Phoenix. “I want a number where I can reach you if I need to.”
“It’s killing me to walk away like this.”
“You’re not walking away.”
“Diane’s dead, and all the answers I need are right here. If I’m not walking away, then what the hell am I doing?”
Gabby pauses, says, “You’re saying good-bye to your wife.”
– 22 –
I pull out of the parking lot and head west toward the highway. There’s no traffic tonight, and as I turn onto the on-ramp and pick up speed, I don’t want to stop.
I feel like I could drive forever.
I think of Diane and wonder if she felt the same way before she died. Was she really on her way to Phoenix, or was she just driving to clear her mind?
It doesn’t take long before my thoughts turn bad, and I do my best to push them away.
It’s not time to think about her.
Not yet.
Instead, I go over everything that I learned tonight and try to make sense of it all. Why would Nolan hire those two men to attack me? And was Gabby right? Was someone else pulling the strings?
If there was, then why didn’t they just get it over with? Why toy with me without telling me who they are or what they want?
And what about Diane?
Why kill her?
Something Nolan said while we were driving into the mountains comes back to me, and it doesn’t go away. He said it wasn’t my fault, not this time.
Did he know something?
If he’d been behind the attack in the parking lot, could he also have been involved in Diane’s murder? Was that why he was the one who took me to ID her body in the middle of the night?
My memories of that night are broken, clouded by the alcohol. Still, drunk or not, nothing about that night makes sense. It didn’t then, and it doesn’t now.
Gabby was right.
That’s not the way things are done.
The more I think about it, the more it burns at me. I’m convinced something is there. All I have to do is put it together.
I look at the clock on the dashboard. It’s not as late as it feels, and I start to think about Nolan.
I can find him tonight.
I can make him tell me the truth.
It’s a bad idea, but it’s all I can think about.
I park in my driveway and walk up to the front door. The porch light is off, and it takes a minute for me to get my key in the lock. Once I do, I open the door and go inside.
The house is dark except for a pale yellow glow coming from the stove in the kitchen. Keeping a light on had been Diane’s idea. She hated coming home to a dark house. It was her habit. Now it’s mine.
I walk down the hall to my office and dig through the papers on my desk. I’m looking for the card Nolan gave me the night he took me to ID Diane’s body, but I don’t see it. I check the drawers and the bookshelves, then turn and walk back out to the living room.
The card is sitting on the coffee table.
I pick it up and flip it over. His cell number is written on the back. I stare at it for a moment and try to decide on my next move. Nolan is my only chance to find the answers I need, and I don’t want to play my hand over the phone. In person, I can make him cooperate.
I take Nolan’s card back to my office. I drop it on the desk, then turn and run my hand along the top of the bookshelf until my fingers touch a set of keys on a small silver ring. I flip through them until I find the right one, then I unlock the bottom drawer of my desk.
My .38 is inside.
I feel an old twinge of guilt knowing I kept the gun even though Diane didn’t want it in the house. I used to get around feeling bad by telling myself I only had it for emergencies. I’m not sure if this is an emergency, but I know I’ll have a better chance getting Nolan to answer my questions with the gun than without it.
I take the gun and a loaded clip and carry them back to the kitchen. I slide the clip into the gun, check the safety, then set it on the counter and pick up the phone.
I dial Nolan’s cell number off the card,