Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

“I know.” Grady slowed the car, cranked the wheel to the left, and made a U-turn. “I want to be with him. I want him to know that we loved him. Wouldn’t you feel better, knowing I was with him?”

Alice suppressed an eye-roll. “But you upset him.”

“Maybe I just surprised him. He used to be my buddy, remember, we ran together? I’ll go and be there with him, so he’s not alone.”

Alice tried to think of the Bennie-like response. She didn’t want to make him suspicious, after Mary’s phone call. “Okay. I really appreciate it.”

“Good. I just hope I get there in time.”

“Me, too.” Alice forced a little hiccup that would sound like a stifled sob. “This is really great of you.”

Grady hit the gas, slid his cell phone from his back pocket, and flipped it open. “Perfect. My battery’s dead.”

You’re telling me.

“I didn’t charge it last night. Do you have your phone with you? I want to call the hospital and tell them not to do anything until I get there.”

“Good idea.” Alice fumbled in Bennie’s messenger bag, but there was no BlackBerry. “I forgot it this morning. I was too distracted. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, we’re only a few blocks away. Hang on.” Grady sped up Spruce Street, running a red light, and they were at the vet hospital in less than five minutes. He parked in the emergency parking, cut the ignition, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You sure you’re okay here?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll tell him you love him.”

“Thank you.” Alice was so bored with all this talk about the stupid dog. “Sorry I’m not coming in.”

“Try to rest, and hang in there.” Grady gave her a quick kiss, jumped out of the driver’s seat, and jogged to the entrance of the hospital, disappearing inside.

Alice breathed a relieved sigh. She switched on the radio and found a hip-hop station playing Usher, then Justin Timberlake and Ludacris came on, and if they played anything sexier she’d be rocking the car all by herself. Finally Grady reappeared at the hospital exit, leaving with his head down. She snapped off the radio and pretended to be dozing as he hustled toward the car and opened the door. She faked waking up and looked at him.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, drowsily. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“You’re exhausted from last night.” Grady gave her a hug, and she could feel wetness on his cheek.

“Was it horrible?”

“Let’s not talk about it, okay?” Grady’s voice sounded husky. “You go back to sleep, and I’ll get you home.”

“Whatever you say.” Alice let herself slump backwards in the seat. She looked out the window as they steered from the parking lot and drove home in silence.

No talk and no sex. We’re practically married.

Mary shifted on the bed, her concentration refocused. The laptop had gotten hot so she had to rest it on a pillow, and its bright screen glowed in the darkening bedroom. She read the legal section one last time, then leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction.

Maybe I deserve to be a partner after all?

She lifted the computer and pillow off her lap, set it aside, and reached for her coffee, but it was long gone. She glanced at the clock, which told her that she’d spent way too long on the brief, especially when she had so many of her own cases. She logged on to her email and wrote to Bennie:

I’m attaching the brief. Let me know what you think, and I appreciate your kind words today.

She signed off with “Best, Mary,” because “Love, Mary” would get her fired, then attached the brief and clicked SEND. Anthony popped back into her head, the thought sent from the boyfriend lobe, which seemed to be waiting for her to finish work. She checked her BlackBerry. No email from him, no text or calls. He was waiting her out, playing love chicken. Or maybe he was letting himself cool down, or he had just gone to sleep.

The realtor’s business card was sitting on the bedspread, and she picked it up and ran a thumb over the blue embossed letters. She flashed on the house, which was perfect. True, it was a reach, but even her father had said it made sense to step up when you found the house you really wanted. Should she buy the house? If she did, would that be the end of them, or could they work it out?

She felt a pang of love and longing, and this time it was for Anthony. She wanted to live with him, and at times, she wanted to marry him. He was special, and years of dating had taught her that good men are harder to find than good houses. So why lose him for four walls and a roof? She didn’t need a gourmet kitchen for spaghetti and meatballs.

But why do I need his permission to buy something I want?

A hard nub of resentment lodged in her chest, and she knew it wouldn’t go away if she gave up the house. It would only grow, impinging on her heart, and in time she would blame him for a decision that she herself had made. She read the business card again and picked up her BlackBerry.

Wondering.

Bennie stood up as soon as she had the strength, swaying unsteadily. The moon shone surprisingly bright. The air smelled sweet and clean. A breeze caressed her battered body, rustling the tatters of her clothes. She wiped blood, tears, dirt, and sweat from her face, looking around the field.

It was dark around her, with no houses in sight. The grass had been cut for hay and lay in humped rows. In the distance was a tall treeline and a hulk of farm machinery. She remembered the shaking she’d felt in the box, the tornado she’d heard driving over her. It had been a harvesting machine.

It struck her then what must have happened. The hay in the field must have been tall when Alice had buried the box, but she wouldn’t have known that it would be cut at the end of the month. The harvesting machine, and the wolf, had saved Bennie’s life.

She started walking, wobbly and weary, looking for a road. Her bare feet aching, her hand trailed its bloody bandage. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. She hadn’t eaten in forever, her throat was dry and parched. She felt dizzy and weak.

She heard the screech of a faraway owl. The loud knocking of a woodpecker, echoing over the field. Crickets everywhere. She passed a herd of deer lying in the short grass. They spotted her, startled, and took off, their back hooves flying, white tails upright as surrender flags.

She kept walking, using the hayrow as a guideline. Above shone the stars, their whiteness brighter out in the country. They pierced a velveteen sky, a glittery whitewash of stardust. She remembered looking at the stars so long ago, when her mother was still alive. She had thought that her family was fixed as the constellations, but she’d been wrong. She’d learned that stars changed and so did families, hers when it belatedly acquired its darkest star.

She walked through another field, passing immense rolls of hay, lined up together like houses, two stories high. She followed the rows of mown hay when she could and her sense of direction when she couldn’t, stumbling and halting but going ever forward, and she saw a black ribbon of paved road that snaked along the fields, its canary yellow divider phosphorescent in the moonshine.

She almost cried with happiness. She staggered over, reached the shoulder, and walked next to it in the grass. It was only a matter of time until someone drove by. She’d call the cops and find Alice, no matter where she tried to hide. She’d charge her, prosecute her, and lock her away for good. Twin or no. Sister or no. Blood or no.

Her pace quickened, heedless of her sore everything. And when she spotted a pair of headlights coming down the road, she thanked God.