Wreckage (20 page)

Dave knew that was the last thing Theresa wanted; she’d broken up with Kent a few weeks before their disastrous flight. And Kent’s family, that bunch of loons? After meeting his family, Dave wasn’t as surprised by the way Kent turned out. After the rescue and their time in the hospital recovering, they all returned to the States, where the castaways were inundated with interview requests. Morning shows in particular loved them. Heck, everyone loved them. Letters and e-mails poured in from around the world and the survivors were instant celebrities. But a few people, two to be specific, were not fans—Joan and Jim Carter, Kent’s parents.

“Of course his family would know him differently than I did. We were in a life-or-death situation, barely scraping by. I’m sure he was a great son. I never questioned that,” Dave said, always working to appease anyone who had anything to do with Kent, especially his parents.

It took Janice from Carlton to give him the lowdown. She said that after the crash, when the black box was recovered, the airline and Carlton Yogurt used Kent as a convenient fall guy. They said the crash was due to human error, Kent’s human error. As a result, his family didn’t get the ten-million-dollar settlement Lillian’s and Dave’s families were awarded. The Carters were livid.

It turned into a massive court battle between the family and the airline, and Janice said it had been a messy and emotional case. Apparently Kent was cited for flying under the influence in ’99 and had his pilot’s license suspended for a year in the States. That’s when he moved to the South Pacific and hired on with the tiny airline called Kanaku, which specialized in private jet charter services. It all looked very bad and at the end of the case, Kent’s family lost and the judge basically called their still-missing son a murderer.

It wasn’t until Dave had been home a week that the anonymous phone calls started. They’d always come just as Dave and Beth were getting ready for bed: three or four rings, and then silence on the answering machine before they’d hang up. Dave changed their number four times in one month.

Dave was standing in his kitchen one night, making a late night snack after Beth had gone to bed. While spreading out the last bit of mustard on a piece of bread, the phone rang shrilly. Dave jumped, dropping the bread face down on the counter. The phone rang again. No time to clean up the mess. He wiped his hands on the hand towel hanging by the sink, and ran for the phone, hoping it didn’t wake Beth. He glanced at the caller ID, sure it would say “Unlisted” but knowing that really meant “Lily.” But, when he lifted the phone off of the charger, the LED screen read “Cellular Caller” and a number he’d seen many times—too many times.

This is getting ridiculous
, Dave thought. Hitting the Talk button violently, he attempted to control his voice as irritation shifted into fury. “WHAT do you want?”

A shocked silence returned, only breathing and a TV on in the background.

“I don’t know who you are but you’d better speak up now because tomorrow I’m getting this number blocked on my phone so this is your chance. I know you’re there—I can hear you.”

“Why do you keep lying about my son?” a smoke-scratched female voice answered.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you? Do I know your son?” Why was he trying to talk rationally to the crazy person who had been stalking him? He halfway expected she’d hang up.

“Oh, you know my son,” she sneered. “He’s the man who saved your life. The one who you pretend wasn’t there.”

“Kent?” he asked, the idea slapping him hard in the face.

“Yes, Kent. Kent Carter.” Her voice grew sharp. “Do you know what you’ve done to him? To his reputation? All you have to say is he wasn’t drinking, that it wasn’t his fault, and then they’d all know the truth. I think you owe him that at least.”

“I thought we made it very clear Kent was a great help to us, that he was the difference between life and death, over and over again. What else do you want me to say?”

A gravelly sigh, and then she spoke like she was talking to a toddler. “What I said before, that he wasn’t drinking. If you said that, everything would be different.”

Dave shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “But, like I’ve told the press, I don’t know if he was drinking. I didn’t see any alcohol or smell any on his breath but that’s all I know. Lillian knows even less because she didn’t meet him until after the crash.”

“Have any lawyers called you? What did you tell them?” she snapped.

Lawyers. Dave understood immediately. If he told them Kent hadn’t been drinking, they’d all get their precious settlement.

“No lawyers have called me, Mrs. Carter, and if they do, I’ll tell them the truth too. That’s all I can do.”

“You little son of a bitch,” she shot at him. So that’s where Kent inherited his charm and class. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from a lowlife like you, should I? One day people will know the truth about my Kent and then you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m already sorry about Kent, Mrs. Carter,” he sighed. “I wish your family the best. It’s late; I must let you go.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, and the phone went dead.

Dave let the phone fall to the cold stone of the quartz countertop, employing every ounce of self-control inside to keep from yelling the string of profanities running through his mind. He slammed his hands on the counter, and the phone danced in front of him from the force of his blow. Picking it up, he raised the phone over his head to hurl it across the room but stopped short. He held the phone in front of him and punched in a familiar number at lightning speed, the one that made him warm and numb from the inside out.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lily, how was your day?” Dave leaned against the wall and let himself slide to the floor, pulling his legs close, happy to hear her voice again.

“It was great. We went to the park and had a picnic,” she began to narrate without missing a beat. “Daniel finally learned how to do the monkey bars on his own. He came home with giant blisters on his palms but was so proud of himself he didn’t even care.” Her voice had a richness he only heard when she talked about her kids. “How ’bout you? Good day?” she asked. Dave could hear her nibbling on a fingernail.

“It was fine.” He inhaled, trying to stay calm. “Until five minutes ago.”

“Oh no,” she said knowingly. “Fight with Beth again?”

