street and into the bottle. He went from a little room to a flophouse, and finally to a cardboard village. I used to visit him there from time to time. Then one day, after a couple of months had passed, I stopped by. The guys told me Manny was a new man. He had cut way back on his drinking and left the village. Kept talking about how the Marines had called him back and were planning to activate him for some sort of top-secret covert mission. Then he vanished.”
Top-secret covert mission.
The words hit like a missile. Umberto had been sitting right there at that table when he said them to Nick. He was a man reborn, his countenance beaming.
I’ve been called back by the Marines for a top-secret covert mission.
That’s what he said. Maybe those exact words.
Not long after that, like Manny Ferris, he disappeared.
“Matthew,” Nick said, “has Manny resurfaced since then?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know for sure, except that once, maybe a couple of years ago, one of the guys said that Manny was back on the street. I’m embarrassed that I never tried to find him, but for me life had changed. First I managed to get a job, then I met a terrific woman and we got a place together. Then I got into that eye therapy for my PTSD. I just sort of let Manny slide.”
“Listen, don’t be so hard on yourself. Life is all about living.”
“I suppose.”
“So tell me, how long has it been since you actually saw him?”
“Manny? A while. Let me think.”
Four years
, Nick was thinking.
It’s been four years
.
“I know when,” McBean said. “It was right after I got the job at the body shop. Four years. Give or take a couple of months, it was four years ago.”
CHAPTER 8
“The police ruled it a suicide. But could it have been murder? Hello, all you Charlotte Night Owls. You’re tuned in to WMEW, 82.5 FM, home of the Rick Clemmons show, starring me, Rick Clemmons.” The rotund DJ, draped in an orange-and-white Hawaiian shirt, wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a straw cowboy hat, pressed a yellow button on the eight-channel mixing board, cuing his show’s signature heavy-metal guitar theme song. “For those of you just joining us, our in-studio guest this morning is Jillian Coates, from… Virginia?”
“That’s right. Arlington.”
“Jillian… do you go by Jill or Jillian?”
“Jillian… with a
J
.”
“Jillian with a
J
is a photographer and the sister of Belle Coates, the Charlotte resident and nurse at the Central Charlotte Medical Center who died three weeks ago in an apparent suicide from a drug overdose.”
“Nurse, Rick. I’m a nurse just like my sister. I just do photography as a hobby. Once in a while I sell a piece or have a show, but-”
“Yes. Well, the police called the death of Belle Coates an open-and-shut case. Our guest this morning, a nurse currently working at…?”
“Shelby Stone Memorial Hospital in Washington, D.C.”
“… Shelby Stone Memorial Hospital, isn’t so sure. Separating fact from fiction is what the Rick Clemmons Show is all about, and this juicy tale has more twists to it than a Twizzler. Bogus suicide? Botched investigation? Delusional sister? Psychic connection? You be the judge. But you know that Rick Clemmons always gets to the truth. So remember, our phone lines are open. Call anytime, boys and girls. Let’s get to the bottom of this thing!”
Jillian balled her fists and reminded herself that media exposure was what she was after.
You lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas
, her mother always said.
The weeks since Belle’s death had been a living hell. With one terrible call from the Charlotte police, Jillian’s life had come to an abrupt stop, and then made a sharp right-angle turn. Nothing would ever be the same. Not an hour passed that she didn’t think about her younger sister and imagine what the final minutes of her existence must have been like. It made no sense that Belle, though hurt by her decision to break things
Top-secret covert mission.
The words hit like a missile. Umberto had been sitting right there at that table when he said them to Nick. He was a man reborn, his countenance beaming.
I’ve been called back by the Marines for a top-secret covert mission.
That’s what he said. Maybe those exact words.
Not long after that, like Manny Ferris, he disappeared.
“Matthew,” Nick said, “has Manny resurfaced since then?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know for sure, except that once, maybe a couple of years ago, one of the guys said that Manny was back on the street. I’m embarrassed that I never tried to find him, but for me life had changed. First I managed to get a job, then I met a terrific woman and we got a place together. Then I got into that eye therapy for my PTSD. I just sort of let Manny slide.”
“Listen, don’t be so hard on yourself. Life is all about living.”
“I suppose.”
“So tell me, how long has it been since you actually saw him?”
“Manny? A while. Let me think.”
Four years
, Nick was thinking.
It’s been four years
.
“I know when,” McBean said. “It was right after I got the job at the body shop. Four years. Give or take a couple of months, it was four years ago.”
CHAPTER 8
“The police ruled it a suicide. But could it have been murder? Hello, all you Charlotte Night Owls. You’re tuned in to WMEW, 82.5 FM, home of the Rick Clemmons show, starring me, Rick Clemmons.” The rotund DJ, draped in an orange-and-white Hawaiian shirt, wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a straw cowboy hat, pressed a yellow button on the eight-channel mixing board, cuing his show’s signature heavy-metal guitar theme song. “For those of you just joining us, our in-studio guest this morning is Jillian Coates, from… Virginia?”
“That’s right. Arlington.”
“Jillian… do you go by Jill or Jillian?”
“Jillian… with a
J
.”
“Jillian with a
J
is a photographer and the sister of Belle Coates, the Charlotte resident and nurse at the Central Charlotte Medical Center who died three weeks ago in an apparent suicide from a drug overdose.”
“Nurse, Rick. I’m a nurse just like my sister. I just do photography as a hobby. Once in a while I sell a piece or have a show, but-”
“Yes. Well, the police called the death of Belle Coates an open-and-shut case. Our guest this morning, a nurse currently working at…?”
“Shelby Stone Memorial Hospital in Washington, D.C.”
“… Shelby Stone Memorial Hospital, isn’t so sure. Separating fact from fiction is what the Rick Clemmons Show is all about, and this juicy tale has more twists to it than a Twizzler. Bogus suicide? Botched investigation? Delusional sister? Psychic connection? You be the judge. But you know that Rick Clemmons always gets to the truth. So remember, our phone lines are open. Call anytime, boys and girls. Let’s get to the bottom of this thing!”
Jillian balled her fists and reminded herself that media exposure was what she was after.
You lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas
, her mother always said.
The weeks since Belle’s death had been a living hell. With one terrible call from the Charlotte police, Jillian’s life had come to an abrupt stop, and then made a sharp right-angle turn. Nothing would ever be the same. Not an hour passed that she didn’t think about her younger sister and imagine what the final minutes of her existence must have been like. It made no sense that Belle, though hurt by her decision to break things
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