“Yes,” she said. She got out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he had back in their driveway, and reached up blindly for one of the straps. She’d taken her kayak off her roof herself a hundred times, but never in the dark and never in the cold and certainly never wearing gloves. It took less than a minute for her fingertips to go numb, and she couldn’t get the strap undone. She thought of last summer, before everything happened, when they rented the place in Rehoboth and her mother let her take Riley out in the kayak on the calm water of the Intracoastal Waterway. She remembered Riley’s sense of wonder as she waved to the birds. She remembered bending over to kiss the top of the little girl’s head, how she let her lips linger against the silky dark curls as she breathed in Riley’s scent, still more baby than little girl back then.
Her eyes stung, and her fingers lost their grip on the strap. She pounded her fist against the window. She kicked the door.
“Hey, hey,” her father said, getting out of his side of the car and coming around to hers. He put his arm around her and she leaned against him.
“I can’t do this, Daddy,” she said.
For a long moment, he said nothing, just held her and rubbed her back. “You don’t have to, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s an option, that’s all. It’s your choice.”
She pressed her forehead into his chest, thinking. Her nose ran and she wiped it with the back of her glove. My choice. Her own attorney had told her that her case was unwinnable. She was afraid of prison. She was afraid of those hard women. Those real criminals. She was terrified of being locked up, unable to escape. Unable to breathe. Even when they put the handcuffs on her in her living room that day, she started to scream. How did people stand being locked up with no way, absolutely no way, out? She imagined her mother telling people, “I have three children, but one’s in prison.” The humiliation Riley and Danny would face. It was already bad enough for Danny. He didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but he knew kids were talking about him. He’d always been a happy, bubbly kid, and suddenly no one wanted to be his friend.
“I’m just scared,” she said.
“I know. Me, too.”
“I want to do it,” she said.
“There’s no going back.”
“I know.” She turned away from him and reached up again for the kayak. “I can do it myself.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” The front strap came free and she started to work on the rear strap, ignoring the numbness of her fingers and thinking of nothing other than getting her kayak in the water.
Her father waited in the car while she carried the kayak over her head to the river. He’d picked a good spot for her to put in. The bank eased down to the water. No nasty rocky drop-off. She risked shining the flashlight into the river and saw that it was already starting to freeze along the bank and was choppy and frothy and wind-whipped farther out. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to shove the boat far enough into the water for the current to grab it, but she gave it a great push and the river ripped it from the bank, just like her father had predicted. With the last of her strength, she tossed the paddle as far out in the water as she could. Then she remembered she was supposed to put her jacket in the kayak. Too late now. She took it off and tossed it hard across the water, but the wind blew it against the shrubs along the bank and out of her reach. She stared after it for a moment, shining the beam of her flashlight on it. Nothing she could do about it now. The snow landed on her throat and she pulled up the collar of her sweater, her fingers barely able to grip the fabric.
Her father checked her car with his flashlight to make sure she hadn’t left anything incriminating inside. She took the bag with the towel and empty box of hair dye, but left her backpack in the car, as they’d planned. Her driver’s license, her wallet with the pictures of Riley and Danny and Matty—everything was left behind in the backpack. Then her father took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders and they trudged through the thick woods to get back to his car. They could have walked along the road, but he said he was worried about tracks, even though the way the snow was coming down now she thought they’d be okay.
By the time they got back to his car, they were both freezing. He turned on the heat and she took off her wet gloves and held her hands in front of the vent.
“Has to be the coldest night of the year,” her father said.
“You have a jacket for me, right?” she asked.
“It’s in the backseat.”
She turned to look in the backseat, but it was too dark. “And a new backpack?” She worried he might have forgotten something. There was so much to remember.
“No backpack. You have a new purse. It’s with the jacket.”
“A purse? Daddy, you know I never carry a purse.”
“Lisa never carried a purse,” he said. “Ann Johnson does.” She was Ann Johnson in all her new documents.
She started to unfasten her seat belt to reach behind her for the purse and jacket, but he put a hand out to stop her. “Wait till we have some light,” he said. “I want to get away from here.” He began carefully backing the car out of the narrow lane. It took forever, and by the time they were again on the parkway and he put his lights on, she was horrified to see that the dashboard clock read two-thirty.
“You’re not going to have time to drive me to Philly and be back home by morning!” she said. That had been the plan, and it was already falling apart. He needed to “discover” she was missing in the morning. He was supposed to go to her room to make sure she was up and ready for her nine o’clock appointment with the attorney, and he’d find her gone and the note in her place.
“We’re okay,” he said calmly. “I’m not taking you all the way to Philadelphia.” He glanced at her, but it was too dark to read his face. “Don’t panic,” he said.
“What do you mean, you’re not taking me to Philly? I’m supposed to be on that eight o’clock train!”
“You will be. Don’t worry.”
“How?” He was really scaring her.
“Now listen. You remember a man I work with? Tom Kyle?”
