Here’s what Seth knew:
The call that morning came in from one Allen Perry Crane, who was out walking his dog and happened to see a broken pane of glass in the Barrens’ front door. When he went up to check on it, he could see someone lying in the hallway, only one bare foot visible. They didn’t respond when he called out to them. Officers arrived on the scene and discovered David Barren deceased from a single gunshot wound to the chest.
“Point-blank through the heart,” Kel said, finishing her beer. I got her another.
Rewind the tape. The prior day’s timeline leading up to David’s death went something like this:
Rachel was seen at the farmers market midmorning, as well as at the local grocery store in the early afternoon. Her car was spotted pulling into the church parking lot by another mom later, assumedly picking up the boys after school. If she returned home at any point after that, no one saw her or the kids.
David worked late that evening, arriving home at approximately seven thirty, according to a different neighbor who’d witnessed him pull into the driveway. He didn’t leave the house again, from what the authorities could tell.
A break-in occurred sometime after midnight, the perpetrator gaining access by smashing the pane of glass in the front door and opening the lock. David had failed to arm the security system, so there was no alarm. Seth’s source told him it appeared like a burglary gone wrong. David’s office was in disarray, and so far it looked like some cash and jewelry were missing.
I could see it happening like one of the scenes I’d written about. David waking to a noise and climbing out of the bed to investigate, maybe grabbing some kind of weapon along the way. He surprises the intruder or vice versa, and the gun goes off. David falls to the floor, the life draining from him as the murderer flees the scene.
Kel said time of death was around two in the morning.
So I’d heard the gunshot. Dad probably had too. Which meant whoever Dad had seen driving away had most likely been the killer, and he couldn’t remember who it was.
I don’t know why I ever thought mysteries were satisfying, to write or read. They were pure frustration.
“So Seth didn’t say there was any sign Rachel and the boys were taken?”
“No. Again, no one’s sure they even came home at all.” Kel stood and moved to the kitchen, and I followed.
“But they haven’t heard from her.”
“Nope. The police are set up at her parents’ place in case it’s some sort of ransom situation, though.” She gathered the ingredients for stir-fry while I sipped my beer and watched Dad toss a Frisbee to Emmy and Alicia.
A ransom. Demands. Do as I say or else.
Deep breath. In. Out.
“You okay?” Kel had paused chopping up carrots to stare at me.
“Yeah.”
“All this isn’t research for a book, is it?”
“No.”
“And you’ll tell me at some point?”
“Yes.” She went back to chopping. “Did Seth say anything about David’s business partner?” I asked.
“Oh shit, almost forgot. Yeah, that’s another really weird thing. So there hasn’t been a final word on it yet, but it looks like someone tried making Ryan’s death look like a suicide.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Seth’s source said everything looked like he’d killed himself—lots of alcohol in his system, gunshot to the head and whatnot, but the angle was a little off and there wasn’t as much gunpowder residue on his hand as there should’ve been. Seth said he thinks it’s going to eventually be ruled a homicide. He’s writing the story tonight. Be in tomorrow’s paper.”
My head was filled with links of a chain, and it seemed to stretch back to the moment I’d made Rachel laugh. That end was in sunlight, topside, while the other stretched off into the darkness of an ocean trench.
I’d have to dive down to find where it led.
10
We ate stir-fry. The girls laughed. Dad told a few stories. Kel and I drank beer.
Nice night. Nice, normal night on the Loop.
I couldn’t keep from glancing out the windows as the sunlight drained from the day. When it was dark, I walked Kel and the girls out on the way to my house. Kel asked about Dad’s birthday. It was only a few days away. I told her we’d do something small, a get-together like tonight—he enjoyed that. Maybe a Yankees game later in the month.
“How’s he been lately?” she asked.
“Fairly good.” And other than the shovel incident and potentially misidentifying a murderer, it was the truth. I knew rougher seas were coming, but for now we should enjoy the calm days. Soak them up. She agreed.