Harlan Coben - Just One Look

“And she was right,” Grace said.

“Yes.”

“And Larue never knew that Sandra and Jack were brother and sister?”

Again Vespa spread his hands. “How would he?”

Grace shook her head.

“But, you see, it’s not over for Wade Larue. He still wants vengeance and exoneration. He just knows he’ll have to wait until he’s out of jail. The question is, how? He knows the truth, but how will he prove it? Who will, pardon the expression, feel his wrath? Who is really to blame for what happened that night?”

Grace nodded as something else fell into place. “So he went after Jack.”

“The one who pulled the knife, yep. So Larue got his old prison buddy Eric Wu to grab your husband. Larue’s plan was to hook up with Wu the moment he got released. He’d make Jack tell the truth, film it, and then, he wasn’t sure, but probably kill him.”

“Find exoneration and then commit murder?”

Vespa shrugged. “He was angry, Grace. He might have ended up just beating him up or breaking his legs. Who knows?”

“So what happened?”

“Wade Larue had a change of heart.”

Grace frowned.

“You should have heard him talk about it. His eyes were so clear. I’d just punched him in the face. I’d kicked him and threatened his life. But the peace on his face… it just stayed there. The moment Larue was free, he realized that he would be able to get past it.”

“What do you mean, past it?”

“Exactly that. His punishment was in the past. He could never really be exonerated because he wasn’t blameless. He fired shots in the middle of the crowd. That raised the hysteria level. But more than that, it was like he told me: He was truly free. Nothing was left to tie him to the past. He was no longer in prison, but my son would always be dead. You see?”

“I think so.”

“Larue just wanted to live his life. He was also afraid of what I’d do to him. So he wanted to trade. He told me the truth. He gave me Wu’s number. And in exchange, I’d leave him alone.”

“So it was you who called Wu?”

“Actually Larue made the call. But yes, I spoke to him.”

“And you told Wu to bring us to you?”

“I didn’t realize you were there. I thought it was just Jack.”

“What was your plan, Carl?”

He said nothing.

“Would you have killed Jack too?”

“Does it matter anymore?”

“And what would you have done with me?”

He took his time. “There were things that made me wonder,” he said.

“About?”

“About you.”

Seconds passed. There were footsteps in the corridor. A stretcher with a squeaky wheel rolled past the door. Grace listened to the sound recede. She tried to slow her breath.

“Here you were nearly killed in the Boston Massacre – yet you end up marrying the man responsible for it all. I also know that Jimmy X came to visit your house after we saw him at that rehearsal. You never told me about that. And then there’s the fact that you remember so little of what happened. Not just that night, but for almost a week before.”

She tried to keep her breaths even. “You thought -”

“I didn’t know what to think. But now maybe I do. I think your husband is a good man who made a terrible mistake. I think he ran away after the stampede. I think he felt guilty. That was why he wanted to meet you. He saw the press reports and wanted to know you were okay. Maybe he even planned on apologizing. So he found you on the beach in France. And then he fell in love with you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back.

“It’s over now, Grace.”

They sat in silence. There was nothing else to say. A few minutes later Vespa stole out, silent as the night.

But it wasn’t over.

Four days passed. Grace got better. She went home that first afternoon. Cora and Vickie stayed with them. Cram came by that first day too, but Grace asked him to leave. He nodded and complied.

The media went crazy, of course. They only knew bits and pieces, but the fact that the notorious Jimmy X had resurfaced only to be murdered had been enough to send them into a total state of derangement. Perlmutter set up a patrol car in front of Grace’s house. Emma and Max still went to school. Grace spent most of her days in the hospital with Jack. Charlaine Swain kept her company a lot.

Grace thought about the photograph that started it all. She now figured that one of the four members of Allaw had found a way to get it in her packet. Why? That was harder to answer. Perhaps one of them realized that the eighteen ghosts would never sleep.

But then there was the question of timing: Why now? Why after fifteen years?

There was no shortage of possibilities. It could have been the release of Wade Larue. It could have been the death of Gordon MacKenzie. It could have been all the anniversary coverage. But most likely, what made the most sense, was that the return of Jimmy X set everything in motion.

Who really was to blame for what happened that tragic night? Was it Jimmy for stealing the song? Jack for attacking him? Gordon MacKenzie for firing a weapon under those circumstances? Wade Larue for illegally carrying a gun, panicking, and firing more shots into an already frenzied crowd? Grace did not know. Small ripples. All of this carnage had not started with some big conspiracy. It had started with two small-time bands playing some dive in Manchester.

There were still holes, of course. Lots of them. But they would have to wait.

There are some things more important than the truth.

Now, right now, Grace stared at Jack. He lay still in his hospital bed. His doctor, a man named Stan Walker, sat next to her. Dr. Walker folded his hands and used his gravest voice. Grace listened. Emma and Max waited in the corridor. They wanted to be there. Grace didn’t know what to do. What was the call on this one?

She wished that she could ask Jack.

She did not want to ask him why he had lied to her for so long. She did not want an explanation for what he had done that terrible night. She did not want to ask him how he’d happened by her on the beach that day, if he had been intentionally seeking her out, if that was why they fell in love. She didn’t want to ask Jack any of that.

She only wanted to ask him one last question: Did he want his children by his bedside when he died?

In the end Grace let them stay. The four of them gathered as a family for the last time. Emma cried. Max sat there, his eyes trained on the tile floor. And then, with a gentle tug at her heart, Grace felt Jack leave for good.

The funeral was a major blur. Grace usually wore contact lenses. She took them off that day and did not wear her glasses. Everything seemed a little easier to handle in the blur. She sat in the front pew and thought about Jack. She did not picture him in the vineyards or on the beach anymore. The sight she remembered best, the sight she would always carry with her, was Jack holding Emma after she was born, the way his big hands held the little wonder, carrying her as if afraid she’d break, scared he might hurt her, the way he turned to Grace and looked at her in pure awe. That was what she saw.

The rest, all she now knew about his past, was white noise.

Sandra Koval came to the funeral. She stayed in the back. She apologized that their father could not come. He was elderly and ill. Grace said that she understood. The two women did not embrace. Scott Duncan was there. So were Stu Perlmutter and Cora. Grace had no idea how many people showed up. She didn’t much care either. She held her two children and fought her way through it.

Two weeks later the children went back to school. There were issues, of course. Both Emma and Max were suffering separation anxieties. That was normal, she knew. Grace walked them into school. She was there before the bell rang to pick them up. They were hurting. That, Grace knew, was the price you paid for having a kind and loving father. The hurt never goes away.