Bad things, p.13
Bad Things, page 13
“Be smart,” she told her reflection, examining her makeup carefully, searching for flaws before she headed out the door, aware that Cole would undoubtedly be at the memorial service.
* * *
It was a little after four when Cole made it to the ferry dock. He parked his car on the Edwards Bay side and walked along the planked pier. A stiff breeze was blowing cold, riffling the green water, cutting through his sport coat. Typical June weather. Summer hadn’t really started yet.
He could see a group who’d also left their cars on the Edwards Bay side already waiting. Probably more of the memorial service crowd for Nick Radnor; the service was at The Pier, a restaurant only a few blocks from the ferry dock on the Kingston side. He recognized Killian Keenan, the tallest and most impressively built. He knew from the short bios he’d gotten on Nick’s friends that Keenan was a gym rat, obsessively so, and his physique—the broad shoulders, wide chest, and arms that seemed to stick out from his body—was testament to that.
He wasn’t certain who the thin, nervous guy was, but he wore a baseball cap that read Washington State Ferries, so that might mean he was Egan Fogherty, who was employed by the ferry system and was working his way up to captain. Privately, Cole thought he’d worry if Fogherty were the man at the helm. Egan didn’t seem to have the shoulders to take on the responsibility.
There were two women he recognized from photographs Charlie had compiled of Nick’s Edwards Bay friends. One was Mia Miller. Beautiful. Brown-eyed, olive-skinned, with lustrous dark hair that brushed her shoulders. She had a slim build and a healthy pair of breasts that were encased in a black velvet, long-sleeved shirt atop a cream-colored midcalf length suede skirt, and black boots. Sexy without trying, looking almost too touchable. The other woman was attractive but didn’t hold a candle to Miller. She had blondish hair and pale blue eyes. She had a couple of extra pounds on her, but her body was hard, as if she were an exercise fiend; maybe to take off those extra pounds? She had a faint smile on her face as she tried to ignore whatever Fogherty was saying to her. Fogherty made her give a quick smile that momentarily lit up her face before she clamped down on it again and turned away from him. Her expression grew sober once more, sadder and stonier. Taryn Whitcomb. Her eyes kept drifting back to Keenan, and Cole wondered what she was thinking.
There was no sign of Kerry. She might have taken an earlier ferry. It was unlikely anyone from Edwards Bay would drive all the way around this finger of the sound; it would take miles longer.
Another woman—Josie Roker, Cole decided—came hurrying toward the group. She had long, light brown hair and a pert smile and wore a black skirt and a blue blouse. Her makeup was either minimal or artfully designed to appear so. “The tomboy,” Cole recalled Ben Youngston’s description when he’d asked about Nick and Kerry’s friends, although Josie’s attractiveness was in an overall freshness that seemed to come from within. She was accompanied by another man. Her husband, Kent Roker, Cole guessed, whose silver-winged hair was smoothed back from his head and gray suit looked expensive. Josie hurried ahead of him, either in her eagerness to join the others or just to get away. Cole couldn’t tell for certain, but he seemed to be deliberately plodding behind her, maybe from dread, maybe from a need to be passive-aggressive; this was obviously Josie’s show, not his.
Others arrived. The two bar owners, Sean Blevins and Forrest Borland, and a number of older people joined the flow toward the ferry. One of the older gents slapped Killian’s father, Carroll Keenan, who Cole knew by sight, on the shoulder as the group moved forward. The slapper seemed to be a good friend, though the senior Keenan paid him little or no attention. Keenan’s gaze appeared zeroed in on Mia Miller, who was sidling away to ostensibly stare across the water as she lagged behind. Killian Keenan apparently realized she wasn’t by his side and stopped to turn and stare at her. The weight of his gaze seemed to bring Miller back to the present. She lifted her chin to Killian and then walked toward him. He put his arm around her shoulders in a proprietary manner.