“I have no idea who that is!” She knew she’d met a man with that name somewhere, but she was too upset to admit it to her father.
“Well, you’ll probably recognize him. We’re meeting him at the rest stop on 95 and he’ll drive you to Philly.”
She felt ice run through her body. “He knows?” she asked. “You told him? You said absolutely no one! Tell absolutely no one. That’s what you said. You—”
“Stop it.” He stared straight ahead at the road. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Tom will keep his mouth shut.”
“How can you be so sure? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have—”
“Lisa!” he shouted, shutting her up. “It’s set, all right? I promise you. I absolutely guarantee you. You’ll be safe.”
She went quiet. She’d never liked it when he yelled at her. He was a soft-spoken, calm person, and those rare times he yelled shook her up.
He turned onto the Beltway and they didn’t speak for half an hour, not until he’d exited onto 95. Then he suddenly broke the silence.
“I’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done,” he said.
He would always believe she was a murderer. Tears clogged her throat. The truth or a lie, she knew it didn’t matter to him. Her parents would love her regardless of anything she’d done. She’d tested their love to the limit during her lifetime.
They came to the first rest stop and he pulled off 95 and into the empty parking lot.
“He’s not here.” She stated the obvious.
“He will be.” He left the car running so they’d have heat and could use the wipers to keep the windshield clear. “Let me see your hair,” he said.
He turned on the overhead light to look at her as she pulled off her hat. He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Maybe we should have gone with the wig.” He sounded nervous. “Wear your hat as muc
h as you can and stick to yourself on the train. Your picture’s been all over the news for months.” He pointed to the bag on the floor by her feet. “Give me the bag,” he said, and she handed it to him.
She watched as he got out of the car, walked through the few inches of snow, and tossed the bag in the trash can by the brick building that housed the restrooms. She was tempted to lower the visor mirror to look at her hair again, but decided not to depress herself any more than she already was. She’d had long pale blond hair all her life. She wasn’t going to like the girl she was becoming.
Daddy shook off the snow and got back in the car, looking at his watch. Then he reached into the seat behind him and grabbed the jacket and purse, handing them to her. In the overhead light, she saw that the purse wasn’t new at all. It was some thrift shop thing and nothing she’d ever buy for herself, but she wrapped her hand around the straps, trying to get used to the feel of them. She’d never owned a purse and her shoulder already missed the thick strap of her backpack.
“Did you remember the suitcase?” she asked, worried. She’d totally forgotten about it herself.
“In the trunk.” He turned to look back at the entrance to the rest stop, then checked his watch again.
The suitcase held only the new documents she’d need and some clothes her father had bought for her. She couldn’t risk taking any of her own. Her mother would know they were missing. She had no idea if the police would believe the suicide story or not. They might think she ran. They’d look at airports and train stations. That’s why she was taking off from Philly instead of D.C. Even so, it was a huge risk. When the police came to the house in the morning, Daddy would point out that Violet was still in her room. “She’d never leave without her violin,” he’d say. He’d pretend to notice that the kayak was missing. He’d have to be careful not to point out too much, though. He’d raise suspicion. They’d ask if she’d been depressed lately, and he would be able to honestly answer yes. She was certifiably depressed. They’d made her see a shrink, who’d said she should be watched carefully. She felt terrible that her mother would think she hadn’t watched her closely enough and that she should never have gone to Granddad’s this close to the trial. She didn’t want her mother to blame herself.
“Now, listen to me, Lisa,” her father said. “I want you to memorize something. Do not ever, under any circumstances, write this down, okay? Just keep it in your head.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve opened a post office box,” he said. “It’s only to be used in a dire emergency. I won’t be able to check it often, at least not for a while, but you’ll have it if you need it.”
She suddenly felt as though she could breathe. She had a way to reach him!
“What’s the address?” she asked.
“Dire emergency,” he warned. “Understand?”
She nodded.
He rattled off the address: PO box 5782, Pollocksville, North Carolina, and she frowned.
“North Carolina? Why would you have a post office box in—”
“It doesn’t matter. And the name it’s under is Fred Marcus. Don’t ever address anything there to my real name.”
“Okay.”
“Say it back to me.”
“Post office box 5782, Pollocksville, North Carolina. What’s the zip code?”
“That’s too much to remember. And what’s my name?”
“Fred Marcus.”
“Good,” he said. The snow had stopped and he turned off the wipers. “Now, when you get to San Diego, I suggest you head to Ocean Beach. I was there once a long time ago, and I think you’ll blend in. Find a cheap motel room.” He glanced at her and she felt his worry. “Not so cheap that you don’t feel safe,” he added. “Get a job and look for something better as soon as you can.”
She was barely listening. “I wish you hadn’t told Mr. Kyle,” she said.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but after a minute he spoke. “We needed him to get your documents,” he said. “He does them for the Witness Protection Program. I don’t handle them anymore. I’d set off alarm bells if I tried.”
“But … now he knows.”
