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“I’m going to lunch,” I called to Nikki as I headed out the front door. I emerged into the bright sunshine and crisp November air, but my mind stayed in the uncertain shadows that I had stumbled into with the arrival of the mysterious box. I tried to steer my mind away from the necklace by thinking about how weather like this made it worth the sticky, humid days of sum-170

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mer on the Eastern Shore. It was the kind of weather tailor-made for sipping apple cider at an outdoor café.

In a few weeks, the café would be switching to hot co-coa served in the cozy, old-fashioned storefront, but for now, the tables were still set up on the plaza.

I sipped my cider and let my mind wander while I waited for Caitlin. Who had sent me the necklace? Did someone see what had happened? And if so then why didn’t they go to the police? It had to be a sick practical joke I decided just as Caitlin sat down across from me. I smiled a welcome as I once more tried to shift my thoughts toward something besides the necklace.

“Thanks for meeting me, Will,” she said.

“I told you I’d be here for you and I meant it.”

She looked down at her hands in her lap where she was busy mangling a napkin.

“I’ve thought a lot about what you said,” she began softly. “In fact, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. It’s so hard to believe that there is a human being forming inside me as we sit here right now. It all seems so unreal. I mean it would be so much easier to believe what the nurse at the clinic told me. She said it isn’t really a baby yet; that it’s just a lump of tissue. She called it ‘the fetus’ the whole time. She never called it a baby. I’d pretty much made up my mind to have the abortion, but then I turned on the Discovery Channel a few days ago. There was a special on about in vitro fertilization and they followed the whole process, from the fertilization until the birth. They showed them doing a sonogram at about the same place I am now and—it was a baby, Will. You could see everything—its little tiny nose and little tiny ears and little tiny hands and it was sucking its thumb—and then I thought about what 171

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you said, about how it wasn’t the baby’s fault I slept with Joey. How it shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake.” She paused while a single tear rolled down her cheek. She took a deep, shaky breath and continued,

“I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. I don’t know anything about babies. I don’t know how I’m going to finish school. I don’t know how any of this is going to work, but I knew then that I wasn’t going to have the abortion. My appointment was today, for right now actually. I didn’t go—obviously. But you know, I think I knew I wasn’t going to have it before that. I stopped smoking the night we talked, the night Joey died. I just—look, Will, the reason I wanted to talk to you today was to tell you I don’t expect you to help me with the baby. This is my responsibility. I know the offer was made in the heat of the moment and you didn’t really mean it—”

I broke in, “Caitlin, when I made that offer, you’re right, it was in the heat of the moment, but I meant it and I still mean it. I have the support of my friends, well—Aidan doesn’t exactly approve, but he is support-ing me. I want to help you if you’ll let me.”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that now to relieve some sense of guilt, then once the baby arrives—

boom, you’re gone? All my past experience with guys has been pretty consistent. Let’s just say I haven’t found them to be the most reliable of all God’s creation.”

“I give you my word.”

“No offense, but I don’t even know you, really. That’s not worth all that much to me.”

“We could have a lawyer draw up some papers, make it legal and binding,” I suggested.

She thought a moment. “That might work. I could 172

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buy that. But I can’t afford a lawyer. Not with school and rent and now a baby on the way. I’m not even sure how much insurance will cover.”

“If we wait until December I should have some money. I have a show later this week…”

“A show?”

“An art show. I thought I had told you, I’m an artist.”

“I think you did, but it didn’t register. Your own show?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled. I could feel my face heating up. “I just started working at the art gallery here on the plaza. They’ve already sold a few of my paintings.”

“That’s incredible! I’d love to see them.”

“They’re all at my apartment right now; I’m saving them for the show. Why don’t you come for dinner one night this week? That way you can meet Aidan. You’ll be seeing him a lot.”

“Are you two a couple?”

“No, just friends,” I said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly. Caitlin gave me a suspicious look, as if she wasn’t convinced.

“So just how involved are you planning on being?”

she said, going back to our real purpose for being here.

I thought for a moment before answering. “Aidan and I have talked about that,” I said slowly. “I want to help in any way you’ll let me. Lamaze coach, expenses, actually helping with the baby—you set the boundaries and I’ll respect them.”

She studied me for a second then said, “Why are you doing this?”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before I 173

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finally found my voice. If I kept this up, I could enter a guppy look-alike contest soon. “I—well, I guess this baby is all I have left of Joey now,” I said at last. “He meant a lot to me. He was like my brother. Even though things went bad at the end, it doesn’t change what we had before.”

She nodded. “I’m going to have to think about all this. I have an appointment with an ObGyn later this week so I’ll know better what I’m up against then. Plus I’ll know what the insurance covers by then.” She shook her head and smiled, “Why am I seeing shades of Object of My Affection here? I’m feeling like Jennifer Aniston.”

“You know, you actually look a bit like her, too,” I laughed. “As long as you don’t fall in love with me it’s all good.”

She laughed. “I’ll consider myself warned. No falling in love with Will. Got it. Oh my gosh! Wouldn’t it be funny if I were named Grace? Then we’d be Will and Grace!”

“My mom’s name is Grace,” I told her.

“You’re kidding!” She laughed and then became suddenly serious. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m glad I met you, Will.”

“Me too. I mean, I’m glad I met you.”

She reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze. Then she picked up her purse and started rummaging through it.

“Let me get it,” I said, pulling out my wallet.

“Starting already, Uncle Will?” she said with a smile.

“Something like that.”

“Okay then.” She stood up, but forgot to close her 174

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purse first. Her wallet and a tube of lipstick fell out onto the ground. I quickly bent to pick them up for her. As I did, Joey’s necklace slipped out of my shirt and swung out in plain view. I had forgotten all about it. Caitlin’s eyes were glued to the charm as I straightened up. I stuffed it back under my shirt but it was too late.

