Page 62 of Everything She Feared

Pierce thought a moment, then said:“The Searchers?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

“We were talking about Natalie Wood’s heritage, being Ukrainian and Russian, and some other stuff about race in the film, when you walked in. It was awkward.” He grimaced with self-disappointment. “I know I made you feel uncomfortable. I was wrong. I should’ve handled it better. I’m sorry,” he said. “Look, Kim, I’m a cop, you’re a cop. I don’t care about your gender or heritage. I don’t—It’s just—”

She looked at him, deciding if she should believe him.

“What is it?” she said. “Let’s have it out now, because you’re starting to piss me off and we need to focus on this case.”

Benton looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. A shadow crept over his face. He swallowed hard and looked down at the river rushing below.

“I’ve been a prick to you. I’ve behaved like an ass since you caught this case. Even now, I’m not handling this right, look—”

“You’re stating the obvious.”

Pierce looked at him gazing down at the river. She watched his face crease, watched him rub it hard as if coaxing another truth to the surface.

“My wife, Elizabeth,” he started. “It’s almost certain she’s terminal. She’s had a lot of tests, we’re waiting for results, so every message I get, I just—you know?”

Pierce exhaled, then nodded, letting him go on.

“I’ve been raging at the world,” he said. “Not giving a damn or seeing the point in anything.”

“I get that, Carl, but it’s no excuse to act the way you did.”

“No, no it’s not and I just didn’t care, you know?”

“Does Art know about Elizabeth? Any of the other guys know?”

Benton’s chin crumpled as he gave his head a quick shake.

“No one. Just our family. And now you. I want to keep it that way.”

Pierce took a moment to accept that, alone with her here, he was being sincere. But the sting of his behavior had not fully subsided.

“You’ve got to tell Art. There’re programs, benefits, counselors... You could take time off. Carl, you shouldn’t be working—you should be with her—”

“No.” Benton shook his head. “No. She absolutely doesn’t want that. We’ve been very private, practically said all our goodbyes. She wants me to keep working.” He shook his head. “Instead, I’ve become a bitter bastard.”

“You say her condition isalmost certain, which tells me you still have hope, Carl. Hang on to that hope.”

He nodded and looked away.

Pierce touched Benton’s shoulder and found his eyes.

The look on his face told her that he recognized the depth of the racist wound, even if unintended, that he’d inflicted and that he was sorry.

The look on her face told him that, while forgiveness would come, he was her partner now.

Benton nodded, cleared his throat.

“I think I know where you’re going on this.” He indicated the stones. “Let’s get down there.”

They found the safe route down to the river, the one used by everyone at the outset, from the camp supervisors to the investigators. The rush of the water was loud as they walked carefully along the craggy riverbank, coming to the spot where Anna Shaw was found. Minutes ticked by as they searched the uneven rocky ground, looking for something, something that would be easy to overlook. From time to time, they’d take stock of the rising cliffside, the broken branch protruding from it. Noting their bearings, they’d double-check their position on the rough riverbank.

Then Pierce found it.

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