Keep Quiet (33 page)

Jake thought of the detectives and worried if they would interview him again. Would they just drop in or call first? Did he need a lawyer? Did Ryan? Should he call Hubbard? Jake hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Pam alone yet. She would get a lawyer, probably a separate one from him and Ryan. And she’d get a divorce lawyer, too.

“We’re late,” Pam muttered under her breath.

They were only at the middle school, and Jake could see the high school ahead on the left, a long, two-story box of red brick, its continuous panels of windows ablaze with light. “Not very.”

“That’s not the point. Late is late.”

“So will everybody else be, in this traffic.”

“Again. Not the point.”

Jake let it go. He was trying to make it better, but that was impossible. They were going to the memorial service for a young girl they had killed, and they were ruined, guilty, and afraid. A corrupt family, bound by a secret crime. Bankrupt, despite the money they had. Nothing could be made better.

The traffic eased, and the car began to move forward. Pam exhaled. “Finally.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He could hear Sabrina whispering, like a prayer, “… Kathleen was an extreme loss for the Concord Chase High School community in its entirety…”

“How’d your Western Civ make-up go, Ryan?” Pam asked, tilting her mouth up as if she were talking to the rearview mirror.

“Fine,” Ryan answered, after a moment.

“How do you think you did?”

“Fine.”

“Really?” Pam arched an eyebrow, edging up in the driver’s seat.

“What, did you look on the Parent Portal?”

“Yes. Did you?”

“No. He graded my test already?”

“Yes.”

“What did I get, Mom?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll do better next time.”

Ryan didn’t reply.

Sabrina whispered, “… Speaking as the captain of the track team, I can assure you that Kathleen will be sorely missed by every…”

Jake turned to Ryan, who looked crestfallen. “Don’t sweat it, buddy.”

Ryan didn’t say anything to him, either.

Jake turned back around, pained. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to Ryan if he and Pam divorced. His son was already depressed and guilt-ridden. It wouldn’t help that he’d ping-pong back and forth between their houses. Jake would become a weekend father, if that. Everything had gone to shit because of his decision on Pike Road. In trying to be a good father, he’d been a terrible father. In trying to save his son, he’d destroyed him. He’d driven his wife away. He’d lost everything.

Story of my life.

Sabrina said, “… there are so many cool stories about Kathleen, like that she sang the loudest on the bus, and that everyone on the guys team wanted to take her out, but there is one main story I know that will tell the audience about her…”

Jake felt his chest tighten as they reached the lighted brick
CONCORD CHASE HIGH SCHOOL
sign and turned into the entrance, where another cop directed them to keep moving toward the back, behind the school.

“Damn.” Pam sighed. “They’re sending us to the lot by the tennis courts. It’ll be a long walk.” She shifted up to the rearview mirror, slowing the car. “Ryan, Sabrina? You guys want to get out here, since we’re running late?”

“No,” Ryan answered, after a moment.

“But honey, you won’t get a seat.”

“The team will save me one.”

Sabrina said, “I’ll stay. I’m good.”

“Okay.” Pam fed the car some gas, and they approached the entrance doors on the right, then they stopped again in the line of traffic. A thick crowd thronged under the lighted canopy that covered the entrance doors, and at the perimeter, a TV news crew filmed a pretty anchorwoman raising a bubble microphone to a tall, well-dressed man with dark hair, talking in the bright white klieglights.

Pam snorted. “I can’t believe TV people are here. They’re vultures. Have they no shame? Does the world really need another man-on-the-street interview?”

Jake felt his heart sink, on Ryan’s behalf. He could see for himself that Kathleen’s death shocked the entire school community, and he had underestimated how difficult this would be for Ryan. His son lived in this world and he’d have to deal with it, every day, all day at school. Jake glanced back to check on him again, but Ryan was looking pointedly away from the TV cameras.

Sabrina leaned forward. “Mrs. Buckman, the guy they’re interviewing is Kathleen’s dad. I saw his picture online, asking if the community could help him find who killed Kathleen.”

