Already Gone

– 8 –



At first I think it’s a dream.

Diane is in the house, standing across from me with her jacket folded over one arm. There is a suitcase at her feet, and she’s smiling. She picks up my glass and the empty Johnnie Walker bottle.

“You look comfortable,” she says.

I am, but I know I won’t be in the morning.

I tell her this, and she laughs, then leans in close and presses her lips against mine.

“I love you, Jake. Some surprise this turned out to be, huh?”

The words don’t sink in right away. Diane’s skin is soft and smooth and achingly real.

“I miss you,” I say.

“Good night, Jake.”

She lets go of my hand, then turns off the reading light and slips away toward the stairs.

I tell her I’ll see her on Monday.

“You never know,” she says. “Maybe sooner.”





The next morning I walk into the kitchen and head straight for the coffee. Diane is standing at the sink with her back to me. The empty Johnnie Walker bottle is next to her on the counter.

“Tell me you poured that out.”

Diane laughs. “Sorry, that’s all you.”

“Jesus.” I turn away and take a drink from my cup. The coffee is strong and hot and I feel it all the way down. “Can’t believe I did that.”

“Do you remember me coming in last night?”

“I thought it was a dream. If I’d known you were coming home early, I would’ve been in better shape. I don’t know what possessed me.”

“Doug Peterson, probably. He’s a bad influence.”

“How do you know I was with him?”

“You don’t exactly have a long line of friends.”

She’s right, of course.

Diane comes up behind me and runs a hand along my back. “How are you feeling?”

I go through a mental list of every part of me that hurts and say, “I’ve been worse.”

“Good.” She leans in close. “Because I have plans for you tonight.”

I look at her, hopeful.

“I thought we could go out, somewhere nice,” she says. “It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

“About what?”

“About us and everything that’s happened.” She looks at me. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“Are you going to tell me you want a divorce?”

Diane flinches. “Of course not.”

I stare at her, silent.

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I say. “When you left, I thought you needed time to make a decision about us.”

“That wasn’t the main reason, but you’re right. I needed time to think.” She leans against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. “Sometimes it seems like we don’t know anything about each other.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“But you don’t tell me anything, either. I don’t know anything about you, your family, none of it.”

“There’s nothing to know about my family. I told you what happened with my mom, and my dad was in jail more than he was out.”

“What about you?”

“All that’s in the book.”

“Not all of it.”

“No, but everything that matters is in there.” I pause, say, “Look, I was an angry kid and it got me in a lot of trouble, that’s it.”

Diane watches me, silent.

“Is this what tonight is about?”

“Tonight is about us going out, having fun, and talking.” She steps closer. “I miss you, that’s all.”

“You don’t want a divorce?”

She smiles, shakes her head. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Completely.” Diane slides around me, then presses her lips against my ear and whispers, “But no more secrets between us. We’re in this together.”

Her voice fills me.

I put my arm around her and hold her close.

I won’t let her go.

Never again.





That afternoon, Diane and I are sitting out on the deck watching the leaves fall when the phone rings.

“Ten bucks says it’s Doug.” I lean forward and push myself up from the chair. “He’s probably calling to see if I made it through the night.”

“Tell him we need to talk the next time I see him.”

I laugh, then cross the kitchen to the phone and pick it up.

“Mr. Reese?”

I was wrong, it’s not Doug.

“Yes.”

“This is Detective Nolan. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

His voice sounds far away, but cheery. It almost makes me forget the problems he’s caused at the university, but not quite, and for a moment I feel the anger flare in my chest.

I manage to hold it back and say, “Not at all.”

“Good, that’s good.”

I hear him pull the phone away from his mouth. There is a muffled sneeze, and when he comes back to the line, he sounds like he’s talking through cotton.

“Damn cold,” he says. “Kicking me when I’m down.”

I keep quiet and wait.

“Listen, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to touch base on the news.”

“What news?”

“You didn’t read the paper?”

“No, should I?”

“You probably wouldn’t have seen it anyway,” Nolan says. “They buried the damn thing.”

“What happened?”

“Our mystery man was found last night, facedown in the river, shot in the back of the head.”

“Mystery man?”

There is a rustle of paper. Nolan clears his throat and says, “Thomas Wentworth, forty-six, wife, two sons, both off at college back East. He was some kind of high-level executive, CEO type. I’m looking into it.”

“Who killed him?”

“It looks like a random robbery. We found his wallet about thirty feet from his body. His ID was inside along with a few pictures of his family, but no cash or credit cards. He’s got a tan line on his wrist, but no watch. They probably took that, too.”

“You think it’s the same guys who came after me?”

“The thought crossed my mind, but he’s still got his wedding ring, and all his fingers.”

“Are you making a joke?”

“Maybe I am.” Nolan laughs. “You know what they say, laughter keeps you from screaming.”

“I’ve never heard that one.”

“I might’ve made it up.”

I wait for him to go on. When he doesn’t I say, “So what can I do for you?”

“Unless you can tell me anything about Mr. Wentworth, not much.” Nolan clears his throat and coughs again. “But while I’ve got you on the phone, can you tell me where you were last night?”

“I knew there was more to this.”

Nolan doesn’t speak.

“I got home around nine. I was alone.”

“You got anyone who can verify that?”

“Nope.”

“Where was your wife?”

“On a plane coming in from Phoenix.”

“What’s in Phoenix?”

“None of your business.”

Nolan sighs. “Anyone at all know you were at home?”

“After nine? Not really. The cab driver who dropped me off. Doug Peterson, I suppose.”

“Dropped you off?”

“Doug and I went out for a few drinks after work. We ended up taking a cab home.”

“That’s very responsible of you.”

I open my mouth to start a fight, but I stop myself and say, “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Not unless something comes to you,” he says. “You have my number.”

I hang up and walk back outside.

Diane watches as I cross the deck to my chair.

“Who was it?”

I tell her.

“He was checking in,” I say. “Still no leads on my case.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

I don’t say anything else.

We agreed, no more secrets, but I can’t bring myself to tell her about the police finding Thomas Wentworth’s body. I have no idea how she’ll take the news, and I don’t want to take the chance that it’ll upset her again.

Right now, she’s home and we’re happy.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.