Look Closely. Laura Caldwell

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СКАЧАТЬ I got out of college, I came home and worked construction. I was pretty lost during that time. No idea what I wanted to do, but the construction paid off. I learned a hell of a lot. Because of that, I was able to either do the work at the inn myself or find someone fast who knew how.”

      “How do you like living in Woodland Dunes?” I said. “I vaguely remember living here as a kid, but now that I’m in New York, it’s hard for me to imagine.”

      “You know what? I love it here. When I first came home after school, I thought I’d just get my act together and head out again. I didn’t think I’d stay for good, but once I took a breather and looked around, I loved a lot about this town.”

      “Like what?”

      “Oh, geez,” Ty said, as if there were too many things. “I love the beach, the people, the way everybody knows me and the way anyone would help me if I needed it. I love the crazy summers when the bars are packed and people are crawling all over my place, and I love it when the fall ends too, and it gets quiet. It’s like having the best of both worlds—parties and crowds for five months, R & R the rest of the year.”

      I nodded. I liked the picture he painted. There was never a respite from the teeming people or the noise in Manhattan.

      Ty waved to a woman walking her dog on the other side of the street, then shifted in his chair so he faced me directly. The sun picked up the freckles that dotted his cheekbones. “So you were how old when you lived here?” he said.

      “We left when I was seven. I remember school the most. The playground and Mrs. Howard, my first-grade teacher. I went to Dunes Primary.” It occurred to me that maybe I’d been at the same school as Ty. “Maybe we were there together?”

      “No, I went to St. Bonaventure, or St. Bonnie’s as we called it. Twelve years of Catholic repression for this kid.” Ty glanced down for a second. “I think I remember you, though, or at least hearing about you.”

      “You do?” Despite the sun on my skin, I felt goose bumps prickle the back of my arms.

      Ty watched me. “Your mom died, didn’t she? When you lived here?”

      “That’s right.”

      “I remember that. I saw a picture of your family that was taken at the funeral.”

      “Where did you see it?” Maybe it had been in the paper, something I could dig up.

      Ty scratched his jaw, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since I met him. “I saw it in my dad’s office.”

      “Your dad? Who’s your dad?”

      “He’s the chief of police.”

      “Wait a minute,” I said, after a moment spent digesting Ty’s words. My stomach felt slightly ill, but there was a tickle of excitement. “This picture you saw was in the police station?”

      Ty nodded.

      “Why?” I asked.

      “I don’t know all the details. I was just a kid too, but…” He trailed off.

      “Look, I don’t know much about my mom’s death,” I said. “It’s why I’m here. So please, just tell me what you know.”

      A look of surprise came over Ty’s face, and I realized I might have spoken a little harshly.

      “I’m sorry.” I leaned toward him. “I had a case in Chicago last week. I’m an attorney. But the point is, I came here to see what I could find out about my mother’s death. Anything you could tell me would be a help.”

      “Wow.” Ty shook his head. “That’s tough. But as I said, I don’t know much. What I recall is waiting for my dad in his office at the station. It was a big day for me because he was going to take me to get my uniform and equipment so I could start football. My dad wasn’t the chief then. He was assistant chief. Anyway, I was playing around his desk, and when he came in, I was holding that picture. There was a coffin being moved into the ground, and your family stood around it. You had on a long yellow coat.”

      I nodded. My Easter coat, the one my mom had picked out for me.

      “When my dad saw me with the picture,” Ty continued, “he stopped, pointed to the coffin and said, ‘Do you know what that is?’ I told him there was somebody who was dead in there. He said, ‘That’s right. A dead lady, and I’m going to find out who killed her.’”

      I took a breath. “But they never charged anyone, did they?”

      He shook his head again. “My dad told me sometime later that he’d been wrong, that no one had killed her or meant for her to die.”

      I felt a little gust of relief. If the police had ruled out murder, then maybe whoever had sent me the letter was simply mistaken. “Would your dad talk about this?”

      “I think so. I mean, I don’t see why not. He’s fishing this weekend. He won’t be back until tomorrow night. Will you still be around?”

      I didn’t answer right away. I’d been planning on going back to Chicago Sunday night so I could wait for the arbitration decision that should come sometime Monday or Tuesday. But talking to the police might be just what I needed to set my mind straight, and I could follow up on some other questions in the meantime. And then there was Ty with his freckles.

      “Can I keep my room at the hotel?” I asked.

      He made a face like he was thinking hard about it. “For you, I’ll make it happen.”

      “Yeah?” I said, surprised to hear the coy tone of my voice.

      “Definitely.”

      “I’ll be around,” I told him.

      6

      For the third time that day, I pulled into Della’s driveway, still thinking about my lunch with Ty. Over lemonade, I had told him what I knew about my mom’s death, about the letter, and about my visit with Della this morning. I hadn’t meant to spill the whole tale—it was so unlike me—but I was unusually comfortable with him, and once I started talking, it was cathartic to get the story out.

      Ty had asked me if I’d spoken to my brother or sister. They would be obvious places to start, he said. Obvious, yes, but I had no idea where either of them were, a fact that had always gnawed at me, confused me. When I got up the nerve to ask my dad about either of my siblings, he became visibly upset, telling me that they had their own lives now. During college, I went through a period when I longed for companionship, for family, and I made a halfhearted attempt at finding them. I called Information in different cities where I thought they might be. The Internet wasn’t widely used then, but I had a friend who was adept at computers do some digging. Neither of us could find a Caroline or Dan Sutter. And so I eventually gave up.

      Ty thought I should call my father right then and ask him, point-blank, what had happened and where my brother and sister were, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. Old habits weren’t easy to kill, and I still abhorred the idea of distressing my father, of picking at old wounds.

      The last time I raised the issue was shortly after I met Maddy СКАЧАТЬ