The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks
"What are you talking about? I wasn't being a jerk."
"No? Then what was with that little comment you made in front of Mike? There was no reason to do that."
"You mean about Richard staying over?"
She didn't answer, but she didn't have to. Even Pete knew that was what was bothering her.
"Why're you so upset about that? It was true, wasn't it?"
She decided she absolutely despised this guy.
"But you didn't have to say it in front of Mike," she said. "You could have taken Julie aside and asked her about it. Then she could have explained it to Mike."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is that you caught both of them off guard, and you probably started a major argument in the process."
"So? It's not my business if they're not honest with each other. I was just trying to get to the bottom of things."
"Yeah"-Jennifer nodded-"and that's another thing. Just how did you find out that he'd spent the night? Did you talk to Richard or something?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I did. I bumped into him at the gym. He seems like a nice guy."
"A nice guy."
"Yeah," Pete said, sounding defensive. "He's not going to press charges, for one thing, and that says something, right? He wants to put the whole thing behind him and forget about it. He's not going ahead with the civil suit, either."
"And just when were you going to share this with me?"
"What's to share? Like I said, the case got dropped, and besides, it's not your concern. You're still learning the ropes."
Jennifer closed her eyes. "The problem is that Richard is stalking Julie and she's scared to death. Why can't you see that?"
Pete shook his head. "Look, Richard told me about the locket, okay? He mentioned it in case something like this came up, and he told me that he put the pictures in there when he spent the night with her. And remember, even Julie admitted she hadn't looked at it since then, so who's to say he was lying?"
"And you don't care about anything else she's mentioned? About him following her? You don't think all this is a little too coincidental?"
"Hey," Pete protested, "I've talked to the guy a couple of times now-"
He was interrupted by the radio crackling to life. Still glaring at Pete, Jennifer reached for the radio and picked up the mike.
Sylvia, a dispatcher who'd been with the department twenty years and knew just about everyone in town, spoke as though she weren't sure what to make of things.
"We just got a call in from a trucker heading down the highway. He said he saw something strange in a ditch and thought we might want to send a car over."
"What did he think it was?"
"He didn't say. I think he was in a rush and didn't want to stick around to answer questions. It's just off Highway 24, about a quarter mile past the Amoco station on the north side of the road."
"We'll check it out," Jennifer responded, thankful for something to make Pete shut up.
Mike had been gone for half an hour, and the house was eerily quiet. Julie went through the house, making sure the windows and doors were locked, then paced around the living room, Singer at her side. Outside, she could hear the sound of crickets chirping and a light breeze moving the leaves.
Julie crossed her arms and looked toward the door. Singer sat beside her, his head resting against her leg. After a moment he whined, and Julie began to pet him. As if knowing what was going on, he hadn't left her side since Mike had walked out.
She was certain that Richard hadn't put the photos in the locket on the night he'd stayed over. He'd just come from a funeral, for God's sake. And was it plausible that he just happened to be carrying two little pictures of himself on the off chance that he'd be able to put them in the locket while she was in the other room sleeping?
Not a chance.
No, he'd been there. Inside her house. Looking around, opening drawers, rummaging through her things. Which meant he knew how to get inside.
And could do so again.
Julie's throat constricted at the thought, and she hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a chair from the table, and wedged it beneath the front-door knob.
How could Mike have left her? With Andrea missing and Richard stalking her? How on earth could he have left her alone tonight?
So she hadn't told him about Richard. So what? Nothing happened!
But Mike hadn't believed her. She was angry with him for that, and hurt as well. But of all the nights to desert someone . . .
Moving toward the couch, Julie began to cry.
"Do you believe her?" Henry asked.
Mike glanced down the street and drew a long breath. "I don't know."
Henry stared at him. "Sure you do."
"No, I don't," Mike snapped. "How can I know if I wasn't even there?"
"Because you know Julie," Henry offered. "You know her better than anyone."
After a long moment, Mike's shoulders relaxed slightly. "No," he finally said, "I don't think she slept with him."
Henry waited a moment before responding.
"Then what's this all about, then?"
"She lied to me."
"No, she didn't. She just didn't tell you."
"It's the same thing."
"No, it's not. Do you think I tell Emma everything? Especially things that don't matter?"
"This mattered, Henry."
"Not to her, Mike."
"How could it not matter? After all that's been going on?"
He had a point, Henry thought. She probably should have said something, but there was no reason to argue that now.
"So what are you going to do?"
Mike took a long time before answering. "I don't know."
Richard could see Julie's shadowed image as she sat on the couch. He knew she was crying, and he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to take her pain away. He brought his finger to his lips, as if trying to hush a small child. Her emotions had become his, and he felt it all: her loneliness and fear, her heartbreak. He'd never been moved by the sight of someone else's tears before.
He hadn't felt this way after watching his mother cry in the months following his father's funeral, he remembered. But then again, by the end, he'd come to hate her.
