The Right Kind of Wrong Page 13

  "Hi, Timmy. I have to say, I didn't think it would be you I'd see here."

  He shrugs. "I think every town should have a gay, hulking man like myself on the police force."

  I laugh. He did always have a great sense of humor. "Well, I won't argue with that. This is Vince."

  Vince steps forward and shakes Timmy’s hand. "Nice to meet you."

  Timmy eyes him, his expression stern. "Boyfriend?"

  Vince laughs nervously, "Oh no. We're working on a project together." I know he doesn't mean it like it sounds, but it stings. What was that thing with his tongue in my mouth, then?

  Timmy relaxes and slaps Vince on the back. "Gotcha! I was gonna have to give you the talk."

  "Glad I missed that."

  I laugh too loudly. "Yeah, me too."

  Timmy sits back in his chair and straightens the pins on his lapel. "So, I assume you're not here to reminisce about the old times. What can I help you with?"

  I take Charlie's police report out of my pocket and hand it to Timmy. I look over at Vince. His camera is unfolded and turned on but barely noticeable. I'm not sure how comfortable I am putting Timmy on film. He hasn't agreed to anything. I put my hand over Vince's camera and push it down. Vince looks at me, confused and I shake my head no. When I look up, Timmy is wiping perspiration from his forehead.

  "You always did know how to stir up trouble, Kara."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Well, it's just—shit. I don't know if I can help you with this one."

  I reach out and grab the report back, nervous he'll keep it. "Why not?"

  "I remember my granddad talking about this—never had anything good to say."

  "What’d he say?"

  He wipes his forehead again and walks over to a filing cabinet. He unlocks the bottom drawer and pulls out a blue folder. "I'm not supposed to do this, but I've known you a long time. And whatever this is—" He shakes the folder, "—has gone on for way too long. Come with me."

  "Go with you where?"

  "Let’s go see Pop and Granddad. They're going to be the ones to help you, not me."

  A bolt of excitement stabs my heart. We're close to finding out the truth. I innately sense it like I did when I discovered the cattle poisoning in high school.

  "Let's go." We follow his cruiser to the house where he grew up. The house I spent a lot of time in during high school. When we walk in, his father is watching some game on TV and his granddad is asleep on the couch.

  "Dad? You remember Kara Pierce?"

  His dad, a bald-headed, pudgier version of Timmy stands up and grins. "Sure I do. How ya’ doing, little lady?"

  "Ralph, it's good to see you again. This is Vince Gage. We're working on a project for a college class."

  "I see. Whatcha’ all doing here?"

  Timmy steps forward. "Dad, she knows about Charlie. I think it's time you and granddad talked about it to her."

  Ralph's smile is replaced with a scowl. He sighs and gestures to the couch. "Ya'll sit down. I guess we have some catching up to do."

  We all crowd in the living room and Ralph shakes Timmy’s granddad awake, handing him a pair of hearing aids. He slides them into his ears. "What the hell is all this?"

  His granddad always had a gruff way about him, but he was a big teddy bear. He loved the Corrigan boys like my grandfather loved me.

  "Dad, your grandson took it upon himself to enlighten Kara about Charlie Pierce."

  "Wait, Ralph. That's not what happened," I say. "We came to Timmy. We already knew about Charlie. We found this." I hand them the police report. Ralph doesn't even read it. He doesn't have to. He knows exactly what it is.

  "I don't even know where to start," Ralph says.

  Timmy's granddad looks at the report and then hands it back to me. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Ralph. Let’s start from the beginning. Shoulda happened a long time ago."

  I sigh, relieved. We're going to get answers.

  Vince holds up his camera. "Would it be alright if I film this?"

  All three Corrigan men exchange pensive looks and I see their concern. "We can edit it so you're not actually on camera."

  Ralph speaks for all of them. "I guess that'd be fine."

  Timmy's granddad clears his throat. "How much do you know about Charlie?"

  "Not very much," I admit.