Cole waited till the last moment, watching the ebb and flow of mourners heading toward the ferry until he recognized he would literally miss the boat if he didn’t get moving.
At that moment a vehicle pulled into the lot with a screech of brakes. A Mazda. He glanced over and saw Kerry slam out of her car and hurry, half-running, toward the dock, about thirty feet in front of him. He smiled to himself. True to form, she was almost late.
As if feeling his eyes on her, she turned her head while still hurrying forward. He was walking fast himself and nearly caught her by the time she realized it was him.
“Cole,” she said, slowing to allow him to reach her.
“Hi, Kerry.”
“Are you here as a friend or an officer of the law?” She said it lightly, but he could tell she really wanted an answer.
“A little of both.”
They reached the ferry and walked up the gangway together. She said, “I remembered Nick’s partner’s name. Chad Worster. I called and gave it to Officer Paige.”
“I got it.”
“Of course.” She flashed a smile. “You probably know a lot about everyone now.”
“Some,” he admitted.
She was wearing a black dress that hit her knees. Bare legs in black pumps cut out at the toe, where he could see a few of the rose-colored toenails. Her calves were trim and tapered to really nice ankles. He felt a stirring of interest and had to drag his mind back to what she was saying.
“—wanted him to come with me, but he was driving from Tacoma, so he’s meeting me at The Pier.”
“Jerry?” Cole asked.
She nodded. “Since Nick’s death he’s concentrated on the remodel of the motel even more than he was already.”
“It’s good he has a project.”
“Yes. If he didn’t . . .” She trailed off.
Cars were loading onto the ferry’s lower deck, and they skirted the boarding area as they made their way toward the metal stairs to the enclosed upper deck. The smell of diesel competed with the brine and dankness coming off the water. A flock of seagulls passed by, squawking, as he and Kerry entered the main salon, where the mourners had gathered. A young couple with a child were eyeing the group askance and moving their belongings toward the front of the room, away from the crowd, apparently trying to get as far from them as possible without heading outside or to the enclosed top deck. Another single woman was heading toward the stairs, probably for the same reason. Kerry walked toward the group and Cole ambled forward more slowly. He wanted to stay a bit apart to observe them. He planned on interviewing them in the near future. Someone had stabbed Nick Radnor with a hypodermic before he’d ended up in Diana’s bed. Maybe Diana. That was certainly what it looked like. Or maybe there was another explanation.
Adam Wright spied him and left the group, ducking into one of the seats to allow Kerry to pass as she walked down the aisle toward the group. He stepped back out and greeted Cole with a handshake.
“Thanks for bringing Mom’s keys back again,” he said.
“Not a problem.”
“I know it’s not your job, but I appreciate it. How do other people do it? Take the keys away? Every time I hide them, she finds them. It’s just easier to bring them to the police station and let you guys handle it,” he said somewhat apologetically. “I keep thinking she’ll forget. She forgets a lot of stuff, but not that. She’s a danger on the road.”
As if suddenly remembering where he was, Adam came out of himself and his problems. “Shame about Radnor. Overdosing. Just doesn’t seem like him.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“What do you think happened?” Adam asked. “He just suddenly went off the deep end? Decided fuck it all and made a mistake?”
Adam didn’t know how Nick had died yet, apparently, and Cole wasn’t ready to announce it. “That’s what I aim to find out.”
“You don’t think it was an accident?”
Cole looked over at Kerry, surrounded by the group of Nick’s friends. She was hanging on to a tremulous smile with an effort. Her naked grief had his thoughts turning to his own brother, Aaron, and the pain, anger, and confusion he’d felt at his death. It had taken years for him to feel normal again. Longer to find pleasure in his own life. He glanced toward Kerry, understanding what she was going through. He wanted to help, but he’d pushed her away, hard, when she’d tried to do the same for him.
He reminded himself: Now is not the time to try to rekindle anything.
