My Lovely Wife (Samantha Downing)

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Copyright?2019bySamanthaDowning
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Downing,Samantha,author.
Title:Mylovelywife/SamanthaDowning.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Berkley,2019.
Identifiers:LCCN2018016347|ISBN9780451491725(hardcover)|ISBN9780451491749(ebook)
Subjects:|GSAFD:Suspensefiction.
Classification:LCCPS3604.O9457M92019|DDC813/.6—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2018016347
InternationaleditionISBN:9781984804631
FirstEdition:March2019
Coverart:WomanbyMatthiasRitzmann/CorbisCollection/GettyImages;MalereflectionbyMarkusMoellenberg/GettyImages;GraphicwavesbySergeiSidin/Shutterstock
CoverdesignbyEmilyOsborne
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Version_1Contents
TitlePage
Copyright
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
ChapterTwenty-six
ChapterTwenty-seven
ChapterTwenty-eight
ChapterTwenty-nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-one
ChapterThirty-two
ChapterThirty-three
ChapterThirty-four
ChapterThirty-five
ChapterThirty-six
ChapterThirty-seven
ChapterThirty-eight
ChapterThirty-nine
ChapterForty
ChapterForty-one
ChapterForty-two
ChapterForty-three
ChapterForty-four
ChapterForty-five
ChapterForty-six
ChapterForty-seven
ChapterForty-eight
ChapterForty-nine
ChapterFifty
ChapterFifty-one
ChapterFifty-two
ChapterFifty-three
ChapterFifty-four
ChapterFifty-five
ChapterFifty-six
ChapterFifty-seven
ChapterFifty-eight
ChapterFifty-nine
ChapterSixty
ChapterSixty-one
ChapterSixty-two
ChapterSixty-three
ChapterSixty-four
ChapterSixty-five
ChapterSixty-six
ChapterSixty-seven
ChapterSixty-eight
ChapterSixty-nine
ChapterSeventy
ChapterSeventy-one
ChapterSeventy-two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
One
SHEISLOOKINGatme.Herblueeyesareglassy,theyflickerdowntoherdrinkandbackup.Ilookatmyowndrinkandcanfeelherwatching,wonderingifI’masinterestedassheis.IglanceoverandsmiletoshowherIam.Shesmilesback.Mostofherlipstickisgone,nowareddishsmearontherimofherglass.Iwalkoverandtaketheseatnexttoher.
Shefluffsherhair.Itisunremarkableinbothcolorandlength.Herlipsmove,shesayshello,andhereyesarebrighter.Theylookbacklit.
Physically,IappealtoherthesamewayIwouldappealtomostwomeninthisbar.Iamthirty-nine,inexcellentshapewithafullheadofhairandadeepsetofdimples,andmysuitfitsbetterthananyglove.That’swhyshelookedatme,whyshesmiled,whysheishappyIhavecomeovertojoinher.Iamthemanshehasinmind.
Islidemyphoneacrossthebartowardher.Itdisplaysamessage.
Hello.MynameisTobias.
Shereadsitandcrinklesherbrow,lookingbackandforthbetweenthephoneandme.Itypeanothermessage.
Iamdeaf.
Hereyebrowsshootup,shecovershermouthwithonehand,andthepinkrisesonherskin.Embarrassmentlooksthesameoneveryone.
Sheshakesherheadatme.Sorry,sosorry.Shedidnotknow.
Ofcourseyoudidn’t.Howcouldyou?
Shesmiles.Itisnotquitewhole.
Iamnolongerthepictureinherhead,nolongerthemansheimagined,butnowsheisn’tsurewhattodo.
Shepicksupmyphoneandtypesback.
I’mPetra.Apleasuretomeetyou,Petra.YouareRussian?Myparentswere.
Inodandsmile.Shenodsandsmiles.Icanseehermindchurning.
Shewouldrathernotstaywithme.Shewantstogofindamanwhocanhearherlaughanddoesnothavetotypeouthiswords.
Atthesametime,herconsciencetellshernottodiscriminate.Petradoesnotwanttobetheshallowwomanwhorefusesamanbecauseheisdeaf.Shedoesn’twanttoturnmedownthewaysomanyothershave.
Orsosheassumes.
Herinternalbattleislikeathree-actplayunfoldingbeforemyeyes,andIknowhowitends.Atleastmostofthetime.
Shestays.
Herfirstquestionisaboutmyhearing,orlackofit.Yes,Ihavebeendeaffrombirth.No,Ihaveneverheardanything—notalaugh,notavoice,notapuppybarkingoraplaneoverhead.
Petragivesmeasadface.Shedoesnotrealizethisispatronizing,andIdon’ttellher,becausesheistrying.Becauseshestays.
SheasksifIcanreadlips.Inod.Shestartstotalk.
“WhenIwastwelve,Ibrokemylegintwoplaces.Bikeaccident.”Hermouthmovesinthemostexaggerated,grotesqueway.“Anyway,Ihadtowearacastthatwentfrommyfootallthewayuptomythigh.”Shestops,drawsalineacrossherthighincaseIhavetroubleunderstanding.Idon’t,butIappreciatetheattempt.Andthethigh.
Shecontinues.“Icouldn’twalkatallforsixweeks.Atschool,Ihadtouseawheelchair,becausethecastwastooheavyforcrutches.”
Ismile,halfimagininglittlePetrawithabigcast.Halfimaginingwherethissadstoryisheading.
“I’mnotsayingIknowwhatit’sliketoliveinawheelchair,ortohaveanypermanentdisability.Ijustalwaysfeellike…well,itfeelslikeI’vehadasmalltasteofwhatitwouldbelike,youknow?”
Inod.
Shesmileswithrelief,afraidherstorymighthaveoffendedme.
Itype:
Youareverysensitive.
Sheshrugs.Beamsatthecompliment.
Wehaveanotherdrink.
Itellherastorythathasnothingtodowithbeingdeaf.Itellheraboutmychildhoodpet,afrognamedSherman.Hewasabullfrogwhosatonthebiggestrockinthepondandhoggedalltheflies.InevertriedtocatchSherman;Iwouldjustwatchhim,andsometimeshewatchedme,too.Welikedtosittogether,andIstartedcallinghimmypet.
“Whathappenedtohim?”Petraasks.
Ishrug.
Onedaytherockwasempty.Neversawhimagain.
