Damage (15 page)

"The Citizen-Gazette has existed in one form or another for eighty years before you came along, it can survive a day or two without you," she said.

The second call was to Jake's sister, Emily. Although Ray had met all of Jake's sisters over the years, he knew Emily the best from the brief time their attendance at college overlapped. He felt he owed it to her to contact her first with the news.
 
He took the phone to his bedroom because he kept focusing on the sofa, with its streaks of mud from Jake's dirty shoes. He wouldn't be able to concentrate if he stayed in the same room with it.

"It isn't a surprise, really, is it?" Emily said after the shock began to wane. "I should be thankful he lasted long enough that Daddy didn't have to come to his funeral."

"Will your mom be okay?" Ray asked.

"Mom's pretty confused these days," she sighed. "It might not even be worth the trouble to tell her."

"Em, when did you talk to Jake last?" he asked.

"I haven't heard from him in almost a month, Ray," she said. "That's how I knew he was in trouble again. That's why I haven't started crying yet. I've been ready for this kind of call most of my life."

"Did he ever talk to you about interviewing for a job as a restaurant manager at a country club?"

"No," Emily said, sounding confused at the question. "Why?"

"Nothing," he said. "Billy said he'd interviewed and was upset when he didn't get it. I just thought he might have mentioned it to you."

They spoke for several more minutes about her sisters and new husband. She would start the news circulating through the family and let him know once funeral arrangements were in place. She wasn't sure where they might hold the service, or if anyone other than family would bother attending. Ray assured her some of Jake's fraternity brothers had settled in the Charlotte and RDU areas and would likely come if they could. It was almost one o'clock when they hung up.
 

In his bedroom, he stretched himself out on top of the blankets without bothering to change or take off his shoes.

Tuesday, Part II

Ray slept until noon, when the lingering odor of exhaust fumes forced him to undress and shower. Even under water, with shampoo running down his face, he kept his eyes open. All he could see when they closed was Jake's distorted face staring back at him.

There were several messages on his answering machine. One was from Walter, who needed to know where Ray kept the list of phone numbers and contacts for the daily calls to the different police departments in the county to get news of arrests and crimes. Another was from Becky, who asked how he was doing, and then Walter again telling him he had found the list and not to worry about calling him back. The last caller, listed as "private name/private number," did not leave a message.

Ray didn't feel like eating, but he knew he had to. He had gone so much of Monday without proper sustenance and then slept through breakfast his stomach was screaming for attention. A granola bar seemed enough to take care of the problem until he could make it to the nearest drive thru. Besides, most of his plates and bowls were still in the sink where he had put them after cleaning up the mess Jake had made of his kitchen.

The cool air felt refreshing when he stepped outside. The clouds had finally cleared out, leaving only trailing white wisps riding high in a deep blue sky. New weeds, fed by the recent rain, poked through the blanket of pine straw covering the small patch of earth that was his front yard. On a normal day, he might have stopped to admire the beauty of it all, but this was not a normal day. Up and down the street, all appeared as it should, except for a shiny black car that sat halfway down the block facing his direction. One of his neighbors must have traded in his SUV for a black sedan, a Camry, by the look of it.

Ray stopped at the Citizen Gazette to pick up his phone charger. Most of the advertising staff avoided eye contact and pretended not to be gawking at him. It was the first time Tammy, the receptionist, didn't hound Ray with questions the moment he entered the building. Dennis and Becky had not yet returned from lunch, and the entire editorial staff was out for the afternoon, except for Walter who was finishing up a phone call.

"How are you hanging in?" Walter asked after he hung up.

"Good," Ray said. "Feeling kind of useless. I don't like this whole taking a personal day thing. I don't seem to know what to do with myself."

"Well, don't hurry back on my account," Walter said. "With you gone, I get an unobstructed view of the majestic mountains."