Mike left Henry's, heading for home, his head still spinning.
The road was a blur; images he didn't seem to recognize passed on either side of him.
Julie should have told him, he thought again. Yes, he would have been upset, but he would have gotten over it. He loved her, and what was love without trust or honesty?
He was angry at Henry, too, for skimming over what had happened. Maybe he'd feel differently if Emma had cheated on him, the way Sarah had to him a few years back. Once burned, twice shy, the old saying went.
Except that Julie hadn't cheated on him. He knew she wasn't lying about that.
But still, she hadn't trusted him. That's what this was really all about, he knew. Trust. He had no doubt she would have told Jim, so why hadn't she told him?
Was their relationship so different from what she and Jim had shared? Didn't she trust him in the same way she'd trusted Jim?
Didn't she love him?
In the tree, Richard continued to think about his mother.
He'd hoped that she would be better, stronger, after his father's funeral. But instead, she'd begun to drink heavily, and the kitchen was wreathed in a perpetual haze from the cigarettes she chain-smoked. Then she'd become violent, as if choosing to remember her husband by assuming his actions. The first time it happened, he'd been sleeping in his bed when he woke to a staggering pain, as if a match were being held against him.
His mother stood wild-eyed above the bed, his father's belt dangling from her hand. She'd used the buckle end of the belt against his skin.
"It was your fault!" she screamed at him. "You were always making him angry!"
She swung again and again. He cowered at each strike, pleading with her to stop and trying to cover himself,
The following night she'd done it again, but this time he'd expected her and accepted the beatings with the same quiet rage he had in the past with his father. He knew then that he hated her, but that there was nothing he could do to stop her right away. Not with the police suspicious about the way his father had died.
Nine months later, his back and legs scarred, he ground his mother's sleeping pills and slipped the contents into her vodka. After going to sleep, she never woke up.
In the morning, as he stood over the bed staring at her, he thought about how limited her intelligence had been. Though she'd suspected that he'd had something to do with his father's death, she couldn't bring herself to believe that the same thing could happen to her. She should have known that he was strong enough to do what he had to do. Julie, too, had been strong enough to change her life. Julie was a fighter.
He admired that about her. He loved that about her.
Of course, it was time for the fighting to end. Richard was certain that Julie would realize this now. Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously. Now that the charade with Mike was over, there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
Slowly, Richard began climbing down from the tree.
Officers Jennifer Romanello and Pete Gandy drove past the Amoco station and pulled the squad car to the side of the highway. After retrieving their flashlights, they emerged from the car.
A short distance away, Jennifer could see the lights from the gas station, saw cars being filled at the pumps. On the highway, cars whizzed past. The side of the road was bathed in swirling blue and red lights, alerting motorists to their presence.
"You go that way," Pete said, pointing toward the station. "I'll head this way."
Jennifer turned on her flashlight and started her search.
Julie was still crying on the couch when she heard the sound of movement outside her door. Singer's ears went up as he ran toward the window, growling. Her heart hammering, Julie looked around for a weapon.
When Singer barked, she jumped up from the couch with wide eyes, before she realized his tail was wagging.
"Julie?" she heard him call through the door. "It's me, Mike."
She moved toward the door and quickly removed the chair, relief surging through her. As soon as she opened it, Mike looked at her before glancing toward the ground.
"I know you didn't sleep with him," he said.
Julie nodded. "Thank you."
"I'd like to talk to you about it, though."
"Okay."
He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he pushed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.
"Would you have told Jim?" he finally asked.
Julie blinked. It wasn't a question she'd ever considered.
"Yes," she said. "I would have."
Mike nodded again. "I thought so."
"We were married, Mike. You have to understand that."
"I know."
"It has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. If you'd asked whether I would have told him while we were dating, the answer would have been no."
"Really?"
"Really. I didn't want to hurt you. I love you. And had I known all this would have spiraled out of control the way it has, I would have told you then. I should have told you anyway. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too. For saying what I did."
Julie stepped forward tentatively, and when Mike didn't back away, she came closer and leaned into him. She felt his arms wrap around her.
"I'd like to stay tonight," he said, "if that's okay."
Julie closed her eyes. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Richard had reversed course as soon as he saw Mike pull up in front of the house, and he climbed back into the tree. Now he was watching them, his face growing hard.
No, Richard thought. No, no, no. . . .
As if living a nightmare, he saw her go into Mike's arms; he saw her fold into him. . . . No, this was not happening, this couldn't be happening.
Mike was back, and they were holding each other. As if they loved each other.
Richard forced himself to calm down, to regain control. Closing his eyes, he visualized his photographs of Jessica, of Julie, his photographs of birds; he recited lessons on how to set the proper f-stop on a camera. On lenses and their capabilities. On the proper angle of the flash, the properties of light . . .
His breathing steadied as he opened his eyes. He was in control again, but he could still feel anger coursing through him.
Why, he wondered, did she insist on repeating her mistakes?
