All the Dark Places(60)

“Can’t wait,” she says.

Joe looks at me. “How much do these guys know?”

“Just that Ms. Robb’s body was found buried in the riverbank. The wife, and I assume the others, know that Dr. Bradley found her necklace, but they don’t know where. We’re not sure where. They don’t know that the murder took place in the Bradley home. For all they know, the murderer was some local who carried her body past the house or through the woods.” I look at the faces around the table. “It’s crucial no one goes public with that information.”

Joe nods. “I think we need to get these guys in here and find out what they have to say.”





CHAPTER 43


Molly


ELISE FINALLY LEAVES. I HEAR HER AND CORRINE WHISPERING AT THE front door before it opens and closes. I lie on the bed, on my side, petting Sadie. I feel totally exposed here in the Boston area. It had been my refuge since I was a little girl, someplace new and pristine, where Melinda didn’t exist. And now this life is over too. Molly has been outed.

Anger seeps up through my pores, builds in my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. What right did Keith Russell have to ruin my life? To haunt my dreams? This won’t be over until I confront him. That’s what has been nibbling at the edges of my conscience all my life. But therapists told me it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t have to confront my tormenter to heal. But what did they know? Nothing, it turns out. I’m in a worse place now than I was years ago.

I burrow under a pillow, moan into the mattress.

If only I’d said no. If only I’d gone into the house and told Indie’s mother. If only I’d told Keith to go away.

“Molly?” Corrine calls through the door. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

I sit up, wipe the tears from my cheeks. I’ve got to end this. I’ve got to pull myself together. “Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.” I walk over to the window and look down on the street below. A couple of news vans are parked at the curb, but no one is standing outside. It’s too cold, too gray. A woman carrying shopping bags walks by. She ducks her head, and the wind whips her scarf behind her like a flag.

I can’t go out the front of the building or they might see me. But the back entrance, where Corrine takes the trash down, that might be clear. I smooth my hair back, eye my overnight bag. I’ll drink my tea, reassure Corrine that I’m okay. Then later, when they’re asleep, Sadie and I will slip away.





CHAPTER 44


Rita


AS DUSK EDGES OUT THE WINTER LIGHT, WE WRAP UP FOR THE DAY. Chase has left for home, and Agent Metz has gone to meet up with friends, so Joe and I head across the street to Mac’s. The lights are comfortably low, and no cops are sitting at the bar. We take a seat in a booth in the corner. Joe slips out of his leather jacket and tosses it beside him.

The case we’d worked on together was only a few years ago, and while at first Joe and I had stayed in touch, that contact diminished over the last couple of years. We both got busy, but I remember the case clearly. A man had killed his wife in Maine and fled to Graybridge, where his grandmother lived. He’d left a trail of crimes in his wake, and Joe came in to help us. We got the collar, and Joe and I celebrated at Mac’s with a couple bottles of chardonnay.

Our server comes over and drops menus on the table, takes our drink order.

I search my mind for small talk, which isn’t my specialty. “You still running?”

“Yeah. Not so much anymore, but enough to keep me in some kind of shape.” He looks good. Definitely in shape. I remember he used to hit the gym regularly too, and it looks like that’s still part of his routine. Joe’s tall, but not too. Six feet maybe. His hair is still thick, mostly gray, but it suits him. His eyes are the same as I remember. He’s got the kind of eyes with irises so dark they meld with the pupils, giving him an intense look that’s eked confessions out of hundreds of bad guys. His cheeks are slightly sunken, though—too much work and worry as well as years, I guess. A thin scar runs from his ear to nearly the corner of his mouth. He mentioned last time we were together something about a knife fight years ago, but he didn’t seem to want to elaborate. Still, he’s a handsome man.

At the time of our last meeting, he’d been divorced about six months. Ed and I’d split up years earlier. Joe and I’d spent the evening drinking, and I’d spent the night in his hotel room. Not professional, I admit, but things sometimes happen. The memory brings another blush to my face, and I’m glad it’s dark in here.

Our drinks arrive, which is timely, a pinot noir for me and a draft for Joe. I lower my eyes and sip. “How are your kids?” I ask.

“Great. My daughter got married last summer.” He smiles. “She’s a nurse. They live in Stowe. Both big-time skiers. She’s happy.”

“Great.” I remember him talking about his daughter.

“My son’s a finance executive in New York.” Joe raises his eyebrows. “Neither kid was interested in law enforcement.”

“I wonder why?” I smirk and take another big sip of my wine.

Joe scratches the back of his neck. Sighs. He’d seldom been home when his kids were little, and his wife had finally had it, a common enough story in our line of work. “It’s been a whirlwind, hasn’t it?” he says. “When I started as a rookie cop almost forty years ago, I could never have imagined lasting this long.”