if we started things up right now.”
“What events? Not this crap again. This is why you broke up with me in the first place. Because I didn’t back you and your theory. If you felt betrayed because I gave my side of the story to Alex Tooms, I’m not sorry. This is your baggage, not mine. It was a terrible time, but I chose to get over it just like everyone else.”
My systolic pressure rose ten points. “Caitlin, there are only two people who know what really happened that night. One of them is me and the other one is not you.”
“Yes, but the other person is dead.”
“No, someone is dead. The person I’m talking about may or may not be dead. I survived, he could have too.”
Caitlin’s frustration was evident in the lines on her face. “Thomas, you almost died. Hell, no one knows how you didn’t. Two gunshot wounds, a tumble down the side of cliff, and drowning for twenty minutes in the Atlantic usually gets the job done.”
This was like déjà vu, we’d had the same conversation the first time I’d ended things.
I stated, “The only issue I have is the one person that should believe me, doesn’t. The body that was found was not the man I shot.”
She took a deep breath. “I did the autopsy Thomas. There was no bullet wound. Cause of death was brain trauma from falling off the cliff. The skin they found underneath your fingernails was a perfect DNA match to Tristen’s. Forensic science doesn’t lie.”
She did have a case, but it dissolved quickly under cross-examination. First, I’d shot my attacker in the knee, although this was a bit fuzzy seeing as I’d just woken up from a four-hundred and thirty hour nap, when this revelation first dawned on me. As for the skin underneath my fingernails, they never found a scratch on John Doe. There was only one explanation that could justify this and it was so far-fetched I hadn’t tried it on anyone, least of all Caitlin right now. She’d storm out of the restaurant after four words.
Caitlin decided it was in her best interest to change the subject, and I visualized her turning a huge topic dial from Ridiculous Theory to Uncomfortable Silence to Sustained Uncomfortable Silence and finally back to Us .
Yippee, my favorite.
Her eyes penetrated deep into mine, like she was trying to count my rods and cones, then in a calm, controlled whisper, she said, “Will you accompany me to Lacy’s MS benefit?”
Lacy was hosting a gallery opening for young painters, including herself, with all the proceeds going to the Multiple Sclerosis Society. It was next Friday and I wasn’t sure walking in on the arm of Caitlin Dodds was in my best interest. But I rarely did anything in my best interest, so I said, “I’d love to.”
Caitlin reached across the table and grabbed my hand, then turned the knob to a point somewhere between Tristen Grayer and Us . She said, “I don’t know what you think is going to happen tomorrow, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Nothing is going to happen, and when it doesn’t, I want you to get on with your life and I want to be part of it.”
She stood, kissed me on the forehead, and exited Austin’s. I guess we weren’t getting separate checks after all.
Chapter 9
The book signing was at the Borders in Bangor at noon. I exited the highway at the Bangor exit and after a couple streets came to a large stretch of retail stores. At the end of two blocks was an immense gray brick Borders store. A banner on the side of the building notified people to, “Come get your copy of Eight in October signed by author Alex Tooms, October 1st, 12:00 P.M.–3:00 P.M.”
I checked my watch, it was two minutes after twelve and there was already a line wrapped halfway around the building. I was in the process of parking when I realized I’d left my copy of Eight in October on the kitchen table. I decided against the forty minute round trip to retrieve the book and expunged my wallet from the glove compartment. Let’s
“What events? Not this crap again. This is why you broke up with me in the first place. Because I didn’t back you and your theory. If you felt betrayed because I gave my side of the story to Alex Tooms, I’m not sorry. This is your baggage, not mine. It was a terrible time, but I chose to get over it just like everyone else.”
My systolic pressure rose ten points. “Caitlin, there are only two people who know what really happened that night. One of them is me and the other one is not you.”
“Yes, but the other person is dead.”
“No, someone is dead. The person I’m talking about may or may not be dead. I survived, he could have too.”
Caitlin’s frustration was evident in the lines on her face. “Thomas, you almost died. Hell, no one knows how you didn’t. Two gunshot wounds, a tumble down the side of cliff, and drowning for twenty minutes in the Atlantic usually gets the job done.”
This was like déjà vu, we’d had the same conversation the first time I’d ended things.
I stated, “The only issue I have is the one person that should believe me, doesn’t. The body that was found was not the man I shot.”
She took a deep breath. “I did the autopsy Thomas. There was no bullet wound. Cause of death was brain trauma from falling off the cliff. The skin they found underneath your fingernails was a perfect DNA match to Tristen’s. Forensic science doesn’t lie.”
She did have a case, but it dissolved quickly under cross-examination. First, I’d shot my attacker in the knee, although this was a bit fuzzy seeing as I’d just woken up from a four-hundred and thirty hour nap, when this revelation first dawned on me. As for the skin underneath my fingernails, they never found a scratch on John Doe. There was only one explanation that could justify this and it was so far-fetched I hadn’t tried it on anyone, least of all Caitlin right now. She’d storm out of the restaurant after four words.
Caitlin decided it was in her best interest to change the subject, and I visualized her turning a huge topic dial from Ridiculous Theory to Uncomfortable Silence to Sustained Uncomfortable Silence and finally back to Us .
Yippee, my favorite.
Her eyes penetrated deep into mine, like she was trying to count my rods and cones, then in a calm, controlled whisper, she said, “Will you accompany me to Lacy’s MS benefit?”
Lacy was hosting a gallery opening for young painters, including herself, with all the proceeds going to the Multiple Sclerosis Society. It was next Friday and I wasn’t sure walking in on the arm of Caitlin Dodds was in my best interest. But I rarely did anything in my best interest, so I said, “I’d love to.”
Caitlin reached across the table and grabbed my hand, then turned the knob to a point somewhere between Tristen Grayer and Us . She said, “I don’t know what you think is going to happen tomorrow, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Nothing is going to happen, and when it doesn’t, I want you to get on with your life and I want to be part of it.”
She stood, kissed me on the forehead, and exited Austin’s. I guess we weren’t getting separate checks after all.
Chapter 9
The book signing was at the Borders in Bangor at noon. I exited the highway at the Bangor exit and after a couple streets came to a large stretch of retail stores. At the end of two blocks was an immense gray brick Borders store. A banner on the side of the building notified people to, “Come get your copy of Eight in October signed by author Alex Tooms, October 1st, 12:00 P.M.–3:00 P.M.”
I checked my watch, it was two minutes after twelve and there was already a line wrapped halfway around the building. I was in the process of parking when I realized I’d left my copy of Eight in October on the kitchen table. I decided against the forty minute round trip to retrieve the book and expunged my wallet from the glove compartment. Let’s
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