Chapter 17
Seventeen
Brian kept his arm tight around Carly as she told Matt Collins and Nathan Barclay what she had seen.
“And you’re sure you didn’t catch any part of his face?” Matt asked again.
“She already said she didn’t,” Brian snapped and then immediately regretted his tone. Matt was only doing his job. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Matt said. “I know this is frustrating as hell for you. It is for us, too.”
The man who had been so good to Brian the night of his brother’s death had remained remarkably youthful looking in the years since Brian had last seen him. He kept his blond hair short, and only a few lines in the corners of his blue eyes indicated that he was approaching his mid-forties.
“He had a hat on that shaded his face,” Carly said. “But he was tall. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
“We already have people canvassing the downtown area,” Barclay said.
“I’m sure he’s long gone by now,” Brian said. “Do me a favor and don’t tell my dad about this. He’s supposed to be taking it easy, and this’ll get him all fired up.”
“I’m afraid it’s probably too late for that,” Matt said with a smile. “You know he’s got his ear pressed to the scanner.”
“Great,” Brian mumbled. “I’ll call him.”
They left a few minutes later, promising to keep Carly and Brian posted on the investigation.
Brian saw them out and then returned to sit with Carly on the sofa. He took her hand and was alarmed by how cold it was. Rubbing both her hands between his, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
“That he just keeps taking things from us,” she said in a small voice. “Your brother, all our friends, the willow, each other.” She turned to him, and the sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart. “We were going to make love, and I wanted to. So badly.”
“We will,” he assured her. “And when we do, that creep won’t be watching us. I’ll guarantee you that.”
“He has before,” she said with a shudder. “Under the willow, he was watching us.”
“That makes me sick.” He had never imagined himself capable of killing someone, but to have just one minute with this guy . . . Just one minute. That’s all it would take to get revenge on behalf of Sam, Carly, and the others. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want some for himself, too.
“You’re all tense, Bri.”
“I just wish I could somehow get you out of this town and away from all of this.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“But with the whole car thing, I don’t know how we could do it.”
“I’ve been thinking I might be ready to try that.”
Surprised, he looked over at her. “Really?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I’m so tired of being afraid. If you were with me, I think I might be able to do it.”
He thought it over for a minute. “My dad bought my mom a convertible a couple of years ago. You’ve probably seen it.”
“She’s adorable roaring around town in that little red car.”
Brian laughed as he imagined what the police chief would have to say about his wife “roaring” around town. “I’m sure she’d loan it to us. Having the top down might make it easier for you the first time.”
“What if I can’t do it? Will you be disappointed in me?”
“Of course not.” He kissed her cheek. “If it’s too much for you, I could call the psychologist who prepped the Gooding children to testify. He specializes in trauma, and I wondered at the time if he might be able to help you.”
“You thought of me like that?”
“I thought of you all the time. That day in court, when the jury found Gooding guilty? You were the first person I wanted to tell.”
She hugged him for a long, quiet moment. “There’s something I want to show you.” Carly went into her bedroom and returned with what looked like a photo album.
“What’ve you got there?”
She handed it to him. “I thought of you, too.”
Brian opened the book and was stunned to find clippings from the local newspaper about his graduations from Michigan and Northwestern and his appointment as an assistant district attorney in Manhattan.
He winced when he found mention of both his marriages.
“I wondered if somehow you knew,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Keep going.”
The rest of the book contained articles about all the major cases he had prosecuted, with the Gooding trial dominating the last few pages. “How did you get this stuff?” he asked, incredulous.
“I subscribed to The New York Times,” she confessed, looking almost embarrassed. “I wanted to know what you were doing.”
“I have no idea what to say. That you cared enough to do something like this . . . I’m amazed and humbled, Carly.”
She leaned in to kiss him. “Carly Holbrook loves Brian Westbury,” she whispered.
Overwhelmed by the familiar words, he put the book on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around her. “And he loves her right back.”
“Get me out of here, Brian. Please.”
“You’re off for the next two days, right?”
She nodded.
“Call your parents and pack a bag. I know just where we should go.”
