He looked in the backseat now. There was sheet music, handwritten. He froze. His hand moved slowly. He saw the handwriting and realized that it was Aimee's. He picked it up, brought it closer, holding it as if it were strands of porcelain.
Aimee had written this.
Something caught in his throat. His fingertips touched down on the words, the notes. His daughter had held this paper. She had scrunched up her face the way she always did and delved into her life experiences and produced this. It was a simple thought, really, but suddenly it meant the world to him. His anger was gone. It would be back. He knew that. But at that moment, his heart just felt heavy. There was no anger. Just pain.
That was when Erik decided to pop the trunk.
He looked back over at Lorraine Wolf. Something crossed her face. He didn't know what. He opened the car door and stepped back into the night. He moved toward the trunk, took hold of the hatch with one hand, began to lift it. He heard rustling from the field. He turned and saw Myron come flying into view.
"Erik, wait. . . ."
Erik opened the trunk then.
The black tarp. That was what he saw first. Something wrapped in black tarp. His knees buckled, but he held on. Myron started toward him, but Erik held up a hand as if telling him to stay back. He tried to rip the tarp. It wouldn't give. He pulled and tugged. The tarp held in place. Erik started to panic now. His chest heaved. His breath caught.
He took out his key chain and dug the end of a key into the plastic. It made a hole. There was blood. He slit the tarp and reached his hands in. They grew wet and sticky. Erik desperately pulled at the tarp, ripping at it as if he were trapped inside, running out of air.
He saw the dead face and fell back.
Myron was next to him now.
"Oh my God," Erik said. He collapsed. "Oh thank you. . . ."
It wasn't his daughter in the trunk. It was Drew Van Dyne.
CHAPTER 53
Lorraine Wolf said, "I shot him in self-defense."
In the distance Myron could hear the police sirens. Myron stood next to the trunk with Erik Biel and Lorraine Wolf. He had called the police. They'd be here soon. He looked across the field. He could see distant silhouettes of Win and Jake Wolf. Myron had run ahead. Win had taken care of securing their suspect.
"Drew Van Dyne was in the house," she went on. "He pulled a gun on Jake. I saw it. He was yelling all kinds of crazy stuff about Aimee--"
"What stuff?"
"He said that Jake didn't care about her. That she was just some dumb slut to him. That she was pregnant. He was ranting."
"So what did you do?"
"We keep guns in the house. Jake likes to hunt. So I got a rifle. I pointed it at Drew Van Dyne. I told him to put down the gun. He wouldn't. I could see that. So . . ."
"No!" It was Wolf who had said that. They were close enough to hear. "I shot Van Dyne!"
Everyone stared at him. The police sirens sounded.
"I shot him in self-defense," Jake Wolf insisted. "He pulled a gun on me."
"So why did you stick the body in the trunk?" Myron asked.
"I was afraid no one would believe that. I was going to bring him home, dump him in his own house. Then I realized that would be stupid."
"When did you realize that?" Myron said. "When you saw us?"
"I want a lawyer," Jake Wolf said. "Lorraine, don't say anything else."
Erik Biel stepped forward. "I don't care about any of this. My daughter. Where the hell is my daughter?"
No one moved. No one spoke. The night stayed silent except for the scream of sirens.
Lance Banner was the first cop out of his car, but dozens of squad cars descended on the Roosevelt Mall parking lot. They kept the flashing lights on. Everyone's face went from blue to red. The effect was dizzying.
"Aimee," Erik said softly. "Where is she?"
Myron tried to keep calm, tried to concentrate. He stepped to the side with Win. Win's face, as ever, remained unruffled.
"So," Win said, "where are we?"
"It's not Davis," Myron said. "We checked him out. It doesn't look like it was Van Dyne. He pulled a gun on Jake Wolf because he thought that he'd done it. And the Wolfs claim, somewhat convincingly, that it wasn't them."
"Any other suspects?"
"Not that I can think of."
Win said, "Then we need to look at them again."
