‘Nope.’ Jeremy rolled down his window. ‘Funny you asked, though, as he was supposed to come over to my place that afternoon. He called to say he couldn’t make it, that he had to help his dad around the house or something. Later on, I think around nine, he called from the movie theatre. Said he was going straight home after his shift, instead of meeting up to go out. He had one of those weird headaches he used to get. Always described it as like an ice pick in his brain.’
An ice pick. It sounded like a migraine.
‘I drove over to his house sometime after eleven to see how he was doing. Tim should have been home by then, but the house was dark. I figured everyone was asleep, so I drove back home.’
Erin’s ears pricked up. ‘I didn’t see that in the police report.’
Jeremy stifled a yawn. ‘I took my mom’s car without asking. If she found out, I would have been grounded till I was forty. I was going to tell the police eventually, but then the cops found Timmy, and I figured it didn’t matter.’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘Nah, no one was out. The rain was coming down in buckets. I did pass some lady on my way back into town though.’
That got Erin’s attention. ‘What did she look like?’
‘Couldn’t tell. She had a scarf over her hair. I remember the car though. A green four-door. Or maybe grey. Greeny grey. It could’ve been a Dodge or maybe a Pontiac, though I couldn’t say for sure.’
A green Dodge sedan. A chill ran through her, although there could have been a dozen green sedans in Belle River that summer. Coincidence, perhaps, but it might be something.
32
Manhattan, New York
June, Present Day
Across a stream of yellow cabs, honking and jostling along the rain-washed street, Erin spotted Ray standing in front of the Morgan Library. She waved to catch his eye, but he was looking at something in his hand. She’d taken an early-morning train into Penn Station, and with her brain still sluggish from yesterday’s meeting with Jeremy, and the long drive back to Lansford, she was finding it hard to stay focused.
Last night, Jeremy had sent her an email with the layout of Tim’s house. A draughtsman he wasn’t, but it was better than nothing, and she was hoping Ray would be able to fill in any gaps. Worn out from several nights of fitful slumber, her primary goal was to get through the day without collapsing into a heap.
As if sensing a shift in the air, Ray looked up and smiled as she stepped onto the pavement. Grey suede jacket slung casually over a shoulder, a lock of hair flopping on his forehead. As he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, his eyes sparked with mischief. Whatever had dampened his mood during their recent dinner had evaporated into the mist.
‘Find the place okay?’
She smiled at his concern. It was a few blocks from Penn Station, how could she miss it?
‘Coffee?’ He tucked the slim paperback he’d been reading into his back pocket.
‘Lovely.’ Considering how tired she was, a gallon would be welcome.
As if sensing her fatigue, he touched her elbow and guided her along the pavement. ‘The place around the corner’s got the best pasteis de nata this side of Rio. If you’re up for it later, I thought we could have a look in the Morgan. There’s an interesting exhibition on.’
How easy he made it sound. Breakfast. A stroll through a museum that epitomised old New York. Perhaps, afterwards, a leisurely lunch at a sleek bistro in Tribeca. It was the sort of charmed life she’d once dreamed about.
The aroma of espresso and toasted almonds greeted them as they entered the tiny coffee house, its glass case crowded with pastries, and barely enough space for three small tables. As they carried their coffees and a plate of the famed custard tarts away from the counter, Ray nabbed a table vacated by a woman in clattery stilettos, who left a cloud of perfume in her wake.
‘I’m glad you called,’ Ray said, pouring steamed milk in his coffee. ‘I must admit, though, when I imagined us going out again, it was to a place nicer than this. Dark wood, candlelight.’ He flashed a wan smile. ‘But something tells me this isn’t a date.’
She hesitated. Why burst his bubble? ‘Can’t a girl come into the city on a whim?’ She met his eyes over the rim of her cup. At some point she’d have to confess that what she really wanted from this meeting was to pick his brain about Tim. For now, it wouldn’t hurt to let him think this was a kind of date. Why shouldn’t they share a coffee and witty repartee like normal people getting to know each other? That she was lying about who she was would have to be dealt with later, if things got personal, but not today.
Revived by the caffeine, she followed Ray into the Morgan, oddly empty, and with the solemn atmosphere of a cathedral. Insulated from the noise of the streets, she breathed in the musty scent of the leather-bound volumes that were kept, like precious jewels, behind protective metal screens.
‘Sunday morning’s always a good time to come here,’ Ray said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘While the rest of Manhattan is out having brunch, we can have the place to ourselves.’
As they threaded their way through the vaulted rooms, Erin paused to lean over a glass case of fifteenth-century illustrated manuscripts, exuberant with splashes of blue and gold, bright as a harlequin beetle. In the next case, an engraving from the Book of Hours depicted in minute detail the laying out of the dead. An emaciated body lovingly cared for as it awaited the next phase of its journey.
Ray appeared at her side. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it? Carpe diem, and all that. I love
