Bay.
It felt strange to be driving through his town now without him, almost as if she were a ghost passing through his world.
She turned in another direction and drove down the back streets to Arbor Road.
Arbor Road was a beautiful, deserted, tree lined road that led down to the bay. Very few even knew about the road or came down to the bay. Clint had taken her there to run many times. It was perfect for jogging and clearing her head. And it was great to sit on one of the large rocks on the jetties when she got there. She could sit and listen to the sound of water splashing and decide what move to make next.
She parked under a tree and got out. The horror of having Ann in the hospital came over her in waves . She kept seeing Ann laying there helpless, reaching out for her hand.
The sweet smell of Wisterias filled the air, along with the salty smell of the water. Cindy took a few delicious breaths. It wouldn’t do Ann any good for Cindy to become immobilized. The best thing she could do for Ann now was to stay healthy and vigilant.
Cindy began to jog down towards the end of the road . It felt amazing to be moving again. The air caressed her face as she jogged by, reassuring her that there was beauty in life, that she could go on.
The trees on both sides made an arbor for her, supporting her along her way. It was easy to lose herself jogging, and forget everything. For a moment, she wanted to forget, too. Co-workers from her office kept calling. They missed her. Even though she had all the time she needed, they hoped she could come back for even a day or two.
Part of Cindy wanted to go back to work, pretend the world was safe and normal, resume life as usual, become one of the people doing errands in town.
Jogging now along the road, Cindy had a flash of desire not to stir up anymore mess. She wanted to believe Clint’s death was really an accident. Then she could spend time with Ann in the hospital until she was better, go to work at the paper, lunch with friends, take in a movie at night. She could get a lawyer to deal with Clint’s family and start her life all over again.
She jogged a little faster then, excited and scared at the thought. Ann was right in a funny way. Time would pass and heal her wounds. But what about Clint? Would his wounds ever heal? How could his life count for nothing? He deserved better. He deserved justice, and she deserved to know the truth.
And, besides, what made her think the killing was over? Right this very minute, she felt it was likely that someone wanted her dead. She’d been too close to Clint. It had to be messy having her still around.
No, there was no turning back. Her work was cut out for her, whether she liked it or not.
It was about nine o’clock when she got to the bay, and the morning sun was coming up. She stopped and stretched under a tree, and found a big, slippery rock to rest on. Just as she climbed up on it, she saw a figure walking towards her on the sand. He wore running shorts, with a towel around his neck and looked familiar and friendly. As he got closer, she was surprised to see Al, Clint’s best man.
“My God, is that you, Cindy?” he said, coming closer, breathing hard.
Cindy couldn’t have been more surprised. He stopped there on the sand, in front of the rock, looking up at her. “What in the world are you doing here?” he said.
“I went for a jog. Clint and I always jogged here.”
“Good for you,” he said. “Good. It’s amazing you can get back to jogging.” Then he looked across the sand and down at the water. “I want to tell you again,” he said, “how sorry I am, how awful. Everyone’s still talking about it.”
“Thanks,” Cindy said, covering her eyes from the glare of the sun.
“I mean Clint was the most extraordinary guy.”
“I know,” Cindy said.
“Boy am I glad I got to spend that day with Clint at the end of March. I keep thinking about it. We had a wonderful time.”
Cindy’s mind raced. “The end of March?” She didn’t remember Clint mentioning anything about spending a day with Al in March. She reviewed Clint’s schedule in her mind again. He’d gone to a conference in Washington, D.C. during a week-end in March. Other than that, he’d been with her. She’d had no idea that Al had been at the conference as well.
“Oh yes,” she said, “I remember, the conference in Washington, D.C.”
“In Boston,” Al repeated, “the end of March. We didn’t go to a conference, just had a great time.”
“Very easy,” she replied. She had no intention of letting him know that she knew nothing about it. Or that all kinds of lies were piling up fast.
“We went to the Grande Hotel. He must have told you.”
“Of course,” Cindy said. “There are just so many details to think of now.”
“Sure,” Al said. “Really, I’m sorry.”
Clint never told her he was going to the Grande Hotel with anyone in March. Despite the warm sun overhead, a long chill went through her spine.
Al knew Clint since they were kids. Cindy suddenly wanted to ask him about Heather Krane, but thought better of it. If she told him about the photo, it would spread all over town. That was the last thing Cindy wanted.
“I knew Clint for such a long time,” Al said then.
“I’d love to learn more,” Cindy said. “It’s natural to want to know about Clint’s life when he was young and growing up.”
“Of course it is,” Al said, “It makes you feel closer to him now.”
“Right,” Cindy said. “I only knew him a year before we married—”
“We all know that,” he interrupted. “No one could get over it. That family of his, they’re an interesting bunch. And Clint was their golden boy. They didn’t take too well to his girlfriends. Not a one of them. The guys always joked about it. We couldn’t believe they actually let him get married. We heard that you and Marge got along great.”
Al put his towel down and started stretching.
Clint had probably told him that. It was Clint’s favorite fantasy. She’d tried to tell Clint how hard his family was on her, but he couldn’t hear it, always thought they were getting along great. Cindy had thought it wouldn’t matter so much, once she and Clint were married. She couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been.
She was relieved when Al left and she could sit alone and figure out what had just happened. He and Clint had been in Boston for a day in March? What in the world was he was talking about? She ruffled through the few past months in her mind again. There was no question, Clint had only been out of town once, at the end of March to a conference on offshore drilling in Washington, D. C. He’d written a paper to present at it .
Something was terribly off. She got up from the rock, brushed herself off, and started back, eager to check Clint’s records and calendar. There had to be receipts from the trip, notes, memorandums. It was part of Clint’s job.
The minute she got home she went right into his office.
It was amazing to see how much stuff was packed into Clint’s drawers. There were also plenty of files in the unopened boxes in the back of the room that hadn’t been sorted out yet .
As Cindy ruffled through Clint’s papers she found different calendars from years gone by, all crumpled together. She put them in another pile, shocked at how messy everything was. She kept her records clearly and simply. When something was over, she threw it away. Her calendar was for this year only.
She waded through one calendar of his after another and finally, dug out the one for this past March. The conference in Washington, D.C. was written on it. Cindy sighed a sigh of relief. But then her eyes were drawn to the bottom of the page. There was a note in red ink that said his presentation had been cancelled. Cindy gasped. He’d never told her that. She scoured through this page and others to see any mention of Boston, or the Hotel Grande. Not a word. She was sure that Clint was gone that week-end, though, and that he told her he was going to the conference in Washington, D.C.
Cindy sat back in the wooden chair and put her head in her hands. A sharp pain ran through her right temple. There was no doubt about it, Clint had lied, perhaps again and again. She was suddenly frightened to go further. What else she would find? More than anything in the world, she had trusted Clint completely, and told him so many
