The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [68]
“Shh,” she whispered, touching a finger to my lips. “Listen. After Kyle disappeared, I felt … panicked. All the time. Like I was frozen in that moment when I first hurried into the video store with Kate, and the man behind the counter told me he hadn’t seen Kyle, and the woman next to me suggested I call the police. All those months when you and Kate were out searching and handing out the leaflets, I was trapped in that moment, and with that feeling, and I couldn’t get out.”
“I wanted to help you,” I said, feeling tears on my face. “I didn’t know how.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you. Even at the time, I was glad you were doing what you were doing, and that you’d taken Kate with you. It was important for our family, and I felt terrible that I wasn’t strong enough to help.”
“I never judged you or thought less of you.”
“No. You and Yolanda and Kate, you all took care of me. And then you went back to work, and Yolanda went home to the Dominican Republic, and I woke up one morning and realized that I had to get Kate off to school, and shop for dinner, and pick up the dry cleaning. And I felt better, because I had responsibilities, and I wasn’t just thinking about Kyle all the time. That’s when I decided to volunteer here at the hospital. Being here, helping people who needed my help—it keeps the feeling of panic away.”
“And being with me makes the panic come back,” I said, feeling as if my heart might break.
She nodded.
“Sometimes. More than I can bear. I’m sorry.”
My phone rang in my coat. I ignored it, but Claire took the phone from my pocket and checked the display.
“It’s Reggie,” she said. “Answer it.”
“I don’t want to,” I choked.
“You have to. I’ve thought about us a lot. The only way we can be together is if you’re at peace, and the only way you’re ever going to be at peace is to learn the truth.”
She held the phone out to me. I wiped my face with my hand and took it from her.
“Reggie,” I said.
“Hey. I’m out front. You got a minute to come outside and talk?”
I looked at Claire beseechingly.
“Go,” she said. “For both of us.”
23
Reggie’s car was parked at a hydrant just outside the main entrance. I opened the door and climbed in, letting my head drop back against the rest as I sat.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Everything, but I wasn’t ready to get into it with him.
“Smells like puke in here.”
“Gave a runaway a ride home this afternoon. Bought him a thirty-two-ounce orange Slurpee and a foot-long Snickers bar to keep him quiet. Live and learn. But you looked unhappy before you got in.”
“Family trouble,” I said, scrabbling for the window switch.
“With Kate?”
“Maybe,” I replied, thinking of the angry look she’d given me. I lowered the window halfway and turned my face to the opening, inhaling a lungful of cold, fresh air. The car really stank.
“I saw her canoodling with some Asian kid on a bench down the block. They going out?”
“I guess so.” I hadn’t considered her relationship in quite those terms before. It was another subject I didn’t feel ready to pursue. “So, what’s up?”
He struck a match and lit a cigarette. It was the first time I could recall being grateful for the odor.
“I think I found the guy who stole the car.”
I jerked upright, galvanized as if by an electric shock.
“You talk to him?”
“Not yet,” he said, stuffing his crumpled pack of cigarettes and matches into a cup holder. “Tonight.”
“So, what are we waiting for?”
He gave me a baleful glance.
“Who’s ‘we,’ paleface?”
It was the punch line to an old joke, Tonto’s reply to the Lone Ranger when he observed that they were both about to be killed by hostile Indians.
“There’s some kind of problem because I’m the wrong color?” I asked, confused.
Reggie laughed.
“Nah. There’s some kind of problem because you look like you work in an office on Park Avenue. The guy I found will be more talkative if he’s scared.”
“Trust me,” I said forcefully, “I meet the person who might’ve murdered my son, and I’m going to look like what I am—someone who wants to fucking kill him.”
He nodded, perhaps conceding