Petrasaysthisissad.Itellheritisn’t.Sadwould’vebeenfindinghisdeadbodyandbeingforcedtoburyhim.Ineverhadtodothat.Ijustimaginedhewenttoabiggerpondwithmoreflies.
Shelikesthisandtellsmeso.
IdonottellhereverythingaboutSherman.Forinstance,hehadalongtonguethatdartedaroundsofastIcouldhardlyseeit,butIalwayswantedtograbit.Iusedtositbythepondandwonderhowbadofathoughtthatwas.Howterriblewasittotryandgrabafrog’stongue?Andwouldithurthim?Ifhedied,woulditbemurder?Inevertriedtograbhistongueandprobablycouldn’thaveanyway,butIthoughtaboutit.AndthatmademefeellikeIwasn’tagoodfriendtoSherman.
Petratellsmeabouthercat,Lionel,whoisnamedafterherchildhoodcat,alsonamedLionel.Itellherthat’sfunny,butI’mnotsureitis.Sheshowsmepictures.Lionelisatuxedocat,withafacedividedbetweenblackandwhite.Heistoostarktobecute.
Shecontinuestotalkandshiftstoherwork.Shebrandsproductsandcompanies,andshesaysit’sboththeeasiestandthemostdifficultthing.Difficultinthebeginning,becauseit’ssohardtogetanyonetorememberanything,butasmorepeoplestarttorecognizeabrand,itbecomeseasy.
“Atsomepoint,itdoesn’tevenmatterwhatwe’reselling.Thebrandbecomesmoreimportantthantheproduct.”ShepointstomyphoneandasksifIboughtitbecauseofthenameorbecauseIlikethephone.
Both?
Shesmiles.“See.Youaren’tevensure.”
Iguessnot.
“Whatdoyoudo?”
Accountant.
Shenods.Itistheleastexcitingprofessionintheworld,butitissolid,stable,andsomethingadeafguycaneasilydo.Numbersdon’tspeakwithavoice.
Thebartendercomesover.Heisneatandclean,college-aged.Petratakeschargeoftheordering,anditisbecauseIamdeaf.WomenalwaysthinkIneedtobetakencareof.TheyliketodothingsformebecausetheythinkIamweak.
Petrasecuresustwomoredrinksandafreshbowlofsnacks,andshesmileslikesheisproudofherself.Itmakesmelaugh.Silently,butstillalaugh.
Sheleanstowardmeandputsherhandonmyarm.Leavesitthere.ShehasforgottenIamnotheridealman,andourprogressionisnowpredictable.It’snotlongbeforewegotoherplace.Thedecisioniseasierthanitshouldbe,thoughnotbecauseIfindherparticularlyattractive.Itisthechoice.Shegivesmethepowertodecide,andrightnowIamamanwhosaysyes.
Petralivesdowntown,closetothebar,inthemiddleofallthebigbrandingsigns.HerplaceisnotasneatasI’dexpected.Thereiscluttereverywhere:papersandclothesanddishes.Itmakesmethinkshelosesherkeysalot.
“Lionelisaroundheresomewhere.Hiding,probably.”
Idon’tlookforthatstarkcat.
Sheflitsaround,droppingherbaginoneplaceandremovinghershoesinanother.Twoglassesappear,filledwithredwine,andsheleadsmeintothebedroom.Sheturnstofaceme,smiling.Petrahasbecomemoreattractive—evenherplainhairseemstosparkle.Itisthealcohol,yes,butit’salsoherhappiness.Igetthefeelingshehasnotbeenthishappyinawhile,andI’mnotsurewhy.Petraisattractiveenough.
Shepressesupagainstme,herbodywarm,herbreathsoakedinwine.Shetakestheglassoutofmyhandandputsitdown.
Idonotfinishdrinkingituntilmuchlater,whenweareinthedarkandtheonlylightisfrommyphone.Wetypebackandforth,makingfunofourselvesandthefactthatwedonotknoweachother.
Iask:
Favoritecolor?Limegreen.Icecream?Bubblegum.Bubblegum?Thebluestuff?Yes.Whosaysthat?What’syourfavorite?Frenchvanilla.Pizzatopping?Ham.We’redonehere.Arewe?Wait,arewestilltalkingaboutpizza?
Wearenottalkingaboutpizza.
Afterward,shedozesofffirst.Ithinkaboutleaving,thenaboutstaying,andtheideabouncesaroundsolongIdozeoff.
WhenIwakeup,it’sstilldark.IslipoutofthebedwithoutwakingPetra.Sheissleepingfacedown,onelegaskewandherhairspreadoutonthepillow.IcannotdecideifIreallylikeherornot,soIdon’tdecideatall.Idonothaveto.
Onthenightstand,herearrings.Theyaremadeofcoloredglass,aswirlofblueshades,andtheylooklikehereyes.Aftergettingdressed,Isliptheearringsintomypocket.Itakethemtoremindmyselfnottodothisagain.Ialmostbelieveitwillwork.
Iwalktowardthefrontdoorwithoutlookingback.
“Areyoureallydeaf?”
Shesaysitoutloud,tomyback.
IhearherbecauseIamnotdeaf.
AndIkeepmoving.
IpretendIdon’thearher,gostraighttothedoorandshutitbehindme,thencontinueuntilIamoutofherbuilding,downtheblock,andaroundthecorner.ItisonlythenthatIstopandwonderhowshefigureditout.Imusthaveslipped.
Two
MYNAMEISnotTobias.IusethatnameonlywhenIwantsomeonetorememberme.Inthiscase,thebartender.IintroducedmyselfandtypedoutmynamewhenIfirstwalkedinandorderedadrink.Hewillrememberme.HewillrememberthatTobiasisthedeafmanwholeftthebarwithawomanhejustmet.Thenamewasforhisbenefit,notPetra’s.Shewillremembermeanyway,becausehowmanydeafguyscouldshehavesleptwith?
AndifIhadn’tmadeamistake,Iwouldhavebeenanoddfootnoteinhersexualhistory.Butnowshewillremembermeasthe“fakedeafguy”orthe“possiblyfakedeafguy.”
ThemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIwonderifIslippedtwice.MaybeIfrozewhensheaskedifIwasdeaf.It’spossible,becausethat’swhatpeopledowhentheyhearsomethingunexpected.AndifIdid,sheprobablysawit.SheprobablyknowsIlied.
