Southampton Spectacular (32 page)

Or perhaps both.

“But honestly, almost anything else will do,” he finished.

“I’d better get home,” Devon said.

“Indeed,” said Theo Mahlmann, and he raised his hand to her again, this time in a more formal salute. “Good luck, Devon Hall,” he intoned, as if sending her to battle.

She turned as she walked away, so that she was facing him and walking backward. “The talent show was beautiful again this year,” she said.

His face lit up. “Thank you,” he said, and he threw his head back in a little flourish. “
I
thought it was, of course. But it’s always nice to be told.”

Devon was being shaken awake, and she could tell before she had opened her eyes that it was too early. There was no red line of light behind her eyelids. Her head was thick with sleep and mucus and still-unprocessed alcohol. Nothing could possibly be this important, and besides, she had been in the middle of a dream. A very important dream, in which she was on the edge of solving the Pauline problem. It was in something Theo Mahlmann had said the night before. If the world would just wait, would just stop shaking her for a moment, she would be able to figure it all out. She almost had it –

“Honey, come on,” said a familiar voice. After a minute of incredibly sluggish processing, Devon identified the voice as her father’s. “You need to get up,” he said.

She shook her head slowly without opening her eyes, debating her father’s assessment.

“Yes, you do,” Peter Hall said. “We have to go to the hospital now.”

That was enough to get her eyes open, at least. Devon scanned the area around her, confirmed that she was indeed in her bedroom, and then she took a second to study her father. “Is your head still okay?” she asked. “Is
my
head okay?” It didn’t seem to matter that she had taken a long walk, or that she had had a late night conversation with Theo Mahlmann, or that she had filled up on water before finally going to bed. She felt as though someone had crept into her room during the night and bashed her over the head with a shovel.

“Everybody here is okay,” her father said, and now he was easing her out of bed. He nodded at her encouragingly. “Your mother’s waiting in the car, and she’s fine, too. But we have to go now.”

“Who’s in the hospital?”

“How are you feeling?” Peter said, ignoring the question for the moment. “You all obviously had plenty to drink, and you came in pretty late. Are you going to throw up?”

You all? No one came home with me.

She sat up quickly now, ignoring the pain that shot through her head as she moved. “I’m up,” she said. “I feel like crap, but I’m up. Now who’s in the hospital? What happened?”

Her father waited for another moment, looking into Devon’s eyes. Checking to be sure she was steady. And then he started to explain.

Passing by the Meadow Club, a driver could either turn left, along Meadow Lane toward the Beach Club, or right, along Dune Road toward the helipad and the Shinnecock inlet. Dune Road was a relatively desolate-looking stretch of real estate by Southampton standards, mostly because there were fewer trees and hedges along the way. The land on either side of the road grew narrower as it proceeded away from the Meadow Club. The Atlantic Ocean was on the left, Shinnecock bay was on the right, and both bodies of water seemed to encroach on the road as it went farther out, creating the sense of a long, narrow peninsula. The houses, on the other hand, grew increasingly large. And increasingly strange. Perhaps the proximity of the water encouraged architects to design ever riskier projects, since there was the distinct possibility every year that many of these structures might simply be blown away by a late-summer hurricane. Or perhaps it was the relative isolation of the area. Construction of any kind was difficult; even building a stable foundation for a house was more challenging out here, because the land became not only thinner this way, but also sandier. The same was true for the road itself, which began to wind and turn through increasingly sharp bends and switchbacks as the supply of stable soil grew short and more haphazard.

The curves near the end of Dune Road were especially dangerous, coming as they did at the end of long, featureless straightaways. Drivers frequently approached the turns too fast, and accidents were common.

The police report said that the Lincoln Navigator was found rolled over past turn three, near the 3.6 mile marker on Dune Road that morning at or around 2:30 AM. The 911 call came from a resident who was awakened by the noise of screeching tires breaking glass, but no one saw the accident itself. Preliminary findings by the examiner showed that the car must have been traveling at better than 50 mph to have rolled so far from the point of exit, where matching tire marks were clearly visible on the road.

None of this information was available to Devon or her parents, but they knew approximately where the accident had happened. All three of them were as well versed on the treacherous Dune Road turns as anyone; Peter and Cynthia had actually given Devon some of her first driving lessons there. They had a very good idea of how fast someone would have to have been going to roll a Navigator on one of those turns. And of course everyone knew that a drunk driver would have a difficult time piloting his car successfully through those turns.

At any speed.

More important, however – and more upsetting – was the location of the accident. Devon and her parents knew where the driver of that particular car lived, and it was nowhere near Dune Road. He lived over past the Beach Club, right next to the McAllister Estate.

James Dunn had been driving too fast. Too drunk.

And he had been heading
away
from his house.

When they got to the hospital they found everyone already there. Florin and Nina and Barnes and James’s parents. But no Pauline, thank goodness. Apparently she was home with Ned and Frankie. Cynthia and Peter Hall went and sat down in a couple of chairs in the corner of the emergency waiting room. They were there to offer any support that might be needed – for their own daughter, or for anyone else – but they did not want to insert themselves into a Dunn family drama if they could help it.

Devon went straight to Florin. “Tell me.”

“He’s probably going to be okay,” Florin said. Her eyes were red from crying. “He’s got like twenty broken bones, his legs and back and arms and
everything
, but I guess most of that stuff happened after.”

Devon looked at her, puzzled. “After?”

