“THE FBI CHECKED the necklace for DNA,” Susan said. “They didn’t find any traces of Amy.”
She was with Danny, in the front seat of his rented Malibu, in a church parking lot on the main street. She sat as far away from him as possible, with her hand close to the door handle. She hadn’t been eager to meet with him in his car, but it was too cold to meet outside and she didn’t want to be in a coffee shop or some place where the media might recognize her. Here on the main street she felt she could jump out of the car and run if things between her and Danny got weird or scary.
“Of course they didn’t,” Danny said. “It wasn’t Amy’s necklace.”
“And the duck bead on the necklace didn’t even exist until seven years ago. It looked the same as Amy’s bead, but it was a different manufacturer.”
“Okay, good,” Danny said. He looked at Susan. “So we’re all done with this then.”
Their eyes locked. That’s why she’d come here. She wanted to just look him in the eyes. She thought maybe that would convince her once and for all that Danny had nothing to do with Amy’s death.
His face softened. “Look, I’m not mad at you. I’m just freaked out and hurt that you would think this of me.”
He paused, waiting. She realized she was supposed to apologize to him.
But it felt like her lips had been locked up. She couldn’t speak.
Danny said, “But I get the pressure you’re under. That we’re both under. We’ll feel better tonight after it’s all over.”
Susan thought about what would happen in just a few hours: Curt Jansen’s execution. She realized what was stopping her from apologizing. I’m still not sure about Danny. Even after everything Williams said, I’m still not sure.
She had been silent for so long that Danny asked, “Susan? You okay?”
She bit her bottom lip, so hard it hurt. Somehow the pain unlocked her and she was able to speak again—even challenge him, the way she wanted to. “You have to admit, you had some weird …” She stopped, looking for the right words. “… sexual things.”
He raised his eyebrows, incredulous. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She pushed on. “Wanting me to dress like a little girl.”
Danny sputtered angrily, “I liked fantasy role playing, so that makes me some kind of fucking evil pervert? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you still think I killed Amy?”
Susan couldn’t stop now. “You liked to give her baths.”
“Jesus Christ, I did that when you were tired coming home from the diner! What has gotten into you?”
“You were so cold after she died.”
“Are you kidding? I spent a year taking care of you!”
“But you never cried about Amy.”
“Sure I did!”
“Not after that first week. Not after they arrested Curt Jansen and you stopped being a suspect.”
“What, you think I was faking being upset?” Danny banged the steering wheel in frustration. She was afraid he was about to punch her, something she had to admit he’d never done; he had just shaken her hard, that one time. She braced herself, though he didn’t seem to notice. “Susan, that whole first year I was just trying to hold it together. I cried a thousand times, just not when I was with you. You were falling apart. You needed somebody to be strong for you.”
“Strong? You left me.”
Danny sighed heavily. “I’m truly sorry.” He started to reach out his hand toward her, to touch her shoulder or something. But then he pulled back like he wasn’t sure how she’d respond.
She wasn’t sure either. She’d either run screaming from the car or cry in his arms.
He said softly, “Susan, we both know, most couples break up when their child gets killed. People mourn in different ways. I couldn’t just sit there and talk about my feelings like you did. I needed to get up and do something. I had to get outta that town. I needed to …” He stopped. “I needed to forget about Amy, at least for a while. Or at least that’s what I thought I needed. I was dying, Susan. Every day I thought about jumping off that bridge in Corinth. Every single day.”
Then Danny started to cry. Heavy, heaving sobs, the kind she had never seen from him that whole year.
Susan sat there, not sure what to do. She was tempted to leave the car but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she moved closer to him in the front seat and held him. He buried his face in her shoulder.
At last he opened his eyes and sat up again. “Thank you,” he said.
She nodded. She felt so … She didn’t know what she felt. Her head was pounding. So was her heart. “I need to go.” She reached for the door handle.
“Susan, I want things to be right between us.” She paused with her hand gripping the handle and looked back at him. His eyes were wet and red-rimmed, pleading. “We don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again after tonight. Let’s go out for a drink afterwards, or just drive around like we used to when we were first together. When we were in high school, before … Before everything.”
She had loved this man once. She wondered if some part of her still did. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and got out of the car.
As she walked out of the church parking lot, her phone rang. It was her mom, so she didn’t pick up.
Then Kyra called. Susan couldn’t bear to talk to her either.
The noontime sky was dark gray. Susan walked away from the center of town, pulling her coat closed against the brutal North Dakota wind. She found herself on a bridge, looking down at the thin river she and Robert had driven over. In two or three weeks, four at the most, this river would be ice.
She gazed up at the barren hills looming above the edge of town. They looked menacing today, all their solemn anger aimed straight at her. In the distance was an oil derrick, all alone.
It’s not the same necklace. For the hundredth time in the past hour, she wondered: Does this mean I was wrong about all the rest of it too?
Her phone rang again. She figured it was her mom or Kyra calling back, so she almost didn’t look at the display. Then she saw it was Robert.
She hoped he didn’t hate her. She hit the talk button and said, “Hi.”
“Are you okay? Where are you?” Robert said.
He didn’t sound mad. But then again, he was a nice guy, polite, like they probably taught you at FBI school. Who knew how he really felt toward her?
“I guess it’s time to deal with reality,” Susan said.
“Where are you?” he repeated.
She told him, and a little later he drove up. She got in his car. “Thanks for picking me up,” she said, still trying to gauge his feelings.
“You ran out of the hotel so fast. I was worried about you.”
“I just wanted to get away.”
Robert nodded. “I don’t blame you.” He gave her a little smile, and she felt a lot better.
He asked, “What are you thinking? Do you still want to go to the execution?”
Susan wanted to just run away again. She couldn’t imagine she’d get any grim pleasure out of the execution as she’d once expected.
But she couldn’t imagine staying away from it. So she said, “Yes, let’s go.”
They headed back up into the hills. Susan would be so glad to get the hell out of North Dakota.
Though how she’d get back home with no money, she had no idea. There were limits on what she could ask from Robert. Maybe she would finally call Terri tonight.
Robert rubbed his forehead as he drove. “After this morning, that prison will be crawling with reporters.”
Susan said, “I am so sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
He gave her that little smile again. “You didn’t drag me. I believed the evidence you brought.”
“What do you think now?”
He took a moment to answer her. “I’m guessing Williams and his people did a solid job analyzing the necklace. So I believe them that it’s not the same necklace Amy wore. And that was the only real evidence we had.”
She slapped the dashboard with her hand. “This is so fucked up.”
“It always is.”
Was he teasing her somehow? “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been to four executions. There’s always something screwed up that goes on. Executions just make people crazy.”
“Then why do you go?”
“Because if it’s one of my cases and I don’t go, it doesn’t feel right. If somebody’s getting killed because of work that I did, I should be there and accept the responsibility for what’s happening to him.”
She gave a faint smile. “Wow, you’re a pretty deep guy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
She looked out the window. “I wish I had a cigarette. I haven’t had a cigarette in thirty years. Since before Amy was born.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really. I feel kind of sick.”
“The execution’s not ’til five thirty. And I’ve made it a rule: never go to an execution on an empty stomach.”
Susan couldn’t tell if he was joking, but she decided to take his advice. They got off the highway at the next exit and found a Burger King, and she discovered she was ravenous.
As they left the restaurant and headed back to the car, Robert said, “So what are you going to tell the reporters?”
“What should I tell them?”
“What you believe.”
If only I knew what that was, Susan thought.
An hour later, they reached the penitentiary gate.