The Girl Next Door (12 page)

Nina’s knees suddenly felt as if they were going to give way. “Excuse me, I …” She
sat down on a nearby chair.

Repaci finally sat down on the couch. “You all right?” he asked.

“Before I left, I … I told him not to forget his appointment with you. And he knows
… I mean, he needs this job. He knows that.”

“You had no indication that he might not … you know, that he was thinking of bolting
…” said Repaci.

“No, absolutely not,” said Nina vehemently. “I’m sure he didn’t … bolt. There has
to be some explanation.”

“Look, miss, I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen.
Some guys get a little taste of freedom and it’s like … they can’t deal with just
having a little. They can’t tolerate the restrictions …”

“He’s not like that,” Nina insisted. “He’s very … disciplined. He’s a doctor. He’s
… he’s able to cope with things.”

“He’s been in prison for a long time,” Repaci observed. “That changes a person.”

“No,” Nina insisted, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. “Not my father. There
has to be some explanation. Let me call … my brother. Can I do that? Can I call my
brother? Maybe he’s seen him.”

“Be my guest. But I’ve got to report this to the board and to local authorities.”

Nina, who was fishing in her bag for her cell phone, looked at him in alarm. “Oh no.
You can’t … Oh, please, Mr. Repaci. I know there’s some reasonable explanation.”

“Parole has these restrictions for a reason,” he explained patiently. “Your father
has already been given unusual leeway. He was allowed to move to New York. Then back
here. And then he doesn’t show up for his second appointment. And he blows off work.
Parole violators don’t get second chances, miss. Parole
is
the second chance.”

“But he’s waited so long. If they take this away from him …”

Repaci stood up. “Ma’am, I am not here to argue with you. If you want to call your
brother, I’ll wait to see if he knows anything.”

“Right,” said Nina, numb. Where would Jimmy be? She tried to think about his schedule,
but her mind wouldn’t focus on it. All she could think about was her father, and the
possibility that they would put him back in prison for his negligence. She found the
phone, punched up her directory, and called the carpet store. After two rings, she
recognized the voice that picked up and said, “Hoffman Flooring.”

“Jimmy,” she blurted out. “It’s Nina. Have you seen Dad? Do you know where he is?”

Jimmy sounded wary. “No. Isn’t he at his job?”

“Jimmy, his parole officer is here. He didn’t show up for his appointment and he didn’t
go to work today.”

There was silence at Jimmy’s end of the phone.

“Do you know what that means?” she demanded. “They could send him back to prison.
We need to try and find him. I don’t even have a car. He took the car. Can you come
over right away? Please, Jimmy, I need your help.”

Jimmy was silent again for a moment. Then he said, “Where are you? At Aunt Mary’s?”

“Yes,” Nina said.

“All right. I don’t know where he is, but I’ll come over. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jimmy,” she said. “Think about where he might have gone. And hurry,”
she said.

She hung up and shook her head at Repaci. “My brother hasn’t seen him,” she said.

Repaci nodded grimly. “All right,” he sighed. Putting a hand on each knee, he pushed
himself up and off the sofa. “I’m going to head back to my office and start making
calls.”

“Please,” Nina pleaded. “Just give us a little time. My brother and I will find him.
Could you just give us a little window here? He’s been in prison for so long. Please,
Mr. Repaci.”

Repaci looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t he go away for killing your mother?”

Nina lifted her chin defiantly. “He was innocent,” she said.

Repaci snorted. “Really?”

Nina felt his remark like a slap in the face, but she didn’t flinch. She had to be
careful not to alienate this man in any way. “Just give us an hour or two. What difference
could an hour or two make?”

Repaci raised his eyebrows. “Look, I appreciate your loyalty to your father. But he
was convicted of a violent crime. An hour or two can make all the difference in the
world.” Repaci looked at his watch, and then handed her a printed business card. “I’m
heading back to my office. You call me there if you find him. Maybe you can find him
before the cops do.”

Nina took the card with a trembling hand.

Repaci headed toward the door. He stopped on the doorstep and looked back at her.
“I’m sorry for your trouble. I know you’ve done all you could. Some of these guys-there’s
no helping them.”

T
HE
minute the parole officer left, Nina called the clinic. The receptionist confirmed
what Bill Repaci had said. Duncan had neither come in nor called to make an excuse.
The receptionist was not sympathetic. “Dr. Nathanson is very annoyed,” she said. “He
was giving your father the benefit of the doubt by hiring him here.”