“Poor man,” Pam said quietly, and Jake realized that the only thing they shared tonight was guilt. He eyed Kathleen’s father talking in the klieglights and realized he was just another father like him. Jake had taken that man’s child, in trade for his own.

Pam drove along the road, which continued between the school on the right and the main parking lot on the left. She seemed distracted by something in the parking lot, and Jake craned his neck to see. It was Dr. Dave, getting out of a white Prius and chirping it locked. A woman in a black down coat stood with him, presumably his wife.

Jake gritted his teeth. She had a pretty face and a sweet smile, and her short brown hair ruffled in the wind. He wondered if she knew that she had been cheated on, or if she was as naïve as he had been. The couple left the parking lot and crossed the road with the crowd, right in front of their headlights.

Jake itched to get out and beat Dr. Dave to a pulp, but Dr. Dave walked straight ahead, acting as if he didn’t recognize Pam’s car. Jake looked over to see Pam’s reaction, but she stared straight ahead, too. Just then he noticed a car in the parking lot, sitting a few rows back, to the right—it was a black BMW sedan, with an HKE license plate.

My God.
“Pam, hold on, be right back,” Jake blurted out, reaching for the door handle.

“No, Jake, please don’t.” Pam turned to him in alarm.

“It’s not what you think.” Jake flung open the door. “I see a client I need to talk to. See you inside.”

“Wait a sec, there’s a space,” Pam said, but Jake was out the door, hitting the ground running.

Chapter Forty-two

Jake hurried through the parking lot, going against the crowd heading toward the school entrance. One of the mothers looked over at him curiously, so he slowed his pace as he made a beeline for the BMW. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He hadn’t thought about the possibility he’d see the BMW here, but he’d been focused on Ryan and Pam.

Jake threaded his way through the crowd, squeezed sideways between parked cars, and finally reached the BMW. It was the correct model, a 535, and its Pennsylvania plate read HKE-7553. It had to be the same car as the one in the photograph. His heartbeat quickened. So Voloshin’s killer was at Kathleen’s memorial service. It seemed risky, unless the killer was someone who would have been conspicuous by his absence, the way Ryan would have been if he hadn’t come.

Jake glanced around and ascertained that no one was watching him, so he walked to the driver’s side of the car and tried the door handle, but it was locked. He peeked inside the front seat. The car had a black interior and it was hard to see in the dark, but it looked empty and gave no clue as to the driver’s identity. He peered in the backseat, but it was also empty. He walked around the trunk and checked for the car dealership, or anything to give him more information about the driver, but there wasn’t one listed. The license plate had a chrome surround, but it read BMW, with no dealership.

Jake slipped his hand in his pocket, took out his phone, and snapped a picture of the car’s license plate, then turned away and hurried back to the school entrance, adrenalized. So the BMW driver would be at the service tonight, and the more Jake thought about it, the more credibility it lent to his theory. The driver had known Kathleen, maybe even loved her, and he could have killed Voloshin because Voloshin was blackmailing him about their relationship—or maybe in a fit of rage, when he went to Voloshin’s apartment and saw that Voloshin was stalking her.

Jake joined the crowd going into the entrance, turning his head away from the TV cameras and scrutinizing the people around him. The killer could be any one of the dads, who looked just like him—a moving mass of crow’s-feet, expensive haircuts, and Patagonia jackets slipped over shirts and ties, because nobody had time to change after work. They tossed away forbidden cigarettes, checked their email, or talked on the phone, making their last calls.

Jake caught snippets of their conversations—
you have to be kidding me, Tom, you didn’t file it yet?
—or with their wives—
I don’t have time to call the roofer, can you?
—or their kids—
so how was school, buddy?
None of them sounded or seemed like a killer, which made Jake suspect all of them, everyone around him. Then he realized he wouldn’t have to play guessing games anymore. He could leave the memorial service, stake-out the BMW, and see whoever came to claim the car.

Jake’s heartbeat picked up, and he thought of a new plan. He would confront the killer and warn him to stay away from Ryan and Pam—or risk exposure to the police. It would be piling one corrupt bargain on top of another, but it would keep Pam and Ryan safe. He reached the entrance doors, went through, and crossed the threshold into a large, tiled entrance area leading to the administrative offices and the auditorium.

