“Don’t make fun of my favorite show.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Anne kissed his cheek and promised to call.
Franny headed off to the parking lot. Anne walked up the street to the plaza, thinking some mindless window shopping would allow her brain to sort through the trouble with Tommy Crane . . . provided she could keep thoughts of Vince from creeping in. Easier said than done.
Preoccupied, she almost walked past Peter Crane without seeing him. He was taking the MISSING poster of Karly Vickers off the door of his office.
“Did they find her?” Anne asked, hopeful.
Crane stopped, poster in his hands. “Yes. The same way Lisa Warwick was found.”
“Oh, no.”
“But she’s alive. It’s quite a story.”
Anne looked at the photo of Karly Vickers on the poster in Peter Crane’s hands as he told her what he had heard. She looked shy but happy. Like everyone else, Anne had read Karly’s story in the papers. The young woman had fought hard to overcome adversity in her life. The gold necklace she wore with the Thomas Center logo of a woman with her arms raised in triumph spoke to just how far Karly had come. Now she would have to fight hard to just stay alive at all.
In light of Karly’s story, Anne was embarrassed to feel anxious at all about what was going on in her life.
“I’m glad I ran into you, Dr. Crane,” she said. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, and I would really like to clear it up.”
God knew what his wife had told him about the night before. The best thing Anne could do would be to set the record straight.
“Sure,” Crane said. “Why don’t you come into the office?”
He opened the door for Anne, followed her in, and locked the deadbolt behind them. Anne’s heart jumped.
“No walk-ins,” he said by way of explanation.
They seemed to be alone. There was no receptionist, no lights on except in the enormous aquarium in the waiting room.
“You’re not usually open on Saturdays?” she asked, feeling vaguely uncomfortable.
“Emergencies only,” he said as he bent to pick up the mail that had been shoved in through the slot in the door. For the first time, Anne realized he was in jeans and a denim shirt, and sneakers. “I came in to catch up on paperwork. Why don’t we have a seat?”
He gestured toward the waiting room where they each took a comfortable leather chair.
“The detectives asked me to ask a couple of questions of the kids involved in finding the body in the park,” Anne said, going straight to the heart of it. “The questions seemed harmless enough, but—”
“You don’t need to apologize, Miss Navarre,” he said. “I did think it was odd, coming from you, but, as you said, harmless enough.”
“Mrs. Crane didn’t seem to think so,” Anne said. “I ran into her after the vigil last night. She was very upset with me. She said I made Tommy think you might be a suspect. I’m not sure how he would have gotten that idea from me. That certainly wasn’t anything I was thinking.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Crane said with a charming smile. “People have enough fear of the dentist without thinking he might be a serial killer.”
Anne relaxed a little.
“Really, I’m not upset or offended,” he said. “Janet is much more apt to take offense. She’s had a hard time dealing with everything that’s happened this week. I know she’s been difficult.”
“I’m not going to try to tell you that isn’t true,” Anne said honestly. “We’re all in uncharted territory, dealing with the things that have happened this past week. Everyone at the school is doing the best in a bad situation.”
“I know that,” Crane said. “I think you’ve done an admirable job, all things considered. I appreciate that you take a real interest in my son, Miss Navarre.”
“Thank you.”
“As for my wife . . . Janet is a person who needs to be in control of her environment. She has good reasons for that. Obviously, I can’t elaborate, but she had to overcome a lot in her early life, and in times of stress . . . She doesn’t always handle that well.”
Anne had no interest in understanding Janet Crane. No matter what she’d had to overcome in her life, Janet was an adult and should have been able to conduct herself in a better way than she had. But she wasn’t Anne’s focus.
“I’m actually worried about Tommy,” she admitted. “I’m afraid he somehow thinks I betrayed his trust.”
“Tommy thinks the world of you.”
“I would feel better seeing that for myself. I would really like to be able to sit down with him and have a talk, one-on-one. I want him to know he can rely on me. Do you think there would be any way we could arrange that without upsetting Mrs. Crane?”
He thought about it for a moment, no doubt weighing the benefit for Tommy against the risk of incurring his wife’s wrath.
“I’ll see what I can do. Can I call you?”
“Of course. I would really appreciate that.”
“I’m sorry if Janet has made your life difficult.”
“I’m fine,” Anne said, getting to her feet. She felt worse for him and for Tommy. Janet Crane could attack her and Anne could still go home at the end of the day. Peter Crane and his son had to live with the woman. “My concern is Tommy.”
The buzzer at the front door sounded, making Anne jump. Crane got up and went past her. When he opened the door the space was taken up entirely by Detectives Mendez and Hicks. Mendez flicked a glance at Anne.
“Dr. Crane,” he said. “We have a couple of things we need to discuss with you. Would you mind coming down to the station with us?”
61
Dennis went into the woods, not from the park entrance, but from the back, from the service road. On the other side of the service road was the sheriff’s office. Where the good guys worked. That was what his third-grade teacher had told the class when they had all walked over, hand in hand, from school for a field trip.
Mrs. Barkow hadn’t known Dennis’s father beat his wife, beat him. Dennis had always believed his father was a good guy, anyway, that there had to be something wrong with him that he made his father so angry. He was bad, he was stupid, he was brain damaged, and his mother was just a drunk, stupid cunt, and she deserved whatever happened to her.
Maybe that was all true, but he didn’t think the same way about his father anymore.
His backpack was heavy with stuff he had taken out of the kitchen—cans of soup, tuna, beans—stuff he needed to live on his own. He trudged along, kicking through the fallen leaves, thinking of nothing but his destination.
The yellow tape had started to fall down, making it look like a place nobody cared about anymore. That was good. Then no one would come there and bother him. Dennis dropped his backpack on the ground and sat down on the rock where the dead lady had put her head.
It was time for lunch, and this was where he wanted to have it: in a grave.
Wendy didn’t go into the woods. She stayed in the park where the grass was mowed and there were no fallen
