He looks panicked.
“I’ll call you back,” he says, then ends the call.
I change the channel and the local newscaster fills the screen. She’s on the side of the road, the warm glow of the rising sun behind her highlighting the bridge that crosses the lake.
“The accident happened shortly after eleven last night. Authorities say the car was going at a high rate of speed when it swerved off the road, breaking through the guardrail at the foot of the bridge, and crashing into the lake. When asked if the driver was impaired, police said they wouldn’t have that answer until the toxicology results came back.”
The camera pans the scene and a wave of nausea rolls through me. The same car that backed out of our driveway last night is currently being pulled out of the water by a huge tow truck. And then the picture from the Derby party of James and the woman fills the screen.
“James Bernard and his companion, Lucca Marino, were visiting from Baton Rouge. Both were pronounced dead at the scene, and the Bernard family was notified shortly after,” the newswoman says.
Holy shit.
Then they cut back to the anchor desk. “Chrissy, this must be awful for Mr. Bernard’s family.”
And then Chrissy is on a split screen. “Yes, Ed. Mr. Bernard’s father is currently at home recovering from a fall, and his son, James, had come to help his mother with his care. They are asking for privacy during this very difficult time. We’ve made some calls to our affiliate station in Lucca Marino’s hometown of Eden, North Carolina, and we’ll be sharing what we learn about her on this evening’s broadcast.”
Ryan stares at the small screen with his hand over his mouth. His expression is blank, as if he is still processing what he’s seeing.
When the news moves to the next story, I shut the TV off. Ryan drops down in the closest chair, his head in his hands. I go to him, my fingers brushing through his long strands.
“I can’t believe this. We left things in a bad way last night, and now this. He’s been a fuckup his whole life. Getting into shit, stealing from me . . . but I thought maybe he was better. And then when we were playing around with that football last night, he asked me for money. I was drunk and I lost it. Told him I was done with him for good.”
I don’t say anything, just continue to stroke his hair while I consider how this could have happened and what it means.
“We need to go see his parents,” he says as he looks up at me. “Was she drunk? Should we have stopped her from driving?”
I shake my head, and it takes a moment for me to find my voice. “No. She had two glasses throughout the night. She was fine to drive.” I refuse to let him blame himself for any of this.
This seems to give him some relief but it’s short lived. He hops up from the chair like he was sitting on a spring. “I need to see his parents. His mom is going to be heartbroken. His dad too. Fuck, the cops are going to want to talk to us.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “We were the last ones to see them alive. They’ll have questions for us.”
He’s rambling, and I’ve got to center him. And hopefully talk him out of calling the cops. The absolute last thing I need is for the cops to know anything about me.
“One thing at a time. Let’s get dressed and go visit James’s parents. See if they need any help making the arrangements. We’ll worry about the rest of it later.”
He nods as he walks in a tight circle in the middle of the kitchen.
“Yeah, let’s do that.” Then he stops. “What about Lucca? Should we call her parents? Are you still in contact with your high school friend who has family there? Maybe she knows them.”
Deep breath in. Hold it. Slowly release.
“Let’s start with James’s parents. They may have already called her family.”
He nods again then sprints toward the stairs. “I can be ready in ten minutes.”
I drop down in the chair Ryan vacated.
Run.
Mentally, I’m hauling ass out of this town without looking back.
Breathe.
I need to think this through. I need to think about this as if I were Mr. Smith. Would he be willing to exert the time and energy it would take to groom her for this job and use the connections he’d need to insert her here only to kill her off just a short time after she arrived?
The only way that scenario seems likely is if she completed the task she was sent to perform and her usefulness had run its course. I don’t see how that would have been possible.
I came into this job knowing it was a test—not the first test he’s given me in the eight years I’ve worked for him—so I expected there was more going on here than I was originally told. The only thing that’s certain is that woman’s appearance here was linked to my boss’s displeasure over my performance on my last job, and now she’s dead.