To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,28

participants.”

“I thought reunion committees only went door to door in Wachobe.” I’d lived in the same small town all my life. My class of fifty-two could meet up at the soda shop. In fact, we often bumped into each other at the grocery store, coffee shop, or bakery. We had a twentieth reunion a few years back, just for kicks, arranged through a sort of phone tree and knocks at the front door. No one but the twenty-seven locals and their significant others showed up. Once members of our class left town for bigger and better opportunities, they ticked Wachobe off their list of vacation destinations.

“Yeah, well, Elizabeth’s not registered online as alumni of the school, nor is the majority of the class. I don’t know how anyone else would find her, except to call or write. Do you have a better suggestion?”

“No. How many kids were in the graduating class?”

“Five hundred and twenty-eight.”

“Wow. How many were in your graduation class?”

“Three hundred and sixty-five.”

“Did you know all of them?”

“Not even a fifth. I checked Brennan’s yearbook. Neither he nor his friends were involved in student government. Those are the kids who always know about class reunions. Chances are Elizabeth Potter won’t know a thing until we tell her.”

I grabbed the yearbook and started reading through the notes. As I read the scribble from Wayne Engle, a thought occurred to me. “Cory, if the four of them were such good buddies, how come he wasn’t in the car with them at the time of the accident?”

Cory downshifted to take the curve of the access ramp to the thruway. “Good question. After Elizabeth’s house, We can pay a visit to the address listed with his name in the yearbook.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I snapped the yearbook closed and laid my head back against the headrest, feeling tired already. The New York State Thruway would be miles of pavement, grass, and trees, broken up by sedimentary rock in the areas where they had blasted through the hills left behind by the glaciers. I’d seen every crest and valley hundreds of times. Listening to the newscaster drone sports scores wouldn’t keep me awake either, especially since I hadn’t slept much last night. My worries about this whole plan—or more specifically, lack of plan—had kept me awake. Car travel always puts me to sleep.

_____

I was back in high school with an English paper due and a test in calculus. I wasn’t ready for either, and if I didn’t hand the paper in on time as well as pass the test, I wouldn’t graduate. My father woke me for school twenty minutes late. I’d slept through the alarm, which still beeped, and …

Cory nudged my shoulder. “Jo, wake up. Your cell phone’s ringing and I can’t reach it.”

I jerked upright, fumbling for my purse. “Hello?”

“Jolene, it’s Isabelle. I don’t know what to do.”

I straightened up in the seat. “Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s Thursday. Every Thursday for the last two years, I’ve taken Cassidy to dance class at ten o’clock. This morning, Jack offered to take her. He said he knew I had an ad shoot and he wanted to help me.”

“That’s nice.”

“It would be if he didn’t offer right after he got off the phone with someone. I don’t know who. I heard him say he would try to get away this morning. I followed him.”

My brain still felt fuzzy from my dream. I almost thought this conversation might be a dream, too, but Cory looked too real in the seat next to me, maneuvering his sun visor to block the glare. Unfortunately, Albany lay southeast of Wachobe—the poor guy had been driving into the sun’s rays all morning while I slept.

I wiped a little dampness from the corner of my mouth. Had I been drooling, too? “Okay, what happened?”

Isabelle spoke quickly. “He dropped Cassidy off at dance class, then he drove to this new bed and breakfast in an early 1800s colonial. He went inside. He’s been in there for half an hour. What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Could he be showing someone a piece of jewelry?”

“No. He might be looking to buy an heirloom piece, though.”

I seized on that possibility, preferring it to other images in my head. “That makes sense.”

“Or he could be having a rendezvous with another woman.”

“Oh, Isabelle. Why don’t you just go inside and find out?”

“Be … cause … I don’t … want … to know.”

“You could look the bed and breakfast up on the Internet. A nice old