My Sister, Myself. Alice Sharpe
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“I refused to help her,” Ryan said, his voice ragged. “I refused. My career was on the line. I was Matt’s partner and Matt was crooked, ergo, I was suspect, an internal investigation was probing into both of us. I think Matt sent me off chasing phantoms that night not only to get me out of the way but to make sure I had an alibi. Anyway, the department told me to stay far away from this case. The Lingfords are a prominent family in the community despite the rumors of shady dealings, and the D.A. is unwilling to point a finger in their direction until there’s proof. Vince Desota hasn’t made a single move to indicate guilt, but sooner or later—if he’s guilty—he’s bound to let something slip to someone, and the detective on this case has his ear close to the ground. Plus there are other people connected with the family. Or it could have been an attempted art heist, the fire a diversion that went awry. I told Katie to be patient and trust the system.”
He stopped talking as he touched her elbow and guided her around another corner. The wind hit with renewed ferocity, blowing open Tess’s coat, biting through the silk blouse. A hotel lobby opening to the street lay a few steps ahead. Ryan pushed open the door. She paused only a second before sidling past him.
The steamy heat of the lobby hit her with a bang. She stopped and took a deep breath.
“There’s a bar over in the corner,” he said, taking her elbow and steering her toward the lounge as he spoke. “We’ll get something hot to drink.”
He chose a small, round table and as she took off her wet coat, longing for a towel to pat dry her hair, he went to the bar and came back with two stemmed glass mugs of Irish coffee, the cream floating on top like melted clouds.
They both wrapped their hands around the hot glasses and breathed in the fragrant brew.
“What happened next?” she asked.
He picked up the conversation as though it hadn’t been interrupted for several minutes and said, “Your sister said she understood.”
“Just like that?” The thought flashed across Tess’s mind that Katie wouldn’t have given up that easily. Tess knew she wouldn’t have.
“Just like that. I was relieved. But when I tried to call her the next week, her number had been disconnected and there was no new listing. I went by her place and found that she’d moved out the week before. Ditto at the latest place she told me she’d been working, a lounge out at the city limits.”
“A lounge?”
“She tends bar. Hell, she does lots of different things. Your dad said she couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted.”
Tess sat there and tried to absorb this. She’d spent her entire life knowing exactly what she wanted to do. The idea that someone who looked just like her could be so different was startling.
“Anyway, they said she left their employ the same day she left her apartment. Still, there didn’t seem to be any cause for alarm. She’d just lost her dad in a terrible way, so I figured she needed to go off by herself for a while.”
Tess took a sip of whiskey-laced coffee, licked the cream off her upper lip and wrapped her hands back around the glass mug. The alcohol spread through her body, melting icy niches with heady warmth. “I don’t understand why you think you’re to blame for her accident. I mean, obviously she went away to think and then came back to New Harbor—”
“I should have known she gave in too easy. Katie was passionate about your father’s innocence.”
“Ryan, I’m still not understanding—”
“The investigating traffic officer didn’t like the scene of Katie’s accident. For one thing, there were no skid marks, for another the driver went up on the curb but missed a telephone pole he or she should have hit. Then there’s the fact that the driver got out of the van and didn’t run away until the dog walker yelled.”
Tess closed her eyes for a moment. The whiskey had moved to her head. She tried to imagine her sister walking down the sidewalk as a white van barreled toward her. Katie wouldn’t have just stood there waiting to be hit. She must have been distracted. Had she realized what was coming in the split second before metal hit skin and bone?
“I told you they checked her purse and found the letter your father left her but no identification. The traffic officer recognized Matt’s name on the letter. It took a few hours for someone to get ahold of me. By that time Katie was as you see her now, comatose, unreachable.”
Tess still wasn’t sure what Ryan was saying. Her expression must have betrayed her confusion because without waiting for her to think of the right question to ask, he added, “I think she’d been poking around. My guess is she came across something someone was hiding.”
“And so they tried to kill her?”
“Exactly. If I hadn’t fallen for the way she blew me off that day, if I hadn’t been worried about my own future and been so angry with Matt for betraying me and everything I thought he stood for, I might have been able to talk some real sense into her. I might have been able to prevent this.”
Tess stared hard at him. There was genuine pain in his eyes—pain and guilt. And it seemed out of proportion to his story. Did a man in his line of work take responsibility for everyone they knew, every problem that crossed their path?
“But at least you know where to start, right?” she said slowly. “I mean, it must be that stepson. Or that Desota guy. You find which of them has a white van and you arrest them and then they tell us what happened to Katie’s father—” She caught herself and amended, “To our father. This could be a big break, right?”
“I’ve already done all that. There’s no white van registered to Nelson Lingford. No rentals, either. As for Vince Desota? He owns a few vans—he runs an electrical contractor business, and yes, they’re white. None unaccounted for or damaged. It’ll take time to go through Nelson’s other enemies, and unless there’s an official investigation, it won’t do much good anyway. There’s no proof that Katie’s hit-and-run wasn’t an accident. The traffic officer signed it off. It’s been lousy weather and there have been a lot of traffic accidents lately.”
Tess stared at her empty mug. “I see. I think.”
“And there’s one last thing,” Ryan added. “The last number dialed on her cell phone was mine. I wasn’t in the office and she didn’t leave a message. I guess she didn’t have my cell phone number, just the department’s. The time recorded for the call is compatible with our witness’s estimation of when the accident occurred. She was walking to or from her car, we think, when she was hit. I can’t help wondering if she was coming to find me.”
“So she tried to reach you.”
“Yes.” He took a swallow of his coffee and added, “What I’m trying to say is simple. I’m sorry.”
She met his gaze and nodded.
He put a few bills on the table as he stood up. “You must be dead on your feet. Did you get a hotel already? If not, there’s nothing wrong with this place. I’ll go get your bag and—”
“I don’t want a hotel,” she said. “I’ll spend the night in Katie’s room.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
She stood, too, still forced to look up at him because of their height difference. “This isn’t your decision to make, Detective Hill.”
He appeared startled by her comment, as though he wasn’t used to being crossed. He appeared to be a solid, healthy man used to taking control, caring but persistent, the kind who expected to shoulder every burden. There was another element to him, as well, that lurking hurt she’d seen behind his eyes.
“I can’t offer you forgiveness for how you reacted or didn’t react when Katie asked for help,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not my sister, I can’t absolve you for her.”
“I