“Okay.” Ryan pursed his lips, and Jake could see that was the last thing he wanted to know. He prayed Ryan could get through tonight and the next few weeks. Jake would never forgive himself if Ryan tried to hurt himself. He’d quit Gardenia and go on twenty-four-hour suicide watch, if that’s what it took.
“Anyway, Kathleen got everybody together and she got this idea where we would stuff envelopes for free to get the money for the T-shirts, and we all worked together and we had the money in, like, four weekends, all because of her.” Sabrina brightened. “And the coolest thing was that we all had fun, like we weren’t doing another stupid bake sale or standing out in front of the Acme, begging for money in front of an oaktag sign, like we were Brownies or something. It was like we worked for our T-shirts, all of us together, the way a team should be. It was a really different idea and she thought it up herself.” Sabrina stopped abruptly, her smile fading. “Except she won’t even get to see the gym bags. They didn’t come in yet. We got the T-shirts and the scrunchies, but the gym bags take longer. She’ll never get to see them… now.”
Ryan paled. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Jake. The only sound in the kitchen was thehuh-huh-huhof Moose’s panting.
Sabrina looked over at Ryan, her eyes shining. “Ryan, what do you think? Is that a good enough story?”
Ryan sighed heavily, but couldn’t even muster up a smile. “It’s great, Sabrina. Just great.”
Chapter Forty-one
Night fell hard and cold, and White Springs Road was congested with stop-and-go traffic, heading to the high school for the memorial service. Jake sat in the passenger seat, tense, while Pam drove them in silence. They’d exchanged pleasantries for show at home, putting up a false front for the kids, and she’d freshened up, drained a cup of coffee, and changed her shoes. She drove without looking at him, sitting ramrod-straight, her eyes fixed on the road.
We can’t go back, we just can’t. I can’t. I’m done. I can’t forgive you, ever.
It hurt Jake to be so close to her, in the familiar intimacy of her car, while she walled him off. He knew that she had to be dreading going to the service tonight, and she felt all the guilt and shame he did, but with an overlay of anger and resentment. He wished he could comfort her, but he was the cause of her pain. Their coats touched, but they couldn’t. He could smell her perfume, but he couldn’t kiss her. He was married to her, but she wanted a divorce. She had slept with someone else, maybe even last night. He felt heartbroken and furious, both at once.
The kids rode in the backseat, their heads bent over their iPhones and their ears plugged with earbuds. Ryan didn’t text at all, but listened to music, and Sabrina rehearsed her speech, whispering to herself like a nightmare voiceover, “… a tragic loss for the track team and the Concord Chase High School community as a whole…”
They stopped behind a long line of cars, plumes of exhaust floating into the air like ghosts. Jake tried to tune Sabrina out, but wasn’t succeeding. She was whispering, “… and she had so many talents and hobbies, for example, she was excellent with computer graphics and made a super-professional website for…”
They were almost at the high school, which was just around the corner. A dark van inched beside them in the right lane, and Jake looked over. Inside the van was a couple just like them, except the man was driving. A younger kid played a handheld video game in the backseat, his face wreathed in eerie green-blue light. Jake had checked every passing car to make sure it wasn’t the dark BMW, the detectives, or otherwise suspicious.
The traffic eased, and Pam steered right around the corner onto Racton Hill Road. Flashing police lights sliced through the black night, from cruisers out in force, parked on the curb. Cops grouped on the sidewalk, and Jake realized that they were just directing traffic to the high school. One motioned the cars to keep moving, waving a flashlight with an orange cone.
Jake thought of the detectives and worried if they would interview him again. Would they just drop in or call first? Did he need a lawyer? Did Ryan? Should he call Hubbard? Jake hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Pam alone yet. She would get a lawyer, probably a separate one from him and Ryan. And she’d get a divorce lawyer, too.
“We’re late,” Pam muttered under her breath.
They were only at the middle school, and Jake could see the high school ahead on the left, a long, two-story box of red brick, its continuous panels of windows ablaze with light. “Not very.”
“That’s not the point. Late is late.”
“So will everybody else be, in this traffic.”
“Again. Not the point.”
Jake let it go. He was trying to make it better, but that was impossible. They were going to the memorial service for a young girl they had killed, and they were ruined, guilty, and afraid. A corrupt family, bound by a secret crime. Bankrupt, despite the money they had. Nothing could be made better.
The traffic eased, and the car began to move forward. Pam exhaled. “Finally.”
Jake didn’t say anything. He could hear Sabrina whispering, like a prayer, “… Kathleen was an extreme loss for the Concord Chase High School community in its entirety…”
“How’d your Western Civ make-up go, Ryan?” Pam asked, tilting her mouth up as if she were talking to the rearview mirror.
“Fine,” Ryan answered, after a moment.
“How do you think you did?”
“Fine.”
“Really?” Pam arched an eyebrow, edging up in the driver’s seat.
“What, did you look on the Parent Portal?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“No. He graded my test already?”
