Woman in Red (42 page)

She was contemplating that when the phone rang. It was Denise.

After a minute or so of chitchat, her sister got to the real reason she’d phoned. “You haven’t seen Gary, by any chance?” She affected a casual tone, but Alice could tell she was worried.

“Not since yesterday,” she said. “Why? Is everything okay?” She kept her voice light so as not to add to Denise’s worry.

Her sister was quick to reply, “Sure, fine. We just had a little tiff, is all. He took off about an hour ago, said he needed to cool off. I thought he might have stopped by your place.”

“Do you need me to come over?” From the tension in her sister’s voice, it was obvious it had been more than a little tiff.

“No, don’t be silly. Everything’s fine,” Denise was quick to assure her. “I’m sure he’ll be back any minute.”

“Have you tried the station?”

“He got off duty a couple of hours ago.”

“Still, it might be worth a call. Just to put your mind at ease.” Alice knew what her sister was thinking: that he might have gotten into an accident. At least this way she’d be able to rule it out. If any 911 calls had come in over the past hour or so, the dispatcher would know about it.

Denise blew out a breath at the other end. “Yeah, you’re right. If he’s not there, I can always have the guys keep an eye out for him, if nothing else.”

“Call me back as soon as you know anything,” Alice told her.

“Will do.”

Minutes later the phone rang again. This time all hell broke loose.

Colin heard a noise and glanced over to see the dog settling onto his haunches in the doorway to the living room. Briefly, Colin wondered how he’d gotten into the house. Until now, Shep had refused to leave his post on the porch whenever he wasn’t keeping Colin company down at the cove. But in Colin’s present state of my mind, the thought barely registered before fading from consciousness.

He stared at the bottle of cognac in his hand. Remy-Martin. The seal on the cap was still intact and a fine layer of dust had gathered around the neck.
A shame to let it go to waste
, Colin thought. He twisted the cap, his senses coming alive with the crackle of the seal as it gave way, and poured a generous shot into the glass he’d found on one of the cabinet’s upper shelves. At the familiar sharp scent he felt a pleasurable rush, as if the alcohol were already insinuating its way into his bloodstream. He was lifting the glass to his lips when he happened to glance once more at the dog.

Shep seemed to eye him with reproach.

“What are you looking at?” Colin asked. “You’ve never seen anyone tie one on before?”

Shep cocked his head and let out a low whine. Colin felt a prickle along the back of his neck, and in that instant he could almost imagine that it was his grandfather’s spirit inhabiting the dog. And what would William make of the current situation? No doubt that his grandson was as much a disappointment to him as his son.

Colin’s gaze was drawn to the portrait over the mantel. “You, too?” he asked of the woman looking down at him, with her Mona Lisa smile and melancholy eyes. In the soft lamplight, she appeared almost lifelike, and he had the eerie feeling that if he had brought his fingertips to that glowingly rendered flesh, it would be warm to the touch.

Ghosts. The world was full of them, and he’d best make peace with that fact or remain doomed to a lifetime of stumbling each time he tried to get past his.
Here’s to you, my sweet,
he toasted silently, lifting his glass. His wife’s spirit he felt most strongly of all. Yes, Nadine would have understood about Alice. But she’d known him well enough to also know that it could never be. What could he offer Alice other than his legal services, when he scarcely knew what to do with himself?

The rim of the glass pressed to his lips was the sweetest of kisses, the sharp, fruity scent filling his nostrils more tantalizing than any perfume. He closed his eyes in a kind of swoon and was tipping the glass back when he abruptly froze. In a sudden flash, he saw what he was doing as clearly as if he’d been standing outside of himself, a neutral observer to the scene.
You can rationalize it all you want
, spoke the other, clear-eyed Colin,
but what it really boils down to is that you’re just looking for an excuse to drink.

With a trembling hand, Colin lowered the glass. Quickly, before he could think better of it, he dashed into the kitchen and poured its contents down the sink. Afterward, he stood bent over, gripping the edge of the counter, as weak as all the times he’d been sick to his stomach after too much to drink. He was filled with despair, not just because he’d come close to throwing away nearly nine months of sobriety, but because even now a part of him cursed the waste.

Disgusted with himself, he turned away and shuffled back into the living room, where he sank heavily onto the sofa. He knew he ought to phone his sponsor, but he couldn’t seem to summon the energy even to pick up the phone. He was wondering how he was going to white-knuckle it until the next AA meeting when a low, doggy whine momentarily distracted him from his thoughts. He turned his head to find Shep standing before him, regarding him with worried eyes. He nudged Colin with his nose and, when that brought no response, he pawed at his arm. Colin absently stroked him between the ears, saying in a weary voice, “Yeah, I know. I miss my wife, too. But it’s just you and me now. Misery loves company, right?”

The dog settled onto the carpet with a grunt of what might have been affirmation. Colin’s thoughts turned to Alice and how much fun they’d had today, particularly in bed—that is, until his dark ruminations had spoiled the mood.

The phone rang, startling him. For a moment he thought it might be Alice and, as he went to answer it, his spirits picked up.

But it wasn’t Alice; it was her son. Jeremy sounded in a panic. “I didn’t know who else to call. My mom’s not home and I couldn’t get a hold of my dad. It’s bad, Mister McGinty. Real bad ... ”

The boy’s panic had a strangely calming effect on Colin. He found himself saying in a voice of cool-headed authority, “Slow down. Now tell me what this is all about?”

