Down River Read online

  “I’m sorry, Grace.”

  Then she was against me, still wet from the river. Her arms circled my neck. She clutched me with sudden intensity. Her hands found my face, squeezed it, and then her lips pushed against mine. She kissed me, and she meant it. And when her mouth settled against my ear, she squeezed me even tighter, so that I could not have stepped away without forcing her. Her words were barely there, and still they crushed me.

  “I hate you, Adam. I hate you like I could kill you.”

  Then she turned and ran, down the riverbank, through the trees, her white suit flashing like the tail of a startled deer.

  CHAPTER 4

  Some time later, I closed the door of my car as if I could shut off the world. It was hot inside, and blood pounded where the stitches held my skin together. For five years I’d lived in a vacuum, trying to forget the life I’d lost, but even in the world’s greatest city the brightest days had run shallow.

  But not here.

  I started the car.

  Everything here was so goddamned real.

  Back at Robin’s, I cut the tape from my ribs and stood under pounding water for as long as I could. I found the Percocet and took two, thought about it, and then swallowed another. Then, with all of the lights off, I climbed into bed.

  When I woke it was dark outside, but a light shone from the hallway. The drugs still had a grip on me, and deep as I’d been, the dream still found me: a dark curve of red spatter, and an old brush too big for small hands.

  Robin stood next to the bed, dark against the light. She was very still. I couldn’t see her face. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she told me.

  “What doesn’t?”

  She unbuttoned her shirt, then slipped it off. She wore nothing else. Light spilled through the gaps between her fingers, the space between her legs. She was a silhouette, a paper doll. I thought of the years we’d shared, of how close we’d come to forever. I wished that I could see her face.

  When I lifted the blanket, she slipped in, on her side, and put a leg over me. “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Don’t talk.”

  She kissed the side of my neck, rose to kiss my face, and then covered my mouth. She tasted as I remembered, felt the same: hard and hot and eager. She rolled on top of me, and I winced as her weight came onto my ribs. “Sorry,” she whispered, and shifted all of her weight onto my hips. A shudder moved through her. She rose above me and I saw the side of her face in the hall’s light, the dark pit of one eye and the dark hair that gleamed where the light touched it. She took my hands and placed them on her breasts.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” she repeated; but she was lying, and we both knew it. The communion was immediate and total.

  Like stepping off a cliff.

  Like falling.

  When next I woke, she was getting dressed.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey yourself.”

  “Want to talk?” I asked.

  She whipped on her shirt, started on the buttons. She could not bring herself to look at me. “Not about this.”

  “Why not?”

  “I needed to figure something out.”

  “Do you mean us?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t talk to you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Naked, tangled in my sheets. Put on some pants, come into the living room.”

  I pulled on pants and a T-shirt, found her sitting in a leather club chair with her legs drawn up beneath her. “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Late,” she said.

  A single lamp burned, leaving most of the room in shadow. Her face was pale and uncertain, eyes filled up with hard gray shadow. Her fingers twisted together. I looked around the room as silence stretched between us. “So, how’ve you been?” I finally asked.

  Robin came to her feet. “I can’t do this. I can’t make small talk like we saw each other last week. It’s been five years, Adam. You didn’t call or write. I didn’t know if you were alive, dead, married, still single. Nothing.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “And even with all of that, I still haven’t moved on. Yet here I am sleeping with you, and you want to know why? Because I know that you’re going to leave; and I had to find out if it was still there between us. Because if it was gone, then I’d be okay. Only if it was gone.”

  She stopped talking, turned her face away, and I understood. She’d let her guard down and now she hurt. I stood up. I wanted to stop what was coming, but she spoke over me.

  “Don’t say anything, Adam. And don’t ask me if it’s gone, because I’m about to tell you.” She turned to face me, and lied for the second time. “It’s gone.”

  “Robin . . .”

  She shoved her feet into untied running shoes, picked up her keys. “I’m going for a walk. Get your stuff together. When I get back we’ll see about finding you a hotel room.”

  She slammed the door behind her, and I sat down, awed again by the force of the passions that had grown in the wake of my flight northward.

  When she returned, twenty minutes later, I had showered and shaved; everything I owned was either on my back or in the car. I met her in the foyer, by the door. Her face was flushed. “I found a room at the Holiday Inn,” I told her. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it. “Hang on a second,” she said. “I owe you an apology.” A pause. “Look, Adam. I’m a cop, and that’s all about keeping control. You understand? It’s about logic, and I’ve trained myself that way since you left. It’s all I had left.” She blew out a hard breath. “What I said back there, that was five years’ worth of control slipping away in under a minute. You didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be tossed out in the middle of the night either. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

  There was no irony in her.

  “Okay, Robin. We’ll talk. Just let me get my bag. Do you have any wine?”

  “Some.”

