A Bend in the Road (23 page)

That same
morning, while Sarah sat crying on the couch, Charlie Curtis strode up Miles
Ryan’s walkway. He was dressed in his uniform; it was the first Sunday in years
that he and Brenda wouldn’t make it to church, but as he’d explained to her
earlier, he didn’t feel he had a choice. Not after the two phone calls he’d
received the day before.

Not after
staying up for most of the night and watching Miles’s house because of them.

He knocked;
Miles came to the door wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a baseball hat. If he
was surprised to see Charlie standing on his porch, he gave no indication.

“We need to
talk,” Charlie said without preamble.

Miles put his hands
on his hips, not hiding the anger he still felt at what Charlie had done.

“So talk.”

Charlie pushed
the brim of his hat up. “Do you want to do this on the porch where Jonah can
hear, or do you want to talk in the yard? Your choice. It doesn’t matter to
me.”

A minute later,
Charlie was leaning against the car, his arms crossed. Miles stood facing him.
The sun was still low in the sky, and Miles had to squint to see him.

“I need to know
if you went looking for Sims Addison,” Charlie said, getting right to the
point.

“Are you asking
or do you already know?”

“I’m asking
because I want to know if you’re willing to lie directly to my face.”

After a moment,
Miles glanced away. “Yeah. I went looking for him.”

“Why?”

“Because you said
you couldn’t find him.”

“You’re on
suspension, Miles. Do you know what that means?”

“It wasn’t
anything official, Charlie.”

“It doesn’t
matter. I gave you a direct order and you disregarded it. You’re just lucky
that Harvey Wellman didn’t find out. But I can’t keep covering for you, and I’m
too old and too tired to put up with crap like that.” He shifted his weight
from one leg to the other, trying to keep warm. “I need the file, Miles.”

“My file?”

“I want it
admitted as evidence.”

“Evidence? For
what?”

“It concerns the
death of Missy Ryan, doesn’t it? I want to see those notes you’ve been
scribbling.”

“Charlie . . .”

“I’m serious.
Either you hand it over or I’ll take it. It’s one or the other, but in the end,
I’m going to have it.”

“Why are you
doing this?”

“I’m hoping
it’ll knock some sense into you. You obviously didn’t listen to a thing I said
yesterday, so let me say it again. Stay out of this. Let us handle it.”

“Fine.”

“I need your
word that you’re going to stop looking for Sims and that you’ll stay away from
Otis Timson.”

“It’s a small
town, Charlie. I can’t help it if we happen to bump into each other.”

Charlie’s eyes
narrowed. “I’m tired of playing games, Miles, so let me make something clear.
If you so much as get within a hundred yards of Otis, or his house or even the
places he spends his time, I’ll throw you in jail.” Miles looked at Charlie
incredulously. “For what?”

“For battery.”

“Battery?”

“That little
stunt you pulled in the car.” He shook his head. “You don’t seem to realize
you’re in a heap of trouble here. Either you keep your distance, or you’ll end
up behind bars.”

“This is crazy.
. . .”

“You brought it
on yourself. Right now, you’re so worked up that I don’t know what else to do.
Do you know where I was last night?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I was parked
right down the street, making sure you didn’t leave. Do you know how it makes
me feel to think I can’t trust you after all we’ve been through? It’s a crappy
feeling, and I don’t want to have to do that again. So if you don’t mind—and I
can’t make you do this—along with the file, I’d appreciate it if you’d just let
me hold on to your other guns for a while, the ones you keep in the house. You
can have ’em back when all this is over. If you say no, I’m gonna have to put
you under surveillance, and believe me, I will. You won’t be able to buy a cup
of coffee without someone watching every move you make. And you should also
know that I’ve got deputies out at the Timson place and they’re watching for
you, too.”

Miles stubbornly
refused to meet his eyes. “He was driving the car, Charlie.”

“Do you really
think that? Or do you just want an answer—any answer?”

Miles’s head
snapped up. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? I’m
the one who talked to Earl, not you. I’m the one who reviewed every step of the
highway patrol’s investigation. I’m telling you, there’s no physical evidence
linking Otis to the crime.”