  "Well, one day Charlie was here and the next, he wasn't. Nobody knew what happened to him. Never showed up for his shift at the gas station. We talked to everyone in town, and no one saw a damned thing. There was talk that he got what was coming to him."

  "What does that even mean?" I ask.

  "Charlie was known for his quick temper. He could turn on the charm for the ladies but the minute he got himself in a pickle, he used his fists to get his way. Stands to reason—he mighta got himself into trouble for the last time."

  I try to swallow but my mouth is dry and scratchy. What if Charlie was dead? "So you think someone hurt him then?"

  Timmy's granddad shakes his head. "I dunno. His old man seemed to think he just up and left. So we figured he probably knew best. Besides, no one argued with James Pierce."

  "Why was there a police report filed then?"

  "Wesley came back from the war spitting mad. He gave us hell for not filing a police report right away even though James said it was all a cry for attention."

  Despite the situation, I smile. It sounds just like my grandfather to raise hell in order to do the right thing. "So, then what? You investigated?"

  "Investigate? No. I didn't get that far. I closed the case."

  I look at him confused. "Why would you do that? Why wouldn't you figure out what happened to him?"

  He swallows and reaches for his water glass. He sips it ever so slowly and the anticipation is killing me. "Child, I was a stupid, selfish man then. When James offered me a lot of money to close the case and keep quiet, I couldn't refuse. He was offering me more than I could have made in my lifetime. He was also dangerous. He was a Molotov cocktail waiting to explode. I had a family to feed. I couldn't go up against him. Not then."

  "Wait." I say incredulous. "He paid you off to keep your mouth shut and you went along with it? Even though you had no idea what happened to Charlie?"

  His lips quiver. "Things were so different back then. I'm not proud of what I did, but please believe me when I say, I did it to keep my family safe."

  My hands curl into fists. I can't believe I grew up in a town so corrupt. "What about Charlie? Didn't he deserve to be safe too?"

  Silence.

  Timmy's hand is on my shoulder now. "I think it's time to stop. My granddad isn't in the greatest shape, I don't think it's good for him to get worked up."

  "I ain't getting worked up, dammit. She's right. I was more concerned with staying in James's good graces than doing my job. I'm real sorry I never got the chance to tell your grandfather the truth. That we didn't even try to find Charlie."

  We're all quiet. I don't even know where to go from here. I got answers, but now I'm left with even more questions and no more leads to follow. "You never heard from Charlie again?"

  "Not a word," Timmy's granddad says.

  "If you had to guess—what do you think happened to Charlie?"

  Timmy's granddad stares into my eyes. "The people who challenged James Pierce usually ended up on the wrong side of the coin."

  "So you're saying Charlie might've pushed his father a little too far and then what? He exiled him? Killed him?"

  "I don't think anyone ever really knew how far James was willing to go to get what he wanted. Do I think he murdered his own son? No. Did he have something to do with his disappearance? I'd bet my life on it."

  There's nothing more to say. The gravity of his words fill the room and my heart aches for a man I don't know. A man who's own father might have killed him. I need to get out of this room.

  "Thanks for talking to us, I appreciate it." Disappointment drips from every word.

  "Sorry we couldn't be more
help," Ralph says.

  We follow Timmy out of the house and when we get to our car, I remember Charlie's folder in my front seat. I grab it and run to Timmy's car. "You forgot this."

  Timmy waves me off. "Keep it. You probably need it more than we do."

  I open the car door and give Timmy an awkward hug. "Thank you. You'll never know how much this means to me."

  He gives me a toothy grin. "Be good," he says before he drives off.

  When I get back to the car, I'm near tears. "We don't have any more leads. Now what?"

  "Back to your grandmother's to do what we do best."

  I look at him confused. "And that is?"

  "Research. Duh," he says.

  I'm glad he's more optimistic than I am.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  By the time we reach my grandmother's, the sky is a sheet of gray. The air has cooled considerably and I shiver when we get out of the car. Grandma is sitting on the porch swing, her expression blank. "Grandma, why are you sitting out here in the cold? It's going to storm soon. Don't you want to come in?"

  "I'm fine, dear. Could you just bring me out a jacket?"

