had married a man seventeen years her senior. But Deborah had never felt the difference in age. Greg had always been energetic and young. A free spirit through his teens and twenties, he hadn’t grown up until his thirties—this, by his own admission—which meant that he and Deborah felt much closer in age than they really were.
“Dad is fifty-five,” she said now, “which is not old, and he isn’t dying. Mr. McKenna was hit by a car. If that hadn’t happened, he’d be alive.”
“Are they gonna arrest you for killing him?”
“Absolutely not. It was a terrible accident in the pouring rain.”
“Like the night Nana Ruth died?”
“Nana Ruth wasn’t in an accident, but yes, the weather was bad.” The rain had been driven by near-hurricane winds the night Ruth had died. Deborah would never forget the drive into town to be with her for those last hours.
“Are they gonna bury him?”
“I’m sure they will.” There would definitely be a funeral, plus headlines in the local paper. She could see it—a big front page piece, along with a description of the accident naming those in the car.
“Will they bury him near Nana Ruth?”
She pulled herself together. “That’s a good question. Mr. McKenna didn’t live here very long. He may be buried somewhere else.”
“Why isn’t Grace dressed?”
Grace was on a stool at the kitchen counter. Shoulders slouched, she wore the T-shirt and boxer shorts she had slept in. She was nibbling on her thumbnail.
“Grace?” Deborah begged and, when the thumb fell away, said to Dylan, “She’s not going to school. She’s staying home while we try to learn something more.” Deborah tapped her laptop. Patients would be e-mailing. Taking care of their problems would ground her.
“I want to stay here, too,” Dylan said.
Deborah typed in her password. “There’s no need for that.”
“But what if they arrest you?”
“They won’t arrest me,” she scolded gently.
“They could. Isn’t that what police do? What if I come home and find out you’re in jail? Who’ll take care of us then? Will Dad come back?”
Deborah grasped his shoulders and bent down so that their eyes were level. “Sweetie, I am not going to jail. Our chief of police, no less, said that there was no cause for worry.”
“That was before the guy died,” said the boy.
“But the facts of the accident haven’t changed. No one is going to jail, Dylan. You have my word on that.”
She had no sooner given her word, though, when she began to worry. She had to force herself to reply to her patients: No need to be anxious, Kim, your daughter hasn’t even been on antibiotics for a full day; Yes, Joseph, we’ll call in a refill for the inhaler; Thanks for the update, Mrs. Warren, I’m pleased you’re feeling better.
The day before, when her father had suggested she call Hal Trutter, she resisted. Even now, she wasn’t sure if she needed legal advice, but she did need reassurance.
“Karen,” she said when her friend answered the phone. “It’s me.”
“Who’s me?” Karen replied in a hurt tone. “My friend Deborah, who didn’t bother to call yesterday, not even to say she wouldn’t be at the gym, and left me to hear about the accident from my daughter, who keeps trying to call Grace and can’t get through?”
Deborah was instantly contrite. She couldn’t answer for Grace, who loved Danielle like a sister, but Karen was her best friend. She would have called sooner had it not been for Hal, which was another thing to fault him on. But she couldn’t tell her friend about that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t phone anyone, Karen. It was a bad day. We were pretty upset.”
“Which was why you should have called. If I couldn’t make you feel better, Hal could have.”
Deborah cleared her throat. “That’s why I’m calling now. Calvin McKenna just died.”
Karen gasped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I don’t know the details. But I thought I’d run it past Hal. Has he left?”
“He’s on the other line. Hold on a sec, sweetie, and I’ll get him.”
Hal sounded nearly as hurt as his wife. “You took your time calling, Deborah. Any reason for that?”
Deborah might have said, Because for starters, you’re apt to take it the wrong way, but Grace had followed her into the den, and Deborah had no way of knowing if Karen was still on the line. So she said, “It was an accident. All I need is information. I don’t think I need a lawyer.”
“You need me,” he drawled, likely winking at his wife. Sadly, he meant what he said. He had loved Deborah for years, or so he professed shortly after Greg left, and no matter that she cut him off with, No way. I don’t love you, and your wife is one of my closest friends, he hadn’t taken back the words. School meetings, sports events, birthday parties—he took every opportunity to remind her. He never touched her. But his eyes said he would in a heartbeat.
It had put her in an untenable position. She and Karen had shared pregnancies, kid problems, Karen’s breast cancer, and Deborah’s divorce. Now Deborah knew something about Hal that Karen didn’t. Keeping the secret was nearly as painful as the thought of what might happen if she divulged it.
Hal had made her his partner in crime. She hated him for that.
“I don’t think there’s any problem,” she told him now, “but I want to be sure. I went down to the station yesterday.”
“I know. I talked with John. He doesn’t see any cause for concern.”
Deborah might have been irked that he had taken it upon himself to talk to the police, but she knew her father was right; Hal was the best defense lawyer around. And Hal regularly played poker with Colby, so his assurance carried more weight. Of course, things had changed since yesterday.
“Calvin McKenna just died,” Deborah said, “and don’t ask how, because I’m waiting to learn myself. Do you think this alters the picture?”
There was a pause—to his credit, the lawyer at work— then a prudent, “That depends. Is there anything you were doing at the time of the crash to suggest you were at fault?”
There it was, a golden opportunity to set the record straight about who was driving. She knew it was wrong to lie. But the accident report was filled out, and the fact of a fatality made it even more important to protect Grace. Besides, Deborah had repeated the line often enough that it rolled off her tongue. “My car was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. If they weren’t going to charge me with operating to endanger before, will a death change that?”
“It depends on what the reconstruction team finds,” Hal replied, less comforting than she