Daddy looked at her. “Trust me, Lisa, he’s not going to breathe a word.”
Headlights suddenly swept through the inside of the car, and she turned to see a pickup pull into the parking lot.
“Here he is,” Daddy said, then added, urgency in his voice, “What’s the name and address of the PO box?”
She repeated them one more time.
“Good girl.”
The truck pulled up next to their car. She didn’t budge, suddenly paralyzed with fear, as the man opened the door of the truck and stood up, tugging a knit cap low on his forehead. He was tall. Broad shouldered. Her father got out of the car, reaching out to shake Tom Kyle’s hand, but the bigger man kept his own hands in his pockets. Daddy knocked on the window to hurry her up. She fumbled with the door handle, nerves and her still-damp gloves making her clumsy. Finally out of the car, she couldn’t look Tom Kyle in the eye. Her father opened the trunk and handed her the suitcase, which was so light she knew she’d have to be careful not to let anyone else lift it or risk raising suspicion.
None of them spoke. Mr. Kyle put the suitcase behind his seat in the pickup, and for just a moment, she wondered if her father had a different plan for her than the elaborate one they’d concocted. Could Tom Kyle be taking her someplace other than the train station in Philadelphia?
He glanced from her to her father. “I’ll wait in the truck,” he said.
When Mr. Kyle was in the truck, her father pulled her wordlessly into his arms. “Stay in the ladies’ room at the train station till there are more people around,” he said into her ear. “Mix in with crowds. Guard your purse—there’s money in it—and guard the documents in your suitcase. Keep your wits about you.” He hugged her hard. “And most important of all, never pick up a violin again, Lisa, understand? Never. You have to hide your light under a bushel from now on. Promise me.” It wasn’t the first time he’d told her she could never play again. She would attract too much attention, he’d said. People who knew music would figure out who she was.
“I promise,” she said.
“I love you, Lisa,” he said, pulling away. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she heard the tears in his voice. She’d never seen her father cry.
“I love you, too,” she said.
She climbed into the cab of Tom Kyle’s truck. He didn’t say a word, and she cried silently as he drove out of the parking lot, full of doubt over what she was doing.
The snow started again and Mr. Kyle took it slow, even though they saw a couple of plows and the road was in decent shape. Not a word passed between them for nearly an hour and it was either that he knew she needed to cry in peace or he didn’t know what to say. Or, possibly, he simply didn’t care. By the flat, sort of angry look on his face, she thought that might be it.
After a long time, she turned to him. The snow had let up and he was driving faster. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice loud in the truck after so much silence.
He was quiet as though he hadn’t heard her. Then he finally spoke. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses for why you killed an innocent man over a fucking college application. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
She turned back to the window, her eyes burning. He scared her. Why her father trusted him to keep this quiet when he was obviously disgusted by her, she had no idea. She wished she could tell her father she thought Tom Kyle could be a danger to them, but as she clutched her purse close to her body, reality hit her hard: she might never be able to tell her father anything, ever again.
18.
Riley
I was sure I broke my own record for speed as I ran home after the meeting with Tom and Suzanne. She didn’t, he’d said. Didn’t what? Kill herself? Was there any other possible way to interpret wh
at he said? How could he know something like that? I wondered if he’d read Sondra Lynn Davis’s blog. Sondra didn’t believe Lisa had killed herself, either. Maybe Tom had read her blog and bought into the theory.
Or maybe he knew something no one else knew. Either way, I felt sullied just by having him talk to me about my family.
I didn’t bother changing out of my running clothes when I got home. I spotted Christine and Jeannie working in the dining room, the curio cabinet doors open as they culled through my mother’s beloved china and old vases.
“Do you have a minute to—” Christine started to get to her feet, but I cut her off.
“Sorry!” I said. “I’m in a rush.”
I grabbed my purse and keys from the table by the front door, got in my car, and headed for the RV park.
* * *
I sprayed gravel behind me as I drove through the park and I didn’t slow down until I reached the end of the lane and saw that Tom’s car wasn’t behind the Kyles’ RV. Damn it! Still, I parked in the shade by the trees, got out of my car, climbed the steps to the motor home, and pounded on the door.
“Hold your horses!” Verniece called from inside, and I heard her heavy footsteps as she came to the door. I pounded again, unable to stop myself. She pulled the door open, a look of annoyance on her face that softened the instant she saw me.
“Riley! What’s all the knocking about? My goodness!”
“Where’s Tom?” I asked.
“Oh, please don’t tell me he didn’t show up for the meeting with the lawyer.” She looked pained. “Every once in a blue moon he stops off for a drink in the daytime, even though he knows better, and then he forgets—”
“He was there. The meeting went fine. But when he left he said something that—” I stopped speaking, winded as if I was still running. “Can I come in?” I asked.
She looked at me with real concern, reaching out to touch my arm as though she thought I might need steadying. “Let me come out there,” she said. “More comfy than in here. We’ll sit in the shade. Would you like something to—”