Onthedrivebackhome,everythingisuncomfortable.Mycarseatfeelsscratchy,andithurtsmyback.Everythingontheradioistooloud,almostlikeeveryoneisscreeching.ButIcan’tblamethatallonPetra.Ihavebeenirritableforawhilenow.
Athome,allisquiet.Mywife,Millicent,isstillinbed.Ihavebeenmarriedtoherforfifteenyears,andshedoesnotcallmeTobias.Wehavetwokids;Roryisfourteen,andJennaisoneyearyounger.
Ourbedroomisdark,butIcanjustaboutseetheshapeofMillicentunderthebedcovers.Itakeoffmyshoesandtiptoetowardthebathroom.
“Well?”
Millicentsoundswide-awake.
Ihalfturnandseetheshadowofherproppeduponanelbow.
Thereitisagain.Thechoice.FromMillicent,ararity.
“No,”Isay.
“No?”
“Sheisn’tright.”
Theairbetweenusfreezes.Itdoesn’tthawuntilMillicentexhalesandlaysherheadbackdown.
???
SHEGETSUPbeforeIdo.BythetimeIwalkintothekitchen,Millicentisorganizingbreakfast,schoollunches,theday,ourlives.
IknowshouldtellheraboutPetra.Notaboutthesex—Iwouldn’ttellmywifeaboutthat.ButIshouldtellherthatImadeamistakeandthatPetraisrightforus.Ishoulddoitbecauseit’sarisktoleavePetraoutthere.
Instead,Isaynothing.
Millicentlooksatme,herdisappointmenthittinglikeaphysicalforce.Hereyesaregreen,manyshadesofgreen,andtheylooklikecamouflage.
TheyarenothinglikePetra’s.MillicentandPetrahavenothingincommon,exceptthey’vebothsleptwithme.Orsomeversionofme.
Thekidstumbledownthestairs,alreadyyellingateachother,fightingoverwhosaidwhataboutso-and-soatschoolyesterday.Theyaredressedandreadyforschool,justasIamdressedforworkinmytenniswhites.Iamnotandneverhavebeenanaccountant.
Whilemykidsareinschoolandmywifeissellinghouses,Iamoutsideonthecourt,inthesun,teachingpeoplehowtoplaytennis.Mostofmyclientsaremiddle-agedandoutofshape,withtoomuchmoneyandtime.Occasionally,Iamhiredbyparentswhobelievetheirchildisaprodigy,achampion,afuturerolemodel.Sofar,theyhaveallbeenwrong.
ButbeforeIcanleavetoteachanyoneanything,Millicentmakesusallsittogetherforatleastfiveminutes.Shecallsitbreakfast.
Jennarollshereyes,tapsherfeet,anxioustogetherphoneback.Nophonesareallowedatthetable.Roryiscalmerthanhissister.Hemakesthemostofourfiveminutesbyeatingasmuchaspossible,thenstuffinghispocketswithwhateverdoesn’tfitinhismouth.
Millicentsitsacrossfromme,acupofcoffeeperchedatherlips.Sheisdressedforworkinaskirt,blouse,andheels,andherredhairispulledback.Themorningsunmakesitlooklikecopper.Wearethesameage,butshelooksbetter—alwayshas.SheisthewomanIshouldnothavebeenabletoget.
Mydaughtertapsmyarminapattern,likethebeattoasong,andshecontinuesuntilIpayattentiontoher.Jennadoesnotlooklikehermother.Hereyes,herhair,andtheshapeofherfacecomefromme,andsometimesthismakesmesad.Othertimesnot.
“Dad,canyoutakemetogetnewshoestoday?”shesays.Sheissmiling,becausesheknowsIwillsayyes.
“Yes,”Isay.
Millicentkicksmeunderthetable.“Thoseshoesareamonthold,”shesaystoJenna.
“Butthey’retootightnow.”
Notevenmywifecanarguewiththat.
Roryasksifhecangoplayhisvideogameforafewminutesbeforeschool.
“No,”Millicentsays.
Helooksatme.Ishouldsayno,butnowIcan’t,notafterIsaidyestohissister.Heknowsthis,becauseRoryisthesmartone.HeisalsotheonewholookslikeMillicent.
“Goahead,”Isay.
Heracesoff.
Millicentslamsdownhercoffeecup.
Jennapicksupherphone.
Wearedonewithbreakfast.
Beforegettingupfromthetable,Millicentglaresatme.Shelooksexactlylikemywifeand,atthesametime,nothinglikeher.
???
IFIRSTSAWMillicentinanairport.Iwastwenty-twoandonmywaybackfromCambodia,whereIhadspentthesummerwiththreefriends.Wegothigheverydayanddrunkeverynight,andwenevershaved.Ileftthecountryasaclean-cutkidfromthesuburbsandreturnedasashaggy,beardedmanwithadeeptanandsomegreatstories.NonecomparetoMillicent.
Iwasonalayover,myfirstbackinthecountry.IwentthroughcustomsandwasheadingtothedomesticterminalwhenIsawher.Millicentwassittinginatanemptygatearea,alone,withherfeetproppeduponhersuitcase.Shewasstaringoutofthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsoverlookingthetarmac.Herredhairwasknottedintoaloosebun,andshewaswearingaT-shirt,jeans,andsneakers.Istoppedtowatchherasshewatchedtheplanes.
Itwasthewayshelookedoutthewindow.
IhaddonethesamethingwhenIsetoffonmytrip.Mydreamhadbeentotravel,toseeplaceslikeThailandandCambodiaandVietnam,andIdid.NowIwasbackonfamiliarground,backtowhereIhadgrownup,butmyparentsweregone.AlthoughIamnotsuretheywereeverreallythere.Notforme.
WhenIreturned,mydreamoftravelinghadbeenfulfilledbutnotreplacedwithanother.NotuntilIsawMillicent.Shelookedlikeshewasjustbeginningherowndream.Inthatmoment,Iwantedtobeapartofit.
Atthetime,Ididn’tthinkofallthis.Icameupwithitlater,whenItriedtoexplainittoheroranyoneelsewhyIfoundhersoattractive.Butbackthen,Icontinuedtomynextgate.Aftertravelingfortwentyhourswithstillmoretogo,Icouldn’tevenmusteruptheenergytospeaktoher.AllIcoulddowasadmire.
Itturnedoutwewereonthesameflight.Itookitasasign.
