What Lincoln had just heard in that tense conversation between Sherri and Julie troubled him a great deal. Sherri’s personality had another aspect that might play against them: Catholic guilt. Sherri Platt did what she did for reasons other than a moral and religious imperative, and this left her vulnerable to suggestion. Judging by body language alone, Lincoln did not think it would take much poking for Miss Platt to crack like thin ice.
Back in his van, Lincoln phoned his employer and told him of the conversation he had overheard.
“Can you do surveillance on Sherri Platt?”
“I could bug her apartment,” Lincoln said. “But it’ll detract from the surveillance work on Dr. Julie.”
The silence that followed lasted several seconds.
“No. It’s an issue only if she goes back to Devereux. Keep your eyes and ears open, though.”
“Dr. Julie is not going to stop.”
“How do you know?”
“Gut feeling, I guess. She’s like a dog, that one. Latches on and won’t let go. The conversation with Sherri didn’t help matters any.”
“Does Devereux know Sherri’s lying?”
“Sherri isn’t too good at the conceal game, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What do you suggest?”
“If you want to give me a bump in pay, I can give Dr. Julie a good hard shove. A friend of mine doesn’t appreciate her efforts to free his son’s killer, if you get my meaning.”
Another beat of silence.
“A bump it is. I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”
“And if Sherri Platt suddenly sprouts a conscience?”
“There’s plenty of money to take care of Miss Platt if it comes to that.”
Yeah, Lincoln thought as he pictured the sun-drenched beach and the oiled-up women lying next to him. And it’ll cost a lot more than fifteen grand, too.
The day after her odd meeting with Sherri Platt, Julie saw Trevor off to school and then drove her Prius down the Jacob’s Ladder Scenic Byway all the way to the town of Russell.
She had the day off, and knew exactly what she was going to do with it seconds after the schedule got posted. When the Westfield River came into view, Julie parked her car in the same scenic pullout where she and Sam had stopped on the day of his accident. It was Thursday, November the tenth, and Julie carried with her a bouquet of flowers. She wanted something to toss into the river to honor Sam’s birthday.
She had spoken by phone with Sam’s parents earlier. It was a pleasant enough conversation, but Julie knew that with time, communication between them would happen less frequently, until it stopped altogether. Death had pulled her out of Sam’s orbit, and the lives connected to him were no longer tethered to her.
On the drive west, Julie could not help noticing all the drivers distracted by their damn cell phones. Some drivers were gabbing with one hand on the wheel and the other on the phone. A few she saw texting, and she swore one was watching a video and laughing. What could be so important? Her mind flashed back to the Civic veering erratically from one side of the road to the other. All it took was a fraction of a second to shatter so many lives.
Julie knew very little about the driver who took away Sam’s mobility and perhaps hastened his death. He was a twentysomething who had escaped grievous injury, but whose bright future would forever be clouded by a shadow of guilt. At least, she hoped he felt guilt.
A harsh wind blew in from the east and sent strands of Julie’s hair whipping against her face. Streaks of sunlight struggled to penetrate a thin layer of clouds stretched across a slate-gray sky. She had on one of Sam’s leather jackets, a pair of jeans, and a warm sweater, but could still feel a chill against her skin. Julie brushed the hair off her face as she climbed over the guardrail separating the pullout from the drop down to the river. It was a bit harrowing descending the steep pitch, but Julie made it to the riverbank without tumbling.
Movement overhead drew Julie’s gaze skyward. She looked just in time to see a flock of birds-sparrows, she thought-circling. The tiny black dots moved as one and they appeared to be engaged in a dance of sorts, swooping and twirling, the shape always changing, but never seeming disorganized. The changes in direction happened startlingly fast and Julie was amazed the birds could hold their formation at such speed. As quick as they appeared, those birds were gone. Julie felt relieved. They were magical to watch, but seemed strangely ominous to her, like a black cloud swirling above her head.
Silly to think of them as omens, Julie thought. Then again, she had been unsettled ever since her odd encounter with Sherri Platt. Julie purged that memory from her mind. Right now this was about Sam. She tossed the bouquet of flowers into the fast-moving water and watched the current carry the bright colors downstream.
Julie made a solemn vow to Sam to find out the truth. Was Dr. Coffey covering up two fatal cases of takotsubo? If so, why? And what about Sherri Platt? Why had she lied to Julie about Brandon Stahl? What could she be hiding? And if Brandon Stahl was innocent, how did that explain the morphine recovered from his apartment? Maybe it was a heart attack that had killed Sam and Brandon, or was something else in play? Julie imagined that swarm of sparrows had taken the shape of a Pegasus.
Julie heaved and puffed as she climbed up the hill back to the scenic pullout where she had parked her car. She chided herself for lack of fitness and made a second vow to devote more time to the gym. Maybe she’d follow Lucy’s example and take up running again. Certainly she would need to find something to fill the void now that Sam was gone.
Julie arrived back at her car a bit breathless and out of sorts. She turned around to face the river when she heard footsteps come up behind her. She whirled in the direction of the noise and froze. A jolt of fear spread up her spine.
Standing there was a man wearing a navy peacoat and a black baseball hat. His sudden presence would have been terrifying enough, but what truly frightened Julie was the mask he wore. It was made of hard plastic and was flesh colored so from a distance it looked like a human face, but up close it was smooth as porcelain. Holes were cut out for eyes, but he wore dark glasses underneath so to Julie it looked like two black moons were staring back at her.
“Turn around and look at the water again.” The man spoke in a raspy voice.
Another ripple of fear swept through her. She was alone out here in this weed-strewn pullout littered with bottles and bits of trash. She noticed a motorcycle parked directly behind her car, but the make, model, and plate were all hidden from her view. Julie did as she was instructed and turned around.
“What do you want?” Her voice trembled.
“I represent someone who doesn’t appreciate your efforts.”
Right away Julie suspected this was about Brandon Stahl. Her visit to the prison must have attracted someone’s attention. Julie contemplated hurdling the guardrail to slide down the hill to the river, but decided against it. What if he has a gun? Her heart pounded hard enough to make her feel light-headed and dizzy.
Behind her, Julie heard the sound of cars zooming along the scenic byway. If anyone driving even noticed, they’d see only a couple watching the rolling river.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“And you need to keep it that way,” the man said, still speaking in a low rasp.
Julie turned her head around enough to see the expressionless plastic face. The man grabbed her wrist and gave it a twist that sent a sharp stab of pain rocketing up Julie’s arm.
“Did I say turn around? Look at the river. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Julie snapped her head back and did her best to keep it together. The alternative could result in her body floating downstream. If he wanted, he could choke her to death inside her car or behind the little shed off to her left.