“What does that mean?”
“Maybe I don’t want to be defined by what I do. Maybe I’d like to be defined by what I am.”
He considered the response. “Okay,” he said. “Then who do you want to be?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”
She stopped and met his gaze. “I’d like to be a wife and mother,” she finally said.
He frowned. “But I thought you said that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to have children.”
She cocked her head, looking as beautiful as he’d ever seen. “What does that have to do with anything?”
The kids fell asleep before they reached the highway. It wasn’t a long trip back, maybe half an hour, but neitherAlex nor Katie wanted to risk waking the kids with their conversation. Instead, they were content to hold hands insilence as they made the drive back to Southport.
As Alex pulled to a stop in front of her house, Katie spotted Jo sitting on the steps of her porch, as if waiting forher. In the darkness, she wasn’t sure whether Alex recognized her, but at that moment Kristen stirred and heturned around in his seat to make sure she hadn’t woken up. Katie leaned over and kissed him.
“I should probably talk to her,” Katie whispered.
“Who? Kristen?”
“My neighbor.” Katie smiled, gesturing over her shoulder. “Or rather, she probably wants to talk to me.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Okay.” He glanced toward Jo’s porch and back again. “I had a great time tonight.”
“I did, too.”
He kissed her before she opened the door, and when Alex pulled out of the driveway she started toward Jo’shouse. Jo smiled and waved, and Katie felt herself relax slightly. They hadn’t talked since that night in the bar, andas she approached, Jo stood and came to the railing.
“First off, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you,” she said without preamble. “I was out of line. I waswrong and it won’t happen again.”
Katie climbed the steps to her porch and sat down, waving Jo to a spot next to her on the top step. “It’s okay,”
she said. “I wasn’t mad.”
“I still feel terrible about it,” Jo said, her remorse obvious. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“I do,” Katie said. “It’s obvious. You care about them. And you want to watch out for them.”
“I still shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did. That’s why I haven’t been around. It embarrassed me and Iknew you’d never forgive me.”
Katie touched her arm. “I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary. You actually made me realize someimportant things about myself.”
“Yeah?”
Katie nodded. “And just so you know, I think I’m going to stay in Southport for a while.”
“I saw you driving the other day.”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? I still don’t feel comfortable behind the wheel.”
“You will,” she said. “And it’s better than the bike.”
“I still ride my bike every day,” she said. “I can’t afford a car.”
“I’d say you could use mine, but it’s back in the shop again. Thing’s always breaking down. I’d probably bebetter off with a bike.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“Now you sound like me again.” Jo nodded toward the road. “I’m happy for you and Alex. And the kids. You’regood for them, you know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I can see the way he looks at you. And the way you look at all of them.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together,” Katie hedged.
Jo shook her head. “It’s more than that. The two of you look like you’re in love.” She squirmed a bit underKatie’s blushing gaze. “Okay, I’ll admit it. Even if you haven’t seen me, let’s just say that I’ve seen the way the twoof you kiss when you say good-bye.”
“You spy on us?” Katie pretended to be outraged.
“Of course.” Jo snorted. “How else am I supposed to occupy myself? It’s not like anything else interesting everhappens around here.” She paused. “You do love him, don’t you?”
Katie nodded. “And I love the kids, too.”
“I’m so glad.” Jo clasped her hands together, prayer-style.
Katie paused. “Did you know his wife?”
“Yes,” Jo said.
Katie stared down the road. “What was she like? I mean, Alex’s talked about her and I can sort of picture in mymind what she was like—”
Jo didn’t let her finish. “Based on what I’ve seen, she was a lot like you. And I mean that in a good way. Sheloved Alex and she loved the kids. They were the most important things in her life. That’s really all you have toknow about her.”
“Do you think she would have liked me?”
“Yes,” Jo said. “I’m sure she would have loved you.”
30
August, and Boston was sweltering.
Kevin vaguely remembered seeing the ambulance outside the Feldmans’ home, but he hadn’t thought muchabout it because the Feldmans were bad neighbors and he didn’t care about them. Only now did he realize thatGladys Feldman had died and cars were parked along both sides of the street. Kevin had been suspended for twoweeks and he didn’t like cars parked in front of his house, but people were in town for the funeral and he lackedthe energy to ask any of them to move.
He’d showered infrequently since he’d been suspended, and he sat on the porch, drinking straight from thebottle, watching people walk in and out of the Feldmans’ house. He knew the funeral was later in the afternoon andpeople were at the Feldmans’ house because they would be going to the funeral as a group. People clustered likeflocks of geese whenever there was a funeral.
He hadn’t talked to Bill or Coffey or Ramirez or Todd or Amber or even his parents. There were no pizza boxeson the living room floor and no leftover Chinese in the refrigerator because he hadn’t been hungry. Vodka wasenough and he drank until the Feldmans’ house was a blur. Across the street, he saw a woman walk out of theirhouse to smoke a cigarette. She was wearing a black dress and Kevin wondered if she knew the Feldmans yelledat neighborhood kids.
He watched the woman because he didn’t want to watch the home and garden channel on the television. Erinused to watch that channel but she ran away to Philadelphia and called herself Erica and then she disappearedand he’d been suspended from his job but before that he’d been a good detective.
The woman in black finished her cigarette and dropped it in the grass and stepped on it. She scanned thestreet and noticed him sitting on the porch. She hesitated before crossing the street toward him. He didn’t knowher; had never seen her before.
He didn’t know what she wanted but he put the bottle down and climbed down the porch steps. She stopped onthe sidewalk out front.
“Are you Kevin Tierney?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded strange because he hadn’t spoken in days.