  “Wine could be nice,” I said, then went outside to collect my things. I stood in the parking lot. The sky spread out, a low blackness propped up by small-town light. I tried to figure out how I felt about Robin and the things she’d said. Everything was happening so fast, and I was no closer to doing what I’d come here to do.

  I dropped my duffel in the foyer and walked toward the living room. I heard Robin’s voice, saw that she was on her cell. She held up a hand, and I stopped, realizing that something was wrong. It was all over her.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  She snapped the phone closed, reached for the gun in its shoulder holster, shrugged it on.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Her features closed down as she spoke. “I have to go out,” she said.

  “Something serious?”

  She stepped closer. I felt the change in her, the sudden rise of an unyielding intellect. “I can’t talk about it, Adam, but I think that it is.” I started to speak, but she cut me off. “I want you to stay here. Stay by the phone.”

  “Is there a problem?” I was suddenly wary; there was something in her eyes.

  “I want to know where to find you,” she said. “That’s all.”

  I tried to hold her gaze, but she glanced away. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know this: that was her third lie tonight. I didn’t know what it was about, but it could not be good. “I’ll be here,” I said.

  Then she left.

  No kiss. No goodbye.

  All business.

  CHAPTER 5

  I stretched out on the sofa, but sleep was an impossible dream. I sat up when Robin opened the door. Strain showed on her face. Fatigue and what looked like anger.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “After midnight.”

  I noticed all of the things that were not right: red mud on her shoes, a leaf tangled in her hair. Her face was flushed, with spots of brighter color in the hollow places. The kitchen lamp put
pinpricks in her eyes.

  Something was very wrong.

  “I have to ask you a question,” she said.

  I leaned forward. “Ask,” I said.

  She perched on the edge of the coffee table. Our knees were close, but we did not touch. “Did you see Grace today?”

  “Did something happen to her?” Adrenaline jolted through me.

  “Just answer me, Adam.”

  My voice was too loud. “Did something happen to her?”

  We stared at each other. She didn’t blink.

  “Yes,” I finally said. “I saw her at the farm. At the river.”

  “What time?”

  “Four. Four thirty, maybe. What’s going on, Robin?”

  She blew out a breath. “Thanks for not lying to me.”

  “Why would I lie to you? Just tell me what the hell is going on. Did something happen to Grace?”

  “She’s been attacked.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Somebody assaulted her, maybe raped her. It happened this afternoon. Early evening, perhaps. Down by the river. It looks like someone dragged her off the trail. They’d just found her when I got the call.”

  I surged to my feet. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  Robin rose more slowly. Resignation moved in her voice. “I’m a cop first, Adam. I couldn’t tell you.”

  I looked around, grabbed my shoes, started pulling them on. “Where’s Grace now?”

  “She’s at the hospital. Your father is with her. So are Dolf and Jamie. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Screw that.”

  “She’s sedated, Adam. It won’t make a difference if you’re there or not. But you saw her this afternoon, right before it happened. You may have seen something, heard something. You need to come with me.”

  “Grace comes first.”

  I turned for the door. She put her hand on my arm, pulled me to a stop. “There are questions that need to be answered.”

  I pulled my arm away, ignored her sudden anger, and felt my own emotion rise. “When you got the call, you knew it was Grace? Didn’t you?”

  She did not have to answer. It was obvious.

  “You knew what that would mean to me and you lied about it. Worse, you tested me. You knew that I’d seen Grace and you tested me. What? Did Jamie tell you that I was there? That I saw her at the river?”

  “I won’t apologize. You were the last to see her. I had to know if you’d tell me that.”

  “Five years ago,” I spat out. “Did you believe me then?”

  Her eyes drifted left. “I would not be with you if I thought you’d killed that boy.”

  “So, where’s the trust now? Where’s the goddamn faith?”

  She saw the rage in me, but didn’t flinch. “It’s what I do, Adam. It’s who I am.”

  “Screw that, Robin.”

  “Adam—”

  “How could you even think it?”

  I turned violently away; she raised a hand to stop me, but could not. I tore open the door and was through, into the thick night that held such perfect ruin.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was a short drive. I passed the Episcopal church and the old English cemetery. I took a left at the water tower, ignored the once grand homes that had decayed and been cut up into low-rent apartments; then I was into the medical district, among the doctor’s offices, pharmacies, and glass-front stores selling orthopedic shoes and walkers. I parked in the emergency room lot, and headed for the double doors. The entrance was lit, everything else dark. I saw a figure leaning against the wall, the glow of a cigarette. I looked once and glanced away. Jamie’s voice surprised me.

  “Hey, bro.”

  He took a last drag and flicked the butt into the parking lot. I met him near the door, under one of the many lights.

  “Hey, Jamie. How is she?”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Who knows? They won’t let us see her yet. I think that she’s conscious and all, but she’s like, catatonic.”

  “Is Dad here?”

  “Yeah. And Dolf.”

  “What about Miriam and your mom?”