“No,” he sighed. Shit, how many fights had he called her about? He had to stop telling her those things, especially since Lily never complained about Jerry, not once. Shaking it off, he continued. “I got a crazy phone call.”

“Really? Just one? Was it the guy who says we were abducted by aliens and that’s where we’ve been the past two years? Did he ask you for the alien’s cell phone number again?”

“I wish. That sounds way more entertaining than the woman who just called me.” He paused, reluctant to tell her about the call. “It was Kent’s mom.”

“What was that like?” Her voice trembled. Dave longed to reach out and rub her shoulders.

“It was . . . interesting. She wants us to say Kent wasn’t drunk the day of the crash. I think it’s so she can get the settlement, but we’d have to testify.”

“What did you tell her? You didn’t say we’d do it, did you? I don’t want to do it, David.” He’d do anything she wanted when she said his name like that. He felt invincible.

“Shhh, Lily, shhhh. You don’t have to. I’m not going to. If they have the guts to subpoena us, then we’ll say what they want.”

“But if it’s under oath we HAVE to tell the truth,” she shouted. How she didn’t wake up her whole household, he’d never know.

“You don’t have to say anything that’ll incriminate you,” he reminded her. “Not that they’ll ask. Not that they’ll call us to testify. Wow, we’re blowing this phone call out of proportion aren’t we?”

Lily didn’t seem to agree. “Maybe.” She paused leaving a cavernous gap in the conversation. “Maybe I should tell Jerry everything. He’s a lawyer. He could help us.”

Jerry. That’d ruin everything.

“Have you thought this through all the way, Lily? You’d have to tell him more than just the Kent part. Wasn’t Jerry the whole reason we started this ridiculous lie?”

“I don’t know,” Lily whispered. “He’s a lot softer now but I think things would be bad if he knew the truth. Really bad. I don’t want to tell him. I wish I
could
tell him. Before all this, we didn’t keep secrets but now . . . I feel like I’m always lying to him.”

“That’s because you
are
lying to him.” He was running out of nice words on this topic, always finding it difficult to control himself when they talked about Jerry. “Okay, how about this? I’ll tell him. That way he’ll know everything about Margaret and Kent. Hmmm, wouldn’t he be interested in the truth about Paul? I’d love to tell him all about that little episode. Go wake him up and put him on. No, wait, I wanna see his face. I think I should fly out.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I think I would. I doubt he’d be as accepting as you think, and then I could have a place in your life that merits more significance than a secret phone call at one a.m.”

Silence. “You’re right,” she admitted. “He can’t know, he can never know. Don’t get any ideas, David, because if you ever tell him, I’ll never speak to you again, never.”

The finality in that phrase ripped through his chest like a knife. “I wasn’t serious,” he backtracked. “I . . . I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t hear your voice.”

“You shouldn’t say those things to me, David.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Dave rushed to make things better. “Don’t worry, we’ll make this work just like we did with all the interviews,” he reassured her. “And we shouldn’t tell Jerry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dave had a feeling this wasn’t the last time they’d have that conversation. One day, she might call his bluff.

“Let’s not worry about Joan Carter for now. I think she’ll sustain herself on that little phone call for a while. And I’ll block her number first thing in the morning. Anyway, they don’t want the truth about Kent to come out. It wouldn’t take much to show them how little they really know about their son.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lillian groaned. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. Tell me one of your stories, David. Make me fall asleep.”

He leaned his head back and let his lids shut. “Close your eyes. Think about the waves, hear them rolling in, crashing on the shore, the sweet smell of flowers and sea spray mixing together and surrounding you, and the cool night air on your skin . . .” Dave spoke memories till Lily’s breathing was steady and he was sure she’d fallen asleep.

He never asked how she made it from her hiding place in the spare bedroom closet into her bed without raising Jerry’s suspicions, or how he didn’t notice the hours on the phone bill that they’d spent on the phone every night. If Lily had been his wife it’d drive him mad with jealousy. But she wasn’t his wife. She was his friend and would never be anything more than that.

“Was there a reason you didn’t like him?” Genevieve prodded. “What did he do that upset you?”

Dave, with all those dangerous feelings rising inside, resisted clenching his jaw, knowing it’d show up on camera. Instead, he put on another smile and tried to work some of his old-time PR mojo.

“I can’t say I knew Kent very well before the crash, but all people respond to trauma differently. He was very distraught by Theresa’s death and I know that made him less sociable. It’s true he helped us, and maybe even saved us. Even though we weren’t best friends, it doesn’t mean we hated each other either.”

“No”—Genevieve’s eyebrows bobbed up and down, her forehead attempting to wrinkle—“but it’s clear you aren’t telling us everything about him. Why not be honest?”

He wanted to tell her exactly why he hated Kent. The way he stood over Lily, knife squeezed in his fat paw, legs straddling her as though she were an animal he’d caught on the hunt rather than the most interesting, caring, and clever person Dave had ever met. Because he put that emptiness in Lily’s eyes that’s never completely disappeared.

“You want honest? Okay. We were not friends. I don’t think anyone could call that man a friend. No matter what his family says, he was a son of a bitch before the crash, and the island and isolation didn’t improve his personality. He never once spoke to me with any type of kindness and when he was with Lillian he . . . he . . .” Genevieve Randall leaned forward, enjoying Dave’s answer more than he’d intended. He stopped immediately, reset his shoulders, took a deep breath, and lightened his tone. “As I said, we had our differences, but we had a mutual respect and that’s what kept us going.”