He'd tried to be nice. He'd tried to be fair. He'd been very patient with her and her little friend. More than patient.
His eyes narrowed. Didn't she have any idea what she was forcing him to do?
Jennifer swiveled the flashlight from side to side, looking for whatever it was the trucker had seen.
The moon hung low in the sky, below the tree line. Thousands of stars dotted the sky above. The air carried the heavy scent of blown exhaust. She moved forward slowly, scanning the embankment. Nothing.
Less than thirty feet from the road, loblolly pines stood clustered together. The underbrush surrounding them was thick with bushes and tall grass, impossible for her light to penetrate.
Cars continued to pass, but she barely registered them. She was watching the ground, moving slowly. Carefully. Jennifer took another step when she heard movement off to the side.
Raising the light, she saw two eyes reflected back at her. She stiffened in surprise before the deer suddenly broke and ran.
Exhaling, she bowed her head and continued. The gas station was closer now, and she wondered again what she was supposed to be looking for.
She stepped around a discarded garbage bag, saw aluminum cans and napkins collecting in the embankment. She was beginning to wonder if she should turn around and help Pete look in the opposite direction when the flashlight illuminated something that her mind at first refused to identify.
When it finally did, she screamed.
Pete Gandy turned at the sound and started running toward Jennifer. He reached her in less than a minute, and it was then he saw Jennifer hovering over a body. He froze, suddenly unable to move.
"Get an ambulance here now!" Jennifer screamed, and Pete turned and raced to the squad car.
Stifling her panic, Jennifer focused on the body below her. The face of the young woman was bloodied and misshapen. There was a sickening ring of purple around her neck. One of her hands lay at an odd angle, the wrist clearly broken. Jennifer had believed her dead until she'd reached down and registered a faint pulse.
When Pete returned, he squatted beside Jennifer.
A moment later, when he recognized the victim, he vomited on the side of the road.
Thirty-four
When Julie arrived for work on Thursday morning, she found Officers Gandy and Romanello waiting for her. By the expressions on their faces, she knew at once why they were there.
"It's Andrea, isn't it?"
Mabel was standing behind them, her eyes red and swollen. "Oh, honey," she said, crossing the room and going into Julie's arms. "Mike and Henry are already on their way. . . ." She began to wail, her body shaking uncontrollably.
"What happened?"
"He beat her," Mabel choked out. "He almost killed her. . . . She's in a coma. . . . They don't know if she's going to make it. . . . They had to fly her to Wilmington last night. . . ."
Julie's knees seemed to weaken before steadying. A moment later, Mike and Henry burst through the door. Mike saw Julie and Mabel before he locked eyes with the officers.
"What did he do to Andrea?" Mike demanded.
Jennifer hesitated. How do you describe a beating like that? The blood, the broken bones . . .
"It was bad," Pete finally offered. "I've never seen anything like it."
Mabel broke into sobs again as Julie struggled with her own. Henry
"Have you arrested Richard yet?" Mike demanded.
"No," Jennifer answered.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because we don't know if he's the one responsible."
"Of course he did it! Who the hell else would do something like that?"
Jennifer held up her hands, trying to keep control of the situation. "Look, I know you're all upset . . ."
"Of course we're upset!" Mike shouted. "How else should we be acting? He's still out on the streets while you two are wasting your time here!"
"Now hold on," Pete said quickly, and Mike turned on him.
"Hold on? You're the one who screwed this up in the first place! If you weren't so damn stupid, none of this would have happened! I told you the guy was dangerous! We begged you to do something about it! But you were too busy playing tough cop to see what was happening."
"Take it easy. . . ."
Mike moved toward him. "Don't tell me what to do! This is your fault!"
Pete's mouth straightened into a line, and he stepped toward Mike. Jennifer jumped between them.
"This isn't helping Andrea!" she shouted. "Now both of you back off!"
Mike and Pete eyed each other, their bodies still tense. Jennifer went on quickly.
"Look-we didn't know about Richard," she said, looking at Mike and Julie. "Neither one of you mentioned anything about Andrea being seen with him, and we found Andrea after we left your place last night. She was already in a coma, and there was no way for us to know who'd done this to her. Pete and I were at the scene until almost dawn, and we came in this morning because this is where Andrea worked, not because we suspected anything. Mabel just told us about him and Andrea less than five minutes ago. Do you understand?"
Mike and Pete continued to stare at each other until Mike finally glanced away. He drew a long breath.
"Yeah, I got it," Mike said. "I'm just upset. I'm sorry."
Pete continued to glare at Mike. A moment later, Jennifer turned to Julie.
"Mabel said that Emma had seen Richard and Andrea together in Morehead City, right?"
"Yes," Julie answered. "A couple of days ago. The day I saw him in the woods."
"And none of you knew he'd been seeing her? If they were dating?"
"No," Julie said. "She didn't say anything to me about it. The first I heard about it was when Emma called."