  “They’ve been in Charlotte. Flew in from Colorado last night and stayed to shop. They should be here before long. George went in to pick them up.”

  “George?” I asked.

  “George Tallman.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jamie waved a hand. “It’s a long story. Trust me.”

  I nodded. “I’m going in. I need to talk to Dad. How’s Dolf holding up?”

  “Everybody’s a mess.”

  “You coming?”

  His head moved. “I can’t handle it in there.”

  “See you in a bit, then.” I turned for the door, and felt his hand on my shoulder.

  “Adam, wait.” I turned back, and he looked miserable. “I’m not just out here to have a smoke.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He looked up and then to the side, at everything but my face. “It’s not going to be pretty in there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dolf found her, okay. She didn’t come home and he went looking for her. He found her where she’d been dragged off the trail. She was bloody, barely conscious. He carried her home, put her in the car, and drove her here.” He hesitated.

  “And?”

  “And she talked. She hasn’t said a word since she’s been here—at least not to us—but she talked to Dolf. He told the cops what she said.”

  “Which was what?”

  “She’s out of it, confused maybe, and she doesn’t remember much, but she told Dolf the last thing she does remember is that you kissed her, then she told you that she hates you, and then she ran away from you.”

  His words crashed down on me.

  “The cops say that she was attacked maybe a half mile from the dock.” I saw it all on his face. Half a mile. An easy run.

  It was happening again.

  “They think that I had something to do with it?”

  Jamie looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He seemed to twist inside his own body. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it, bro? Nobody has forgotten why you left.”

  “I would never hurt Grace.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “I know what you’re saying, damn it. What’s Dad saying?”

  “Not a word, man. He’s gone into some kind of weird shutdown. I’ve never seen anything like it. And Dolf—Jesus—he looks like somebody hit him with a brick. I don’t know. It’s ugly.” He paused. We both knew where this would go. “I’ve been out here for an hour. I just thought you should know . . . before you walk in there.”

  “Thanks, Jamie. I mean it. You didn’t have to.”

  “We’re brothers, man.”

  “Are the police still here?”

  He shook his head. “They hung out for a long time, but it’s like I said, Grace isn’t really talking. I think they’re out at the farm, Robin and some guy named Grantham. He works for the sheriff. He’s the one asking all the questions.”

  “The sheriff,” I said, feeling the emotion move into my face: the dislike, the memories. It was the Rowan County sheriff who’d filed the murder charge against me.

  Jamie nodded. “Same one.”

  “Wait a minute. Why is Robin involved in this? She works for the city.”

  “I think she does all the sex cases. Some kind of partnership with the sheriff’s office when it’s out of her normal jurisdiction. She’s always in the paper. That Grantham, though, don’t let him fool you. He’s only been around for a few years, but he’s sharp.”

  “Robin questioned me.” I still could not believe it.

  “She had to, man. You know what it took for her to stand by you when everyone and his brother wanted you strung up. She almost got fired for it.” Jamie shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You need me to go in with you?”

  “You offering?”

  He didn’
t answer, just looked embarrassed. “No problem,” I said, and turned away.

  “Hey,” Jamie said. I stopped. “What I said before, about being glad to have a front-row seat . . . I didn’t mean it. Not like this.”

  “It’s cool, Jamie. No sweat.”

  I went in through the double doors. Lights hummed. People looked up and then ignored me. I rounded a corner and saw my father first. He sat like a broken man. His head hung loosely and his arms wrapped around his shoulders as if they had too many joints. Dolf sat beside him, very erect, and stared at the wall in utter stillness. The skin beneath his eyes had pulled away in pale, pink crescents, and he, too, looked reduced. He saw me first, and twitched as if caught doing something he should not.

  I stepped farther into the waiting area they occupied. “Dolf.” I paused. “Dad.”

  Dolf pushed himself to his feet and rubbed his hands on his thighs. My father looked up, and I saw that his face looked shattered, too. He held my eyes and straightened his back as if will alone could reconstitute a broken frame. I thought of what Robin had said, that my father wept when he heard that I’d come back. I saw nothing like that now. His fists were white and hard. Cords stretched the skin of his neck.

  “What do you know about this, Adam?”

  I’d hoped that this would not happen, that Jamie had been wrong. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t be smart with me, son. What do you know about this?” He raised his voice. “About Grace, goddamn it.”

  For an instant I froze, but then I felt the palsy in my hands, the disbelief that made my skin burn. Dolf looked traumatized. My father stepped closer. He was taller than I, still wide through the shoulders. I searched his face for reason to hope and found nothing. So be it.

  “I’m not going to have this discussion,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, you damn well are. You’re going to talk to us, and you’re going to tell us what happened.”

  “I have nothing to say to you about this.”

  “You were with her. You kissed her. She ran from you. Don’t deny it. They found her clothes still on the dock.” He’d made up his mind. The calm was a veneer. It wouldn’t last. “The truth, Adam. For once. The truth.”