“I’ll find the evidence—”

“No, you
won’t!” Charlie shot back. “That’s just the thing! You won’t find anything
because you’re out of this!”

Miles said
nothing, and after a long moment, Charlie put his hand on Miles’s shoulder.

“Look, we’re
still looking into this—you’ve got my word on that.” He let out a long sigh. “I
don’t know . . . maybe we’ll find something. And if we do, I’ll be the first
one to come and tell you that I was wrong and that Otis will get what’s coming
to him. Okay?”

Miles’s jaw
clenched involuntarily as Charlie waited for a response. Finally, sensing that
none was coming, Charlie went on.

“I know how hard this is—”

With that,
Miles shrugged off Charlie’s hand and stared at him. His eyes flashed.

“No, you
don’t,” Miles snapped, “and you never will, Charlie. Brenda’s still around,
remember? You still wake up in the same bed, you can call her anytime you want.
No one ran her down in cold blood, no one got away with it for years.  And mark my words, Charlie, no one’s gonna
get away with it now.” Despite Miles’s words, Charlie left ten minutes later
with the file and the guns. Neither man said another word.

There was no
need for that. Charlie was doing his job.

And Miles was
going to do his.

• • •

Once she was
alone, Sarah sat in the living room, numb to everything around her.  She hadn’t moved from the couch even after
she’d stopped crying, feeling somehow that the slightest movement would shatter
her tenuous composure.  Nothing made
sense.

She didn’t have
the energy to separate her emotions; instead they were jumbled together,
indistinguishable. Like an overloaded outlet, she felt as if a breaker had
tripped inside her, leaving her incapable of any action.  How on earth had this happened? Not Brian’s
accident—she could understand that, at least on the surface. It was terrible,
and what he had done afterward was wrong, no matter how she looked at it. But
it was an accident. She knew that. 
Brian couldn’t have avoided it, any more than she would have been able
to avoid it.

And in the blink
of an eye, Missy Ryan had died.

Missy Ryan.

Jonah’s mother.

Miles’s wife.

That’s what
didn’t make any sense.

Why had Brian
hither?

And why, of all
the people in the world, had it been Miles who later came into her life? It was
almost impossible to believe, and as she sat on the couch, she couldn’t
reconcile everything she’d just learned—her horror at Brian’s confession and
the obvious guilt he was suffering . . . her anger and revulsion at the fact
that he’d hidden the truth, set against the implacable knowledge that she would
always love her brother . . .

And Miles . . .

Oh God. . .Miles
. . .

What was she supposed
to do now? Call him with what she knew? Or wait a little until she composed
herself and figured out exactly what to say? 
The way Brian had waited?

Oh, God . . .

What would happen
to Brian?

He would go to
jail. . . .

She felt ill.

Yes, that’s what
he deserved, even if he was her brother. He broke the law and should pay for
his crime.

Or should he?
He was her little brother, just a kid when it happened, and it hadn’t been his
fault.

She shook her
head, suddenly wishing Brian hadn’t told her. 
Yet in her heart, she knew why he had told her. For two years, Miles had
paid the price of his silence.

And now, Otis was
going to pay.

She inhaled
deeply, bringing her fingers to her temples.

No, Miles
wouldn’t go that far. Would he?

Maybe not now,
but it would eat away at him as long as he believed Otis was guilty, and one
day he might—

She shook her
head, not wanting to think about that.

Still, she didn’t
know what to do.

Nor had any
answers come to her a few minutes later, when Miles showed up at her door.

• • •

“Hi,” Miles said
simply.

Sarah stared at
him as if in shock, unable to move her hand from the doorknob.

She felt herself
tense, her thoughts veering in opposite directions.

Tell him now,
just get it over with. . . .

Wait until you’ve
figured out what to say first. . . .

“Are you okay?”
he asked.