Shehadawindowseat,andminewasinthecenterofthemiddlerow.Ittookalittleconvincing,someflirtingwithaflightattendantandatwenty-dollarbill,togetmyseatmovednexttoMillicent.ShedidnotlookupwhenIsatdown.
Bythetimethedrinkcartcameby,Ihadcomeupwithaplan.Iwouldorderwhateversheordered,and,becauseIhadalreadydecidedshewasspecial,Icouldnotimagineherorderinganythingasmundaneaswater.Itwouldbesomethingmoreunusual,likepineapplejuicewithice,andwhenIorderedthesamethingwewouldhaveamomentofsymmetry,symbiosis,serendipity—itdidn’tmatterwhat.
GivenhowlongithadbeensinceIhadslept,thisplansoundedplausibleinmyheadrightupuntilMillicenttoldtheflightattendantthanksbutnothanks.Shedidnotwantadrink.
Isaidthesamething.Itdidn’thavetheeffectIwanted.
ButwhenMillicentturnedtotheflightattendant,Isawhereyesforthefirsttime.Thecolorremindedmeofthelush,openfieldsIhadseenalloverCambodia.Theywerenotnearlyasdarkastheylooknow.
Shewentbacktostaringoutthewindow.IwentbacktostaringatherwhilepretendingIwasn’t.
ItoldmyselfIwasanidiotandIshouldjusttalktoher.
Itoldmyselftherewassomethingwrongwithme,becausenormalpeopledidn’tactlikethisoveragirltheyhadneverseenbefore.
Itoldmyselfnottobeastalker.
Itoldmyselfshewastoobeautifulforme.
Withthirtyminutesleftontheflight,Ispoke.
“Hi.”
Sheturned.Stared.“Hi.”
Ithinkthat’swhenIstoppedholdingmybreath.
YearspassedbeforeIaskedwhyshekeptstaringoutthewindows,bothintheairportandontheplane.Shesaiditwasbecauseshehadneverflownbefore.Theonlythingshehadbeendreamingaboutwasasafelanding.
Three
PETRAWASNUMBERoneonthelist,butnowthatshe’sbeeneliminatedImoveontothenext,ayoungwomannamedNaomiGeorge.Ihaven’tspokentoheryet.
Intheevening,IdrivetotheLancasterHotel.NaomiworksasafrontdeskclerkattheLancaster,oneofthoseold-worldplacesthatsurvivesbecauseofitspastglory.Thebuildingishugeandsograndindecoritcouldneverbebuilttoday.Itwouldbetooexpensivetodorightandtoocheesyifdonewrong.
Thefrontofthehotelhasglassdoorsandsidepanels,offeringagoodviewofthefrontdesk.NaomistandsbehinditwearingtheLancasteruniform,ablueskirtandjacket,bothtrimmedingoldbraid,andacrispwhiteblouse.Shehaslongdarkhair,andthefrecklesonhernosemakeherlookyoungerthansheis.Naomiistwenty-seven.Sheprobablystillgetscardedinbarsbutisnotasinnocentasshelooks.
Lateatnight,Ihaveseenhergetalittletoofriendlywithmorethanonemaleguest.Theyhaveallbeenalone,older,andwelldressed,andshedoesn’talwaysleavethehotelwhenhershiftends.EitherNaomihasbeenmakingextramoneyonthesideorshehasaspirationalone-nightstands.
Becauseofsocialmedia,Iknowthatherfavoritefoodissushibutshewon’teatredmeat.Inhighschool,sheplayedvolleyballandhadaboyfriendnamedAdam.NowheisreferredtoasTheCretin.Herlastboyfriend,Jason,movedawaythreemonthsago,andshehasbeensingleeversince.Naomihasbeenthinkingaboutgettingapet,probablyacat,butshehasn’tyet.Shehasmorethanathousandonlinefriends,butfromwhatIcantell,Naomihasjusttwoclosefriends.Threeatthemost.
I’mstillnotsuresheistheone.Ineedtoknowmore.
Millicentistiredofwaiting.
Lastnight,IfoundMillicentinourbathroom,standinginfrontofthemirror,takingoffhermakeup.ShewaswearingjeansandaT-shirtproclaimingherthemotherofaseventh-gradehonorstudent.Jenna,notRory.
“Whatwaswrongwithher?”shesaid.MillicentdoesnotusePetra’snamebecauseshedoesnothaveto.Iknowwhoshemeans.
“Shejustwasn’ttheone.”
Millicentdidn’tlookatmeinthemirror.Shesmoothedlotiononherface.“That’sthesecondoneyou’veeliminated.”
“Shehastoberight.Youknowthat.”
Shesnappedthelidofherlotionbottleclosed.Iwenttothebedroomandsatdowntotakeoffmyshoes.Thedayhadbeenlongandneededtoend,butMillicentwouldn’tletit.Shefollowedmeintothebedroomandstoodoverme.
“Areyousureyoustillwanttodothis?”shesaid.
“Yes.”
Iwastoobusyfeelingguiltyaboutsleepingwithanotherwomantoshowmuchenthusiasm.Ithadhitmeintheafternoon,whenIsawalittleoldcouple;theyhadtobeatleastninetyyearsold,andtheyheldhandsastheywalkeddownthestreet.Coupleslikethatdidn’tcheatoneachother.IlookedupatMillicentandwishedIcouldmakeusbecomelikethat.
Millicentkneltinfrontofmeandplacedahandontopofmyknee.“Weneedtodothis.”
Hereyesflickered,thewarmthfromherhandspreadingasitinchedupmyleg.“You’reright,”Isaid.“Wedoneedthis.”
Sheleanedcloserandkissedmelonganddeep.Itmademefeelguiltier.Anditmademewanttodowhateverwillmakeherhappy.
???
LESSTHANTWENTY-FOURHOURSlater,IamsittinginfrontoftheLancasterHotel.Naomi’sshiftdoesnotenduntileleven,andIcannotjustsitoutsidethehotelforthenextthreehours.Insteadofgoinghome,Igetsomethingtoeatandthensitinabar.It’saconvenientplacetogowhenthereisnowhereelse.
