Three Harlan Coben Novels (29 page)

“So you switched Randy’s transcript with this Clarke kid’s?”

“Yes.”

Now Myron remembered something else, something Randy had said about trying to win Aimee back, about that backfiring, about having the same goal. “And you did the same thing for Aimee Biel. To make sure she got into Duke. Randy asked you to do that, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And when Randy told Aimee what he’d done, he figured that she’d be grateful. Except she wasn’t. She started investigating. She tried to break into the school computer and see what happened. She called Roger Chang, the number-four kid in the class, to see what his grades and extracurricular activities were. She was trying to put together what you guys had done.”

“That I don’t know,” Davis said. He was losing the adrenaline flow. He was wincing in pain now. “I never talked to Aimee about it. I don’t know what Randy said to her—that’s what I was asking him about when you saw us in the school parking lot. He said he hadn’t used my name, that he’d just told her he was going to help her get into Duke.”

“But Aimee put it together. Or at least she was trying to.”

“That could be.”

He winced again. Myron didn’t care.

“So now we’re up to the big night, Harry. Why did Aimee have me drop her off here?”

The kitchen door swung open. Erik stuck his head into the room. “How are we doing?”

“We’re doing okay,” Myron said.

Myron expected an argument, but Erik just disappeared back into the kitchen.

“He’s crazy,” Davis said.

“You have daughters, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Then he nodded as if he suddenly understood.

“You’re stalling, Harry. Your foot is bleeding. You need medical attention.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You’ve come this far. Let’s get it done. Where is Aimee?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did she stop by?”

He closed his eyes.

“Harry?”

His voice was soft. “God forgive me, but I don’t know.”

“You want to explain?”

“She knocked on the door. It was ridiculously late. Two, three in the morning. I don’t know. Donna and I were asleep. She scared the hell out of us. We went to the window. We both saw her. I turned to my wife. You should have seen the look on her face. There was so much hurt. All the distrust, all that I’d been fighting to mend, it all ripped apart. She started to cry.”

“So what did you do?”

“I sent Aimee away.”

Silence.

“I opened the window. I said it was late. I told her we could talk Monday.”

“What did Aimee do?”

“She just looked up at me. She didn’t say a word. She was disappointed, I could tell that.” Davis squeezed his eyes shut. “But I was also afraid that maybe she was angry.”

“She just walked away?”

“Yes.”

“And now she’s missing,” Myron said. “Before she could reveal what she knew. Before she could destroy you. And if the cheating scandal came out, well, it was like I said when we first talked. It’s over for you. It would all come out.”

“I know. I thought of that.”

He stopped. Tears started running down his cheeks.

“What?” Myron said.

“My third big mistake,” he said, his voice soft.

Myron felt a chill run down his spine. “What did you do?”

“I wouldn’t hurt her. Not ever. I cared about her.”

“What did you do, Harry?”

“I was confused. I didn’t know what the situation was. So I got scared when she showed up. I knew what it could mean—like you said. Everything could come out. All of it. And I panicked.”

“What did you do?” Myron asked again.

“I called someone. As soon as she left. I called someone I thought could help figure out what to do next.”

“Who did you call, Harry?”

“Jake Wolf,” he said. “I called Jake Wolf and told him that Aimee Biel was right outside my door.”

C
laire met them as they ran out.

“What the hell happened in there?”

Erik did not break stride. “Go home, Claire. In case she calls.”

Claire glanced at Myron, as though looking for help. Myron did not offer any. Erik was already in the driver’s seat, figuratively and literally. Myron quickly slid to the passenger side before Erik zoomed off.

“You know the way to the Wolfs’ house?” Myron asked.

“I dropped my daughter off there plenty of times,” he said.

He hit the gas. Myron studied his face. Normally Erik’s expression landed somewhere in the vicinity of disdainful. There’d be furrowed brows and deep lines of disapproval. None of that was there now. His face was smooth, untroubled. Myron half expected him to snap on the radio and start whistling along.

“You’re going to get arrested,” Myron said.

“Doubtful.”

“You think they’ll keep quiet?”

“Probably.”

“The hospital will have to report the bullet wound.”

Erik shrugged. “Even if they do talk, what would they say? I’m entitled to a jury of my peers. That would mean some parents with teenagers. I take the stand. I talk about how my daughter was missing and how the victim is a teacher who seduced a student and took bribes to change academic records. . . .”

He let his voice trail off as if the verdict was too obvious to mention. Myron was not sure what to say. So he sat back.

“Myron?”

“What?”