“Oh . . . yeah .
. . um . . . ,” she stammered. “Come in.” She stepped back, and Miles closed
the door behind him. He hesitated for a moment before heading toward the
window, where he pulled the curtains and scanned the road; then he made a
circuit of the living room, obviously distracted. Stopping at the mantel, he
absently adjusted a picture of Sarah and her family, angling it so it faced the
living room. Sarah stood in the center of the room without moving. The whole
thing felt surreal. All she could think as she watched him was that she knew
who’d killed his wife.  “Charlie came by
this morning,” he said suddenly, and the sound of his voice brought her back.
“He took the file I had on Missy.”

“I’m sorry.”

It sounded
ridiculous, but it was the first and only thing that came to mind.

Miles didn’t seem
to notice.

“He also told me
that he’d have me arrested if I so much as look at Otis Timson.”

This time, Sarah
didn’t respond. He’d come to vent; the defensive posture he held made that
clear. Miles turned toward her.

“Can you
believe that? All I did was arrest the guy who killed my wife and this is what
happens.”

It took all the
control she could summon to keep her composure.

“I’m sorry,” she
said for the second time.

“So am I.” He
shook his head. “I can’t look for Sims, I can’t look for evidence, I can’t do
anything. I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for Charlie to handle
everything.”

She cleared her
throat, struggling for a way out. “Well . . . don’t you think that might be a
good idea? For a little while, I mean?” she offered.  “No, not really. Christ, I’m the only one who kept looking after
the initial investigation dried up. I know more about this case than anyone.”
No, Miles, you don’t.

“So what are you
going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ll listen to
Charlie, though, won’t you?”

Miles looked
away, refusing to answer, and Sarah felt something drop in her stomach.

“Listen,
Miles,” she said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Charlie’s
right. Let other people handle Otis.”

“Why? So they can
screw it up a second time?”

“They didn’t
screw it up.”

His eyes flashed.
“No? Then why is Otis still walking around? Why was it up to me to find the
people who fingered him? Why didn’t they look harder for any evidence back
then?”

“Maybe there
wasn’t any,” she answered quietly.

“Why do you
keep playing devil’s advocate about this?” he demanded. “You did the same damn
thing yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did.
You didn’t listen to anything I said.”

“I didn’t want you to do anything—”

He held up his
hands. “Yeah—I know. You and Charlie both. Neither one of you seems to realize
what the hell is going on here.”

“Of course I
do,” she said, trying to hide the tension in her voice. “You think Otis did it
and you want revenge. But what happens if you find out later that Sims and Earl
were wrong somehow?”

“Wrong?”

“With what they
heard, I mean. . . .”

“You think
they’re lying about this? Both of them?”

“No. I’m just
saying that maybe they heard it wrong. Maybe Otis said it, but he didn’t mean
it. Maybe he didn’t do it.”

For a moment,
Miles was too thunderstruck to speak. Sarah pressed on, talking over the lump
in her throat.

“I mean, what if
you find out that Otis is innocent? I know you two don’t get along—” “Don’t get
along?” he said, cutting her off. He stared hard at her before taking a step
toward her. “What the hell are you talking about? He killed my wife, Sarah.”

“You don’t know
that.”

“Yes, I do,” he
said. He moved even closer to her. “What I don’t know is why you’re so
convinced that he’s innocent.”

She swallowed.
“I’m not saying that he is. I’m just saying that you should let Charlie handle
this so that you don’t do anything . . .”

“Like what? Kill
him?”

Sarah didn’t
answer and Miles stood before her. His voice was strangely calm.

“Like he killed
my wife, you mean?”

She paled. “Don’t
start talking like that. You’ve got Jonah to think about.”

“Don’t bring him
into this.”

“It’s true,
though. You’re all he’s got.”

“Don’t you think
I know that? What do you think kept me from pulling the trigger in the first
place? I had the chance but I didn’t do it, remember?” Miles exhaled sharply as
he turned from her, almost as if he were disappointed that he hadn’t. “Yeah, I
wanted to kill him. I think he deserves it for what he did—an eye for an eye,
right?” He shook his head and looked up at her. “I just want him to pay. And he
will. One way or another.”

With that,
Miles abruptly walked to the door, slamming it as he left.