TheplaceIhavechosenishalf-full,mostlywithmenwhoarealone.It’snotasniceasthebarIwasinwithPetra.Thecocktailscosthalfasmuch,andanyonewearingasuithasalreadyloosenedtheirtie.Thewoodfloorispatternedwithscrapesfromthebarstools,andwatermarkringsdecoratethebar.Thisisaplacefordrinkers,bydrinkers,aplacewhereeveryoneistooinebriatedfordetails.
Iorderabeerandwatchabaseballgameononescreenandthenewsonanother.
Bottomofthethird,twoouts.Raintomorrow,maybe,butthenagainitmightbesunny.ItisalwayssunnyhereinWoodview,Florida,aso-calledenclavefromtherealworld.Inaboutanhour,wecanbeattheocean,inastatepark,oratoneofthebiggestamusementparksintheworld.WealwayssayhowluckywearetolivehereincentralFlorida,especiallythoseofuswholiveintheHiddenOakssubdivision.TheOaksareanenclavefromtheenclave.
Topofthefourthinning,oneout.StilltwomorehoursuntilNaomi’sshiftendsandIcanfollowher.
Andthen,Lindsay.
HersmilingfacestaresatmefromtheTVscreen.
Lindsay,withhernarrowbrowneyesandstraightblondhair,heroutdoorsytanandbigwhiteteeth.
Shewentmissingayearago.Foraweek,shewasabliponthenews,andthenthestorywasgone.WithoutanyclosefamilytokeepheronTV,noonepaidattention.Lindsaywasn’tamissingchild;shewasn’tdefenseless.Shewasagrownwoman,andinlessthansevendaysshewasforgotten.
Notbyme.Istillrememberherlaugh.Itwasinfectiousenoughtomakemelaughalongwithher.SeeingheragainmakesmerememberhowmuchIlikedher.
Four
IFIRSTSPOKEtoLindsaywhileonahike.OneSaturdaymorning,Ifollowedhertothehillytrailsjustoutsidetown.Shestartedononetrail,Istartedonanother,andanhourlaterweranintoeachother.
Whenshesawme,Lindsaynoddedandsaidhelloinawaythatdidnotinvitefurtherconversation.Iwavedandmouthedhello.Unconsciously,shegavemeanoddlook,andIhandedhermyphonetointroducemyself.
Sorry,thatprobablylookedstrange!Hello,mynameisTobias.Iamdeaf.
Iwatchedherguarddrop.
Sheintroducedherself,wetalked,andthenwesatdowntodrinksomewaterandsheofferedmeasnack.PixyStix.Shehadahandfulofthem.
Lindsayrolledhereyesatherself.“That’sterrible,right?Eatingsugarwhileexercising?ButIlovethem.”
SodoI.
Itwasthetruth.Ihadn’teatenPixyStixsinceIwasakid,butIlovedthem.
Shetoldmeaboutherself,aboutthejob,house,andhobbiesIalreadyknewabout.ItoldherthesamestoriesItoldallofthem.Asthemorningsunrose,wedecidedtofinishourhiketogether.Weweresilentmostoftheway,andIlikedit.Mylifewasalmostneversilent.
Shedeclinedmyinvitationtolunch,butwedidexchangenumbers.IgaveherthenumbertothephoneIusewhenIamTobias.
Lindsaytextedmeonce,afewdaysafterthehike.Hearingfromhermademesmile.
Itwasgreattomeetyoulastweek,hopewecanhiketogethersometime.
Wedid.
Adifferenttrailthesecondtime,farthernorthandnearIndianLakeStateForest.ShebroughtthePixyStixagain;Ibroughtablanket.Westoppedtorestinanareawherethesunwasblockedbyheavyfoliage.Aswesatdown,Ismiledather,anditwasreal.
“You’recute,”shesaid.
No,you’rethecuteone.
Shetextedafewdayslater,andIignoredit.Bythen,MillicentandIhadagreedthatLindsaywastheone.
Now,ayearlater,LindsayisbackonTV.Theyfoundher.
???
IGOSTRAIGHThomefromthebar.Millicentisalreadythere,sittingonthefrontporch.Sheisstilldressedinworkclothes,andherpatentleatherpumpsmatchthecolorofherskin.Shesaystheymakeherlegslooklonger,andIagree.Ialwaysnoticewhensheiswearingthem,evennow.
AfterworkingalldayandthenbeingcoopedupinthecarwatchingNaomi,IrealizehowbadlyIneedashower.ButMillicentdoesn’teventurnuphernosewhenIsitdownnexttoher.BeforeIcanspeak,shedoes.
“It’snotaproblem.”
“Areyousure?”Iask.
“Positive.”
Idonotknowifthisistrue.WeweresupposedtakecareofLindsaytogether,butitdidn’tworkoutthatway.AndIdon’thaveanyoptionstoarguewith.
“Idon’tunderstandhow—”
“It’snotaproblem,”shesaysagain.Shepointsup,gesturingtothesecondfloorofourhouse.Thekidsarehome.Iwanttoaskmore,butIcan’t.
“Wehavetowaitonthenextone,”Isay.“Weshouldn’tdoanythingnow.”
Shedoesnotanswer.
“Millicent?”
“Iheardyou.”
Iwanttoaskherifsheunderstands,butIknowshedoes.Shejustdoesn’tlikeit.SheisupsetLindsayhasbeenfoundnow,rightwhenwewereplanninganother.It’slikeshehasbecomeaddicted.
Sheisnottheonlyone.
???
WHENIMETMillicentontheplane,itwasn’tloveatfirstsight.Notforher.Itwasn’tevenmildinterest.Aftersayinghello,shelookedawayandcontinuedstaringoutthewindow.IwasrightbackwhereI’dstarted.Ileanedbackontheheadrest,closedmyeyes,andberatedmyselffornothavingthecouragetosaymore.
“Excuseme.”
Myeyesflewopen.
Shewaslookingatme,hergreeneyeshuge,foreheadwrinkled.
“Areyouokay?”shesaid.
Inodded.
“Areyousure?”
“I’msure.Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’re—”
“Becauseyou’reknockingyourheadagainstthis.”Shepointedtotheheadrest.“You’reshakingtheseat.”
Ihadn’tevenrealizedIwasdoingit.Ithoughtallthatmentalberatingwasjustthat:mental.“I’msorry.”
“Soyou’reokay?”
IrecoveredenoughtorealizethegirlIhadbeenstaringatwasnowtalkingtome.Sheevenlookedconcerned.
Ismiled.“I’mokay,really.Iwasjust—”
“Beatingyourselfup.Idothesamething.”