"Erik thinks she's dead."
Win nodded. "That's what I mean," he said. "When I say we need to look at them again."
"You think one of them killed her and got rid of the body?"
Win did not bother replying.
"My God," Myron said. He looked back over at Erik. "Have we been looking at this wrong from the beginning?"
"I can't see how."
Myron's cell phone chirped. He looked down at the caller ID and saw the number was blocked.
"Hello?"
"It's Investigator Loren Muse. Do you remember me?"
"Of course."
"I just got an anonymous call," she said. "Someone claimed they spotted Aimee Biel yesterday."
"Where?"
"On Livingston Avenue. Aimee was in the passenger seat of a Toyota Corolla. The driver pretty much fits the description of Drew Van Dyne."
Myron frowned. "Are you sure?"
"That's what she said."
"He's dead, Muse."
"Who?"
"Drew Van Dyne."
Erik came over and stood next to Myron.
And that was when it happened.
Erik's cell phone rang.
He brought the phone up. When he saw the number on the caller ID, Erik nearly screamed.
"Oh my God. . . ."
Erik snapped the phone to his ear. His eyes were wet. His hand shook so badly he hit the wrong button to answer. He tried again and brought the phone back up. His voice was a panicked scream. "Hello?"
Myron leaned in close enough to hear. There was a moment of static. And then a voice, a teary voice, a familiar voice said, "Daddy?"
Myron's heart stopped.
Erik's face collapsed, but his voice was all father. "Where are you, honey? Are you all right?"
"I don't . . . I'm fine, I think. Daddy?"
"It's okay, honey. I'm here. Just tell me where you are."
And she did.
CHAPTER 54
Myron drove. Erik stayed in the passenger seat.
The ride was not a long one.
Aimee had said that she was behind the Little Park near the high school--that same park that Claire had taken her to when she was only three. Erik would not let her off the line. "It's okay," he kept saying. "Daddy's on his way."
Myron cut time by taking the circle in the wrong direction. He drove over two curbs. He didn't care. Neither did Erik. Speed was the thing here. The lot was empty. The headlights danced through the night and then, as they made the final turn, the lights landed on a solitary figure.
Myron hit the brake.
Erik said, "Oh my God, oh my sweet dear God. . . ."
He was out of the car. Myron was out fast too. They both started sprinting. But somewhere along the way, Myron let up. Erik took the lead. That was how it should be. Erik swept his daughter into his arms. He took careful hold of her face, as though fearing it was only a dream, a puff of smoke, and that she might vanish again.
Myron stopped and watched. Then he picked up his own cell phone and called Claire.
"Myron? What the hell is going on?"
"She's okay," he said.
"What?"
"She's safe. We're bringing her home to you now."
In the car, Aimee was groggy.
"What happened?" Myron asked.
"I think," Aimee began. Her eyes went wide. Her pupils were dilated. "I think they drugged me."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know who kidnapped you?"
She shook her head.
Erik sat in the back with Aimee. He held her. He stroked her hair
. He told her over and over again that it was okay now, everything was okay.
Myron said, "Maybe we should take her to a doctor."
"No," Erik said. "She needs to go home first."
"Aimee, what happened?"
"She's been through hell, Myron," Erik said. "Give her a chance to catch her breath."
"It's okay, Daddy."
"Why were you in New York?"
"I was supposed to meet someone."
"Who?"
"About . . ." Her voice faded. Then she said, "This is tough to talk about."
"We know about Drew Van Dyne," Myron said. "We know you're pregnant."
She closed her eyes.
"Aimee, what happened?"
"I was going to get rid of it."
"The baby?"
She nodded. "I went to the corner of Fifty-second Street and Sixth. That's what they told me to do. They were going to help me out. They pulled up in a black car. They told me to get money from the ATM."
"Who?"
"I never saw them," Aimee said. "The windows were tinted. They were always in disguise."
"Disguise?"
"Yes."
"They. There was more than one?"
