ten-story building looming up on the right. Fortunately, there was a gas station to the left, so I pulled in there instead, for fear of being seen. I couldn’t have used more than a gallon or two of gas since picking up my rental car at the airport, but I pulled up to the pump anyway and took my time topping off the tank, using the opportunity to observe the construction site across the street.
The building was the tallest thing around, and once it was completed it would be a striking structure of glass and steel, very fitting for the cutting-edge pharmaceutical company that it would house. The grounds around the building were filled with the detritus of construction: mounds of dirt, stacks of building materials, a small crane, and other machinery now sitting idle. The whole property was encircled by temporary orange-net fencing, and from where I was standing I thought I could see a strip of vivid yellow police tape across the main door to the building. A number of cars were parked near that entrance, not just police cars but a few high-end vehicles as well. I had a feeling they belonged to some of the Wynn Industries executives, who were likely keeping an eye on the situation. Haley’s father owned the entire company, so I felt sure it did not bode well that his son-in-law had fallen to his death in their very own building.
I was just closing my gas cap when a Channel 6 Action News van came rumbling up the road and turned onto the property. Heart pounding, Iquickly slapped the lid shut, got back in my car, and started it up. Tucking my credit card into my purse, I drove away, wondering how much longer it would be before the media found out I was back in Pennsylvania and on the case.
My next stop was Hidden Springs, the town I would always call home even though my parents had sold the house and moved to Florida a few years ago. I went the back way, cutting across the countryside via a series of turns so familiar that it was as though I were driving on autopilot. I finally reached the old neighborhood and turned onto the street where I grew up. Our house was halfway down on the right, a three-bedroom ranch style. Pulling over to the side of the road and idling for a few minutes, I thought how much smaller the house looked now than it had when I lived there.
Modest as it was, this had been a nice house to grow up in, with a neighborhood full of kids and an elementary school just a few blocks away. I never really made friends with Haley Wynn until middle school, but by the end of the eighth grade we were practically inseparable. Once I saw her gigantic, fancy home on the wealthy side of town, mine was never good enough again. I probably tormented my poor parents for the next few years, wanting to know why Haley’s family had a pool and we didn’t, why Haley’s father made lots of money and mine didn’t. I received several lectures about the benefits of being a civil servant, but they were all lost on me. As long as Haley had a TV in her bedroom and a walk-in closet filled with the latest fashions, civil service could never trump private entrepreneurship in my book.
Thinking of Haley now made me feel kind of lost and sad. I felt guilty for having let our friendship fade away, especially knowing what I did about her unhappy marriage and her problems with alcohol. Maybe I could have made a difference in her life. Maybe I should pay her a visit right now.
Summoning my nerve, I put the car in drive and headed across town to the home that had been given to Haley and Doug as a wedding present from her father. I had been there only once, a few days before I left for California seven years ago, but I had been duly impressed. Almost as big as the house she had grown up in, it had come complete with a pool andpool house and a detached three-car garage, the whole thing a stunning example of Pennsylvania stone-and-wood Colonial. Nestled on several acres in the costliest neighborhood in town only served to make it more
The building was the tallest thing around, and once it was completed it would be a striking structure of glass and steel, very fitting for the cutting-edge pharmaceutical company that it would house. The grounds around the building were filled with the detritus of construction: mounds of dirt, stacks of building materials, a small crane, and other machinery now sitting idle. The whole property was encircled by temporary orange-net fencing, and from where I was standing I thought I could see a strip of vivid yellow police tape across the main door to the building. A number of cars were parked near that entrance, not just police cars but a few high-end vehicles as well. I had a feeling they belonged to some of the Wynn Industries executives, who were likely keeping an eye on the situation. Haley’s father owned the entire company, so I felt sure it did not bode well that his son-in-law had fallen to his death in their very own building.
I was just closing my gas cap when a Channel 6 Action News van came rumbling up the road and turned onto the property. Heart pounding, Iquickly slapped the lid shut, got back in my car, and started it up. Tucking my credit card into my purse, I drove away, wondering how much longer it would be before the media found out I was back in Pennsylvania and on the case.
My next stop was Hidden Springs, the town I would always call home even though my parents had sold the house and moved to Florida a few years ago. I went the back way, cutting across the countryside via a series of turns so familiar that it was as though I were driving on autopilot. I finally reached the old neighborhood and turned onto the street where I grew up. Our house was halfway down on the right, a three-bedroom ranch style. Pulling over to the side of the road and idling for a few minutes, I thought how much smaller the house looked now than it had when I lived there.
Modest as it was, this had been a nice house to grow up in, with a neighborhood full of kids and an elementary school just a few blocks away. I never really made friends with Haley Wynn until middle school, but by the end of the eighth grade we were practically inseparable. Once I saw her gigantic, fancy home on the wealthy side of town, mine was never good enough again. I probably tormented my poor parents for the next few years, wanting to know why Haley’s family had a pool and we didn’t, why Haley’s father made lots of money and mine didn’t. I received several lectures about the benefits of being a civil servant, but they were all lost on me. As long as Haley had a TV in her bedroom and a walk-in closet filled with the latest fashions, civil service could never trump private entrepreneurship in my book.
Thinking of Haley now made me feel kind of lost and sad. I felt guilty for having let our friendship fade away, especially knowing what I did about her unhappy marriage and her problems with alcohol. Maybe I could have made a difference in her life. Maybe I should pay her a visit right now.
Summoning my nerve, I put the car in drive and headed across town to the home that had been given to Haley and Doug as a wedding present from her father. I had been there only once, a few days before I left for California seven years ago, but I had been duly impressed. Almost as big as the house she had grown up in, it had come complete with a pool andpool house and a detached three-car garage, the whole thing a stunning example of Pennsylvania stone-and-wood Colonial. Nestled on several acres in the costliest neighborhood in town only served to make it more
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