Today was the last day of the inquest. The verdict was death by misadventure. That Todd kid, I dunno. He sure see's things differently from me. He spent an hour telling everyone how I should have saved them all. That it was my fault. That I was perving out by following them, that I'm some sort of twisted nutcase. I tried to point out that the only reason I was there was because I was fishing, and there isn't anyone else there after dusk, so there's no one else to disturb the waters. Well, until that little group showed up, anyway.
I explained that I only jumped in when the branch they were swinging from broke – the three of them went tumbling into the shallows. It was obvious that they were hurt – it's strange how drowning looks. It doesn't look like it does in the movies. But I knew. I jumped in and grabbed one and got him out, and then other one, and then the third one. Sure, I wasn't gentle, but at that moment I was just panicking. I needed to get them out, and fast.
So two survived and one did not. He broke his neck on a submerged log. I don't know how that was my fault, but somehow it became my fault, at least in the press. I think the ringleader – Todd Byerland – was terrified it would be pinned on him. He's the son of the local mayor, and he obviously dotes on him, so once again, I get the painting. The strange old guy that hardly speaks and looks like a mountain man. I'm not surprised. I'd be scared of me and I _am_ me.
I guess I'll just lie low – I'm just glad they got my name wrong. Tara won't find me... I'm not moving again. I've done that too many times just to get away from the way my life is. I'll just hide out. It won't be hard – no one knows where I live. No one really cares anyway. And why should they? One more burn out – why would anyone care? I wouldn't.
It's a strange thing to save a life and be told it's your fault that you didn't save them all. It's a strange thing to have to hide for doing something like this. But I don't regret it. Life is too precious, as Manny would have said. I miss Manny. I should look him up, send him a card or something. I don't even know if he's alive. It's been eight years since I last spoke to him.
It's just the way my life goes. C'est la vie.
*****
April guided the nose of her convertible into the parking lot of the Gettysburg Apartment complex. The building was old and run down, but in a leafy glade. There were lots of small nooks with trees and benches, and as she got out of the car, locking it, two kids, a boy and girl, ran past her, throwing apple pieces at each other. The boy was enjoying tormenting the small girl and she was screaming and loving every second of the attention. As the kids ran past, she smiled at them, wondering whose they were and thinking about her own biological clock.
After they were past, she looked around for the office signs, and saw them next to a sign about construction. Half of the parking lot was fenced off, and one of the apartment buildings in the complex was in the process of being razed.
She walked over to the office and pushed the door open. Sitting behind the desk, looking harassed, was an older woman on the phone. She looked up, saw April and gestured at her to sit down while she finished her conversation.
April sat down and studied the woman. She was older, with bleached and highlighted hair. She wore eyeglasses, the kind with the lanyard that went around her neck and her makeup was too heavy. She was plump and wore a shapeless and loud dress with red and yellow flowers.
"Oh, I know Juney. I know. She should be ashamed of herself. At her age. Who does she think she is? I mean come on. The tango? At her age? Who is she kidding?" the older woman said into the phone, glancing at April, who smiled amusedly back.
"Oh I know. It's ridiculous, that's what it is. I know. Look, I have to go. Got a customer. Who is obviously too nice for this place, that's for sure." She smiled at April in a conspiratorial way when she said this, and April's smile broadened. She could like this woman.
"Yes, I'll call you later. Yes. Later. I don't know. What difference does it make? Yes. Later. After your nap. Bye, dear." And with that, she put the phone down.
"Dear god, that woman can talk," said the older woman. "I'm Sarah Atwood. How can I help dear?" she enquired of April.
"Hi, Sarah. I'm April. I was wondering where I might find apartment 3612?"
"Oh no, dear," said Sarah, sucking on her teeth, "no, you wouldn't. That's in one of the buildings they've already pulled down. Asbestos, don't you know. How they could use that and not know the perils I don't know, but several of the buildings here have had to be pulled down over it. Building 36 was one of them."
"Oh." April looked at the piece of paper in her hand, not sure where to go next.
There was a moment's silence and then, on cue, Sarah said, "Were you looking for someone in particular, dear? Maybe I can help? I've worked here for years, know everyone, if you know what I mean."
April suppressed a smile. She did, indeed, know what she meant. It meant that Sarah was the older lady who disapproved of the parties you held, when you had blinds instead of curtains and tsked at you if you didn't hold the door open for anyone over forty.
"I'm looking for Julian Sullivan."
Sarah just looked at her and then said, "You aren't a lawyer are you?"
April was surprised. "No, not at all. I work as a counselor and I wanted to talk to him about a case I'm on. This is the last address I have for him."
Sarah was still wary. "It's not for that harlot, is it? I won't help if it's for that whore."
April was silent as she digested this. "No, I don't think so. I can't really talk about it, but I can say it's military in nature." April knew she was taking a chance, but instantly Sarah relaxed.
"Oh, well, in that case. Yes, he lived here. With that harlot he married. She was bad news from the word go, that one. Sunning herself at the pool and wearing almost nothing while he was out, trying to get that business started. When she started carrying on with his salesman, well, it was scandalous. It just was. We could all see it, but he couldn't. None of us could bring ourselves to say anything, I mean, it's just not your place, is it?"
April just nodded as this font of information flowed almost non-stop. She was glad she had her iPhone recording, because the details came fast and furious.
She learned that Joe Sullivan had indeed lived here, years ago, with his wife, Penny. Joe had worked hard to build his own business. He had had some problems in the past, Sarah told her, but he didn't talk about them. She assumed he wanted to leave them behind while he built a new life with his wife and started his new business.
As the business grew, Joe had hired an eager, younger salesman to help handle the increasing business. The new guy had taken to the job as though born to it, but he'd also taken Joe's wife, Penny.
Penny had announced she was pregnant, and right after the baby was born, she'd left Joe for this young salesman, moving out of the complex. It was the height of scandal that the baby wasn't his. Joe had left shortly afterwards, a broken man. She'd not seen him since.
Sarah had no idea where Joe might be living now. It was almost a dead end.
But April wasn't beaten yet. She had the resources of Ingrams at her disposal, and all she needed were the right details
She learned that the company name was Sullivan Design, and the salesman's name was Mark Glasso. Penny Sullivan had apparently married him, once Joe was gone, so Sarah had heard. Sarah hoped they had a miserable time of it – Joe hadn't deserved what she'd done to him, but he'd borne it, like he bore everything.