“I’m Karen Feldman,” she said. “My parents live across the street. Larry and Gladys Feldman?” She pausedbut Kevin said nothing and she went on. “I was just wondering if Erin was planning to attend the funeral.”
He stared at her.
“Erin?” he finally said.
“Yes. My mom and dad used to love it when she came by to visit. She used to make them pies and sometimesshe helped them clean up, especially once my mom started getting sick. Lung cancer. It was awful.” She shookher head. “Is Erin around? I’ve been hoping to meet her. The funeral starts at two.”
“No, she’s not. She’s helping a sick friend in Manchester,” he said.
“Oh… well, okay then. That’s too bad. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
His mind began to clear and he noticed that she was about to leave. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I toldErin and she’s upset that she can’t be here. Did you get the flowers?”
“Oh, probably. I haven’t checked. The funeral home is full of them.”
“No big deal. I just wish Erin could have been here.”
“Me, too. I’ve always wanted to meet her. My mom told me that she reminded her of Katie.”
“Katie?”
“My younger sister. She passed away six years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me, too. We all miss her—my mom did especially. That’s why she got along so well with Erin. They evenlooked alike. Same age and everything.” If Karen noticed Kevin’s blank expression, she gave no sign. “My momused to show Erin the scrapbook she’d put together about Katie… She was always so patient with my mom. She’sa sweet woman. You’re a lucky man.”
Kevin forced himself to smile. “Yes, I know.”
He’d been a good detective but in truth sometimes the answers came down to luck. New evidence surfacing, anunknown witness stepping forward, a street camera catching a license plate. In this case the lead came from awoman in black named Karen Feldman, who crossed the street on a morning he’d been drinking and told himabout her dead sister.
Even though his head still ached, he poured the vodka down the drain and thought about Erin and theFeldmans. Erin knew them and visited them, even though she’d never mentioned going to their house. He’d calledher and dropped by unexpectedly and she’d always been home, but somehow, he’d never found out. She’d nevertold him and when he’d complained that they were bad neighbors, she’d never said a word.
Erin had a secret.
His mind was clearer than it had been in a long time and he got in the shower and washed and put on a blacksuit. He made a ham-and-turkey sandwich with Dijon mustard and ate it, then made another and ate it as well. Thestreet was filled with cars and he watched people walking in and out of the house. Karen came outside andsmoked another cigarette. While he waited, he tucked a small pad of paper and a pen in his pocket.
In the afternoon, people started filing toward their cars. He heard the engines start up and one by one theybegan to pull away. It was past one o’clock and they were going to the service. It took fifteen minutes for everyoneto leave and he saw Larry Feldman being helped to the car by Karen. Karen got in the driver’s seat and drove off,and finally there were no more cars on the street or in the driveway.
He waited ten more minutes, making sure everyone had left before finally walking out his front door. Hecrossed his lawn and paused at the street and headed for the Feldmans’ house. He didn’t hurry and didn’t try tohide. He’d noticed that a lot of the neighbors had gone to the funeral and those who hadn’t would simplyremember a mourner wearing a black suit. He went to the front door and it was locked, but there’d been a lot ofpeople in the house so he walked around the side and headed to the back. There, he found another door and itwas unlocked and he stepped into the house.
It was quiet. He paused, listening for the sound of voices or footsteps but heard nothing. There were plasticcups on the countertop and platters of food on the table. He walked through the house. He had time, but he didn’tknow how much time, and he decided to start in the living room. He opened cabinet doors and closed them,leaving everything the way it had been before. He searched in the kitchen and the bedroom and finally went to thestudy. There were books on the shelves and a recliner and a television. In the corner, he spotted a small filecabinet.
He went to the file cabinet and opened it. Quickly, he scanned the tabs. He found a file labeled KATIE and pulled itout, opened it, and examined what was inside. There was a newspaper article—it turns out that she’d drownedafter breaking through the ice of a local pond—and there were pictures of her that had been taken at school. Inher graduation photo, she looked remarkably like Erin. In the back of the file, he found an envelope. He opened itand found an old report card. On the front of the envelope was a social security number, and he took the pad ofpaper and his pen and wrote it down. He didn’t find the social security card, but he had the number. The birthcertificate was a copy, though it was wrinkled and worn, as if someone had crumpled it up and then tried to flattenit again.
He had what he needed and he left the house. As soon as he reached home he called the officer from the otherprecinct, the one who was sleeping with the babysitter. The following day, he received a call in return.
Katie Feldman had recently been issued a driver’s license, with an address listed in Southport, North Carolina.
Kevin hung up the phone without another word, knowing he’d found her.
Erin.
31
Remnants of a tropical storm blew through Southport, rain falling most of the afternoon and into the evening.
Katie worked the lunch shift, but the weather kept the restaurant only half full and Ivan let her leave early. She hadborrowed the jeep and after spending an hour at the library, she’d dropped it off at the store. When Alex drove herhome, she’d invited him to come by later with the kids for dinner.
She’d been on edge the rest of the afternoon. She wanted to believe it had something to do with the weather,but as she stood at her kitchen window, watching the branches bend in the wind and rain falling in sheets, sheknew it had more to do with the uneasy feeling that everything in her life these days seemed almost too perfect.
Her relationship with Alex and the afternoons she spent with the kids filled a void she hadn’t known existed, butshe’d learned long ago that nothing wonderful lasted forever. Joy was as fleeting as a shooting star that crossedthe evening sky, ready to blink out at any moment.
Earlier that day, at the library, she’d perused the Boston Globeonline at one of the computers and had comeacross Gladys Feldman’s obituary. She’d known Gladys was ill, had known about her terminal diagnosis ofcancer before she left. Even though she’d been checking the Boston obituaries regularly, the sparse descriptionof her life and survivors struck her with unexpected force.