“Aboutwhat?”
Sheshrugged.“Lotsofthings.”
Ifeltanurgetoknoweverythingthatmadethisgirlbeatherheadinfrustration,butthelandinggearhadjustdroppedandwedidn’thavetime.“Tellmeone,”Isaid.
Sheconsideredmyquestion,evenputtingherindexfingeruptoherlips.Ibitbackanothersmile,notjustbecauseitwascutebutbecauseIhadherattention
Aftertheplanelanded,sheanswered.
“Assholes,”shesaid.“AssholesonplaneswhohitonmewhenallIwantistobeleftalone.”
Withoutthinking,withoutevenrealizingshewastalkingaboutme,Isaid,“Icanprotectyoufromthem.”
Shestaredatme,stunned.WhensherealizedIwasserious,sheburstoutlaughing.
WhenIrealizedwhyshewaslaughing,Ididthesamething.
Bythetimewewalkedupthejetbridge,wehadnotonlyintroducedourselves;wehadexchangedphonenumbers.
Beforewalkingaway,shesaid,“How?”
“Howwhat?”
“Howwouldyouprotectmefromallthoseassholesonplanes?”
“Iwouldforcethemintothecenterseat,hogthearmrests,andgivethempapercutswiththeemergencyinformationcard.”
Shelaughedagain,longerandharderthanshehadbefore.I’mstillnottiredofhearingherlaugh.
Thatconversationbecamepartofus.ThefirstChristmaswespenttogether,Igaveherahugebox,bigenoughtofitagiantTV,allwrappedupandtiedwithabow.Theonlythinginsidewasanemergencyinformationcard.
EveryChristmassince,wehavetriedtocomewithupwiththemostcreativereferencetoourinsidejoke.Once,Igaveheranunderseatlifejacket.Anothertime,sheredecoratedourtreewithdrop-downoxygenmasks.
WheneverIgetonaplaneandseethatemergencycard,Istillsmile.
Thestrangethingis,ifIhadtopickamoment,theexactmomenteverythingwentintomotionandbroughtustowherewearenow,Iwouldhavetosayitwasbecauseofapapercut.
IthappenedwhenRorywaseightyearsold.Hehadfriendsbutnottoomany,amiddle-of-the-roadkidonthepopularityscale,soitcameasasurprisewhenaboynamedHuntergaveRoryapapercut.Onpurpose.Theyhadbeenarguingaboutwhichsuperherowasstrongest,whenHuntergotmadandcutRory.Thecutwasinthecreasebetweenthethumbandindexfingerofhisrighthand.ItwaspainfulenoughtomakeRoryscream.
Hunterwassenthomefortheday,andRorywenttoseethenurse,whobandagedhishandandgavehimasugar-freelollipop.Thepainhadalreadybeenforgotten.
Thatnight,afterthekidswereasleep,MillicentandItalkedaboutthepapercut.Wewereinbed.Shehadjustclosedherlaptop,andIturnedofftheTV.Schoolhadjuststarted,andMillicent’ssummertanhadn’tcompletelyfaded.Shedidn’tplaytennis,butshelovedtoswim.
Millicentpickedupmyhandandrubbedthethinstretchofskinbetweenmythumbandindexfinger.“Haveyoueverhadacuthere?”
“No.You?”
“Yes.Hurtlikehell.”
“Howdidithappen?”
“Holly.”
IknewverylittleaboutHolly.Millicentalmostnevertalkedaboutheroldersister.“Shecutyou?”Iasked.
“Weweremakingcollagesofallourfavoritethings,andwecutpicturesoutofmagazinesandpastedthemallonbigpiecesofconstructionpaper.HollyandIreachedforthesamepieceatthesametime,and”—sheshrugged—“Igotcut.”
“Didyouscream?”
“Idon’tremember.ButIcried.”
Ipickedupherhandandkissedthelong-healedcut.“Whatfavoritethings?”Iasked.
“What?”
“Yousaidyoucutoutpicturesofyourfavoritethings.Whatwerethey?”
“Ohno,”shesaid,takingherhandbackandturningoutthelight.“You’renotgoingtoturnthisintoanothercrazyChristmasthing.”
“Youdon’tlikeourcrazyChristmasthing?”
“Iloveit.Butwedon’tneedanother.”
Iknewwedidn’t.IwastryingtoavoidthesubjectofHolly,becauseMillicentdidn’tliketotalkabouther.That’swhyIaskedaboutherfavoritethings.
IshouldhaveaskedaboutHolly.
Five
LINDSAYDOMINATESTHEnews.Sheistheonlyonewhohasbeenfound,andthefirstsurpriseiswhereherbodyisfound.
ThelasttimeIsawLindsay,wewereinthemiddleofnowhere.MillicentandIhadtakenherdeepintotheswampnearanaturepreserve,hopingthewildlifewouldfindherbeforeanypeopledid.Lindsaywasstillalive,andweweresupposedtokillhertogether.Thatwastheplan.
Thatwasthepoint.
Itdidn’thappen,becauseofJenna.Wehadarrangedforbothkidstospendthenightwithfriends;Rorywaswithafriendplayingvideogames,andwehaddroppedJennaoffataslumberpartywithhalfadozentwelve-year-oldgirls.WhenMillicent’sphonewentoff,itsoundedlikeakitten.ThatwasJenna’sring.Millicentansweredbeforethesecondmeow.
“Jenna?What’swrong?”
IwatchedMillicentlisten,myheartbeatingalittlefasterwitheachnodofherhead.
Lindsaywaslyingontheground,hertannedlegssprawledoutonthedirt.Thedrugwe’dknockedheroutwithwaswearingoff,andshehadstartedtomovealittle.
“Honey,canyoupassthephonetoMrs.Sheehan?”Millicentsaid.
Morenodding.
WhenMillicentspokeagain,hervoicehadchanged.“Iunderstand.Thankyousomuch.I’llberightthere.”Shehungup.
“What—”
“Jenna’ssick.Astomachfluormaybefoodpoisoning.She’sbeeninthebathroomforthepasthour.”BeforeIcouldanswer,shesaid,“I’llgo.”
Ishookmyhead.“I’lldoit.”
Millicentdidn’tprotest.ShelookeddownatLindsayandbackatme.“But—”
“I’lldoit,”Isaid.“I’llpickupJennaandtakeherhome.”