CHASER PRIDE,
read a poster-painted banner, and the crowd flowed in two messy lines to the auditorium doors, which had been propped open. Suddenly it struck him that Pam and Ryan were here, unprotected. The killer would know who they were, but they wouldn’t know who he was. The killer could be following Ryan or taking a seat next to Pam, this very minute.

Jake pressed forward, looking for Pam or Ryan, but he didn’t see them anywhere. He didn’t know if they’d gone inside, but assumed they had, knowing that Pam was in a hurry and she’d seen that parking space. He shifted to the right, went around a large family, and joined the other line into the auditorium, which was moving faster. Still, no Pam or Ryan.

Jake finally got inside the auditorium, which was standing room only in back, and wedged his way through the standees to find Pam and Ryan, but they weren’t there. He scanned the audience for Pam and Ryan, but there were so many people it was impossible to see them. Faculty, staff, parents, and younger kids filled the seats, walked down rows, tilted their heads together in conversation, checked smartphones, opened programs, or hoisted toddlers onto their laps. Many of the female students were crying, their arms around each other. Mothers wiped tears from their eyes, and fathers craned their necks toward the front, where the program was beginning.

Jake defaulted to looking for Ryan because he was so tall and would be sitting with a very tall group, the basketball team. He began methodically, noticing that two aisles ran the length of the auditorium, dividing the seats into three sections. He checked the leftmost section for the basketball team, but no luck. He checked the middle section, but didn’t see them there. He shifted to the rightmost section and finally spotted a tall bunch of scruffy boys on the far right section, at the middle.

He edged forward and looked for Ryan, but he wasn’t sitting with the team and there was an empty seat at the end of the row. Jake swallowed hard, beginning to be afraid. What if Ryan and Pam were still outside? What if the killer had intercepted them on the way in? He didn’t want to leave and go see until he was sure they weren’t in the auditorium.

The crowd quieted, and Jake sensed the program was about to start. He glanced at the stage, a sleek maple curve framed by maroon curtains, and a middle-aged woman tapped a microphone on the lectern. Next to her were the flags of the United States and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, then a row of brown folding chairs with some students and school-administration types, and finally, an easel that held an enlarged photograph of Kathleen, framed in black.

Jake’s throat caught, but he looked away. Then it struck him that the speakers were supposed to be seated on the stage and that Sabrina was slated to be a speaker. He looked again at the folding chairs, but Sabrina wasn’t there. And one folding chair remained empty.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, faculty, students and family. I am Pamela Coleridge, principal of Concord Chase High School, and I thank you for coming this evening to celebrate the life of Kathleen Lindstrom, a lovely young woman who was taken from us cruelly, and too soon…”

Jake tuned the speaker out, his heart thudding in his chest. The empty chair on stage was proof that Ryan and Pam must still be in the parking lot, unless Sabrina was sitting with her team.

“… this program will be brief, and time won’t permit us to acknowledge all of the special people here tonight, except that I would like to take a moment to acknowledge Kathleen’s mother Grace and her father William, both of whom are with us, at this impossibly difficult time. They’re seated in the front row…”

Heads turned this way and that as everybody tried to see Kathleen’s parents, and murmurs and sniffles rippled through the crowd. Jake tried to find the girls track team, but there was nothing to distinguish them from any other female students.

“… our first speaker will be Ms. Talia Kelso, who teaches computer science and runs our computer lab, which, as you may know, was Kathleen’s home away from home. Ms. Kelso, please come up…”

Jake noticed on the stage that one of the teachers, a petite African-American woman with a thick braid, was getting up from the folding chair and crossing to the lectern. He had to find Ryan and Pam, or Sabrina, so he kept scanning the crowd. He surveyed the rows for them, getting more worried by the minute, as the speaker continued her speech.

“… Kathleen had a remarkable aptitude with computers, but it was her happy, upbeat way that all of us loved. I will never forget Kathleen and neither will any of my teaching assistants in the computer lab. Thank you, and now I would like to introduce our next speaker, Janine Mae Lamb, a junior who was a very good friend of Kathleen. Janine Mae?”