Harlan Coben - Don’t Let Go

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m not even sure she heard me. And I didn’t even know what Maura meant by being upset by what happened. See, I was that out of it, Nap. I didn’t even know about your brother and that Styles girl yet. So I just went back to work, you know, waitressing. I got two tables complaining by now. And I was taking an order at a table across from the bar, you know they got all those TVs on?”

I nod.

“Well, usually it’s on sports, but someone flipped it over to the news station. That’s when I saw...” She shakes her head. “God, how awful. They didn’t say any names. So I didn’t even know it was your brother or anything. Just two Westbridge students got run over by a train. So maybe now Maura’s call made a little bit of sense to me. I figured she was upset by this, wanted a few days away to deal with it. I didn’t know what to do, but I’ve learned a few things in my life. One was not to react too quickly. I’m not the smartest woman. Sometimes if you have a choice of taking Road A or Road B you should just stay where you are until you know the lay of the land. So I calmly finished my shift. Like I said, it all made sense. Except, well, what about the part about not talking to cops? That part bothered me, but I was too busy working to think about it much. So anyway, when my shift was over, I went out to my car. I was supposed to meet up with a guy I’d started seeing, but I didn’t want to anymore. I just wanted to get home and hunker down. So I walked out to the lot. It was pretty empty by then. And there were these men there waiting for me.”

She turns away and blinks.

“Men?” I repeat.

“Four of them.”

“You mean like cops?”

“That’s what they said. They flashed badges at me.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanted to know where Maura was.”

I’m picturing this. Bennigan’s had closed down years ago, replaced by another chain restaurant called the Macaroni Grill, but I know the parking lot.

“What did you tell them?”

“I said I didn’t know.”

“Okay.”

“They were very polite. The lead guy, the one who did all the talking, he had this pale skin and whispery voice. Gave me the chills. His fingernails were too long. I don’t like that on a man. He said that Maura wasn’t in trouble. He said that if she just came forward now it would all be okay. He was very persistent.”

“But you didn’t know.”

“Right.”

“So then what?”

“So then...” I see her eyes fill with tears. She reaches her hand up and puts it on her own throat. “I don’t even know how to tell this part.”

I reach out now and put my hand on hers. “It’s okay.”

Something has changed in the room. You can feel it like an electric surge.

“What happened next, Mrs. Wells?”

“What happened next...” She stops, shrugs. “It’s a week later.”

I pause. Then I say, “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Next thing I remember I hear pounding on my back door. I open my eyes, and I’m in my own bed. I peek through the shade to see who was there.”

She looks at me.

“It was you, Nap.”

I remember this, of course. I remember going to their house and pounding on that back door, searching for Maura, who had not contacted me since my brother’s death other than to say that the news about my brother was too awful, that she was going away.

That we were over.

“I didn’t answer the door,” she says.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

I wave it off. “You said something about it being a week later.”

“That’s just it. See, I thought it was the next morning, but a full week had passed. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to re-create what had happened. The most likely thing was that I drank myself into an extended blackout, right? I figured the pale man with the whispery voice thanked me for my time, told me to get in touch if I heard from Maura, and left me. Then I got in my car and went on a bender.” She tilted her head. “Doesn’t that sound like the most likely explanation, Nap?”

The room feels ten degrees cooler.

“But I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“What do you think happened?” I ask.

“I think the pale man with the whispery voice did something to me.”

I can hear my breathing like seashells pressed against my ears. “Like what?”

“I think they took me someplace and asked me about Maura again. I had these memories when I first woke up. Bad memories. But they disappeared, like after a dream. You ever have that? You wake up and you remember the nightmare and you think you’ll never forget it and then the images just slip away?”

I hear myself say, “Yes.”

“That’s what it was like. I know it was bad. Like the worst dream possible. I reach out and try to remember, but it’s like grabbing smoke.”

I nod more just to have something to do, some way to handle the blows. “So what did you do?”

“I just...” Lynn Wells shrugs. “I went to work at Kohl’s. I thought I’d get in huge trouble for missing shifts, but they said I called in sick.”

“And you don’t remember doing that.”

“No. The same thing when I went to Bennigan’s. They said I called in sick too.”

I lean back now, try to take it in.

“I... I got paranoid too. I kept thinking I was being followed. I would see a man reading a newspaper and I’d be sure he was watching me. You started coming around the house too, Nap. I remember snapping at you to go away, but I couldn’t keep that up. I knew I had to do something until Maura told me what was going on. So I did what she said. I told you that lie about her transferring schools. I contacted Westbridge High too. I told them we were moving and would let them know where to forward Maura’s records. The school didn’t really ask too many questions. I think a lot of your classmates were devastated and taking time off.”

Lynn Wells puts her hand to her throat again. “I need some water.”

I get up and circle behind the desk. Ellie keeps a small fridge under the windowsill. I wonder why Mrs. Wells came to me via Ellie, but there are more pressing matters. I open the fridge, see the anally laid-out water bottles, and grab one for her.

“Thank you,” she says.

She twists open the top and takes a deep pull like, well, an alcoholic. “You quit drinking,” I say.

“You’re always an alcoholic,” she says. “But, yes, it’s been thirteen years since my last drink.”

I nod my approval, not that she needs it.

“I owe Bernadette for that. She’s my rock. Just when I was at my lowest, I found her. We got legally married two years ago.”

I don’t know what to say to that — I want to get back on topic — so I just say, “Okay.” Then I add, “When did you next hear from Maura?”

She takes another swig and twists the top back on the bottle.

“Days passed. Then weeks. I jumped every time the phone rang. I thought about telling someone, but who? Maura had said not to go to the police, and after what I experienced with that pale guy, well, like I said, if you aren’t sure about Road A or B, just stay where you are. But I was scared. I had terrible dreams. I could hear that whispery voice asking me over and over about where Maura was. I didn’t know what to do. The whole town was grieving over your brother and Diana. Diana’s father, the police chief, he came by one day. He wanted to know about Maura too.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The same thing I told everyone else. Maura was freaked out by what happened. I said she was staying with my cousin in Milwaukee for a while and then transferring schools.”

“Was there a cousin in Milwaukee?”