No One Knows Part 34

CHAPTER 59.

Josh Five Years Ago Josh looked at his watch for the tenth time in ten minutes and tapped his fingers on the banister.

"Aubrey, come on already. We're going to be late."

"I'm coming, hon. Minor hair disaster."

"When is it not?" he murmured.

"I heard that."

A moment later, Aubrey appeared at the top of the stairs. Bedecked in a simple pink sheath, her curly dark blond hair piled on her head, a simple strand of pearls around her neck, she looked stunning, and highly annoyed.

"You're breathtaking," he said, and she shot him one of her most sardonic looks as she came down the stairs. She was wearing heels, and clung to the banister, which he found incredibly funny. He'd thought all women were born with an innate ability to totter around on those stupid stilettos, but his wife proved otherwise. Get her out of sneakers, clogs, or flip-flops and she had all the grace of an elephant on roller skates.

"Yeah. Forty minutes of straightening and the whole mess curled up again as soon as I turned the iron off. Why do I even bother?"

"Because if you didn't, you'd spend the evening wishing you had. It looks great, sweetie. You know I like it pulled up like that anyway. Grab your coat, we are so far behind."

"You shouldn't have played golf this morning then."

"You should have agreed to stay at the damn hotel last night, too, and I wouldn't have had to come home to shower."

"Touche," she grinned, and he smiled back. It felt good to smile. Good, normal.

Their bags were already packed in the car for the long weekend. Another wedding. They joked that they'd become like the characters in Four Weddings and a Funeral. But the spate of invitations that began rolling in three years earlier would finally end tomorrow, when the last of their tight group of friends pulled the trigger and joined the crowd of smug marrieds. And of course, there'd been no funeral, so maybe it wasn't the most apropos analogy.

Josh was the best man for this one, Kevin Sulman the lucky bridegroom. The wedding weekend had commenced Thursday with an around-the-world bar crawl-girls in one representative hemisphere devouring margaritas, the boys in another downing Guinness-and resumed on Friday morning with a more sedate golf round for the gents and a high tea for the ladies, followed by tonight's bachelor-bachelorette extravaganza.

Josh had tried to talk Kevin out of doing the bachelor party the night before the wedding. The last thing anyone wanted was to be hung over, standing in front of two hundred people in a stuffy church. But Kevin just shook his head and said, "Hell no, man. I ain't waking up in Thailand and scrambling to get home. All I want is a few beers, a couple of strippers, and Janie to fall all over herself worrying about me looking at titties all night. No sense giving her more to fret about than that."

Kevin always was the responsible one.

Aubrey turned in a circle, making sure she had everything, grabbed her bag and met Josh's eyes. "Ready."

Josh set the alarm and held open the door to the garage. Only five minutes behind schedule now. That was dealable.

They settled themselves in the car, the Audi Quattro Josh got for a steal at an auction house. The engine was still throaty, and the car handled beautifully. They'd fixed it up, vacuumed and Armor All'd and waxed it until it gleamed. He pulled out of the garage carefully, then shut the door and headed out of the driveway.

"You know I'm dreading this," Aubrey said.

"Why? Men with tassels on their privates don't turn you on?"

"That's not what I meant."

He glanced over at her, then ran his hand up her thigh. She hadn't worn hose, and her legs were smooth. He pinched her knee at the spot he knew tickled and said, "Me neither. But it will all be fine. I promise."

"Josh, watch out!"

He turned his head forward, instinctively braking and throwing his arm in front of Aubrey well before he saw the black sedan that had stopped suddenly in front of them. He braced himself for the sickening crunch that followed: loosening his hold on the steering wheel, letting his muscles relax, taking his foot off the clutch. All this without batting an eyelash or thinking it through, just reacting. All those driving lessons from his father, all the near misses with his mother-both had swung their arm across to save him. And now he did it for his wife.

The car in front of them must have heard the squeal of the tires locking up because the driver hit the gas and lurched forward. That move saved them from serious injury. Instead of hitting the car from behind going forty miles an hour, the blow was cushioned so it seemed more like twenty. Still bad enough to crumple the fender and the hood and make the air bags pop free with a gigantic hiss. Still bad enough to knock the wind out of Josh. Still bad enough to hurt.

