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No. Way.
“How would I even…” And then it comes to me… I’ll return to the day Ashley was killed and stop it. I don’
t care about the cold cases—I mean, yes, I do, but really, what would you do? I’ll just change this one thing.
And then, everyone will live happily ever after.
I’m getting my daughter and my wife back. I get up, run my hand over my head and look down at Art. I have to know. “What happened?”
He makes a face. “We were coming back from a wedding on a Saturday afternoon and a car just came out of nowhere and t-boned us.”
He glances at Meggie.
“Mom was killed instantly.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Dad suffered a fracture of his C-4 vertebrae.”
I know enough to recognize the injury of a quadriplegic.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a freak accident. I don’t think it’s anything you did, son.”
Art’s words are so kind, I am undone. Especially since this is not the Arthur Fox I remember. Suffering has softened his rough edges.
“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Meggie asks after a pregnant moment.
“I can’t. I have to interview a witness and do a press conference.”
Meggie glances at the television and back to me. “I thought I recognized you. You’re the one who’s heading up the investigation on the serial killer.”
I freeze, deer in the headlights.
Art is looking at me. “You don’t remember that, do you?”
I shake of my head.
“Oh boy,” Meggie is shaking her head, too.
Exactly.
“Be stalwart,” Art says and I suddenly understand the inscription. Indeed. I head toward the door.
Meggie grabs it behind me as I step out.
I realize I’m still holding the lemonade and finish it before I hand her the glass. “Tastes just like your mother’s.”
Her mouth opens.
I wink and go to my car.
I think I can fix this.
But first, I have to lie to the world.
4
I don’t know why I find myself parked outside the Mulligans’ house, the sun flaming out against the deep blue of Lake Minnetonka. A slight wind bullies the poplar and oak and hovers over the neighborhood, as if in foreboding, and I’m not a detective for nothing. I have instincts and they tell me this is a bad idea.
I’m listening to the radio, the classic rock station, because even in this altered reality I know good music. The kind of music that fueled all my bravest decisions. My Porsche is purring, ready for a getaway.