“Icantakecareofher.”MillicentwaslookingdownatLindsay.Shewasnottalkingaboutourdaughter.
“Ofcourseyoucan.”Ineverhadadoubt.IwasjustdisappointedIhadtomissit.
WhenIarrivedattheSheehans,Jennawasstillsick.Onthewayhome,Ipulledovertwicesoshecouldthrowup.Isatupwithhermostofthenight.
Millicentreturnedhomejustbeforedawn.Ididn’taskifshehadmovedLindsay,becauseIassumedshehadburiedherinthatdesertedarea.Ihavenoideahowsheendedupinroomnumber18attheMoonliteMotorInn.
TheMoonliteclosedwhenthenewhighwaywasbuiltmorethantwentyyearsago.Themotelwasabandonedandlefttotheelements,rodents,transients,anddrugaddicts.Noonepaidattentiontoit,becausenoonehadtodrivebyit.Lindsaywasfoundbysometeenagers,whocalledthepolice.
Themotelisasinglestripofabuilding,onestory,withroomsliningbothsides.Room18isonthebackside,inthecornerandnotvisiblefromtheroad.AsIwatchaerialvideoofthemotelonTV,ItrytoimagineMillicentdrivingaroundthebackoftheMoonliteandparking,gettingoutofthecar,openingthetrunk.
DraggingLindsayacrosstheground.
Iwonderifsheisstrongenoughtodothat.Lindsaywasquitemuscularfromallthoseoutdoorsports.MaybeMillicentusedsomethingtotransportLindsay.Acart,somethingwithwheels.Sheissmartenoughtodosomethinglikethat.
Thereporterisyoungandearnest;hespeaksasifeverywordisimportant.HetellsmethatLindsayhadbeenwrappedinplastic,shovedintothecloset,andcoveredwithablanket.Theteenagersdiscoveredherbecausetheyhadbeenplayingadrunkengameofhide-and-seek.Idon’tknowhowlongshehasbeeninthecloset,butthereporterdoessayLindsay’sbodywasinitiallyidentifiedwithdentalrecords.TheDNAtestsarepending.Thepolicecouldnotusefingerprints,becauseLindsay’shadbeenfiledoff.
ItrynottoimaginehowMillicentdidthis,orthatshediditatall,butitbecomestheonlythingIcanimagine.
Theimagesinmymindstaythere.StillframesofLindsay’ssmilingface,ofherwhiteteeth.OfmywifefilingawayLindsay’sfingertips.OfherdraggingLindsay’sbodyintoamotelroomandshovingherinthecloset.Theseallflashthroughmymindthroughouttheday,theevening,andasItrytogotosleep.
Millicent,however,looksnormal.Shelooksthesamewhenshegetshomefromworkandthrowstogetherasalad,whenshetakesoffhermakeup,whensheworksonhercomputerbeforegoingtosleep.Ifshehasbeenlisteningtothenews,itdoesn’tshow.Ahalfdozentimes,IstarttoaskherwhyorhowLindsaygotintothatmotel.
Idon’t.BecauseallIcanthinkaboutiswhyIhavetoask.Whyshedidn’ttellme.
Thenextday,shecallsmeinthemiddleoftheafternoon,andthequestionisonthetipofmytongue.IamalsostartingtowonderifthereisanythingelseIdon’tknow.
“Remember,”shesays.“WehavedinnerwiththePrestonstonight.”
“Iremember.”
Idonotremember.Sheknowsthisandtellsmethenameoftherestaurantwithoutmyasking.
“Seveno’clock,”shesays.
“I’llmeetyouthere.”
???
ANDYANDTRISTAPrestonboughttheirhousefromMillicent.AlthoughAndyisafewyearsolderthanme,I’veknownhimforever.HegrewupinHiddenOaks,wewenttothesameschools,andourparentsknewoneanother.Nowheworksatasoftwarefirm,makingenoughmoneytotaketennislessonseveryday,buthedoesn’t—that’swhyhehasapaunch.
Buthiswifetakeslessons.Tristaalsogrewuparoundhere,butshe’sfromtheotherpartofWoodview,nottheOaks.Wemeettwiceaweek,andshespendstherestofhertimeworkingatanartgallery.Together,thePrestonsmaketwicewhatwedo.
Millicentknowshowmuchallofherclientsmake,andmostearnmorethanus.Ihavetoadmitthatthisbothersmemorethanitbothersher.Millicentthinksit’sbecauseshemakesmoremoneythanIdo.She’swrong.It’sbecauseAndymakesmoremoneythanIdo,thoughIdonottellherthat.SheisnotfromtheOaks;shedoesn’tunderstandwhatit’sliketogrowuphereandthenendupworkinghere.
Ourdinnerisatanupscalerestaurantwhereeveryoneeatssalad,chicken,orsalmon,anddrinksredwine.AndyandTristadrinkthewholebottle.Millicentdoesn’treallydrinkandhatesitwhenIdo.Idon’tdrinkaroundher.
“Ienvyyou,”Tristasaystome.“Iwouldlovetohaveyourjobandbeoutsideallday.Iloveplayingtennis.”
Andylaughs.Hischeeksarered.“Butyouworkinanartgallery.It’spracticallythesamething.”
“Beingoutsidealldayandworkingoutsidealldayaretwodifferentthings,”Isay.“I’dlovetositaroundonthebeachallday,doingnothing.”
Tristascrunchesupherpertnose.“Ithinkthatwouldbeboring,justlyingaroundlikethat.I’dratherbedoingsomething.”
Iwanttotellherthattakingatennislessonandteachingthemaretwodifferentthings.Atwork,thegreatoutdoorsisthelastthingonmymind.Mostofmytimeisspenttryingtoteachtennistopeoplewhowouldratherbeontheirphone,watchingTV,gettingdrunk,oreating.Idon’tneedevenonefingertocountthenumberofpeoplewhoreallywanttoplaytennis,muchlessexercise.Tristaisoneofthem.Shedoesn’treallylovetennis;shelovestolookgood.
ButIkeepmymouthshut,becausethat’swhatfriendsdo.Wedon’tpointouteachother’sfaultsunlessasked.
ThetalkshiftstoAndy’swork,andItuneitout,catchingonlykeywords,becauseIamdistractedbythesoundofsilverware.EverytimeMillicentcutsapieceofgrilledchicken,IthinkaboutherkillingLindsay.
