route to and from work. Something like that. But now…” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s gone on for so long, the person is so dedicated to it, I don’t know what to think. Who would be that interested in me?”
“Someone glaringly obvious springs to mind.” Lisa’s arched eyebrow was as eloquent as if she’d actually named him.
Arden said, “I’ll admit, I wondered.”
“What made you wonder?”
“When I contacted him, he knew who I was and where I lived even before I told him.” Before Lisa could speak, she rushed to say, “But then if everyone who knows who I am and where I live were to drive past the house, it would be a nightly parade.”
“That doesn’t make him innocent.”
“I realize that.” She didn’t dare tell Lisa about Ledge’s being in the supermarket or of his unorthodox visit to her house last night. Once again, she found herself staving off her own misgivings and, rather, defending him, even to herself. “But nor does it make him guilty.”
“Have you accused him?”
“I inquired. He denied it.”
“But he would, wouldn’t he?”
Arden gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Have you reported it to the police?” Lisa asked.
“I’ve been reluctant to.”
“Why?”
“Because it could be, and probably is, someone who routinely drives that road and slows down to gape out of curiosity. Because I don’t have a description of the car, or the person, and I’m disinclined to sit on the roadside and wait for him to come by so I can get a description.”
Nor was she prepared to camouflage herself as Ledge had.
“Because the individual has never stopped or posed any overt threat. And because if I did report it, it would create another brouhaha, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.” Softly she added, “Mainly that.”
“Why mainly that?”
Arden sat back in her chair, leaned her head back, and glanced over at the expansive bookcase. Most of the shelves held leather-bound, signed limited editions and museum-worthy artifacts. On one of the shelves, in a five-by-seven silver frame, was a picture of the Maxwell family. It was a posed portrait that their mother, Marjorie, had insisted on having made. Before you girls get any older, she’d told them.
In the picture, they were dressed in their Sunday best. The four of them were smiling and appeared happy, both individually and as a unit. None of them had an inkling of how terribly wrong things would go.
“Do you suppose he’s still alive?” Arden asked quietly.
Lisa left her chair quickly and went over to the wall of windows, keeping her back to Arden for at least a full minute. When she came back around, her hands were tented in front of her mouth. There were tears in her eyes.
Slowly she lowered her hands but kept them clasped at chest level. “The day after you lost the baby, when we were talking there in the kitchen, you asked me why I hadn’t sold the house. All the reasons I gave you were valid. But what I didn’t add, because it seemed—and is—so ridiculous and immature, is that I thought he might come back one day.”
She blotted a tear and shook her head. “Not for good, not to stay, or to reunite with us, but just to…” Frustrated with her inability to find the right words, she raised her arms at her sides. “I held out the faint hope that if we kept the house, it would be an irresistible draw for him.”
Arden got up, went to Lisa, and the two of them hugged, rocking each other. With that embrace, all their differences ceased to matter. When they eventually broke apart, they linked their little fingers.
“Not so ridiculous or immature,” Arden whispered. “That faint hope has been lurking in the back of my mind, too. Could Dad be the person monitoring me? Do you think that there’s any possibility?”
Lisa hugged her close again. “Don’t break your heart, don’t break mine, by counting on it.”
Chapter 13
That night in 2000—Rusty
Sitting on his bed in his room at home, Rusty gingerly rubbed his bruised wrist.
Goddamn Burnet.
Rusty’s taunt as he was getting out of the car with their haul had struck a nerve in Ledge, and his reaction had been swift and scary. Rusty was rarely taken by surprise like that, but Ledge had attacked with such ferocity, speed, and strength, he’d been too astounded to defend himself or counterattack. Ledge’s grip had felt powerful enough to crush his bones. Rusty supposed he should be relieved that he hadn’t.