* * *
Kerry was extremely conscious of Cole standing a number of feet behind her. Of course he’d be the one person she ran into as she raced to make the ferry. It had been a phone call from Jerry that had made her forget the time. Jerry had complained about a tightness in his chest and she’d spent a good twenty minutes trying to convince him to go to an emergency room. He might have done it had he been in Edwards Bay, but he was in Tacoma. He’d assured her he was feeling better by the time he’d gotten off the phone, but Kerry had only been partially appeased. She was anxious to see him at The Pier. See how he looked. Judge how he felt. She would take him to the ER herself if necessary and to hell with the memorial service. She couldn’t lose both Nick and Jerry.
Randy sidled over to her. Angie was in a conversation with a man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties. She shot a worried glance at Randy, but she was rooted to the spot by the silver-haired man with the commanding manner.
“So it was suicide?” he whispered in her ear.
She turned to him and they walked a few steps away from the others. She could just see Cole speaking to another man, though Killian was in her sight line, and whenever he shifted position, he became a wall. “Where’d you hear that?” she asked. “It wasn’t suicide.”
“Stabbing yourself in the neck? What a way to become a user.”
“That isn’t how it went.”
“Well, that’s what I heard.”
“From who? Officer Youngston?” Kerry glanced over the ferry. She’d seen Ben Youngston earlier, but he’d found Marcia and followed after her. Kerry thought they’d headed for the upper deck.
“I don’t know. Everybody was talking about it. It was either suicide or murder, right? I mean, Nick was a smart guy. He didn’t make those kinds of mistakes. Nick was too smart to do that. Nobody does that unless they want to die.”
“Nick didn’t kill himself.”
“So Diana killed him?”
Kerry recalled Cole’s words about the difficulties of a neophyte hitting the jugular vein just right. “I have trouble believing that. I just . . . wish he was here.”
Randy nodded. “Nick was pretty down this time. Didn’t seem like himself. You felt it, too, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had. They all had. Nick had been in a funk. “That doesn’t mean he wanted to kill himself, if that’s where you’re going.”
“No, I’m just talking.” He sighed and looked over at Angie, who glared pointedly at him. She couldn’t seem to escape the conversation she was having, or maybe she didn’t really want to, but she didn’t like her husband with Kerry. Randy shrugged at her. His body was going to seed a little bit. A high school linebacker on the football team, he’d once been a formidable-looking guy, though by all accounts he’d always been a nice one. Now he had the beginnings of a belly and a softness around his jawline.
“Maybe we didn’t know Nick as well as we thought we did. He was down in Silicon Valley a long time. Whatever he came back here for, it wasn’t just to connect with old friends. I think he was looking for something.”
“Like what?”
“Somebody to love?” He gave a derisive laugh, his gaze traveling to Josie. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Well, he said something to Ange.”
“Ange” was still glaring their way. It irked Kerry, and she realized she was feeling anxious and a bit angry with all the talk about Nick. Not the emotion she wanted to feel at her brother’s memorial service. With an effort she tamped down her emotions. She didn’t like what Randy was saying about Nick, but maybe that was her problem more than his.
Angie finally broke free with a smile and a goodbye to the older man whose eyes followed her as she worked her way down the ferry aisle to where Kerry and Randy were standing. “What are you two getting so cozy about?” she asked as she reached a hand up to rub her husband’s back. Her gaze was on Kerry.
“We’re not getting cozy,” Randy snapped. He signaled Forrest Borland and Sean Blevins and tried to squeeze past Kerry and his wife.
“Where are you going now?” Angie demanded.
“I’ll be back.”
Angie’s lips were a straight line, as if she were holding herself back with an effort.
Kerry said, “Randy said Nick talked to you about ... why he was back in Edwards Bay more and more?”
“That’s not exactly what I said,” Randy muttered.
Angie said, “Oh. It was about that girl from high school. He felt bad about the way he treated her.”
“Which girl?” Kerry asked.