Once the shock of the collision passed, he knew he was okay. The pain across his chest was just the impact from the safety belt and the air bag. After a few tentative breaths he was able to bat the bag out of the way and reach for Aubrey. Surprise and fear and gratitude etched new lines on her face; her mouth was open in a round little O. Her hair had tumbled down from its clip, falling loose and curly around her shoulders, and her eyes were wide.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. Are you?"

"Yeah. I better check on the driver of the other car."

"Should I call the police?"

"Just hang tight for a second. Let me see how bad things are first."

She nodded again. Her face was blank now, the panoply of emotions that she'd first shown gone as reality set in.

Josh managed to get the door open without too much trouble. He didn't step from the car, but sort of fell out, just losing his balance for a moment. His knees hit the pavement, and he looked down at himself briefly, expecting to see blood or a severed limb. There was nothing. He was unscathed.

The driver of the black sedan had gotten out as well and was shouting at him. He was a middle-aged suit: perfectly combed hair, thin build, and obviously pissed off.

Derek Allen.

Fuck. The signal.

Josh put his hands up in the universal nonthreatening "sorry, man" gesture, but Allen kept coming. Kept in character, putting on a little show for the crowd who'd gathered.

"What the hell were you doing? It was a stoplight. Are you a complete idiot?"

"Dude, I'm sorry. It was my fault. I looked away for half a second. Are you okay?"

That calmed the man down a bit.

"Please tell me you have insurance."

"Of course I have insurance. And I'm sure it will cover all the damage to your car."

Speaking of which . . . Josh walked to the front of the Audi, which had held its basic shape, even though the bumper and hood were mashed in. The sedan they'd hit was barely scratched, just a tiny dent where the Audi's fog lights had dug into the bumper. The sunlight sparkled in a deep scrape on the Audi's hood. Down to the metal. To the bone.

The fucker.

Josh looked at the sedan's minimal damage and shook his head. Aubrey had gotten out of the car now, and was looking forlornly at the front fender and hood.

"Oh, Josh. Our baby."

Allen's head whipped around. "You're pregnant?"

She shook her head. "No, not me. The car. It's our baby."

The flustered look dropped from his face, and he smiled. "Oh. I was . . . Never mind."

"We should probably call the police," Aubrey said.

Allen shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no need for all that. I'll just take your information. My car won't need much work. I can probably push that dent out. And if I have to pay to get it fixed, well, I trust you. You seem like a nice young couple."

A car horn sounded; traffic was starting to jam up.

"Why don't we push your car over onto the shoulder and get you out of the way?"

Out of the way. Josh realized his hands were shaking. What the fuck kind of message was this supposed to be, anyway?

Josh felt the sweat trickle down the small of his back, not entirely sure if it was from heat or frustration.

Allen continued his ministrations. "Why don't I call you a tow? I know a good one nearby, he'll treat you fairly."

Aubrey shook her head-she was never one to take help when she didn't absolutely have to have it. "We appreciate that, sir, but I've already called AAA."

Josh bit his tongue-actually, sliding a twenty at a random tow truck operator sounded much more appealing than waiting for God knew how long for the AAA folks to show, but Aubrey had already shaken Allen's hand and wagged her phone at him. Responsible Aubrey, always on top of things.

As much as it burned him to see Allen touching his wife, he had to admit, she was working her magic on him. He'd gone from furious to pussycat in a matter of moments, as soon as Aubrey stepped from the car. He was always amazed at her effect on people.

"Well then. I guess it's time for me to go. Sorry again for your troubles." He tipped an imaginary hat at Aubrey, then turned to Josh. He put his hand on Josh's shoulder and propelled him three feet away. Josh's dad had done that when he was growing up. It usually preceded a lesson, the hard way, the kind that ended in a belt. But Derek Allen just leaned his head in, smiled a vulpine smile, and said, "Just in case you were having second thoughts, I felt I needed to make a point. Don't even think about fucking this up for me. You see what I can do? One heartbeat, Hamilton, and it's over. Besides, I couldn't have you driving your own car to the meet, now could I? You have two hours. Do this right, or so help me God, I'll kill her."

He turned on his heel, got in the car, and drove off.