"I don't know. I know I heard a woman's voice. That much I'm sure."
"Why didn't you just go to St. Barnabas?"
Aimee hesitated. "I'm so tired."
"Aimee?"
"I don't know," she said. "Someone from St. Barnabas called. A woman. If I went there, my parents would find out. Something about shield laws. I just . . . I'd made so many mistakes. I just wanted to . . . But then I wasn't so sure. I got the money. I was going to get in the car. But then I panicked. That's when I called you, Myron. I wanted to talk to someone. It was going to be you, but, I don't know, I know you were trying, but I thought maybe it would be better to talk to someone else."
"Harry Davis?"
Aimee nodded. "I know this other girl," she said. "Her boyfriend got her pregnant. She said Mr. D was really helpful."
"That's enough," Erik said.
They were almost at Aimee's house. Myron did not want to let this go. Not yet.
"So what happened then?"
"The rest is fuzzy," Aimee said.
"Fuzzy?"
"I know I got into a car."
"Whose?"
"The same one that was waiting for me in New York, I think. I felt so deflated after Mr. D sent me away. So I thought I might as well go with them. Get it over with. But . . ."
"But what?"
"It's all fuzzy."
Myron frowned. "I don't understand."
"I don't know," she said. "I was drugged almost the whole time. I only remember waking up for a few minutes at a time. Whoever it was, they held me in some kind of log cabin. That's all I remember. It had this fireplace with white and brown stone. And then suddenly I was in that field behind the playground. I called you, Daddy. I don't even know . . . how long was I gone?"
She started crying then. Erik put his arms around her.
"It's okay," Erik said. "Whatever happened, it's over now. You're safe."
Claire was in the yard. She sprinted up to the car. Aimee managed to get out, but she could barely stand. Claire let out a primordial cry and grabbed for her daughter.
They hugged, they cried, they kissed, the three of them. Myron felt like an intruder. They started toward the door then. Myron waited. Claire looked back. She caught Myron's eyes. She ran back to him.
Claire kissed him. "Thank you."
"The police are still going to need to talk to her."
"You kept your promise."
He said nothing.
"You brought her home."
Then she ran back to the house.
Myron stood there and watched them disappear inside. He wanted to celebrate. Aimee was home. She was healthy.
But he didn't feel in the mood.
He drove again to the cemetery that overlooked a schoolyard. The gate was open. He found Brenda's grave and sat next to it. The night closed in. He could hear the swishing of highway traffic. He thought about what had just happened. He thought about what Aimee had just said. He thought about her being home, safe and with her family, while Brenda lay in the ground.
Myron sat there until another car pulled up. He almost smiled as Win stepped into view. Win kept his distance for a moment. Then he approached the headstone. He looked down at it.
"Nice to have one in the win column, no?" Win said.
"I'm not so sure."
"Why not?"
"I still don't know what happened."
"She's alive. She's home."
"I'm not sure that's enough."
Win gestured toward the stone. "If you could go back in time, would you need to know everything that happened? Or would it be enough if she were alive and home?"
Myron closed his eyes, tried to imagine that bliss. "It would be enough if she were alive and home."
Win smiled. "There you go then. What else is there?"
He stood. He didn't know the answer. He only knew that he had spent enough time with ghosts, with the dead.
CHAPTER 55
The police took Myron's statement. They asked questions. They told him nothing. Myron slept in the house in Livingston that night. Win stayed with him. Win rarely did that. They both woke up early. They watched SportsDesk on TV and ate cold cereal.
It felt normal and right and rather wonderful.
Win said, "I've been thinking about your relationship with Ms. Wilder."
"Don't."
"No, no, I think I owe you an apology," Win continued. "I may have misjudged her. Her looks do grow on you. I'm thinking that perhaps her derriere is of a finer quality than I originally thought."
"Win?"
"What?"
"I don't much care what you think."
"Yes, my friend, you do."
