A Welcome Grave

“It’s what they told me would happen. That you’d be the one to ask for the money.”

“Karen, you can’t believe I’m part of this.”

She didn’t say anything, just made another nervous step to the side, moving away from Joe, back toward the stairs.

“We were together for years, Karen. Remember that. Remember me. Then think about what they did to your husband. They tortured him, put tape on his mouth and—”

“I know what they did!”

“And you know me!” I shouted back at her, and for a few seconds it was silent, the three of us standing like separate points in a triangle, everyone afraid to close the gap.

“Do you believe I could have been involved?” I said. “Honestly, Karen, can you believe that?”

She was starting to cry, but she shook her head. “No.”

“Then you’ve got to listen to what I’m saying. They will ask you for money today, and they’ll tell you things about me, involve me somehow. I need to be able to talk to you. To communicate while we try to get Amy back. I’m going to need your help.”

“The police—”

“If I go to them, it’s a big risk for Amy.”

“That’s not what I meant. The police won’t let me talk with you. They listen to the calls—”

“We’ll leave you my cell phone, or Joe’s, something I can use to talk to you.”

“They’ll be here, Lincoln. The police will be in the house all day. They’re on their way now.”

“What?”

Her chest was still rising and falling fast with fear, fear that I’d put there. She glanced at Joe and then back to me.

“You’re going to be arrested. Detective Targent just called and told me. They’re sending someone here to protect me until they get you.”

“Arrest me?”

She nodded, but she also stepped back into the living room, closer to me.

“He told me a man named Donny Ward was murdered. The one you said told you those things about Andy Doran. They found his body last night. There was more money hidden in his house. It had your fingerprints on it.” She paused, eyes locked on my own, and said, “And my husband’s. It had both of your fingerprints on it.”

I looked at Joe. Didn’t say a word. What I’d predicted in our office had just come true. It was Jefferson’s money, and my fingerprints were on it, and now they could arrest me.

“Donny Ward,” he said. “Shit, Lincoln. We were at his house. He might have been inside then, dead. The neighbor saw us.”

I turned back to Karen. I held her eyes and tried to see her as I’d known her once long before, tried to show her myself as she’d known me. I don’t know if you can do that through a desperate look fogged with fear, but I tried.

“I did not do this. I did not kill your husband, or Donny Ward, or anybody else. They can put me in jail for it, though. Fine. I’ll let them do that. Turn myself in. But not until Amy’s safe.”

“I believe you, Lincoln. I’m scared, okay? I’m scared, and I’m confused, but I believe you. That’s why I’m warning you.”

I took a few steps across the living room without purpose. The numbness that settled in me at first after the morning’s call returned as I thought about Donny Ward and a stack of cash covered with fingerprints from me and Alex Jefferson.

“We’re on our own, Joe. We can’t go to the police now. It’s not even an option. They’ll arrest me for murder when they see me, and my story about Amy is going to seem like a distraction, a smoke screen. By the time they confirm that she’s really gone, too much time will have been wasted.”

A car pulled up to the house then. We heard the tires and the engine, and then it went quiet and a door opened and closed. Joe was closest to the door, and he looked out and said, “Cop.”

Karen’s eyes didn’t go to the door. Didn’t leave mine.

“Detective Targent or someone else?” she asked.

“Patrol officer. Young one.”

She moved then, a swift blur, walking past Joe to the open door. I watched her go and looked at the backyard and wondered if I should chance it. We wouldn’t get Joe’s car out of the driveway with the cop there, but if I made it out of the yard I could find another car, steal one if I had to, do what it took to stay out of a cell until Amy was safe.

“Hello,” Karen said, and then the cop was inside the house and it was too late for me to move. I turned to face him, and he looked at Joe and me, and his eyes went guarded and his hand inched toward his gun.

“Mrs. Jefferson?” Still looking at me. He was very young, early twenties, just a patrol officer, and unless he’d been shown a photograph of Joe and me he would not know us. I watched him and knew that he did not. He was suspicious enough to indicate he’d heard a description at least, but he wasn’t sure.

“Thank you for coming,” Karen said. She stood close to the door frame, using her body to hide the damage I’d done. “Detective Targent told me he was sending someone.”

“Uh-huh.” The kid looked uncertain. He was watching me as if ready to go for the gun, but Karen’s calm didn’t fit with what he’d thought of the situation, and now he was confused.

“This is John and David,” she said, pointing at Joe and me. “Friends of my husband. I asked them to wait with me until you were here.”

He squinted at her, trying to pick up on any sign of a lie, but she met him with a composed stare.

“You were fast, though,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am.”

We had a chance. She’d given us that. Time to get moving.

I walked up to Joe and gave him a soft pat on the back, nodding at the door. “Probably should get out of here, let the officer do his job.”

“Right.”

We walked to the door, and I expected the cop to stop buying it at any second, go for the gun, and radio for backup. Instead, he stepped aside as we approached.

“Thanks for coming,” Karen told us. “It meant a lot.”

I leaned down and embraced her, put my face against hers, and whispered “Thank you” into her ear before stepping outside.

“Good luck today,” she said, and she stood in the door, blocking the ruined trim around the frame until Joe drove us out of sight.

34

We rode in tense silence for a few miles, both of us watching the mirrors and waiting for the sound of sirens. Nothing happened. If he’d seen the door frame, she’d provided him with a convincing excuse. It had been a hell of a thing for her to do after I’d just lost my mind like that, kicking my way into her house. She knew me, though. After everything else, she still knew me. It was a small thing, maybe, but it had been enough in that moment.

“Donny Ward,” Joe said. “The poor son of a bitch. Do you think it was Doran? You told him about Donny.”

“Doran already knew about him. I don’t know who it was, and I can’t worry about that now. It’s about Amy, Joe. She’s the only thing. I meant what I said back there—get Amy back, and I’ll turn myself in and let it go the course. But I can’t go to the police now. Not to turn myself in, or for help. That option was just eliminated.”

“I know.”

“More of that damn money,” I said. “They’re throwing away a lot of it just to set me up. Makes it seem they’re pretty confident about the chance of success with Karen.”

“This was supposed to be the trump card. I don’t think Doran and his partner wanted to show it so early.”

“What do you mean?”