Page 50 of Death in the Family
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you’re as crazy as he is.”
I dropped my hand to my side. “Carson’s a psychologist. He’s dedicated his life to helping people who’ve endured unspeakable things, suffered in ways you can’t imagine.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Long enough,” I said.
“Long enough to know Carson’s favorite pastime as a kid was pinning all his transgressions on me?” Tim’s body went rigid and he closed his eyes. When they opened he fixed me with a cold stare. “When Carson stole money from my mom’s purse, I got the blame. He egged the school, and I got suspended. I was with him when he set a porta potty on fire just for kicks. As luck would have it, a cop drove by. When we ran, Carson tripped me so I’d be the one who got caught.”
I thought back to breakfast, Carson laughing at that same memory. Except it wasn’t the same, not at all.
Tim’s hands were fists, his knuckles white. Even sheltered as he was by the overhang of the boathouse roof, his wet clothes whipped in the wind. “The town tried to charge me with second-degree arson. My parents had to hire an attorney. They spent half their savings to get me off the hook, and if they hadn’t there’s no way I could have joined the force. Carson tried to ruin my life, and almost succeeded. And the crazy thing is he acted like nothing happened, like we were still best buds. My parents had the school put me in a different class. I worked my ass off avoiding him all through high school, couldn’t wait until graduation. The day I heard he was moving to New York was one of the happiest of mylife, because I thought I’d never have to see that shithead ever again.”
I told myself the nausea I felt was due to the smell, all those fish left to rot. Carson’s family had told me stories about his childhood. Everyone described him as a good kid who loved to help others, a healer to the core. “That’s ridiculous. You and Carson were friends.”
“Ithoughtwe were friends. I wanted us to be. I didn’t have a lot of them back then. He was a conniving jerk, and I was a tool. Carson’s a user, Shana. You’re lucky he hasn’t done the same to you.”
He’s not a good person. Please believe me. It’s the truth. “But he wanted to invite you to our wedding,” I said, still refusing to accept it, still fighting. “It was his idea.”
“Of course it was. He’s still playing mind games, even now. If there’s a way to humiliate me, he’ll find it.” The toe of Tim’s boot made contact with a stone and he sent it flying toward the river. It disappeared into the mist. “He called me when he moved back to town, you know that? ‘Heard you’re a cop,’ he said. He told me he was marrying a detective from the city, made sure to stress how inconsequential my life is compared to his. ‘My girl left the NYPD for me,’ he said, ‘but hey, don’t worry, Timmy, maybe you’ll find a lonely cashier and settle down in a nice backcountry trailer park.’”
My legs felt weak. Tim gave me a pitying look. “All of this comes as a complete shock, doesn’t it? Classic Carson.”
I pictured Carson the way he’d looked that morning. Thought back to our early days together, when he was my appointed therapist. We’d been dating less than a year, but I knew him, didn’t I? I couldn’t imagine him concealing this from me.
Can’t you?I asked myself.What about the secret you’ve been keeping from him?
“You want proof?” Tim said. “Talk to the other kids in our class. Interview my parents, for all I care—and when you get home, be sure to ask Carson about Moonshine Phil.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just another person Carson screwed over. I finally realized where I know Norton from. When I saw him with that wine bottle, I remembered. Back in high school Carson used to filch booze from my folks. They found out, they hid the bottles, I lost my driving privileges—but Carson wasn’t about to give up. He found a new supplier, a guy who worked at the liquor store in town. Moonshine Phil—that’s what Carson used to call him. He thought Norton was a dumb hick and saw his chance to take advantage.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve known Norton since you were a kid?”
“I wouldn’t say I knew him. He and Carson had a business relationship. I was just the errand boy. Carson threw him a few extra bucks, Norton sold us cheap liquor through the back door—but Carson realized he could turn around and sell it to our friends at a markup. It wasn’t long before Norton’s boss found out and he got canned. Guess we know where he went to work after that.”
I felt stunned and sick to my stomach. The person Tim was describing sounded nothing like the Carson I knew. Tim’s childhood friend was manipulative and cruel. Carson couldn’t be that person now... could he?
“Look,” Tim said with a sigh, “I don’t expect you to side with me on this. Think whatever you want. But right now we’re working this case together, and we have to finish it.”
“I can’t.” Hike back up to the house to face that family? The idea was unbearable. I needed time to process what Tim said, tomake sense of the huge warning sign he just slapped on my future. “If you want to stay, stay. I’m going home.”
“And how do you plan to do that? You don’t know how to drive the boat. You couldn’t get back in the best of weather, let alone this.”
“The thing is, Tim, I don’t need your permission. Give me the keys.”
“The hell I will.”
Again I felt along the wall for the light I knew must be there. Tim reached for my arm, and this time he caught it.
“That scene up there?” He nodded at the house and water flew from his hair in a perfect arc. “That was not okay. Pulling a weapon on a witness? Walking out on a roomful of volatile people? You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Shana, or you’re going to get us both killed.”
I was shaking so hard my teeth hurt. Tim unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off to reveal a white undershirt, and handed it to me. Robotically, I slipped in my arms and folded the shirt over my bare chest. Even sopping wet, it was warm against my skin.
“Tell me what’s going on. You owe me that. And if you still want to leave afterward,” he said, “I’ll take you back to shore myself.”