At eight in the morning Myron walked over to the Biel house. He figured that they were awake by now. He knocked gently on the door. Claire answered it. She wore a bathrobe. Her hair was disheveled. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
"Aimee is still sleeping," Claire said. "Whatever drugs the kidnappers gave her, they really knocked her out."
"Maybe you should take her to the hospital."
"Our friend David Gold--do you know him? He's a doctor. He came by last night and checked her out. He said she'd be fine once the drugs wear off."
"What drugs did they give her?"
Claire shrugged. "Who knows?" They both stood there a moment. Claire took a deep breath and looked up and down the street. Then she said, "Myron?"
"Yes."
"I want you to let the police handle it from here."
He did not reply.
"I don't want you to ask Aimee about what happened."
There was just enough steel in her voice. Myron waited to see if she'd say more. She did. "Erik and I, we just want it to end. We hired an attorney last night."
"Why?"
"We're her parents. We know how to protect our daughter."
The implication being: Myron didn't. She hadn't needed to mention again that first night, how Myron had dropped Aimee off and hadn't looked out for her. But that was what she was saying here.
"I know how you are, Myron."
"How am I?"
"You want answers."
"You don't?"
"I want my daughter to be happy and healthy. That's more important than answers."
"You don't want whoever did this to pay?"
"It was probably Drew Van Dyne. And he's dead. So what's the point? We just want Aimee to be able to put this behind her. She's going to college in a few months."
"Everyone keeps talking about college like it's a great big do-over card," Myron said. "Like the first eighteen years of your life don't count."
"In a way, they don't."
"That's crap, Claire. What about her baby?"
Claire moved back to the door. "With all due deference--and no matter what you
want to think about our decisions--that's not your concern."
Myron nodded to himself. She had him on that one.
"Your part in this is over," she said, and again he heard the steel. "Thank you for what you've done. I have to get back to my daughter now."
And then Claire closed the door on him.
CHAPTER 56
A week later, Myron sat at Baumgart's Restaurant with Livingston police detective Lance Banner and Essex County investigator Loren Muse. Myron had ordered the Kung Pao Chicken. Banner had ordered a Chinese fish special. Muse was having a grilled cheese sandwich.
"Grilled cheese at a Chinese restaurant?" Myron said.
Loren Muse shrugged mid-bite.
Banner used chopsticks. "Jake Wolf is pleading self-defense," he said. "He claims that Drew Van Dyne pulled a gun on him. Said that he made wild threats."
"What kind of threats?"
"Van Dyne was ranting that Wolf hurt Aimee Biel. Something like that. They're both a little vague on the specifics."
"Both?"
"Jake Wolf's star witness. His wife, Lorraine."
"That night," Myron said, "Lorraine told us she pulled the trigger."
"My guess is, she did. We did a powder residue check on Jake Wolf's hand. He was clean."
"Did you check his wife?"
"She refused," Banner said. "Jake Wolf forbade it."
"So he's taking the hit for his wife?"
Banner looked at Loren Muse. He nodded slowly.
"What?" Myron asked.
"We'll get to that."
"Get to what?"
"Look, Myron, I think you're right," Banner said. "Jake Wolf is trying to take the hit for the whole family. On the one hand, he's claiming self-defense. There is some evidence to back it up. Van Dyne had a bit of a history. He also had a gun on him--it's registered in his name. On the other hand, Jake Wolf is willing to do some time in exchange for giving his wife and kid a pass."
"His kid?"
"He wants a guarantee that his son still goes to Dartmouth. And that Randy will be cleared of all subsequent allegations, including anything related to the shooting, the cheating scandal, and his possible relationship with Van Dyne and drugs."
"Well," Myron said. But it added up. Jake Wolf was an ass, but Myron had seen the way he looked at his son at that graduation party. "He's still trying to salvage Randy's future."
"Yep."
"Will he be able to?"
"I don't know," Banner said. "The prosecutor has no jurisdiction over Dartmouth. If they want to rescind their acceptance, they can and probably will."