To Love and to Perish by Lisa Bork Page A

slippers. The tiny monster looked ready to take a chunk out of us, too.
    â€œThey were looking for Elizabeth. Her twentieth class reunion’s coming up, and they wondered if she wanted to be on the planning committee. I told them I didn’t think she’d be interested.”
    Mr. Potter eyed both Cory and me up and down. “Not likely.”
    I gestured to his wife. “Mrs. Potter was explaining about Elizabeth’s accident. We didn’t know.”
    Mr. Potter brushed by us, yanking the dog away from our ankles, and entered the house. “We don’t like to talk about that. What’s done is done.”
    â€œYes, of course. We won’t intrude on your time anymore.”
    Nor would that be an option. Mr. Potter had closed the door right in our faces.
    _____
    Wayne Engle’s childhood home lay four miles from Elizabeth’s parents, a large blue colonial with black shutters, a red door, a three-car garage, and a white picket fence. The well-manicured lawn covered at least two acres, a covered in-ground pool visible in the backyard.
    I glanced at Cory over the roof of the BMW as we climbed out. “We’re moving on up.”
    He grinned in response. “It is the eastside.”
    A woman around Cory’s age answered the doorbell. She had blond
hair and light brown eyes as well as a distinct resemblance to Wayne’s
yearbook picture. His sister? Again, Cory took the lead. “Hi, I’m Cory and this is Jolene. Is Wayne Engle home?”
    â€œWayne doesn’t live here anymore, not for years.” Her gaze swept over the two of us, measuring, assessing then dismissing.
    â€œI see.” Cory waved the yearbook. “His twentieth class reunion is coming up. The alumni association is looking for volunteers to plan the event. Any idea if he would be interested?”
    â€œI doubt it.” She moved to close the door.
    Cory stepped forward. “Would you have his current address or phone number? I’m sure he’d at least like an invitation to the reunion.”
    She hesitated.
    I spoke up. “We’re trying to locate the whole class and make this the best-attended reunion ever.” With my smile, I tried to channel pep rally spirit, flying in the face of my true long and happy history of nonparticipation.
    The blond frowned, perhaps not a school spirit kind of girl either. “He lives in Binghamton. He owns an insurance company, Wayne Engle Insurance. You could try him there.”
    For the second time that day, a door closed in our faces.
    â€œFriendly, wasn’t she?”
    Cory didn’t seem phased by the woman’s behavior. “We got what we came for, maybe more. Don’t you think it’s weird both he and Elizabeth live in Binghamton?”
    â€œIt’s a big city, close by. I like it better than Albany. Maybe they do, too.”
    Cory glanced at his watch. “Should we swing by his office on the way home?”
    We’d driven across the state and approached Albany from the north this morning. It would be easy to return home to Wachobe from the south, driving through Binghamton and Watkins Glen on the way.
    â€œWe could, but it’s definitely weird for us to drive all the way there to tell him about a class reunion. We look like hometown cheerleaders here in Albany. But there, we’d look like fanatics, tracking down the man to discuss a reunion that’s more than a year and a half away, especially after his sister said he wouldn’t be interested. I think he would expect to get a phone call or a letter about the reunion, now that we’ve talked to her. If she calls him to say we stopped by his parent’s house, he’s going to be suspicious.”
    â€œOkay. Let me think.”
    Back in the car, Cory fiddled with the GPS, typing in Wayne Engle’s company name and city. The street address popped up on the screen and the system plotted a two hour and twenty minute drive for us. At least