The Shadow Box(48)

Sallie went inside, up to her room, and lay down on the bed. Ford’s words to Dan haunted her, but she told herself he was just being spiteful—as Dan had said, he was a maniac. Certainly under the influence and not mentally well. She heard everyone come home a couple of hours later, but she couldn’t go downstairs and face them, not even her children. She smelled hamburgers, Dan cooking dinner.

She didn’t sleep all night. Dan slept in the guest room and went downstairs before dawn. She heard the door close quietly. He started his car and drove away. She went downstairs immediately afterward, made coffee, and drank it on the back porch while thinking about what to do next. Her heart seized when she heard the kids get up, but when they came down, she cooked scrambled eggs for breakfast as if nothing had ever happened. Nobody mentioned Ford.

It was Thursday, and they were happy it was the last day of school before the trip to Block Island. Sallie walked them to the end of the driveway at seven thirty, kissed them goodbye, and told them to have a good day at school. They hugged her as they always did, waved from the school bus steps when they climbed aboard.

Writing to Ford had made Sallie feel a little better. She folded the copy and put it into an envelope. She could never confront Ford in person, vicious and vengeful as he had been, but she needed him to know exactly how she felt, to read what she had to say. She didn’t know where he lived, whether he had a place of his own, but she knew where to leave it, where he would be sure to get it. And if he was there, she had a question for him.

The route to Catamount Bluff had become familiar, almost second nature. The security guard—Officer Ben Markham today—waved her through. She had been here so often, working on all four houses, the off-duty cops who manned the gate didn’t even stop her anymore.

It was seven forty-five, and the sun had just crested the tops of the trees that lined the road. In the distance, beyond the last house, Long Island Sound sparkled in the morning light.

She drove past two clients’ properties—the Coffins and Lockwoods. When she passed the Hawkes’ driveway, she averted her gaze and couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t bear the idea of seeing Edward or Sloane. Or Edward with Sloane. Pulling into the Chases’ turnaround at the end of the road, she gripped her steering wheel and wondered what to do next. She didn’t see Ford’s black Porsche, but there was an almost identical red one parked by the front steps.

The Catamount Bluff residents received their mail at the small post office halfway down Shore Road to Hubbard’s Point. But they had “social chutes”—small tubes nailed to posts in the ground, used by the four families for informal notices and invites among themselves. She started to roll up the envelope, insert it into the chute, when the front door opened. She quickly hid it behind her back.

Alexander, Ford’s twin, stepped outside. She had met him a couple of times when she’d worked on the kitchen. He was forgettable compared to his brother—where Ford had the same focused, magnetic energy as his father, Alexander was quiet, easygoing. Ford had made himself known to Sallie from the beginning—hanging out, asking her about herself, drinking more coffee than any kid should drink, just to be in the kitchen. Then, showing off his body while swimming at the Hawkes’. Alexander had seemed so shy that Sallie hadn’t gotten to know him at all.

“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” Alexander said now, standing at the top of the steps. He already had a slight summer tan, and his fair hair looked streaked by sun and salt. He appeared worried but attempted a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, Alexander,” she said.

“Have you seen Ford today?” he asked.

“Why would you ask me that?” she asked, taken aback.

“Because he told me he was going to see you yesterday, and we haven’t seen him since. We’re worried.”

“No,” she said. She felt nervous, awkward. She had hoped to just leave the envelope and escape. She tried to ease it into the back pocket of her jeans but dropped it on the ground.

“Is that for my parents?” Alexander asked, spotting the envelope.

She hesitated. “It’s a note for your brother,” she said, bending over to snatch it up.

Alexander looked confused. “Why did you write to him?”

“Never mind,” she said, starting to back away. “I’ll give it to him another time.”

“Please tell me,” Alexander said, taking a step forward. “Please. I know he was upset when he headed over to you. If you can give me an idea what happened . . .”

“He was very drunk, Alexander,” she said. “He shouldn’t have been driving.”

“Did you try to stop him?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“There wasn’t time,” she said. “He was angry and just sped away.”

Sallie’s heart was pounding. Alexander had left the front door open, and Sallie saw Claire standing just inside. She stepped out, put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. He turned slightly to look at her, and she gave him a warm smile.

“Hi, Sallie. Alexander’s worried about his brother,” Claire said.

“Sallie said he drove away drunk yesterday,” Alexander said. “Aren’t you worried too?”

“Yes, I am,” Claire said.

“She wrote him a note,” Alexander said. “I want her to tell us what’s in it—she was the last one to see him. It could give me a clue.”