Confused for a moment, Ray turned to look behind him at the desk of Toni Perez, the newest reporter on the Citizen-Gazette team and a recent college graduate. Ray didn't think much of her skills or her attitude, but Walter loved the shape of her and the impressive line of cleavage she displayed each day.

"You know you don't have a chance in hell with her, right?" Ray said.

Walter wagged a finger and smiled knowingly. "Better men than you have under-estimated me before."

Ray tried to laugh, but in his present state of mind he found it difficult just to crack a weak smile.

"Becky get the camera back yet?" he asked.
 

Walter shrugged.

Twenty minutes later, after Walter returned to whatever he was writing, Ray left the building and soon found himself driving south along Cotton Street, away from the center of Glen Meadows, towards the more roughly hewn corner of town. Bearing left onto Short Road, he noticed several vehicles choking the street down near Jake's house. He had to park on the shoulder in front of the neighboring trailer because Jake's driveway was full. A couple of the cars had decals in their back windows displaying the Greek symbols for the fraternity to which Jake belonged while at college.

"Ray?"

Emily, Jake's little sister with whom Ray had spoken the night before, came off the porch and greeted him warmly. A tall, slender woman, she buried Ray's face in her hair as she hugged him. His eyes began to well up, so he quickly put an end to the embrace and led her toward the house with his hand on her back.

"What's with all the people?" he asked.

"Some of the guys wanted to collect things from Jake's years at the frat. They didn't even ask permission, just said they were going to come here today to get them. They want to make a memorial to him at that stupid house."
 

She shook her head in disgust.
 

"Well, that's kind of nice, isn't it?"

"These are the same people that taught him how to snort cocaine," she said, her bottom lip trembling. "Drinking every weekend until they blacked out, every one of them with their own bong with their stupid Greek letters on it! And they have the nerve to wonder how this could have happened to him." She turned away from the house, shaking from frustration. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would get to me like this."

Against his better judgement, Ray put his arm around her and let her lean into him. A sudden burst of cheering voices from inside the house caused Emily to tense up and pull away from him.
 

"No respect for the dead," she mumbled.

"Or the living," he added, patting her back. "You want me to get rid of them?"

Her head nodded as she wiped away tears. It was all the invitation he needed. He had never liked most of the assholes in the fraternity, so it wouldn't cause him any remorse to evict them from the premises on behalf of Emily and the rest of Jake's family. Judging by the number of vehicles, there were at least four of them in the house. He wasted no time getting to the point when he stepped inside.

"All of you, get the hell out, now!"

Ray recognized three of the men. They were comfortably lounging with a fourth person, much younger and very likely a current student, in the living room. Someone else was walking down the staircase. As the four people in the living room stared at Ray, the fifth entered the room grinning stupidly and holding high over his head a painted rock white with Greek lettering.

"Found it!" he announced, then looked at Ray. "Hey, Billy's little brother! Been a long time."

"You guys need to leave," Ray demanded.
 

The young frat boy stood, flexing his chest like he was ready for a fight. Typical, thought Ray. The four older guys stared blankly at Ray as though he were speaking a foreign language. He failed to recall any of their names, but he was able to recall character traits. He turned to the one he remembered being the most level-headed of the bunch to make his case. The man's head was clean shaven, though at college he always sported a long ponytail. He also had a distinctive name.

"Jake's sister is outside having a meltdown right now about you assholes are treating this like some kind of happy reunion," Ray said. "She doesn't want you here."

The one with the rock put his free hand on Ray's shoulder. "Calm down, little brother."

"I'm not one of your brothers," Ray said, yanking himself free. "I'm not even Billy's brother. We're cousins, you dumb shit. Now, I'm telling you, if you all don't clear out I'm gonna tell Emily just to go ahead and call the cops on you." He turned back to the bald frat brother. "Seriously. Her brother isn't dead twenty-four hours and you guys are raiding his house like a gang of kids set loose in a candy store. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

The college-aged frat boy continued his flexing, trying to look menacing. The man who had been upstairs stared sheepishly down at the rock in his hands. The bald man appeared to reflect on what Ray had said. He stood up.

