Linwood Barclay - Broken Promise - A Thriller

“She did it before,” the woman whispered.

I leaned in. “She never killed anyone.”

“But she took a baby,” she said quietly. “At the hospital.”

“You know about that.”

The woman nodded. She was glancing at the door.

“You are Sarita.”

Her eyes landed on mine. “I am Sarita,” she said.

“Would you like to tell me what you know, or would you like me to call the police?”

“Please do not call the police. They’ll either send me home, or find a reason to put me in jail.”

“Then why don’t we talk,” I said. “I’ve got a feeling you may be able to explain a lot of things.”

“Quickly,” she said. “I will tell you quickly, so I do not miss my bus.”

I shook my head sadly. “You’re not making that bus, Sarita. It’s just not going to happen.”

Arlene Harwood had decided on pork chops for dinner and wondered whether Don would like rice or mashed potatoes with them. She even had some sweet potatoes in the fridge, which Don was not all that crazy about, but would tolerate once in a while, just so long as she put enough butter on them, and maybe even a sprinkling of brown sugar. She was pretty sure Ethan didn’t like sweet potatoes, but she could do up a baked potato for him, or throw some frozen french fries into the oven.

It was nice having all these men around. She knew David wanted to move out as soon as he could, and take Ethan with him, of course. It was the right thing to do. But she was enjoying having them here in the meantime.

She went into the living room, thinking her husband might have fallen asleep in the recliner, but he wasn’t there. Her leg was really hurting today after her stumble on the stairs the day before, so she didn’t want to have to trek up to the second floor to search for him. So she went to the foot of the stairs and shouted his name, speculating that he was in the bathroom, extending his stay because he’d found something interesting to read in National Geographic .

No answer.

Then Arlene went to the top of the stairs that led down to the basement. “Don? You there?”

When she didn’t get a reply, she figured there was only one place left to check. She went out the back door and limped across the yard to their garage. The main door was closed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. She tried the side entrance, found it unlocked, and entered.

And there was Don. Standing in front of his workbench, clutching a bottle of beer. There were two empties standing in front of him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said.

“I was right here,” he said.

“Well, I had to look in all the other places first before I found that out, didn’t I? Me with a bad leg and all.”

“You should have looked here first.”

“What are you doing drinking beer in the middle of the afternoon?” she asked. “In the middle of the summer, maybe, but now?”

“Is that why you were looking for me? To find out if I was having a beer?”

“I didn’t know you were having a beer until I found you.”

“Then what the hell do you want?”

She did not answer him. She crossed her arms and looked sternly at him. “What’s going on with you?”

He grunted. “There’s nothing going on with me.”

“How many years have I been married to you? Whatever the number is, double it, and that’s what it feels like,” Arlene said. “I can tell when something’s eating at you. You started acting funny yesterday.”

“I told you, I’m fine. What did you want?”

“I wanted to ask you...” She stopped herself. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“What the hell did I want to ask you?” She shook her head. “This is driving me crazy.”

“Where were you when you decided you just had to find me?” Don asked. “They say if you think where you were when—”

“Rice or potatoes?” she asked him.

“What?”

“With pork chops. Rice or potatoes, or sweet potatoes? Oh, and I’ve got a box of that Stove Top stuffing that Ethan likes.”

“I don’t care,” Don said. “Make whatever you want.”

She put a hand on his arm. “Talk to me.”

He pressed his lips together, as though keeping the words he wanted to say from escaping. He shook his head.

“Is it David? And Ethan? Is it getting you down, having them here? He just needs time to get his life back together. It would have been better if he’d just stayed in Boston, hadn’t quit that job at—”

“It’s not that,” Don said. “I... I like having them around. I like having my grandson here.”

The corner of her mouth went up. “Me, too.” She paused, then said, “You’d better spill what it is that’s on your mind fast, because I need to head upstairs and lie down with some ice on this goddamn leg. Talk.”

Don opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. The fourth time he tried, words came out.

“I have regrets,” he said.

Arlene nodded. “Sure. We all do.” She hesitated. “I hope I’m not one of them.”

He shook his head, put a hand on her shoulder. “No.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she said.

“There are times when I could have been a better man.”

“Better for whom?” she asked.

“Just... better.”

Arlene had always thought, even with all his faults — and there was no question Don had a few — he was as good a man as any woman could hope to find. It was difficult for her to imagine that this was a man who harbored deep secrets, that there could be anything he’d done that would make her think less of him.

She’d never had any reason to believe he’d been unfaithful to her, even though there would be the occasional fleeting thought. But that had more to do with her own insecurities than with suspicions about Don’s behavior.

“There’s times,” he said, “when you wish you acted differently, but you can’t go back and do things again. The moment is gone; there’s nothing you can do. And the thing is, even if you tried to do the right thing, there’s no guarantee you might have been able to make a difference. But it haunts you just the same. You feel like less of a person.”

“Okay,” Arlene said slowly.

“Like, for instance,” he said, “you remember that time you were backing into that spot at the Walmart, and you—”

“Oh, please don’t bring that up.”

“You dinged that car, and you got out and had a look, and it was a little dent, and you thought about leaving a note, but finally you decided to get back in the car and drive off and go shop somewhere else instead that day?”

Now she was annoyed. “Why would you bring that up? That was years ago. I felt so guilty about that. I never should have told you. To this day I feel bad I didn’t leave a note. You remember two years ago I was using that machine at the drugstore where you can check your blood pressure? And I thought I broke it? And I told them about it and offered to pay? And lucky for me, they said it had broken down before and it wasn’t my fault, but it could have been. I was prepared to do the right thing, so why you’d dredge up that other matter I don’t—”

“I only mention it because it was nothing,” Don said. “It was nothing compared to what I did — or didn’t do.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Those lips were pressed together again. Arlene sensed he was getting to the hardest part. He said nothing for more than a minute, but finally said, “I was one of them.”

“One of what?”

“One of the people who did nothing,” Don Harwood said.

Angus Carlson phoned his wife, Gale, at the dental clinic where she worked as a hygienist. She was with a patient, doing a cleaning, but Carlson told the woman at the desk that it was an emergency.