pulled it from the box. She rubbed her eyes and checked the time. It was nine o’clock.
Could the tape wait until the next day? She was so tired. She slid the cassette into the manila envelope that held the other audiotapes. She would listen to it tomorrow.
Though she hated to, she needed to get back to Dean and Celia’s house. She had no idea how she was going to explain her extended absence. Could she put on a mask, just like Jack had for all these years? Could she pretend that all was well with her marriage, that she didn’t know all the sordid circumstances surrounding Jack’s youth and his mother’s death? Sarah started the car and pulled onto the winding road that would take her back to her husband, now a stranger. How was she going to casually discuss her day and chat about their daughters with him?
And more importantly, how was she going to crawl into bed tonight with a man she knew was a liar and who could have been capable of so much worse?
14
SARAH PULLED DOWN Dean and Celia’s lane, past the barn, past the clothesline where Jack’s mother once hung the freshly washed sheets, and pulled up in front of the kitchen window where she had surely looked out and watched her children in play. Sarah turned off the ignition and sat staring at the house. The porch light illuminated the declining condition of the home. Sarah recalled the crime-scene photos where there was an array of flowers cascading from pots that hung from the eaves, a stark contrast to the yellow crime tape stretched across the porch.
She hated the thought of going inside, but she was exhausted and she wanted to let Jack know she was done with his lies. She would stay through Julia’s funeral, but then she was going back home. She glanced over at the box. She peeled Margaret’s jacket from her shoulders and laid it across the box, hooked her purse over her shoulder and stepped from the car. She glanced at the house to make sure know one was looking out a window and quickly transported the box to the rear of the car and closed the trunk with a soft click.
“Sarah?” Jack’s voice came from somewhere behind her. She scanned the farmyard and saw Jack and Celia coming her way from the direction of the large barn. They were walking side by side; just a fraction of space separated them. “What’s in the box?” Jack asked.
Sarah thought fast. “Just a few items I picked up at the store since we’re staying a little longer than planned. I bought a box so we could just mail the things that wouldn’t fit in our carry-on bags back home.” Jack appeared satisfied with this explanation. “What are you two doing out here in the dark?” she asked. The porch light was too weak for her to clearly examine their faces, but there were no secretive, knowing looks between the two of them. No indication that something clandestine had been going on.
“We were working on the details of Julia’s funeral mass,” Jack said, “and decided to go for a walk. Are you okay? Where have you been all this time?”
“I was just driving around. Thinking.” Sarah shoved her hands into her pockets. The evening air was cold on her skin and she missed the warmth of Margaret’s jacket. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, let’s go inside,” Jack said, starting for the house.
“Let’s walk,” Sarah suggested. She wanted to be as far away as possible from the house and out of earshot when she said the things to Jack that needed to be said.
“I’ll see you inside,” Celia said. “I’ll put some coffee on.”
The earthy scent of soil and manure rose up from the ground, and the gentle murmur of livestock settling in for the night was somehow comforting as Sarah and Jack walked in silence toward the barns.
From within the house someone flipped a switch and a pair of floodlights affixed to the house came on, bathing the farmyard in a warm light. Sarah wondered why Celia hadn’t turned on the same lights for her little walk with Jack. Sarah wished she would turn them off. What she had to say would be easier said in the dark.
“What’s going on, Sarah?” Jack asked once they started walking. “I was getting really worried.”
Sarah wasn’t sure where to begin. “I’m glad you tried to go and see Amy. She’s really scared.”
“Thanks for getting the attorney lined up.” Jack stopped walking. “There’s just so much going on with getting ready for the funeral. Dean is sure that Amy did it and it just looks really bad for her and for a minute there...”
Sarah glanced back at the house and saw a silhouette in an upstairs window. Too wide and tall to be Celia. It had to be Dean or Hal. She kept walking, wanting to reach the shadows at the edge of the floodlights. “I know that Amy could never have hurt Julia,” Jack finished as he jogged to catch up with her.
“Her arraignment is tomorrow morning. I scheduled a meeting at eight with her lawyer. I don’t know if Amy did it or not, but she’s your sister and I think you should be there,” Sarah said, slightly out of breath as they reached the large barn. She leaned her back against the worn, rough boards and looked back toward the house. “You know, Amy thinks that Dean might have been the one to hurt Julia.”
“Dean?” Jack laughed, then sobered quickly when he saw that Sarah wasn’t joking. “That’s crazier than thinking that Amy did it. Dean loves...loved his mom.” Jack ran a hand over his mouth. “Why would she think that?”