But Florin was in narration mode now, and she didn’t hear the question. “We dropped you and Nina off,” she said. “And then we went super-slow all the way to my house. The rest I got from Barnes.” Florin glanced over her shoulder. Devon saw Barnes there, sitting in one of the yellow plastic emergency room chairs along the wall. He was bent over in a semi-crouch as if meditating. Except that his eyes were open and unblinking, with a little rim of red around the edges. His lips were moving slowly, and he was tapping out a rhythm on the arm rest. “He said the two of them drove back to Cooper’s Beach and talked for a while,” Florin continued. “Barnes wouldn’t say about what. Then James dropped Barnes off, slow the whole way, and that’s it.” She looked at Devon with a pleading expression, and now there were fresh tears in her eyes. “I don’t understand what happened,” she said.

But Devon could tell that of course she
did
understand. So she said nothing.

Florin ran a hand through her hair and continued. “After the accident,” she said, coming around to Devon’s original question. “It wasn’t the initial impact that did most of the damage. The police said he was thrown clear of the car, which probably saved his life. Because he probably wasn’t going
that
fast. Fifty or sixty, they said. He cracked his skull and both his legs on the way out, and then both arms, his back, and his collarbone when he hit the ground.” Florin let out a shaky, tear-soaked laugh. “So they’re saying he was really lucky.”

Maybe
, Devon thought.
But I don’t know how anybody gets “lucky” like that if they’re wearing a seatbelt. And I know James was wearing one when we got into the car. All of us were.

Tracy Dunn emerged from a set of double doors, and she made her way over to them. She was moving slowly, haltingly, as if someone might yell at her if she came over too fast. But her eyes were still sharp. As they had been at the talent show.

Devon wondered when she had last had a drink.

Maybe not for an entire week now
.

“Girls,” Tracy Dunn said quietly.

Florin and Devon gave her their full attention, and Nina came over. So that now they presented a solid front. For support or for conflict, depending on what might be required. You could never tell with the Dunn family.

Tracy Dunn had not taken a drink in eight whole days, and she was calm. Or as calm as could be expected. Those first few nights had been difficult, but now she was picking up momentum. And she was still enjoying the clarity, just as she had been at the pool two days ago. Even now, with her oldest son in an intensive care unit and tubes sticking out of him at every angle, she could feel her strength growing. She could think. She could listen to what the doctors had told her, and understand James’s condition. She knew what parts of him were okay, and which parts were not. What he needed.

Maybe even what the
family
needed.

Which was why she had come over in the first place.

“Girls, I need a favor,” Tracy Dunn said.

They seemed to consider her for a moment, and then all three of them nodded at her. Ready. Waiting.

“Pauline is at home with Ned and Frankie, and I’d like someone to look in on them,” Mrs. Dunn said. She watched them glance at each other, then back at her. “In fact, I’d prefer that someone – ” She paused, pressed her lips together, and glanced behind her once, at the set of double doors she had just come through. Then she lowered her voice and continued. “I’d prefer that someone stay with them indefinitely. If that means bringing the kids over here, that’s fine. The doctors said James will start waking up more frequently as he starts to recover, and I think he might like to see them.” She started speaking faster, as though using the speed of her words to help her resolve. “If this turns into a real inconvenience, I’ll do whatever I can to make things right. Money or tennis lessons or whatever, anything you want. But I have to stay here with James, and I’d like someone in charge of my other children.” She put her head down. Then she looked up again. She spoke the next words with emphasis, to be sure there would be no misunderstanding. “Someone
else
.”

Devon watched her for another moment. Then she lifted her chin. “Barnes,” she called, without looking away from Mrs. Dunn. Suddenly everything was clear. She remembered her dream. She remembered what she had planned. And the opportunity was here.

“Hup.” Barnes stood slowly from his chair. He uncurled himself and put his shoulders back like a fighter preparing for a bout. His eyes were steady.

“You and Nina are going to the Dunn house,” Devon said. “You’re going to pick up Frankie and Ned, and you’re going to bring them here, and you’re not going to take a single word of shit.”

Barnes’s eyes seemed to flare briefly, and he gave Devon a small, businesslike nod. Then he turned to Mrs. Dunn. “Is there a car seat for Frankie?”

Tracy Dunn smiled, pleased with Barnes’s thoughtfulness. She rooted into her pants pocket and came up with a ring of keys, which she threw to Barnes. “Take the whole thing just in case,” she said. “There’s one for the Honda and one for the Condor. Baby seat’s in the Honda. Obviously.” She paused, and the look of uncertainty crept back into her eyes. “You don’t necessarily
have
to bring them,” she said. “I mean, if they don’t want to come. It’s enough for you guys to be there. If Frankie doesn’t seem to want to get into the car seat, or if Ned says he wants to stay home, then – ”

“Then Barnes and Nina are going to bring them here anyway,” Devon said evenly. Her voice was kind, but firm. She took a step closer to Mrs. Dunn and fixed her with a hard stare. She could feel the effort this woman was putting forth, could see the mixture of resolution and doubt on her face and in her posture; she needed help. “What you said first was right,” Devon said. “James needs to see them. Even if it’s only for a minute. And if he doesn’t wake up for another twelve hours, that doesn’t matter, because the kids still need to see
you
. Their brother – their protector, their hero – has been in a major accident. You’re the one holding this gang together now. It’s you, Mrs. Dunn. You’re
up
.”

Tracy Dunn listened to Devon speak, and she almost believed her. Almost took her at her word. But it had only been eight days since her last drink, and she was still vulnerable. Still unsure, and still wracked with guilt over all the things she had not done, or ignored, or simply forgotten during the last five gin-and-tonic-soaked years. Now that she had actually gotten up the nerve to make the request, the idea of Ned and Frankie coming to the hospital filled her with dread. Because maybe Ned would not want to come to her. Maybe Frankie would cry unless someone else held him.