“I’m to blame, aren’t I? My affair was the catalyst.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Myron said. “Aimee is pretty strong willed. It may have contributed, but in a weird way, it sort of adds up. Van Dyne is a music teacher and works in her favorite music store. There would be some appeal there. She had probably outgrown Randy. Aimee has always been a good kid, right?”

“The best,” he said softly.

“So maybe she just needed to rebel. That would be normal, right? And there was Van Dyne, at the ready. I mean, I don’t know if that’s how it worked. But I wouldn’t put all of it on you.”

He nodded, but he didn’t seem to be buying it. Then again, Myron wasn’t selling that hard either. Myron considered calling the police, but what exactly would he tell them? And what would they do? The local police could be in Jake Wolf’s pocket. They might warn him. Either way, they’d have to respect his rights. He and Erik need not worry about that.

“So how do you figure this all played out?” Erik asked.

“We have two suspects left,” Myron said. “Drew Van Dyne and Jake Wolf.”

Erik shook his head. “It’s Wolf.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He cocked his head. “You still don’t get the parental bond, do you, Myron?”

“I have a son, Erik.”

“He’s over in Iraq, right?”

Myron said nothing.

“And what would you give to save him?”

“You know the answer.”

“I do. The same as me. And the same as Jake Wolf. He’s already shown how far he’ll go.”

“There’s a big difference between paying off a teacher to switch transcripts and . . .”

“Murder?” Erik finished for him. “It probably doesn’t start that way. You start by talking to her, trying to make her see things your way. You explain how she could get in trouble too, what with her acceptance to Duke and all. But she won’t back down. And suddenly you
understand: It’s a classic us-or-them scenario. She holds your son’s future in her hands. It’s either her future or your son’s. Which are you going to choose?”

“You’re speculating,” Myron said.

“Perhaps.”

“You have to keep your hopes up.”

“Why?”

Myron turned toward him.

“She’s dead, Myron. We both know that.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Last night, when we were on that cul-de-sac, do you remember what you said?”

“I said a lot of things.”

“You said you didn’t think she’d been randomly abducted by a psycho.”

“I still don’t. So?”

“So think about it. If it was someone she knew—Wolf, Davis, Van Dyne, take your pick—why would they abduct her?”

Myron said nothing.

“They all had reasons to keep her quiet. But think it through. You said it could be either Van Dyne or Wolf. My money is on Wolf. But either way, they were all afraid of what Aimee could reveal, right?”

“Right.”

“You don’t simply abduct someone if that’s what you’re after. You kill them.”

He said it all so calmly, his hands at ten and two o’clock on the steering wheel. Myron was not sure what to say. Erik had spelled it out in pretty convincing fashion. You don’t kidnap if the goal is to silence. That doesn’t work. That fear had been gnawing around in Myron too. He had tried to smother it, not let it free, but now here it was, excavated by the one man who’d want to paint the rosiest picture of what could have happened.

“And right now,” Erik went on, “I’m fine. You see? I’m fighting. I’m battling to find out what happened. When we find her, if she’s dead, it’s over. Me, I mean. I’m done. I’ll put on a façade. I’ll move on for the sake of my other children. That’s the only reason I won’t just
shrivel up and die. Because of my other kids. But trust me on this: My life will be over. You might as well bury me with Aimee. That’s what this is about. I’m dead, Myron. But I’m not going out a coward.”

“Hang on,” Myron said. “We don’t know anything yet.”

Then Myron remembered something else. Aimee had been online tonight. He was going to remind Erik of this, give him some hope, but he wanted to play it through in his head first. It wasn’t adding up. Erik had raised an interesting point. From what they had learned, there’d be no reason to abduct Aimee—only reason to kill her.

Had it really been Aimee online? Had she sent Erin a warning?

Something wasn’t adding up.

They veered off Route 280 at a speed that put the car on two tires. Erik braked as they hit the Wolfs’ street. The car crawled up the hill, stopping two houses away from the Wolfs’.

“What’s our next move?” Erik asked.

“We knock on the door. We see if he’s home.”

They both got out of the car and started up the drive. Myron took the lead. Erik let him. He rang Wolf’s doorbell. The sound was trilling and pretentious and droned on too long. Erik stood a few steps back, in the dark. Myron knew that Erik had the gun. He wondered how to play that. Erik had already shot one man tonight. He didn’t seem disinclined to doing it again.

Lorraine Wolf’s voice came over a speaker. “Who is it?”

“It’s Myron Bolitar, Mrs. Wolf.”

“It’s very late. What do you want?”

Myron remembered the short white tennis dress and double-entendre tone. There was no double entendre now. The voice was drum-tight.

