“My mother is in a home now. Complications due to diabetes. I tried to care for her but . . .” Her voice faded away. “See, Mom never remarried. She never had a life. My father took all that away from her. And yet Natalie still longed for some kind of reconciliation. She still thought, I don’t know, that it wasn’t too late. Natalie was such a dreamer. It’s like finding Dad would prove a point—like then she could meet a man that would never leave and that would prove that Dad didn’t mean to leave us either.”
“Julie?”
“What?”
I made sure that she was looking directly into my eyes. “She met that man.”
Julie looked out her back window, blinked hard. A tear ran down her cheek.
“Where is Natalie?” I asked.
Julie shook her head.
“I won’t leave until you tell me. Please. If she still has no interest in seeing me—”
“Of course she has no interest,” Julie snapped, suddenly angry. “If she had an interest, wouldn’t she have contacted you on her own? You were right before.”
“About what?”
“About being delusional. About wearing those rose-tinted glasses.”
“Then help me take them off,” I said, unfazed. “Once and for all. Help me see the truth.”
I don’t know if my words reached her. I would not be dissuaded. I looked at her and maybe she saw that. Maybe that was why she finally caved.
“After the wedding, Natalie and Todd moved to Denmark,” Julie said. “That was their home, but they traveled a lot. Todd worked as a doctor for a charity. I forget the name of it. Something about beginnings maybe.”
“Fresh Start.”
“Yes, that’s it. So they traveled to poorer countries. Todd would do medical procedures on the needy. Natalie would do her artwork and teach. She loved it. They were happy. Or so I thought.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“At the wedding.”
“Wait. You haven’t seen your sister in six years?”
“That’s right. After the wedding, Natalie explained to me that her life with Todd was going to be a glorious journey. She warned me that it might be a long time before I saw her again.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “And you’ve never gone over and visited? She’s never come back?”
“No. Like I said, she warned me. I get postcards from Denmark. That’s it.”
“How about e-mail or talking on the phone?”
“She doesn’t have either. She thought that modern technology was clouding her thinking and harming her work.”
I made a face. “She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you bought it? What if there was an emergency?”
Julie shrugged. “This was the life she wanted.”
“Didn’t you find this arrangement odd?”
“Yes. In fact, I made a lot of the arguments you’re making now. But what could I do? She made it clear—this was what she wanted. This was the start of a whole new journey. Who was I to stand in the way?”
I shook my head in disbelief and to clear it. “When was the last time you got a postcard from her?”
“It’s been a while. Months, maybe half a year.”
I sat back. “So in reality, you don’t know where she is, do you?”
“I would say Denmark, but in truth, no, I guess I don’t. I also don’t understand how her husband could have been living with another woman in South Carolina or any of this. I mean, nothing makes sense anymore. I don’t know where she is.”
A sharp knock on the door startled us both. Julie actually reached for my hand as though she needed comfort. There was a second knock and then a voice called out.
“Jacob Fisher? This is the police. The house is surrounded. Come out with your hands in the air.”
Chapter 23
I refused to say a word until my attorney—Benedict—was present.
That took some time. The lead officer identified himself as Jim Mulholland of the New York Police Department. I couldn’t figure out that jurisdiction. Lanford College is in Massachusetts. I had killed Otto along Route 91 still within that state. I had ventured into Vermont and when they picked me up I was in New Jersey. Other than taking public transportation through Manhattan, I could not figure out how the NYPD could possibly be involved in this mess.
Mulholland was a burly man with a thick mustache that brought on visions of Magnum PI. He stressed that I was not under arrest and that I could leave anytime, but boy, they would really,
Then again, which was I?