  I look at Vince but he just shrugs.

  "What's wrong? You look upset."

  "I told you, I’m fine, Kara. Please, just get me a jacket."

  She doesn't speak to me like that. Ever.

  I walk to her bedroom and pull out a yellow jacket, but it doesn't seem warm enough. I spy a quilt on the shelf and get it down. A box tumbles with it, clocking me in the head.

  "Dammit!"

  I start to pick up the contents until I see what's scattered all around me. Envelopes.

  With a return address from Charlie Pierce. I slide a letter out and start to read.

  "It's starting to storm, I didn't know if you wanted to grab a blanket for your grandmother, too." Vince stands in the doorway. "What do you have there?"

  I'm too stunned to say anything. He walks over and grabs the letter from my hands.

  "Oh, shit. Kara, is this what I think it is?”

  I nod. "I think so."

  "I'll pick these up. Why don't you go give your grandmother her jacket?"

  "Okay," I whisper. I carry the jacket and blanket out to my grandmother and ask if she needs anything else but she doesn't answer. By the time I get back to her room, Vince has the stacked letters in the box and it is under his arm. He takes my hand and leads me up to my bedroom.

  "Are you okay? Why does she have letters from Charlie?"

  "I don't know, but we're going to find out."

  He sets the box on the bed and pulls out the stack of letters but I stop him. "I can't—"

  "We'll look at them later, okay? Come here." He pats the space beside him. I sit down. He moves the letters off the bed and pulls me to him.

  "Hey, we'll figure this out. We're getting there."

  "I know. I just... it's too much all at once." I look at the patterns on the bedding.

  He cradles my face and forces me to look at him. I think he might say something, instead, he leans in and kisses me. Hard. All I want is to forget what we've been learning about my family. I want Vince to make me forget.

  So I let him.

  I kiss him back hungrily. I pull him to me so his skin touches mine. His warmth works it way to my bones. His mouth moves from my lips to my neck to the space beneath my ear. "Kara, I think I'm—"

  I stop his words with my hand. "Don't. Just kiss me." I take the bottom of his shirt and bring it over his head. He's all flesh and bone, his skin pale in a beautiful, flawless sort of way. I run my hands over his chest and he moves my shirt up. I peel it off and though this is the most physically exposed I've been with Vince, I know it's nothing compared to what he's learned of me during this trip. I pull him down to me, our lips working in tandem. I move my hands to the waistband of his jeans and fumble until I find the button. He moves my hands away and sits up.

  "We don't have to do this."

  I look at him and those blue eyes have never looked so iridescent, so magnetizing. They captivate me. Everything from the folds of my eyelids down to the curve of my ankle bone surge with the desire for his touch. I shake my head. "I want this. I want you."

  He moves his thumb along my cheek and softly kisses me. "I've wanted you since Jenkins' class. I just didn't know it."

  I bite his lip and his moan makes every part of my body ache. He pulls me up from the bed with him so we're chest to chest. He undoes the button of his jeans and pulls them off. Then his boxers. I stare at him. All of him. I unhook my bra. He looks at me briefly, but distracts me with his mouth while he unbuttons my shorts. They drop to the floor.

  He grabs me and pushes me against the wall. His hands move to my breasts and he cups them. He sends ripples down my body and I buck against him. He pins my arms and moves down my body. He uses his teeth to pull down my panties and I wish I would've worn a sexier pair. When they're on the floor next to my shorts, he moves his mouth back up until he reaches my lips. Instead of kissing me, we stand like that, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. The sensation of being naked and so close is killing me.

  He carries me to the bed and runs his hands through my hair. When I don't think I can stand it any longer, I reach for him but he moves my hand away and smiles. "Not yet."

  And then I find out why. I don't think I'll ever forget how good he is with his tongue.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  We lay together afterwards, our breathing soft and rhythmic. I'm completely spent.

  If the letters weren't nagging at my curiosity, I might be able to sleep. I don't think that's going to be possible as long as the letters and I are in the same vicinity. I turn on my side and face Vince. His eyes are closed, but I know he's not sleeping.