“I need to talk to your husband.”

“He’s not here.”

“Mrs. Wolf, could you please open the door?”

“I’d like you to leave.”

Myron wondered how to play this. “I spoke to Randy tonight.”

Silence.

“He was at a party. We talked about Aimee. Then I talked to Harry Davis. I know everything, Mrs. Wolf.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You either open this door or I go to the police.”

More silence. Myron turned and looked at Erik. He was still at ease. Myron didn’t like that.

“Mrs. Wolf?”

“My husband will be back in an hour. Come back then.”

Erik Biel took that one. “I don’t think so.”

He took out the gun, put it against the lock, and fired. The door flew open. Erik rushed in, gun drawn. So did Myron.

Lorraine Wolf screamed.

Erik and Myron veered toward the sound. When they arrived in the family room, they both pulled up.

Lorraine Wolf was alone.

For a moment, no one moved. Myron just studied the situation. Lorraine Wolf stood in the center of the room. She wore rubber gloves. That was the first thing he noticed. Bright yellow rubber gloves. Then he looked at those hands more closely. In one of them, her right hand, she held a sponge. In the other—the left, obviously—she carried a yellow bucket that matched the gloves.

There was a wet spot on the carpet where she had just been cleaning.

Erik and Myron both took a step forward. Now they could see that there was water in the bucket. The water had an awful pink tinge.

Erik said, “Oh no . . .”

Myron turned to grab him, but he was too late. Something behind Erik’s eyes exploded. He let out a howl and leapt toward the woman. Lorraine Wolf screamed. The bucket dropped to the carpet. The pink liquid poured out.

Erik tackled her. They both went over the back of the couch. Myron was right behind, not sure how to play it. If he made too aggressive a move, Erik might just pull the trigger. But if he did nothing . . .

Erik had Lorraine Wolf now. He pressed the gun against her temple. She cried out, gripping his hand with her own. Erik did not move.

“What did you do to my daughter?”

“Nothing!”

Myron said, “Erik, don’t.”

But Erik wasn’t listening. Myron raised his own gun. He pointed it at Erik. Erik saw it, but it was obvious he didn’t care.

“If you kill her . . .” Myron began.

“What?” Erik shouted. “What do we lose, Myron? Look at this place. Aimee is already dead.”

Lorraine Wolf shouted, “No!”

“Where is she then, Lorraine?” Myron asked.

She pressed her lips shut.

“Lorraine, where is Aimee?”

“I don’t know.”

Erik raised the gun. He was going to hit her with the butt end.

“Erik, don’t.”

He hesitated. Lorraine looked up, meeting Erik’s eye. She was scared, but Myron could see that she was bracing herself, ready to take the blow.

“Don’t,” Myron said again. He took a step closer.

“She knows something.”

“And we’ll find out what, okay?”

Erik looked at him. “What would you do? If it was somebody you love?”

Myron inched closer. “I do love Aimee.”

“Not like a father.”

“No, not like that. But I’ve been there. I’ve pushed too hard. It doesn’t work.”

“It worked with Harry Davis.”

“I know, but—”

“She’s a woman. That’s the only difference. I shot him in the foot and you asked him questions and let him bleed. Now we’re face-to-face with someone who is cleaning up blood and all of a sudden you’re squeamish?”

Even in this haze, even in this craziness, Myron could actually see his point. It was the guy-gal thing again. If Aimee was a boy. If Harry Davis had been a pretty, flirty woman.

Erik put the gun back against her temple. “Where is my daughter?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Whose blood are you cleaning up?”

Erik aimed the gun at her foot. But the control was gone. Myron could see that. Tears started streaming down Erik’s face. His hand shook.

“If you shoot her,” Myron said, “it contaminates the evidence. The blood will be mixed up. They’ll never put together what happened here. The only one who will go to jail is you.”

The argument didn’t make full sense, but it was enough to slow Erik down. His entire face collapsed now. He was crying. But he held on to the gun. He kept it pointed at her foot.

“Just take a breath,” Myron said.

Erik shook his head. “No!”

The air was still. Everything had stopped. Erik looked down at Lorraine Wolf. She looked up without a flinch. Myron could see Erik’s finger on the trigger.

No choice now.

Myron had to make a move.

And then Myron’s cell phone chirped.

It made everyone stop. Erik took his finger off the trigger and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Check it,” he said.

Myron took a quick glance at the caller ID. It was Win. He hit the answer button and put it to his ear.

“What?”

“Drew Van Dyne’s car just pulled into his driveway,” Win said.