Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

brAD TURNER LIGHTS a rare cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window. It's not allowed in here, inside the apartment, but no one's going to know. And he needs a cigarette desperately right now. He's got a small, one-bedroom apartment in a low-rise building on one of the small side streets in town, Ivy Street. It's quiet after five o'clock, when the shops close. He looks down on the street now. It's quite late, long after dark, and no one is stirring. There's no one to see him smoking at the window.

The apartment is mostly out of sight of the teenagers he teaches. They walk up and down the main street carousing in groups; they don't come down here. He doesn't want them to see him coming in and out of his apartment building. He doesn't want them to know where he lives. Kids like to know things about their teachers. They're nosy. They're going to love this, he thinks, and angrily flicks the spent cigarette out the window.

He thinks about Diana, feels a pang of something sharp. He tries to identify it. What is it? Anger? Fear? Regret? He thinks it's all of them. He's sorry that Diana is dead. Of course he is. He genuinely liked her, in spite of everything. He's angry, though – at her, and at Principal Kelly. He's scared now too. The police are investigating Diana's murder, and they'll want to talk to him if they find out what she said to Kelly about him.

His cell phone rings, making him jump. He picks it up and recognizes the name: Graham Kelly, the principal. Shit, shit, shit. Today at school, in all the turmoil, he had barely seen Kelly. He hadn't had a chance to talk to him alone; there was always someone around.

Kelly was on his side. Kelly had believed him. The whole thing had made Kelly very uncomfortable, and he'd obviously just wanted it all to go away. But what if he tells the police?

He answers the call. ‘Yes?'

‘Hi Brad, it's Kelly.'

There's an awkward pause, and then Kelly speaks. ‘I'm sorry, Brad. I wasn't going to mention what happened with you and Diana to the police, but I feel I really have no choice. I wanted to give you the heads-up – I'm going to tell them in the morning.'

Fuck. Brad takes a breath. He says, ‘I understand; you're in a difficult spot. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it ever happened.' He's still hoping to change Kelly's mind. But even if he does, who else might know? Diana said that she didn't want anyone to know, that she hadn't told her mother, or anyone else. But what if she had? Kelly must realize he can't keep it quiet, or he would.

‘I'm sorry too,' Kelly says.

Brad realizes that Kelly isn't going to change his mind. ‘You know this will ruin me,' he can't help saying. ‘And you know she was lying.'

Kelly doesn't respond to that. He says, ‘It's just that – what's happened to her changes everything. And it's unfortunate that this will now have to come out.'

Unfortunate , Brad thinks bitterly, close to panic . ‘And what will come out, exactly?' he asks.

‘You know – what's in the file.'

Brad closes his eyes for a moment in relief. He's read the file. He opens them again. ‘Am I going to lose my job?' he asks.

‘I will try to protect you, but honestly, I don't know. It depends.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘If it becomes known – you know how powerful parents are these days.' There's a short silence at this. Then he adds, ‘Look, the police will probably question you, realize you had nothing to do with her death, and leave it be—'

‘Of course I had nothing to do with it!'

‘Of course not.' Kelly pauses. ‘So with any luck, none of this might ever become known publicly.'

At least he knows where he stands. ‘Thanks for letting me know,' Brad says. Just before he disconnects, he says, ‘Keep me in the loop about this.'

‘Of course.'

Brad lights another cigarette, brooding out the window, more anxious than before. His cell phone rings again, and he glances at it. It's Ellen. He doesn't want to talk to her. He doesn't know what to tell her, so he doesn't answer. She doesn't know anything about this.

Not yet, anyway.

Ellen looks at her phone in dismay. It's not like Brad to ignore her calls. Maybe he's in the shower. Maybe he'll call her back and ask her to come over tonight after all. It feels odd to be at home on a Friday night, when she's engaged to be married in a matter of weeks. But she can put the time to good use. There's so much to do when planning a wedding, although she feels a bit guilty to be preparing for such a happy event when one of her fiancé's students has been murdered.

She thinks again about the body of that young girl left in their field. She can't stop thinking about it. It's sickening. And frightening.

Her thoughts turn once again to Brad. She can understand that he feels he needs some time alone, but she thinks it would be better if he could share his feelings more openly with her.

Ellen feels a twinge of unease. She loves Brad – head over heels – but there always seems to be something unknowable about him, as if he's keeping part of himself locked away from her. Maybe that's part of the attraction. She ascribes this to his upbringing, to his being the youngest child in an unhappy, dysfunctional family. He's not used to feeling safe, to sharing his feelings, and having those feelings validated. He's had to protect himself in order to survive as a healthy human being.

She thinks about their future, how different it will be when they start a family of their own. They've bought a modest little bungalow on the outskirts of town, with the help of her parents. The sale will close on December first. It will be a home filled with love and acceptance, honesty and kindness.

Ellen wanders into the dining room. The large, formal table is littered with wedding paraphernalia. They always eat in the kitchen, so she's turned the dining-room table into her workspace. She starts working on the place cards for her wedding supper; she still has a lot of them to do.

Brenda Brewer finally climbs the stairs to bed. She's told her ex-husband to make himself up a bed in the spare room. She's suggested he might as well leave in the morning, and he agreed. ‘I have to get back to Jill and the boys,' he said unnecessarily, and she walked out of the room.

Now she crawls beneath the covers and turns off the lamp beside her bed. The room is plunged into darkness. She longs for the oblivion of sleep, but even though she's taken a sleeping pill, for a long while it eludes her. Because sometime last night, someone murdered her daughter. The horror of it.

As she finally begins to drift off to sleep, she thinks she senses her daughter's presence near her, close and comforting. She knows it's just her mind, on the edge of sleep, playing tricks on her, but she clings to it nonetheless.