Carly approached the cherry red convertible with trepidation. Behind her, Brian and his parents watched.
“Do you think you can do it, hon?” Brian asked.
“I want to, but I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve the minute we drive away.”
Brian rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “If you do, we’ll come right back. I promise.”
Carly turned around. “Thank you for loaning us your baby, Mary Ann.”
She smiled as she hugged Carly. “It’s my pleasure.”
Michael kissed Carly’s cheek. “I’m proud of you for even trying this. You’re not letting him win.”
Something about that statement seemed to fill Carly with courage. She reached for Brian’s hand. “Let’s go before I chicken out.”
He held the door for her and crouched to secure her seat belt. With his hands resting on her legs, he kissed her. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he said to his parents as he walked around to the driver’s side. “Call my cell if you need to reach me.”
“Have a good time,” Mary Ann said.
Brian started the car and let it roll slowly out of the driveway. He glanced over at Carly. Her face was set in an unreadable expression, and her hands were clenched together in her lap. On the way out of town, he took a roundabout route to avoid Tucker Road.
“Doing all right?”
She nodded.
“Your knuckles are white.” He reached over to work his hand in between hers. “I’d forgotten how much I like to drive. I don’t get much chance, living in the city.”
Her head whipped around to face him. “How long has it been?”
He laughed. “It would probably be better if I didn’t tell you.”
“Brian!”
Laughing, he said, “Relax, honey. I drove my mom all over the place when I was in Florida.”
Carly closed her eyes and turned her face into the warm summer breeze. “You were right about the convertible. I don’t feel closed in.”
“How do you feel?”
“Free,” she said softly. “I feel free.”
As they made their way south, Brian was amazed he remembered so much about getting around his home state.
He had purposely avoided the interstate and had kept a watchful eye in the mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed.
By the time they crossed the town line into East Greenwich, he was confident they had made a clean escape.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“It’s somewhere we went a few times, once with Toby and Michelle. You probably don’t remember,” he teased, knowing that, like him, she had forgotten nothing about the years they’d spent together.
She mulled it over for a minute. “Oh! I know! Newport, right?”
“Damn. You guessed.”
Clapping her hands with delight, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “That’s perfect.”
He was surprised when her delight faded as fast as it had come. “What’s wrong? Will it remind you too much of Toby and Michelle?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Right now, right in this very moment, I feel better than I have since before the accident. I’d almost forgotten it was possible to feel this way.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked, pleased to hear her say that.
“It’s just that I feel guilty, too.”
“Why?”
“With everything that’s going on, it seems selfish for me to feel so good. Zoe’s devastated over Alicia, this guy is torturing and killing young girls, maybe because of some grudge he has against me. All those devastated families and kids. All because of me.”
Brian pulled off the road and reached for her.
“Baby, listen to me. You have nothing to feel guilty about. This guy’s a psycho, and his actions are no reflection on you.
” Struggling to think of some way to make her feel better he said, “Remember when John Hinckley shot President Reagan and then said he’d done it for Jody Foster? ”
She nodded.
“Did anyone blame Jody Foster?”
“No, but I’m sure she felt bad about it.”
“But it wasn’t her fault, just like it isn’t yours. We’re going to find out this guy’s had a very unhappy life, and he was envious of us. You can’t take on the guilt, honey. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I just keep racking my brain, trying to remember if I was mean to someone without intending to be or who I might’ve disappointed by going out with you, but I come up empty every time.”
“It’ll probably be someone you never knew had a thing for you. Hell, it could be anyone. You were the prettiest girl in school, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was when I asked you out and you said yes.”
“You’ve never told me that before.” She caressed his face. “I always thought I was the lucky one.”
He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “We were both lucky, and other people knew it, too. The fact we had something special was obvious to everyone who knew us. That’s not our fault, Carly. So no more guilt?”
“I’ll try.”
“What? There’s something else isn’t there?”
“It’s just . . .”
“What, honey?”
“I have so many questions about what happened to me, about why I lost my voice, and how I got it back the way I did. I don’t understand why I couldn’t talk a month ago when I tried to call 911, but when I found Alicia, it was just there again. Why do you suppose that is?”