The Homewreckers(87)

46

Midnight Confessions




“Jesus!” Ragan turned the photo over and looked away. He swallowed hard, then dashed from the office. A second later, Makarowicz heard a toilet flushing nearby, then the sound of water running.

When the coach returned, he was mopping his face with a damp paper towel. He slumped down onto the chair, his breathing ragged.

“You can’t show that to Emma,” he whispered. “Please don’t show her that.”

Ragan twisted the signet ring around and around. Makarowicz realized it was his state championship ring. The symbol of the pinnacle of his professional career, which came crashing down not long after his personal life tanked.

“Okay. I did go out that night. Something woke me up, around midnight. Lanie was gone. I went downstairs, thinking maybe she was down there, finishing a load of laundry or something. But she wasn’t in the house. Right about then, I heard her car backing down the driveway.”

“Lanier’s car.”

“Yeah. I kinda went nuts. I grabbed my shoes and my car keys, and got in my car to follow her. There was a hell of a storm going on. Lightning and thunder, raining so hard my windshield wipers couldn’t keep up.”

“Did you have any idea where she was going?”

Ragan twisted the ring a quarter turn. “Not really. At first I thought maybe her mom was sick, but why wouldn’t she wake me up to tell me she was going over there? Then, I realized she was headed in the opposite direction of her mom’s house. She was on Victory Drive, headed east.”

“Going where, Frank?”

“I honestly didn’t know. I was kinda staying back, because I didn’t want her to know I was following her. She rolled through a yellow light, at the intersection at Skidaway Road, and I started to go through too, but a car coming from the opposite direction was peeling through. I hit my brakes and hydroplaned. My car did a three-sixty, and honest to God, I thought I was a dead man. My car went up over the curb and I just missed a light pole. That’s when I came to my senses. What the hell was I doing, leaving my kid home, alone? Whatever Lanier was up to, I’d settle it with her in the morning. I turned around and drove home. When I got inside, Emma was in our bedroom, crying hysterically. I finally got her calmed down and put her back to bed.”

Ragan shrugged. “That’s it. That’s what happened. As God is my witness.”

“Why didn’t you tell any of that to the police?”

“I was ashamed,” Ragan said. “And really, really pissed. At first, it never occurred to me that something bad had happened to Lanier. Then, as it got later in the morning, I started to panic. I called everyone she knew, drove around. I even backtracked to that intersection at Skidaway and Victory, thinking maybe she’d had a wreck or something. Finally, her mom started raising hell. She said if I didn’t call the cops to report Lanier missing, she would. I didn’t have a choice.”

“And yet you still didn’t tell the cops what you suspected,” Makarowicz said.

“How would that have made me look?” Ragan asked angrily. “Like I couldn’t handle my wife. Couldn’t handle our marriage. I kept telling myself, wherever she is, she’ll cool down, and she’ll come home and we’ll work it out.”

Makarowicz plucked the photographs from the desk and placed them back inside the file folder. “You know, this story of yours sounds just stupid enough that I almost believe it.”

Ragan massaged his temples with his fingertips. “It’s the truth. But it doesn’t change anything because I don’t know who killed Lanier or why.”

“Maybe you can help me figure that out,” Makarowicz said. He took his cell phone out of the briefcase and placed it on the desktop.





47

Down by the Riverside




A Tybee police cruiser was parked at the Chatham Avenue end of the driveway when Hattie arrived the next morning.

“Hi, Officer,” she said, when he approached the truck. “I’m Hattie Kavanaugh, the property owner.”

He looked down at a clipboard he carried under his arm. “Okay. You’re good to go.”

She pointed in the direction of the house. “Everything okay down there?”

“As far as I know. Detective Mak just said to keep out the busybodies and tourists.”



* * *



Mo had emailed everyone on the cast and crew about an eight o’clock meeting. Everyone was gathered around the craft services tent, sipping coffee and casting anxious eyes toward the backyard where the remains were discovered.

“Okay, everyone,” Mo started. “For those of you who weren’t here at the time, where do I even start to bring you up to speed about yesterday’s events?”

He quickly rattled off the chain of events from the previous day, ending with the discovery of the body, and the likelihood that the remains were that of the missing schoolteacher.

“I know it seems cold, but the network is adamant about not giving us an extension of our deadline.”

He turned and pointed to Trae. “I need you and Hattie, in the kitchen, discussing the plans for the cabinets. Leetha can fill you in on what she wants. Later on, we’ll film some stuff upstairs in the bedrooms.” He turned to scan the crowd and his eyes settled on Cass, who stood at the back of the tent, looking shell-shocked.