"You're right, Ray. We jumped the gun. Trevor, relax before you strain a nipple." The college boy backed down at the command. "We didn't mean to cause her any grief. You think she'd mind if we at least took Jake's pledge rock?"

"I'm sure that'll be fine," Ray said. "Just leave everything else."

"It's all we really wanted anyway," baldy said. "Come on guys. Let's head out."

Ray ushered them out onto the driveway. Emily was nowhere to be seen. Before they drove off, the bald frat brother handed Ray a business card. Ray never would have pegged him for an attorney with his own practice in Raleigh. Dunforth MacReedy, the name on the card, was as stupid as Ray recalled thinking it was back at college.

"Give me a call if you ever need legal help," he said. "Tell Emily we're sorry. See you tomorrow at the service."

Ray walked around the house and found Emily at the front of the garage looking fixedly at Jake's car beyond the police tape. They stood, side by side, for several minutes in silence. Maybe it was a trick of his mind, but the grating scent of exhaust still hung heavy around the free-standing structure. The car door sat open, as though Jake had just parked and would be stepping out any second.

"We've decided to have a memorial service tomorrow evening at Pope's Funeral Home," Emily said in a dreamy, breathy voice. She spoke unemotionally, even though her face was red and her eyes swollen from crying.

"I figured you might hold it in Durham," Ray said.

Emily shook her head. "There's nobody left there now that Momma moved in with Shelly and David. Glen Meadows is just as easy for everybody to get to as anywhere else, so why not here. Plus, we won't have to transport the body."

Ray nodded.

A little while later, Emily got in her car and drove off, leaving Ray to lock up the house. The absolute silence permeating the small, two-story home was unsettling. Despite the nerve endings along his shoulders tingling more and more with each step he climbed, he felt he needed to check on something. He turned left at the top of the stairs into the sparsely furnished office-like room with the desk. The enveloped marked "For Clay" he had found neatly positioned in the center of the blotter was still there, money and all. It annoyed him not to have proper justification for being angry at the frat boys. He had counted on that envelope being gone, yet there it was. The idiot with the pledge rock must have seen it and had the decency to leave it behind. Ray decided to take the envelope with him for safekeeping until he could find out who Clay was and give him the money.

As he walked to his car parked next door, Ray spotted a shiny black Camry, just like the one he had seen when leaving his apartment earlier in the afternoon. It was parked several hundred feet away, at the farthest end of the dead-end street, and facing in his direction.
 

Tuesday, Part III

The visitor parking lot at Tramway Regional Medical Center had recently been repaved. The glass and steel of the tall building at the top of the hill sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. The new wing of the hospital was still fairly new. The grand opening had been one of Ray's first assignments when he joined the Citizen-Gazette. Jared Upton was there with the chamber's gigantic scissors and Ray spent much of the function chasing down hospital board members and administrators to ensure he had their names spelled correctly for the
 
ribbon cutting photo caption. He wasn't exactly certain why he was at the hospital now.

A nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach made him think he was somehow neglecting Correen Wallace. He had been there at her side to help when she was in need, seen the fear in her eyes as she clung to life. Ever since the ambulance took her away, he felt as though he had abandoned her.

Inside the brightly lit lobby, Ray was immediately struck by a portrait he had passed many times before, but to which he had paid little attention. He thought, at first glance, it was a portrait of Correen Wallace until the gray hair and aged features made him realize it couldn't be. The name on the small gold plate tacked to the bottom of the wood frame told him the woman's name was Belinda 'Bertie' Lowson. The lobby was dedicated in her name for her "tireless service to the hospital and its patients, and dedication to the financial stability and enhancement of patient care through direct support and fundraising."

"Your daughter better have the penthouse suite," Ray mumbled under his breath at Bertie Lowson's smiling portrait.

"Can I help you, young man?" asked a soft, gravely voice behind him.