He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, reopening them and gazing at the table where Bette’s and Garret’s glasses of wine sat.
“Do you have company?” Wes asked, glancing toward the cracked bedroom door just as Bette slipped away from the opening. He hadn’t seen her.
“Umm… no.” Garret walked back in holding Weston’s drink. “I mean, not now, but I did earlier. My friend Mitch stopped by.”
“They found Crystal’s car,” Wes muttered. “Did you know that?”
Garret nodded. “Of course. I was there for the search. I was surprised you weren’t, Wes.”
“They told me to stay away. The police. And…” He paused and sat up, downing the glass of vodka in one gulp. He set it on the table, not bothering with the coaster.
Bette saw Garret staring at the glass, fixated on the condensation gathering on the mahogany finish.
“I’m married. Did Bette tell you? They haven’t printed it, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Garret nodded, leaned forward and picked up the glass, swiping the wetness with his palm, and putting a coaster beneath it.
Wes cringed. “Damn, I’m sorry, Garret. I know you keep your stuff nice. I’m such a fucking mess.”
Garret peeked at Bette, who cracked the door open and mimed taking another drink. She pointed toward the kitchen and then back to Wes.
“You want another one?” Garret asked, grabbing the cup and standing.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Wes sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressed into his scalp.
Garret returned with the second glass.
This time Wes swallowed only half of it before returning it to the coaster.
“Bette told me you’re married,” Garret admitted, sitting stiffly on the edge of the sofa. “I was pretty angry and hurt too. I mean Crystal loves you so much…”
Wes screwed his eyes shut.
“I know,” his voice sounded choked as he spoke, and when he opened his eyes, tears ran over his sunken cheeks. “I ruined everything.”
“Why? Why did you date her to begin with when you’re married?” Garret asked.
“People don’t plan to start affairs,” Weston said. “Everyone thinks so, but it’s not true. They say they’d never do that. They say they love their husband, wife, children too much. They don’t realize that affairs come like a blast of fate, a shooting star, a thousand little moments, choices, accidents, creating this meeting, this chemistry. And once you’ve gone, you can never go back. But you believe in those first hours, days, months, even, that it’s casual, a one-time, two-time fling. And both of you are in on it. It’s a secret. Neither of you wants a commitment, so it will be okay. You can have this indiscretion, this once-in-a lifetime thing, and keep your wife.”
“It never seemed like a fling,” Garret countered.
“No, it never was,” Wes admitted. He picked up the glass and finished the vodka, allowing an ice cube to slide in his mouth. He crunched it loudly and swallowed.
“I fell in love. I fell in love with Crystal the instant I saw her in my class. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. That’s how powerful that moment was. It’s insane. I went insane, maybe. I couldn’t not be with her. And I knew if I told her about my wife, well, that would have been the end.”
“Then why didn’t you leave your wife?” Garret asked.
Wes blinked at Garret as if the thought had genuinely never occurred to him.
“I… she… she saved me. Hillary saved me when I was at the lowest point in my life. I’d been living like a vagabond for years, since my dad had died. I was addicted to heroin.”
He looked away from Garret as he said the last part.
“They haven’t printed that either, but it’s only a matter of time. Oh, and Crystal’s pregnant. Let’s not forget that part. Have you ever heard of a more sensational story? And then what? My professional life is over, my marriage is over and Crystal…”
“Crystal, what? Wes, do you know what happened to Crystal?” Garret asked.
Wes shook his head. “I thought she took off. She has an aunt or something in Portland. She has friends all over the country. When Bette started saying she was missing, I kept thinking she’d just reappear, tell me to fuck off, and apologize to Bette for scaring her. But then she didn’t. She kept not coming back, and I started to get scared because Crystal cares too much to hurt other people like that. She might have wanted to hurt me for being such a shit, but she’d never hurt Bette. And then they found her car…”
Garret shifted uncomfortably and snuck a look at Bette, who twirled her finger, encouraging Garret to keep him talking.
“I would never hurt Crystal, Garret. I would die for her.”
Garret nodded, but looked unconvinced. “Do you still do drugs, Wes?”
Wes widened his eyes. “No. God, no. I haven’t touched anything harder than booze in ten years. I quit cold turkey when I was twenty-one. I mean, that sounds like I did something, but it was Hillary. She’s a nurse, and she locked me in a room. She hooked me to a saline bag to keep me hydrated. She got me sober. I owe her my life. That’s why I didn’t leave her when I met Crystal.”
“But now she knows about Crystal?” Garret asked.
Wes nodded. “She knows.”
“And she’s angry?” Garret wondered.
Wes blinked at his hands, which he’d braced against his knees as if to keep himself upright.
“She’s quiet. That’s what happens when she gets angry, she goes eerily quiet. I spent a few days in Traverse City, but I had to teach, so I came back. The thought of returning…”
“Have you looked for Crystal, Wes? Do you have any idea what happened to her?”
“I keep going over it again and again in my mind,” Wes said. “When they found her car, I wondered if she killed herself.”
Garret sputtered and shook his head.
“I know, I know,” Weston said, holding up his hands. “Crystal would never, but I couldn’t think of any other explanation, especially because they found her car at Frasier Gorge, a place where we went together. I wondered if she was trying to tell me something, send me a message. But they didn’t find her body…”
“The police believe foul play was involved,” Garret said. “There’s nothing in Crystal’s life that points to suicide. Nothing.”
Wes leaned back. “Thank god. If she did that, I couldn’t live with myself.”
Bette glanced at the window behind her, shuffling quietly across the room to look into the parking lot.
Weston’s Wagoneer was parked in the middle of the lot.
Bette went back to the door.
“Keep him talking,” she mouthed, and pointed toward the window. She mimed opening the window and jumping down to the ground. “Search his car,” she mouthed and pointed at herself.
Garret shook his head, and when Wes focused on him, he turned his head to the side and patted his ear.
“Got some water in my ear in the shower earlier, darn stuff won’t come out.” He shook his head again and widened his eyes at Bette as if urging her not to do it. She ignored him.
She slipped to the window and undid the latch, sliding it up quietly.
Refusing to consider the height, she crawled out and held firmly to the ledge until she’d pushed her whole body through the window. She counted to three and let go, landing with a jolt on the grass. The impact reverberated up through her feet and into her knees, but she managed to stay upright.
Bette jogged to Wes’s car and reached for the passenger door handle. Locked.
“Damn it,” she cursed.
She hurried around to the driver’s side and, to her amazement, she found the car unlocked.