Chapter Text
Ned Nickerson was dead, and there was no bringing him back.
It didn't feel real, even there, dressed in black, standing in his mom's living room with a lukewarm cup of tea. I kept expecting him to come down the stairs any minute, still in his twenties somehow, still exactly the same as I remembered, happy to see that I'd come for a surprise visit.
"I can't believe you're here!" He'd say, scooping me into a tight bear hug.
I'd hug him back, and everything would be okay.
Except, Ned was dead, and I hadn't seen him in eight years anyway. I'd done the math while I was on the plane- it was eight years and two months, to be exact. One of us had to keep count, and he couldn't anymore, so it was up to me.
That was a silly thing to think, I knew. There was no way he'd still been pining for me all those years. People grow and change and move on in eight years. Hell, his fiancee was here. She'd given such a lovely eulogy at the funeral, said some of the same things I would have said back when we were still together: he'll always have a piece of my heart, my life is better for having known him, we were destined to grow old together. It was like looking in the mirror too close and for too long, until your own face became distorted and unfamiliar; it was like she was talking about a stranger.
I set the cup down on a coffee table and walked back towards the kitchen. There were fewer people there that I knew than I expected, though there had been a big turnout. It felt like half of River Heights was attending, but so few of our friends. There were his college buddies, of course, and a couple people I vaguely remembered from high school. Even Henry Bolet had shown up, though it took me awhile to recognize him with freshly cut hair and a well-tailored suit.
The kitchen was bustling, people buzzing around the food like anxious fruit flies. I picked up a finger sandwich just to have something to hold. Ned's mom was in one corner, listening to people talk about Ned with a vacancy in her eyes that suggested she had no more tears left to cry. I hadn't talked to her yet. I didn't know what to say. Probably saying nothing was best.
I always seemed to say the wrong things when it came to grief. I poked at people's pain like I was doing an autopsy of it, instead of just listening. I'd learned that about myself over the last few years. I didn't want to inflict Nosy Nancy on Ned's mom, she didn't deserve that.
The few people I had actually spoken to had been Ned's less close relatives. Cousins and aunts, mostly, who also didn't know many other people there. We'd exchanged superficial condolences and funny stories about Ned. I had one about him trying to surprise me with an all-day scavenger hunt that I completed in under fifteen minutes. I'd been repeating it all day. It was quick and serviceable and a little self-deprecating, hitting all the right notes you wanted an ex-girlfriend to hit. I thought with each repetition it would hurt a little bit less, but it didn't.
I looked around the room again, my sandwich untouched. I didn't know anyone, not really, not in a way that mattered. No one wanted to talk to me. I should just leave. I'd paid my respects. I'd been here long enough for people to remember I came. Maybe I could be off the hook now.
"Nancy?"
I turned around, the familiar voice catching me off-guard. I smiled genuinely for the first time that awful day.
"Frank? Holy shit!"
We hugged, and he felt solid and warm underneath his dress shirt. He smelled of sandalwood aftershave.
"I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were all the way in New York! It's great to see you."
"It's great to see you too. I wish it could be under any other circumstance."
Frank's expression fell. "I'm so sorry, Nance. You two were together for so long, this must still be hard on you."
"I'm fine. It sucks, but I'm fine. I just thought I owed it to him to say goodbye. Even after... everything." I made a wavy hand gesture. Frank knew more of the details than most people, I didn't have to repeat them. "How have you been?"
"I'm good." He nodded. "Still living in town, still frequenting the same haunts. I'm a deputy sheriff, now."
"I'm surprised you're not running the whole place single-handedly."
He winced. "Yeah, well. Not a lot of upward mobility in such a small town, but I like it here. Are you staying for a while? It would be nice to catch up."
"I'm flying out tonight, actually."
"That's too bad, but I guess you must have a busy New York life to get back to. It was great to see you anyway." He put a hand on my shoulder. It was warm and heavy.
"Yeah... um, Frank, can I ask you a question? Just a quick one."
"Of course, anything."
I glanced around, making sure no one was too close within earshot. "Everyone's been talking about an accident, but no one has said... you know, what the cause of death was. Do you know what happened?"
He nodded. "He was out for a run at night, tripped and fell down the steps at Riverside Park. You know the ones. We have accidents on them every year. He hit his head, it was quick and he wouldn't have suffered."
Wait, what? No, that didn't make any sense. My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest. I felt sweaty. I looked up at Frank.
"The steps at Riverside? Are you sure?"
"Yes. I was on the scene, I'm sure. Why? Nancy, are you okay?"
The more I thought about it the more sense it made. Terrible, terrible sense.
"I think Ned was murdered."