Randy said, “Nick dated a lot of girls. It was high school. We all did.”
Angie’s face reddened a bit at her husband’s abrupt tone. “I thought, from the way he talked, it was about that girl who killed herself.”
“Lisette’s suicide wasn’t his fault. It was that stepfather of hers,” Randy stated flatly. This time he did push past them to join his friends.
Angie swept in a breath. “You don’t think he’s here, do you? Her stepfather?”
“Would he be?” asked Kerry, taken aback.
“I don’t know. He never went to jail for what he did. Oh, Lord. He wouldn’t come, would he? I mean, those other old men are here. . . .” She swept her gaze around the ferry, zeroing in on a table where a small group of older men, some with wives, some single, were crowded together. “He could be one of them.” Her voice quavered.
Kerry glanced around Angie at the group of older men, then at members of the A-Team who had also drifted to a large, nearby booth among a row of identical large booths that marched down the center of the ferry. Others from their group were leaning over the back of the next booth, hoping to be part of the crowd. Egan Fogherty was one of those who’d apparently been relegated to the lesser table. He tried to stick his head between Killian and Miami and was elbowed back by Killian for his efforts.
Kerry suddenly felt weary. It was all so much work to be their friend. Was that what Nick had felt? If so, why had he upped his visits back to Edwards Bay? Was he, as she’d heard implied, tired of his life in Silicon Valley and ready to make a change? Or did it have something to do with Lisette Benetton’s suicide?
The ferry was chugging across the water and nearing the Kingston side. Kerry was glad she would be able to put some space between herself and the other mourners. It was all a little claustrophobic, especially with the negative vibes coming off Angie, who’d gone silent beside her, her gaze burning into the back of Randy’s head. He had made it to the main booth.
“Were charges ever brought against Lisette Benetton’s stepfather?” Kerry asked.
“I don’t know,” she said nervously. “I didn’t go to school here. Just like you. But Randy said he got off scot-free. Just another pervert they allowed to keep roaming around.”
Egan Fogherty moved out of his booth and started heading toward the snack bar. He had to first pass Cole, who’d been joined by Ben Youngston, and then Kerry and Angie. One look at him and Angie was gone. She hurried the other way to circle around toward the A-Team.
“Hey,” Egan greeted Kerry.
Kerry felt Cole’s eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze. Her attention was yanked back by the hard feel of Egan’s hand on her arm. She immediately wanted to pull back, but she waited, not wanting to offend. “Hello,” she greeted him.
“You look lonely. Are you a lonely lady?”
“I’m a grieving sister,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.
He lifted his hands. “Of course, of course, of course. Nick was a great guy. A great guy. Well, as much as any of us are. But what happens in Edwards Bay stays in Edwards Bay, right? High school and all. You were in Seattle, right? Your parents divorced?”
“My mother and Nick’s father split up.”
“That’s right. You were stepbrother and -sister. Yeah, that’s right.” His grin was impish and sly. “Never got into each other’s bedroom?”
“No.”
“Not even just once?”
“No.” Kerry’s voice was ice.
“Nick was pretty much at the top of his game in those days. All the girls wanted him, so it was easy. Top of the charts, if you know what I mean.”
“Fogherty, leave her alone!” Killian’s voice boomed out.
Kerry realized the A-Team seemed to be regarding her en masse. Josie slid out of the booth and made her way over as Egan began protesting that he was just having a conversation. “They’re so afraid I’m going to give something away,” he whispered to Kerry in an aside as Josie glared at him.
“Stop being creepy, Egan. Jesus.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as he sauntered back to the group, sneaking into the spot she’d vacated. “Don’t listen to him,” she advised. “He’s got some serious issues. Being bipolar isn’t even the worst of it.”
“He’s bipolar?”
“Well, that’s what he says, and I’m sure it’s true. But he can make you feel uncomfortable. Doesn’t really have the right boundaries.”
