the left side was crinkled like an accordion. He looked back at the driveway, noting the rise in elevation. He could see Barnett’s footprints in the snow and followed them with his eyes until he found the spot where Barnett parked to get out of the car.
Teddy opened the driver’s-side door, checking the automatic shift and finding it set in DRIVE. Piecing it together, he realized Barnett got out to open the garage with the car still in gear. Grand Cherokees were built like tanks. The heavy car must have picked up speed as it rolled down the hill.
He shook his head, picturing Barnett on the ground trying to get out of the way and knowing he wasn’t going to make it. For some reason, he thought about the tires that needed to be replaced on his Corolla again.
Teddy spotted Barnett’s keys still in the ignition. Pocketing them, he swung the door closed and moved back down the drive along the shoulder.
He turned and took another look at the blood in the snow. When he noticed the footprints leading across the yard into the trees, he became very still.
They shouldn’t have been there. There was no reason for them to be there.
He lit a cigarette, staring at the tracks in the snow and considering the possibility that he was imagining things. He wasn’t, he decided. The tracks came and went from the exact spot Teddy calculated Barnett had parked when he first got out of his car.
He looked back at the driveway, trying to account for all the different sets of prints in the snow. There weren’t that many, the snow fresh, and his mind was clear. He saw the Grand Cherokee’s tracks intermingled with a double set of tire tracks that could have only been made when the ambulance arrived. That covered the vehicles, and he stepped back to take in the different sets of footprints. He saw Sally’s moving from the house to the bloodstained area where the car ran over Barnett’s legs. Turning back to the spot where the ambulance had stopped, he noted two sets of different prints left behind by the medics. The space between the footprints were spread out, and Teddy could tell the medics had been running.
But the set of footprints leading into the trees were spread out as well. As he moved closer, he realized that whoever left them behind had also been running. What happened to Barnett hadn’t been an accident. Someone had shifted the car into DRIVE, goosed the accelerator and fled.
He felt a sudden burst of fear rise between his shoulders and touch the back of his neck. There was a light breeze moving through the yard, the leafless branches knocking into one another and rattling all around him. As he turned and checked his back, he gazed at the dark houses lining the street and couldn’t help being struck by the eeriness. A neighborhood dog started barking from somewhere in the distance.
He took a last drag and flicked his cigarette into the snow. As he picked up the tracks and started following them out of the yard, he examined each footprint with great care before moving on to the next. Although the impressions had been made on the run and weren’t perfect, he knew he was looking at a man’s hiking shoe. Measuring them against his own size-twelve dress shoe, he estimated they were a size or two smaller.
The tracks moved off the yard, and he found himself standing behind a tree. The snow was well packed, and it looked as if the man had spent some time here. He noticed a row of pine trees blocking his view of the street, and realized the man could’ve waited for Barnett without being caught in the stray headlights from a passing car. When he turned back to the house, the view of the driveway was striking and only twenty-five yards away.
Teddy stepped out from beneath the tree, following the tracks further away from the house. They seemed to move from tree to tree in the shape of an arc. As he looked ahead, the footprints cut back to the street before an empty lot.
He could feel the blood coursing through his body. It hadn’t been an accident. He knew it now.
Something in the snow caught his eye and he stopped. Something shiny.
He knelt down, brushing the snow away from the spot until he found what looked like a small shot glass. Pulling the scarf away from his neck, he picked it up careful not to touch it with his own fingers. It was a small shot glass made of Sterling silver. He held it to his nose, thinking the man had brought a flask to keep warm as he waited for Barnett to come home. Maybe he even needed a drink for courage. But as he took a whiff, he found the shot glass odorless and picked up the scent of Carolyn Powell’s sex still on his fingers. He drew in a deep breath, her image flashing through him and dissipating. For one night, they’d broken the rules and it had been wonderful. When he’d taken Sally’s call and had to leave, they’d scheduled a breakfast meeting before work tomorrow. The thought of being with Powell in any setting stirred the night up all over again. It had been worth it. Even if it would have to remain secret.
Teddy got to his feet, gazing at the silver shot glass as it glistened in the reflected light of the snow. He noticed three rivets in the side, holding the seam together. It looked old and valuable, the design, ornate. There were pictures etched into the precious metal, and he turned it in the scarf noting the depictions of tall ships and whales. The man who ran over Barnett had left something behind that told a story. A piece of evidence that looked as if it led somewhere.
Teddy heard a sudden whooshing sound from behind his back and turned. Something cracked over his head. He was stunned at first, the blow crushing him. He took a half step forward, but knew his rubbery legs were giving way. As he tumbled forward and hit the snow, he thought he saw the shape of a man standing in the darkness with his arms raised. The figure held something in his hands, ready to swing it down again. But it was only a glimpse made in a split second. A glimpse at something before the world started spinning and the lights went out.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Through the haze he could see his father picking him up out of the snow and carrying him away in his arms. His teeth were chattering from the cold, his bones shaking like sticks rubbing together in search of heat, fire. As Teddy considered the image, he thought maybe he’d punched his ticket out, and this was the view from the slow train ridden by the dead.
His father lowered him onto his bed, touched the wound on his forehead and left the room. Time was rushing back and forth, and Teddy found himself caught in the wind. He was twenty-seven, then twenty. When he jumped off the bed and ran to the window, he could see the cops taking his father away and knew that he was fourteen again.
They never found the money.
The accountant had murdered his father’s business partner when he was caught embezzling huge sums of money from the company. After Teddy’s father was arrested for the murder and later died in prison, the accountant finally came forward overcome with guilt. Still, he never told anyone what he did with the money. Facing a guilty verdict for murder and a life behind bars, he knew he didn’t have to.
Money had been a major issue in Teddy’s life ever since his father’s arrest. Every time he picked up the phone, it was another rude stranger with a harsh voice asking to speak to his mom. He could hear her answering questions with a worried expression on her face. Her answers were usually the same, even when she started working. “Next week,” she would say. “Next month.” Or even, “I don’t have it right now. Feeding my family comes first. You’ll just have to wait.”
She was a remarkable woman. It would take a few minutes after each call, but she always had a warm smile lying around. Always a good hug for Teddy and his little sister after one of those phone calls. Sometimes her hugs were too good, like maybe she was hanging on. He didn’t really mind though. Her cheeks were soft and he loved her long brown hair and the light, clean smell of her perfume.
They seemed to be eating spaghetti more often, Teddy noticed. And when he or his sister’s clothes wore out, his mom sewed them back together or ironed on patches instead of buying something new. At night, Teddy would often sneak out to the barn and watch her paint through the window. She could only paint at night and on weekends because of her new job. He knew painting was her favorite thing in the world, the thing she called her
Still, everything at home was a lot better than school. Teddy was no longer the son of a man who built