The words tumbled out in a breathless rush. “My uncle Gary . . . he . . . he . . . it’s like he’s gone crazy or something. He’s holed up in there with his gun and he says he’ll shoot if anyone tries to come near.” He let out a groan. “Oh, God.
It’s like it’s happening all over again. Like when my mom—” He broke off with a choked sound.

“All right, take a deep breath and start at the beginning.” Colin spoke in a calm, reassuring voice.

Colin listened to Jeremy’s garbled secondhand version of the story, which he’d apparently gotten from his cousin Ryan. Something about his uncle’s going over to the mayor’s house and the two of them getting into an argument—that was the theory, at least, no one knew for sure—during which Gary had pulled his gun on the mayor, who at the moment was being held hostage. What would have been routine stuff during Colin’s tenure in the Manhattan D.A.’s office, one more act of desperation in a city full of people living on the razor’s edge, but which struck him now, in the context of this sleepy backwater, as almost too bizarre to be believed.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked.

“She and Aunt Denise are on their way over there now.”

“If I come pick you up, can you take me there?”

“Sure. I know the way. Just please hurry.”

The first thing Alice noticed, as they turned onto the private road to the mayor’s estate, was the patrol car blocking further access, its radio squawking and the blue glare from its bubble light careening off the surrounding trees and shrubbery. An earnest-looking young officer climbed out. From the manner in which he approached, one hand held up like a stop sign and the other on his holster, it looked as if he’d seen one too many cop shows.

Denise rolled down her window and stuck her head out. “It’s okay, Tony. It’s just me.”

His hands dropped to his sides and his face reddened. “Missus Elkins. Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” Somewhat apologetically, he informed her, “I’m afraid I’m still going to have to ask you to turn around. The chief told me not to let anyone through.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m not just anyone.” Denise’s voice was remarkably calm, Alice thought, given how upset she’d been on the way over. “Now, are you going to let us by, or do I have to phone the chief myself?”

Minutes later, after a hasty consultation with the chief on his two-way, he was pulling off to the side and waving them on.

After a quarter of a mile or so the road came to an end. Several more patrol cars were parked along the grassy verge that gave way to the more manicured grounds of the White estate. What looked to be half a dozen policeman were circulating about, and though there was clearly someone in charge—she recognized the chief of police, Len Chambers, a burly gray-haired man leaning against the open door of his patrol car, one foot propped on the running board, as he carried on a tense conversation over his cell phone—there seemed to be a general sense of confusion nonetheless. In the harsh noonday glare of the floodlights that had been set up along the perimeter, Alice could see the tense looks they wore as they conferred with one another in little huddles, the frosty plumes of their breath punctuating the air. It was obvious these guys had never before experienced anything like this, at least not on the island. Their gait seemed awkward and their movements stiff, as if even the Kevlar vests they wore over their uniforms had yet to be broken in.

Denise must have noticed it, too. She reached for Alice’s hand, squeezing it tightly, the worry lines on her forehead deepening.

As soon as he’d gotten off the phone, Len jogged over to them. “That was Gary,” he informed Denise, his squarejawed face set in stern lines. Len, paunchy with age and the mostly sedentary position he now enjoyed, made Alice think of a retired combat veteran, past his prime, pressed into service once more. “The good news is he sounded calm and coherent, so I don’t think there’s any immediate danger.” He placed a hand on Denise’s arm, saying in a gruffly reassuring tone, “Believe me, Denise, we’re doing everything we can to make sure no one gets hurt.”

“Let me talk to him,” she said. It wasn’t so much a request as an order. Len wordlessly handed her the phone. Denise punched the redial button and stood for a moment with the phone to her ear, then she let out a muttered curse. “Damn. I got cut off.” The island’s spotty cell phone service had never seemed more maddening. Not to be deterred, she thrust the phone back at Len, saying, “That’s it. I’m going in.”

The chief shook his head, his short gray hair bristling like the fur of some nocturnal creature caught in the floodlights’ glare. “I know you’re upset, Denise, but we can’t have anyone panicking here.” He spoke in a tone Denise herself might have used on a student who was being disruptive in class. “Now what I’m going to ask you to do here is to stay calm and let us handle this. We’ve got things under control.”

“Len, that’s my husband in there, so unless you plan on arresting me, I’m going in whether you like it or not.” Denise’s voice rose on a high, frantic note, her gaze sweeping
the floodlit perimeter as if she were already plotting her route.

The chief remained firm. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Denise. It’s too risky. It’s not just you and Gary—I have the mayor to think of, too.”

“For God’s sake, Len, I’m his
wife!
” Denise was near tears.

“All the more reason. Gary’s in a highly emotional state right now. If you go in there, it might just push him over the edge.” Len wore a look of profound sympathy. “I know you want to help, but trust me, this isn’t the way.”

Alice chose that moment to step forward. “Let me go instead.”

The chief turned to look at her, as if just then becoming aware of her presence. Now his gaze clicked in: hard, cop’s eyes. Len Chambers had been the arresting officer that long ago day when it had been her, not Gary, who’d been the cause of so much police activity. Clearly, Len hadn’t forgotten it either.