Hanging up, Nina began to look through the house. Maybe he’d left a note somewhere,
or written something on the calendar. But when she looked at it, she saw that the
calendar was marked only in Aunt Mary’s neat handwriting. The Garden Club, birthdays,
surgery. There was none of her father’s impatient scrawl on it. The surface of Aunt
Mary’s desk was likewise undisturbed.

Maybe in his room, she thought. She ran up the stairs to the bedroom that had been
hers as a teenager. It still had the pink gingham curtains and bedspread her great-aunt
had bought for
her all those years ago. The bulletin board still held class pictures, her dried
corsage from the prom, and a Bulldogs pennant from Hoffman High School. There was
little indication that her father was staying there. The bed was neatly made, and
the only sign of him was his book on the bedside table and his few clothes hanging
in the closet. On the floor of the closet was his canvas duffel bag. Nina hesitated,
hating to invade his privacy like the prison guard he had accused her of resembling,
but this could be an emergency. I’ll be careful, she thought. He’ll never know. She
crouched down, unzipped the bag, and cautiously reached in. Lying right on top of
the pile of his belongings was all the printed information he had received about the
conditions and terms of his parole as well as emergency phone numbers and a calendar
with the dates and times of his appointments listed for him by Mr. Repaci. Everything
was in perfect order. Nothing had been noted or changed about the day’s date. Nothing
appeared to be amiss, except for the fact that he hadn’t shown up.

Nina looked around, feeling helpless. Where are you? she thought. She replaced the
papers in the top of his bag right where she found them, hoping he would not notice
that they had been disturbed. She went back downstairs to the phone, which was hanging
on the wall against the once cheerful, now faded wallpaper in the kitchen. Below the
phone was a Formica shelf that contained take-out menus, an address book, and a pad
of Post-it notes, along with an assortment of pens. Below the shelf was a trash basket.
She looked down into the basket and saw a discarded bright yellow Post-it note. She
didn’t remember throwing it in there. Wait a minute, she thought. She reached in and
retrieved it. The names on it were in Duncan’s handwriting and were impossible to
decipher—thanks to years of writing prescriptions. But she was able to make out the
numbers. She hesitated, not knowing what she was going to say when someone
picked up the phone. Improvise, she thought, and she dialed the first number.

“Dr. Bergman’s office,” said a pleasant voice.

“Oh hello,” said Nina. “My name is Nina Avery. I’m … uh … my father, Duncan Avery
… I’m having some trouble locating him. I saw … Dr. Bergman’s number and I wondered
if maybe he’d come in there today for an appointment.”

“No …” said the woman from the doctor’s office. “Although I do have him here for Monday
at ten. He’s scheduled to have a checkup and a complete set of X-rays.”

“X-rays!” Nina cried. “X-rays of what? Is he sick?”

“Of his teeth,” said the woman on the phone. “Dr. Bergman is a dentist.”

“Oh, of course,” said Nina, relieved. “That’s right. He was saying that he needed
a lot of work done on his teeth.”

“Yes, well, he’s due in Monday.”

Nina thanked her and hung up. She studied the Post-it note again, but still could
not make out the writing. There was a second number. It was a local call. The first
had been pretty easy to deal with. She had to try. She dialed the number, hoping the
person who answered would give her a clue.

After two rings, a recorded message came on. “The number you have reached, 555-4726,
has been disconnected.”

Whose number? Nina wondered.

The doorbell rang, startling her. Jimmy, she thought, looking at her watch. It’s about
time. Nina hung up the phone and walked to the front door, ready to give her brother
a mild scolding for taking so long.

Instead, when she opened the door, she saw a uniformed patrolman and a portly redheaded
man of about forty wearing a well-cut suit on the doorstep. The man in the suit looked
vaguely familiar to Nina.

“Mrs. Mary Norris?” he said.

“Um, no, that’s my aunt,” said Nina.

“Is your aunt here, miss?”

“No, she’s in the hospital. Can I help you?”

“Your name, miss?”

“My name is Nina Avery. Who are you?”

The redheaded man turned rather pink in the face. “Miss Avery,” he said. “I’m Chief
Perry of the Hoffman Police.” He took out his badge and showed it to her.