  "Vince?"

  "Mmm?"

  "Let's read the letters now."

  He pulls me into him. "Sleep."

  "I can't. I'm too wired and the letters are calling me."

  Vince rubs his eyes and yawns. "Okay, okay. Bring the box up here, and let's see why your grandmother has letters from old Charlie."

  I lean over the side of the bed and pick the box up. I spread the stack of letters to find the earliest one. Better to start at the beginning. The oldest envelope is stamped 1943. I slide the letter out and read it aloud.

  Elaine,

  If you're reading this, you've accessed the box I've set up for you. Tell me, how did we even get here? My father's words mean nothing if you ask me to come back. I can be there in an instant if you just say the words. I've done nothing but think of you since I left. You consume my thoughts and I wish now that I would have stood up to my father. I want to take care of you. I stayed behind for you, Elaine. Can you say the same about Wesley? I'll be waiting for your reply.

  Forever, Charlie.

  I cry out with the realization that he loved her. Charlie loved my grandmother. The written word has never hurt as much as it does right now. Vince pulls me toward him but I push him away.

  "Shit. This isn't what I expected." he says.

  I shake my head. "I can't believe this."

  Vince picks up another letter and this time, he reads it aloud.

  Elaine,

  I respected your wishes but I can't seem to find solace in anything. I wake up and think of all that you are. I can't make you love me, but I will spend my entire life trying. Please believe me when I say that I've loved you since the day my brother brought you into our lives. I should feel terrible, Elaine, but I won't apologize for loving you. When the time is right, I'll be here, waiting for you.

  Forever, Charlie.

  I have no idea if my grandmother answered a single one of these. Did my grandfather know? Did he find these? Did he know his brother betrayed him to be with Grandma? The thoughts are toxic. I read the next letter.

  Elaine,

  I saw you from afar. I won't tell you when or how. Just know that it took everything in me not to run after you. You were with Wesley and a little boy. I assume my nephew. You s
miled and whispered something into Wesley's ear and his laugh reverberated through the street. You could have killed me right there, Elaine, with how happy you looked. I don't know what I was expecting but I'd hoped that you were still missing me. I know that's not the case, now. I won't bother you again. Just know that nothing has changed.

  Forever, Charlie.

  The urgency and the grief in his words carry a weight of sadness. He was giving up. Letting go.

  Elaine,

  I know I told you I wouldn't bother you again but I'm in the hospital with my wife. I cannot bear going into Sara’s room and watching her slip away from me. When I sit beside her bed, I hold her hand but you come to mind. I told her about you and she understood. She's always known, she said. I wanted to give Sara everything, but I never could. There's always been a piece missing from me and she told me once, it was better to have part of my love than none at all. She was an incredible woman, but no matter how I tried to push you out of my thoughts, the stronger hold you had over me. How can you have this effect on me still? I still feel as strongly about you as I did the day we met. I would do everything over again in an instant. Would you? Say the words. Please.

  Forever, Charlie.

  The last letter Vince picks up is dated only two years ago.

  Elaine,

  I’ve wished for this day for so long, when everything and everyone we knew would evaporate and only the two of us would be left. I didn't really believe it would come because what are the odds? But now that day has come and I'm an old man. I'm worn down and tired. Elaine, I am not the same man you first met. I'm not even the same man who wrote you the last letter. My wife has died, I just got word that Wesley is gone. And the doctors discovered cancer in my lymph nodes. I haven't the energy to try and convince you what to do. I only have time to dream that things would have played out differently and wish that you and I could have grown old together. My feelings for you have never changed. Not once. Not ever. If you say the words, just this last time, I'll find a way to come back to you.

  Forever, Charlie.

  I set down the last letter and can barely breathe. This isn't the same man I've pictured in my head over the last couple days. This is a man who loved a woman so deeply he was willing to give up his own family for her. And yet—I know the man my grandfather was. He loved Grandma with every piece of his heart too, but what does all of this say about my grandmother? I don't think she would have kept these letters unless...