Josh watched him go, his heart beating triple time. He turned to Aubrey. She didn't seem to be paying attention to the interplay. She stood in front of the wrecked Audi, staring at the front end of the car. She had blood running down her chin, about to ruin her beautiful pink dress. That snapped him back to reality.

"Oh, shit, Aubrey, you're bleeding."

She wiped her lip with a grimace, then wrenched her gaze to his. "I think I bit my lip, that's all. I'm really fine, I promise." She glanced down at her chest, rubbed her shoulder. "I'm going to have a bruise, though."

He looked at her lips closely, the gash in her soft flesh. He couldn't do this to her.

He swallowed hard. "It needs stitches. Honey, I am so sorry." Sorrier than you will ever know.

"I know, babe. I know. I better call Kevin, tell him we're going to be late."

Aubrey got on the phone to tell the bridegroom his best man would be tardy for the ogling. Josh tried to keep his calm. This was not how he'd planned the weekend to go. Fun and romance and a little kink-they hadn't been able to stay in a hotel for a long time, and they were both looking forward to the illicit anonymity of the room. Aubrey was always looser at hotels. He wanted to touch her again, to hold her. To feel her heart beating next to his, like it had for so many years. If he fucked up tonight, he'd never be able to hold her again, and the thought made him want to cry.

Josh wiped the cold sweat that broke out on his forehead with his jacket sleeve. The idea of losing Aubrey made him physically ill. She was the most important part of his life. The only piece that actually mattered. And now, he wasn't going to have a choice. He was going to lose her one way or the other. He just didn't think it was going to be today.

A motorcycle cop in a helmet and shades swung by and put on his lights so people could be forewarned about the accident. He wasn't thrilled that the man Josh had hit had already left the scene, and gave Josh a ticket for failing to yield, or some other such nonsense. He didn't bother to look at it, just took the paper, folded it, and shoved it in his front pocket. He gave the cop the finger behind his back and went to sit on the guardrail with Aubrey, who was now gaily watching the proceedings like a queen awaiting coronation.

"You're going to mess up your dress, and you are in entirely too good a mood."

"I'm sitting on your jacket, so don't worry yourself. We're alive, and I'm glad for it. I should be suffering survivor's guilt, I guess. The poor car."

Josh glanced at the crumpled mess that was his pride and joy. "Poor car? Poor us. I don't know where we're going to get the money to buy another. The insurance company will never give us what it's worth."

"We'll figure it out. We always do, right?"

She took his hand and squeezed.

He stitched up her lip. The tow truck arrived in practically record time, just under an hour. After bidding their lonely, broken car adieu, they took a cab to the hotel and arrived there only an hour late. Aubrey insisted that Josh join the party as quickly as possible since he was, after all, the best man. She promised she'd take care of getting them checked in and calling the insurance company.

Thankful as always for the woman Aubrey was-capable, strong, resilient-he kissed her an extra long time, earning a look from a bellman, and scurried off toward the party.

And the moment her back was turned, he walked out the hotel's front door.

CHAPTER 60.

Aubrey Today The run didn't help her confusion, but it helped her body. She felt more settled. More in control. She'd gone for two hours, two glorious, terrible hours. Her life-seven and seventeen and five, and now seven again, seven days of starting over, of finding peace-shattered into a million pieces.

The sun was gone, the night birds calling, mocking as she went up the steps. Another day over. She didn't know how she was going to find the strength to pick up the pieces and start over yet again tomorrow.

She fed Winston, worked up her courage, and called Meghan, who didn't answer. She left a cheery message so she wouldn't know anything was wrong and was just finishing a glass of juice when she heard knocking at the door.

Not just knocking, but the heavy slams that came from a fist turned sideways instead of politely rapping knuckles.

A cop.

Shit. Look normal.

She reacted irrationally, as she was wont to do when the police came calling. Who could blame her, really? She'd been on the losing end of their relationship for most of her life.

The banging continued.

God damn you, Arlo. You promised.

And . . . Thank you for warning me, Chase.

She opened it to the faces of two men she didn't recognize, both holding badges. The taller of the two said, "Aubrey Hamilton?"

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Special Agent Tartt." He nodded to the smaller man, gray-haired and grim-looking. "This is Special Agent Hesley. We're with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. Ma'am, may we come in? It's concerning your husband, Josh Hamilton."

"What about him?"