To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,32

we’d made it into the inner sanctum, Cory didn’t seem inclined to engage. Wayne looked between us, politely waiting.

I took the lead this time. “Mr. Engle—”

“Please, call me Wayne.”

“Thank you, Wayne. Cory and I are friends of Brennan Rowe’s, and we’re very concerned about him. Have you spoken to him recently?”

“Not for years.”

I decided to charge ahead.

“Did you know Brennan is in jail?”

Wayne’s head jerked ever so slightly. “No. Since when?”

“Friday. He’s accused of pushing a man in front of a car.”

Wayne licked his lips. “What man?”

“James Gleason.”

Wayne shot forward, shifting to face us. “What?”

“On Friday night, we all attended the Vintage Grand Prix in Watkins Glen. Are you familiar with it?”

“Quite.”

“Brennan and James ran into each other there. They argued over Monica Gleason. Apparently James thought Brennan was responsible for the crash and her subsequent death. When the two stopped arguing, they separated, but a few minutes later, Gleason was killed on impact by one of the cars as they raced through town. A witness says Brennan pushed Gleason in front of the car. Obviously, we think the witness was mistaken, but the news reports say the two men had a long history with James angry and threatening Brennan over his sister’s death. We’re wondering what, if anything, you remember about the crash.”

Wayne rubbed his forehead. “Did Brennan send you?”

“No.” I looked at Cory, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Brennan is in jail and unable to make bail. We thought because you two were best friends in high school, you might be able to help us.”

Wayne leaned back in his chair again. “In what way?”

“The news reports have had a couple of your fellow alumni on camera, stating everyone was drinking at the reunion and implying Brennan might have been driving drunk. Do you know if he drank at the reunion?”

“He had a beer or two over the course of several hours. He was not drunk.”

A sound exploded from Cory’s mouth, like a cutoff sob. Wayne gave him the once over and narrowed his eyes.

I tried not to lose momentum. “Did you tell the police that at the time of the crash?”

“No one asked me.”

Surprised, it took me a second to recover. “At the time, you must have known the police were investigating the crash. They thought he was driving under the influence. You didn’t tell them differently?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Cory’s anger showed in his tone of voice.

Wayne hesitated ever so slightly before answering. “Brennan and I had an argument the night of the reunion. We said a lot of things we could never take back. We weren’t ever going to be friends again, but I would have come forward if he got charged.”

“Brennan says he doesn’t remember what happened that night.”

“That’s what I read in the papers at the time.”

“Did you believe it?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t remember anything about that night, so he wouldn’t recall your argument either.”

“Probably not.”

I didn’t know what to say next. What could have happened between them to ruin their friendship, especially after losing Monica and almost Elizabeth, too?

“You, Brennan, Monica, and Elizabeth were quite close, weren’t you?”

A hint of a smile touched his lips. “We were the four Musketeers in high school.”

“What about afterward?”

“We got together on school breaks. Over time, we didn’t see each other as much. It happens naturally.” He looked between us as though waiting for us to agree.

My closest friend in high school was Ray. No comparison. “Did you all ride to the reunion together?”

“No, we wanted to, but I had to work. I met them there a little late.” A flicker of something like regret or guilt crossed his face.

“Was Elizabeth ever able to provide any insights into what caused the crash?”

“Not really. The police thought she might have been asleep in the back seat.”

“Are you still close to Elizabeth?”

Something else flickered across Wayne’s face. This time I thought it was anger. “No.”

Wayne’s response matched the information Ray had gathered from the detective. I felt as though we were at a dead end. Still, Wayne’s attitude toward Brennan made me uncomfortable—and curious. What had they argued about?

I decided to go for broke and ask.

“Wayne, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you and Brennan argue about that cost your friendship?”

Wayne stood up. “I’m sorry. I have another appointment. If the police need a statement now that Brennan was not drunk the night of the accident, I’ll give them one.”

I didn’t know if that would be helpful at all. The police had long ago ruled out alcohol as a cause of