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Authors: Christopher Reich
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jacket entered.
“All right,” said Carrie Kramer. “That’s enough of that. There’s a bunch of gals downstairs who are waiting to give you a shoulder to cry on. They’ve brought enough carbs to fill two refrigerators. I hopeyou and the girls like chicken potpie and grits. That’s what passes for comfort food around here.”
Mary put down the paper. “I’ll pass.”
“How ’bout some coffee?”
“Maybe later.”
Carrie sat down on the bed next to her. She was Mary’s newest next-door neighbor and the best friend she’d made in God knew how long. Carrie was her age, a mother of two girls and wife to a husband who, like Joe, worked far too many hours. Mark Kramer taught electrical engineering at UT and had recently taken a consulting job at the new Apple campus. Joe had “the job.” Carrie’s husband, Mark, had “the lab.” Like Mary, she was a de facto single mom.
Then there was the matter of their looks. Both were blondes a few pounds from being “athletic,” with hair cut to their shoulders; they were more or less the same height, with blue eyes, ready smiles, and a little too much energy. They couldn’t go out without someone asking if they were sisters. This led to spirited banter about who looked older. In fact Mary was older by a year, but in the name of détente and neighborhood peace, they decided to respond that they were the same. They called themselves the Texas Twins.
“You hanging in there?” asked Carrie.
“I can’t stop from thinking,” Mary began, “what might have happened if I’d just answered the phone.”
“It wasn’t your fault you missed Joe’s call. These things happen.”
“I wasn’t there when he needed me. I knew it was a mistake to let Jessie play with my phone.”
Carrie laid an arm around Mary’s shoulder. “You can’t go back, sweetheart. What’s done is done. There’s no saying you could have helped him anyway.”
“He called me at 4:03. I didn’t hear his message until after Don Bennett phoned two hours later. I sure as hell could have done something.”
“You told me he didn’t tell you where he was or what he needed. Who would you have called if you had gotten the message?”
Mary stood. “I don’t know…someone—anyone. Two hours, Carrie. Why didn’t I…?”
“Because it slipped your mind. Because you couldn’t have known what Joe was calling about. Because you’re a human being like the rest of us.”
“And then I went and erased the message. I don’t know how, but I did.”
“How do you know it was you? Machines screw up all the time. Mark’s iPad just goes and shuts down sometimes. He’s always yelling about losing this or that.”
“They don’t lose the last message your husband ever sent you.”
Carrie studied her. “What are you getting at?”
Mary dropped her hands and paced the room, exasperated at her inability to recall her actions. “All I know is that one minute the message was there and the next it was gone.”
“So someone else erased it?”
“I left the phone in the car when I went into the hospital. I guess someone could have broken into my car, erased the message, then locked the car back up. But even then there’d be a record of it on my message log.” Mary knew her Sherlock Holmes. Eliminate the impossible and what remains, no matter how improbable, is the truth. “You’re right. It was the phone. It had to be. Something just happened.”
“Take it to Joe’s office. Give it to what’s-his-name…Dave—”
“Don Bennett. Joe’s boss.”
“Have him take a look at it.”
“I don’t like him. He practically tried to rip the phone out of my hands last night. He scares me.”
“The FBI scares me, too, hon, but I trust ’em.”
“I know them better than you.” Mary tried her best to recall Joe’s words. She closed her eyes and saw them hovering just out of reach. “It’s just that I can’t remember everything he said.”
“Give it time. It’ll come.” Carrie nodded
“All right,” said Carrie Kramer. “That’s enough of that. There’s a bunch of gals downstairs who are waiting to give you a shoulder to cry on. They’ve brought enough carbs to fill two refrigerators. I hopeyou and the girls like chicken potpie and grits. That’s what passes for comfort food around here.”
Mary put down the paper. “I’ll pass.”
“How ’bout some coffee?”
“Maybe later.”
Carrie sat down on the bed next to her. She was Mary’s newest next-door neighbor and the best friend she’d made in God knew how long. Carrie was her age, a mother of two girls and wife to a husband who, like Joe, worked far too many hours. Mark Kramer taught electrical engineering at UT and had recently taken a consulting job at the new Apple campus. Joe had “the job.” Carrie’s husband, Mark, had “the lab.” Like Mary, she was a de facto single mom.
Then there was the matter of their looks. Both were blondes a few pounds from being “athletic,” with hair cut to their shoulders; they were more or less the same height, with blue eyes, ready smiles, and a little too much energy. They couldn’t go out without someone asking if they were sisters. This led to spirited banter about who looked older. In fact Mary was older by a year, but in the name of détente and neighborhood peace, they decided to respond that they were the same. They called themselves the Texas Twins.
“You hanging in there?” asked Carrie.
“I can’t stop from thinking,” Mary began, “what might have happened if I’d just answered the phone.”
“It wasn’t your fault you missed Joe’s call. These things happen.”
“I wasn’t there when he needed me. I knew it was a mistake to let Jessie play with my phone.”
Carrie laid an arm around Mary’s shoulder. “You can’t go back, sweetheart. What’s done is done. There’s no saying you could have helped him anyway.”
“He called me at 4:03. I didn’t hear his message until after Don Bennett phoned two hours later. I sure as hell could have done something.”
“You told me he didn’t tell you where he was or what he needed. Who would you have called if you had gotten the message?”
Mary stood. “I don’t know…someone—anyone. Two hours, Carrie. Why didn’t I…?”
“Because it slipped your mind. Because you couldn’t have known what Joe was calling about. Because you’re a human being like the rest of us.”
“And then I went and erased the message. I don’t know how, but I did.”
“How do you know it was you? Machines screw up all the time. Mark’s iPad just goes and shuts down sometimes. He’s always yelling about losing this or that.”
“They don’t lose the last message your husband ever sent you.”
Carrie studied her. “What are you getting at?”
Mary dropped her hands and paced the room, exasperated at her inability to recall her actions. “All I know is that one minute the message was there and the next it was gone.”
“So someone else erased it?”
“I left the phone in the car when I went into the hospital. I guess someone could have broken into my car, erased the message, then locked the car back up. But even then there’d be a record of it on my message log.” Mary knew her Sherlock Holmes. Eliminate the impossible and what remains, no matter how improbable, is the truth. “You’re right. It was the phone. It had to be. Something just happened.”
“Take it to Joe’s office. Give it to what’s-his-name…Dave—”
“Don Bennett. Joe’s boss.”
“Have him take a look at it.”
“I don’t like him. He practically tried to rip the phone out of my hands last night. He scares me.”
“The FBI scares me, too, hon, but I trust ’em.”
“I know them better than you.” Mary tried her best to recall Joe’s words. She closed her eyes and saw them hovering just out of reach. “It’s just that I can’t remember everything he said.”
“Give it time. It’ll come.” Carrie nodded
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