Never Come Back

Chapter Thirty-three

I remained frozen in place, one foot on the stairs, one foot on the ground. I might have blinked a few times or shook my head, like someone confronted with something that simply didn’t make any sense.

“My mother was only married once,” I said. “To my father.”

The man in front of me, the man whose name I still didn’t know, only smiled. And his smile looked self-satisfied and smug. Even as I said the words and issued the denial about my mother’s past, I understood that I was stepping out on a limb. I thought of my trip through her house looking for documents after my meeting with Mr. Allison. I remembered the lack of pictures from the past, the lack of mementos or artifacts that might explain her life to me.

But that was just because Mom was private, right? Or because she simply didn’t have much of a life before I was born?

She didn’t even tell me about Ronnie… About the police coming… About any of it…

The man’s smile loosened. “I’m sorry that I’m the one who has to tell you about this,” he said, although he didn’t look sorry at all. “I know it would have been better coming from your mother or your uncle.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said, my voice quiet from lack of conviction.

The man sighed a little. I was the thickheaded and exasperating child who refused to see the lesson right before her eyes.

“It’s all true,” he said. “Are you sure we can’t talk somewhere? Somewhere more private maybe?”

I looked down at the phone. “I’m calling my uncle,” I said. “I’m calling Paul.”

“You can do that,” the man said. “But he and I don’t exactly get along. He may say some awful things about me.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Gordon,” he said. “Gordon Baxter.”

Paul’s phone rang. It rang and rang and then went to voice mail. I didn’t know if I wanted to leave a message or not.

Then the man said, “Really, I’m happy to tell you whatever you want to know about me or about my relationship with your mother.”

Relationship?

The word froze me. My mother didn’t have relationships. She was married, yes. Once. To my father. But that was a marriage. It was simple and clear-cut. They married and they had children and then Dad died. And Mom lived her life until she was murdered. That was it.

Relationship? No, my mom had relationships only with Dad and her children and her brother.

I hung up the phone.

“Have you been to my apartment before?” I asked, thinking of the robbery. The man before me possessed the same short, squat figure as the man who’d brushed past me on the stairs the night my apartment was broken into.

He didn’t bat an eye. “I came by a day last week, but you weren’t home.”

“Did you let yourself in?” I asked. “And trash everything?”

“That sounds pretty brazen, doesn’t it?”

But you haven’t denied it, have you?

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“Your name was in the obituary online,” he said. “And you’re listed in the phone book. I’m a curious man, that’s all. Curious.”

I was in the phone book. As “E. Hampton.” Why did women think using an initial protected them?

I brought my foot down off the step again. “You can’t come in my apartment,” I said. “I don’t know you. I won’t be alone with you.”

“I understand,” he said. “But I don’t bite.”

“Do you have a car?” I asked.

“Yes.” He pointed to the street. “It’s that blue Ford over there.”

“Do you know the McDonald’s on Grant Street?” I asked. “The one by campus? It’s always crowded.”

“I know where it is,” he said. “I don’t live in Dover, but I’ve passed it.”

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” I said.

As I drove the short distance to McDonald’s, I called Dan. “I need you to do me a favor,” I told him when he answered.

“Sure.”

“I also need you to not ask me a bunch of questions about it.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice cautious.

“I’m going to call you in an hour,” I said. “If you don’t hear from me in an hour, call me back. Or just come to the McDonald’s on Grant. One hour.”

“What the hell is going on, Elizabeth?” he asked.

“Okay,” I said. I couldn’t just keep him in the dark. “I’m going there to talk to someone who says he knew my mother. I don’t know this person, and he might be a lunatic, but he might also know things I need to know. That’s why we’re talking in a crowded restaurant, and that’s why I need you to check in with me later. If you don’t hear from me, assume he’s an ax murderer.”

“Great,” Dan said. “What a relaxing hour this will be.”

“I need you to do this for me,” I said. “I know I can trust you.”

“You know I’ll be your loyal pup,” he said.

“Something like that.”

The restaurant came into sight. The parking lot was full, and through the large windows I saw a number of diners sitting at the tables. I wouldn’t be alone, not by a long shot.

“Are you sure you don’t need to call the police?” Dan asked.

I guided the car into an empty space. I looked around and didn’t see Gordon Baxter anywhere. For all I knew, he wouldn’t make the trip. He could have been a crazy coming out of the woodwork just to antagonize a crime victim’s family.

“It’s okay,” I said. “But make sure you check in with me in an hour.” I paused. “I appreciate it. Really. I know I can be a pain, but I need you to do this for me. Please?”

“Of course,” he said. “One hour. Got it.”

I hung up and climbed out of the car.