“Joey had a necklace like that,” she said softly.

“It is—was Joey’s,” I told her. “Someone gave it to me after he died.” There. I had told her the truth, just not the whole truth.

She stared at my neck where the chain was still visible for a moment longer, then shook her head as if to clear it. “What night do you want me to come over for dinner?”

“How about Wednesday?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

We hugged briefly and I watched her while she walked off down the plaza. You would never have known she was pregnant. I wondered when you started showing. I made a mental note to stop by the library that evening and pick up some books on babies. I’d better start reading up on the subject if I was going to be a good Uncle Will.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

When I left work that afternoon I headed straight to the police station. I didn’t know what to expect since I’d never been to the police station before, but I guess I had some sort of mental picture of a dark, dingy-looking hole in the wall straight out of NYPD Blue. What I found couldn’t have been farther from what I had envi-sioned. The police station was housed in a modern, square brick building with lots of tinted windows and not much character. I entered a lobby that looked more like a doctor’s waiting room, complete with sofas, tables and magazines, and approached the glass window.

“I’m looking for Detective Grafton or Bernhardt,” I told the lady behind the glass. She was wearing a uniform but looked like the only thing she would ever be running for was maybe the last doughnut.

“Can I tell them what this is concerning?” she asked with polite disinterest.

“It’s concerning the death of Joey Taylor,” I told her.

Her eyes flicked up at me but quickly decided I still wasn’t interesting.

“Have a seat,” she ordered. I did.

Twenty minutes later, I was just about to leave when an interior door opened and Detective Grafton popped 176

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his head into the room. He seemed to be surprised to see me. He waved me back and I followed him down a short, carpeted hall and into a cramped office that from the looks of things he must have shared with Detective Bernhardt. There were coffee rings on the top layer of the papers that covered both desks and crumpled balls of fast food wrappers cluttered the floor near the trash can.

“So what’s up, kid?” he said as he sat down behind his desk. He didn’t offer but I sat down in one of the chairs that were set facing him.

“Someone sent this to me today,” I said as I pulled the letter out of my pocket. It was a little worse for wear after spending the better part of the day in there, but I smoothed it out best I could and handed it to him. Then I took off the necklace and handed it over as well.

Grafton looked at the paper disdainfully then back at me with a raised eyebrow. I unfolded the letter and laid it back in front of him.

“What wasn’t an accident?” he said finally.

“I think they mean Joey’s death,” I said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable having to explain what seemed plain as day to me to the detective. “The necklace is Joey’s. He never took it off and his mom told me it wasn’t with his things when she—after she—”

“Look, son.” I hate it when people who aren’t my father call me son. Actually, I hate it when my father calls me son. “We investigated this death backwards and forwards. We had some questions but you were the one that wrapped things up. Your friend was drunk—no, he was pickled. He was way over the legal limit. No one saw anything out of the ordinary and trust me, we talked to everybody there and tracked down those like 177

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yourself who chose to leave before the real party got started. In fact, nobody saw Mr. Taylor or anything even remotely suspicious in the time between when you two disappeared upstairs together and before he was found floating face down in the pool. For the record, if there were any suspicion of foul play, you’d be suspect numero uno. As it is, it’s an open and shut case. Drunken college kid falls into pool and drowns. Sad story, but not a new one. I’m sorry someone played a sick joke like this on you.”

“So that’s it? You just think it’s some kind of joke?”

“Honestly? Yeah, that’s what I think it is. But I’ll tell you what; if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll make a note on the case file and keep a copy of the letter. If anything like this happens again we’ll look into filing some sort of harassment charges.”

“What would make me feel better is if you took me seriously. He never took this necklace off. Never. Not once in the entire time I knew him.”

“Look, he was so drunk it could have fallen off and he wouldn’t have even noticed. Maybe even in your little tussle. Somebody finds it, recognizes it, knows you’re his best friend, and decides to send it to you with this note. Typical college prank.”

“I’ve been wearing the necklace all afternoon and it’s been fine; the clasp works and nothing is broken.”

“What is it exactly that you think I can do? You’ve handled the necklace, heck you’ve worn it! This note looks like you ran it through a food processor. What are we supposed to do with it? Do you have the box it came in?”

“There was no return address so I threw it away,” I said weakly.

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“Then there you go. There’s nothing I can do even if I thought there was something to do, which I don’t.”

I knew there was no point in arguing further; I would just be beating a dead horse. “Can I keep the necklace?”

I asked.

The detective shrugged. “I don’t even have any reason to believe it was the kid’s except you said so. It’s between you and the mom.”

I picked up the necklace and fastened it around my neck once again. Then I stood and started to leave.

“Sorry for taking up your time.”

“Look, kid, I’m sorry,” he said when I was at the door.

“It’s a shitty deal all around.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “it is.” ***

As hard as I tried to forget the note and concentrate on my painting, my mind refused to let go. The detective had dismissed the idea of Joey’s death being anything but an accident so easily, but the necklace was really bothering me. Together with the note, it was just more than I could pass off. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore and I went to look for Aidan. I found him in his bedroom busily typing away on his computer.

“Aidan, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked tentatively.

He immediately pushed back from the computer. “Of course,” he said.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and filled him in on the events of the day. When I was finished, he thought for a moment.

“As far as the package goes,” he said, “you might try checking with the delivery company. They may have records or something. It’s a long shot but worth a try.

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As for Caitlin, I just hope you know what you are getting yourself into, but either way, I told you I would support you and I will.”

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