Suddenly, Nina remembered. The police chief who was interviewed on the news about
Duncan moving back to Hoffman. “Oh yeah,” she said.

“Does your aunt own a ’ninety-five gray-green Volvo?”

“Yes,” said Nina. “Why?”

“Are you related, by any chance, to Duncan Avery?”

Nina’s heart was pounding, but she gripped the doorknob and tried to appear calm.
“He’s my father,” she said.

The police chief sighed. “May I come in?” he asked.

Nina nodded and stood aside. Before the detective and the patrolman could even enter
the house, Jimmy’s Saturn pulled up beside the squad car in the driveway and Jimmy
got out.

“Nina, what’s going on?” he called out.

“Who is that?” the chief asked.

“It’s my brother.” Nina shook her head and turned to the police chief. “What’s going
on?” she said.

Chief Perry looked at Jimmy, who was trudging across the front lawn. “Let’s wait for
your brother,” he said. “This concerns him as well.”

Jimmy walked up to them. “What is it?” he asked.

“You two might want to go inside and sit down,” Chief Perry said.

“Never mind that,” said Nina. “Tell us why you’re here.”

Chief Perry sighed again and looked from Nina to Jimmy. Then he shook his head. “I’m
sorry to have to be the one to tell
you both this. We got a call about an hour ago from a fisherman down by the river.
He thought he saw somebody slumped over in a green ’ninety-five Volvo that was parked
down there. He was a little reluctant to go over and look. A couple of officers responded.
When they opened the door to the car, they found your …”

“No,” Nina cried. “No!”

“Your father. I’m terribly sorry, Miss Avery. I understand he just got out of jail,
and I’m sure you were hoping—”

“What happened to him?” Jimmy demanded.

“He’d been shot in the chest. We found a gun in his hand. It appears that he took
his own life.”

“Oh my God,” Jimmy whispered, all the color drained from his face.

“No,” Nina cried. “That’s crazy. You’re wrong. That’s not my dad. He doesn’t even
have a gun. He’s not allowed to have a gun on parole.”

Chief Perry nodded. “That’s true. But if he wanted to get one—well, you have to realize
that he had certain connections from being in prison. He was forbidden to associate
with former felons by the terms of his parole. But if getting a gun was his intention—well,
guns are not hard to come by, Miss Avery. Especially if you’re determined …”

“Suicide,” Jimmy whispered.

Nina was shaking her head. “It’s probably not even him. What made you think it was
him?”

“We found his driver’s permit in his wallet,” said Chief Perry firmly.

“This isn’t true. Somebody stole it from him. This is a mistake!” she cried.

Chief Perry looked at her sadly. “This has got to be so tough,” he said, and there
was genuine empathy in his gaze.

“Where is he?” Nina demanded. “I want to see him.”

“No, Nina, don’t,” cried Jimmy.

“Look,” said the chief. “I know you need to see your dad, and as it happens, we need
you to see him to make a positive identification. They’ve moved the body to the morgue.
I’ll take you over there. The car is still down by the river. We can have it towed
back here once our lab guys go over it. If that would suit you.”

“Stop talking like he’s dead,” Nina protested.

“This is my fault,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry, Nina.” Tears trickled out of the corners
of Jimmy’s eyes and down his face.

“Take it easy,” the chief said. “I know it’s a shock. Come on. Let’s go. The sooner
we get this over with …”

“Stop it, Jimmy,” Nina insisted. “There’s some explanation. This is all a mistake.”

N
INA
stood in the chilly hallway at the county morgue and stared numbly at the blank slider
that covered the window in front of her. All she could think about the whole way over
in the car, and during the walk up the echoing stairs and through the empty corridors
of the building, was why she had thought it was so necessary to go back to New York
for these last two days. If she had been here … If she had only been with him when
he needed her …

Nina shook her head as if to ward off the possibility that the dead man was her father.
She hadn’t seen the body yet. There was a still a chance it wasn’t him. There was
no reason to think the worst yet. But she couldn’t deny, even to herself, that suicide
was one of the unspoken fears that had plagued her the most. Why did I leave him alone?
she thought. How
could I leave him alone when I knew the kind of disappointment and rejection he’d
been facing? How could I have run off to New York like that and left him to handle
everything on his own? Please, God, don’t let it be him. If it isn’t him, I promise,
I won’t leave him again.