“Attention,”Andysays.“That’stheonlythingsoftwarecompaniescareabout.Howcanwegetyourattention,andhowcanwekeepit?Howcanwemakeyousitinfrontofyourcomputerallday?”
Irollmyeyes.WhenAndydrinks,hetendstopontificate.Orlecture.
“Comeon,”hesays.“Answerthequestion.Whatkeepsyouinfrontofthecomputer?”
“Catvideos,”Isay.
Tristagiggles.
“Don’tbeadick,”Andysays.
“Sex,”Millicentsays.“Ithastobeeithersexorviolence.”
“Orboth,”Isay.
“Actually,itdoesn’thavetocontainsex,”saysAndy.“Notactualsex.What’snecessaryisthepromiseofsex.Orviolence.Orboth.Andastoryline—youhavetohaveastoryline.Doesn’tmatterifit’srealorfakeorwho’stellingit.Youjustneedpeopletocarewhathappensnext.”
“Andhowdoyoudothat?”Millicentasks.
Hesmilesanddrawsaninvisiblecirclewithhisindexfinger.“Sexandviolence.”
“Thatgoesforeverything,though.Eventhenewsisbuiltonsexandviolence,”Isay.
“Thewholeworldturnsonsexandviolence,”saysAndy.Hedrawsthecirclewithhisfingeragainandturnstome.“Youknowthat—you’refromhere.”
“Idoknow.”Officially,theOaksisoneofthesafestcommunitiesinthestate.That’sbecausealltheviolenceisbehindcloseddoors.
“Iknowthat,too,”Tristasaystoherhusband.“Woodviewisn’tthatdifferent.”
Itis,butAndydoesn’targue.Instead,heleansoverandgiveshiswifeapeckonthelips.Astheirlipstouch,shetoucheshischeekwithherpalm.
Iamjealous.
Jealousoftheirsimpleconversations.Jealousoftheirheavydrinking.Jealousoftheirsimpleforeplayandthesextheywillhavetonight.
“Ithinkweallgetit,”Isay.
Andywinksatme.IglanceoveratMillicent,whoisstaringatherfood.Shethinkspublicdisplaysofaffectionaredistasteful.
Whenthecheckarrives,bothMillicentandTristaleavethetableandgototherestroom.AndygrabsthecheckbeforeIcan.
“Don’tbotherprotesting.Igotit,”hesays,lookingoverthebill.“Youguysarecheapdatesanyway.Noalcohol.”
Ishrug.“Sowedon’tdrinkmuch.”
Andyshakeshisheadandsmiles.
“What?”Isay.
“IfIhadknownyouweregoingtoendupsuchaboringfamilyman,Iwould’vemadeyoustayinCambodiaalotlonger.”
Irollmyeyes.“Nowyou’retheonebeingadick,”Isay.
“That’swhatI’mherefor.”
BeforeIcanrespond,ourwivesreturntothetableandwestoptalkingaboutdrinking.Andaboutthecheck.
Thefourofuswalkouttogetherandsayourgoodbyesintheparkinglot.Tristasaysshewillseemeathernextlesson.Andysayshe’llstartsoon.Tristaisbehindhimrollinghereyesandsmiling.Theydriveoff,leavingMillicentandIalone.Wehavetwocars,becausewemetattherestaurant.
Sheturnstome.Underthestreetlights,shelooksasoldasI’veeverseenher.“Youokay?”shesays.
Ishrug.“I’mokay.”Idonothaveanyotheroption.
“Youworrytoomuch,”shesays,staringoutovertheseaofcars.“Everythingisfine.”
“Ihopeso.”
“Trustme.”Millicentreachesoutandslipsherhandintomine.Squeezesit.
Inodandgetintomycar,butIdon’tgostraighthome.Instead,IdrivebytheLancasterHotel.
Naomiisbehindthefrontdesk.Herdarkhairfallsloosearoundhershoulders,andalthoughIcan’tseethefrecklesonhernose,IthinkIcan.Iamrelievedtoseeher,toknowthatsheisstillworkingbehindthefrontdeskandprobablystillengaginginherextracurricularactivities.Thereisnoreasonformetothinkanythinghashappenedtoher,becausewehaveagreedtowait.CheckingonNaomiisirrational,butIdoitanyway.
ThisisnotthefirsttimeIhavebeenirrational.EversincetheyfoundLindsay,Ihavenotsleptwell.Iwakeupinthemiddleofthenight,myheartpounding,anditisalwaysaboutsomeirrationalthing.DidIlockthefrontdoor?Arethosebillspaid?DidIremembertodoallthelittlethingsIamsupposedtodosothehousewon’tburndownorgettakenbythebank,andthecarwon’tcrashbecausethebrakesweren’tcheckedontime?
AlltheselittlethingskeepmymindoffLindsay.AndthefactthatIcannotdoanythingabouthernow.
Six
SATURDAYMORNING,Jenna’ssoccergame.IamalonebecauseMillicenthastoshowahouse.Saturdayisthebiggestdayoftheweekforbothrealestateandtennislessons.Itisalsothebiggestdayoftheweekforourkids’activities.MillicentandItradeoffSaturdayswiththekids,andthelasttimewewerealltogetherwasmorethanayearago,whenRorywenttothefinalsinapreteengolftournament.Heisplayinggolfnow—Idroppedhimearlythismorningbeforehissister’sgamestarted—andheisatthesameclubwhereIteachtennis.Heplaysgolfbecauseitisnottennis,andIhatethatjustasmuchashewantsmeto.
Sofar,Jennahasnotdisplayedanyofthesamerebelliousness.Shedoesnottrytobedifficult.Jennadoessomethingbecauseshewantsto,notbecauseitwillmakesomeoneelseangry,andIadmirethatqualityinher.Shealsosmilesalot,whichmakesmesmilebackandthengivehereverythingshewants.IhavenoideawhatIammissing,andbecauseIcan’tfigureitout,Jennascaresthehelloutofme.
Soccerisnotmygame.IlearnedtherulesonlywhenJennastartedtoplay,soIamnotmuchhelp.Icannottellherwhattodoorhowtodobetter,likeIcouldifsheplayedtennis.It’sonlybysomestrokeofluckthatsheplaysgoalie,soatleastIknowherjobiskeeptheotherteamfromscoring.Beyondthat,allIcandoisencourageher.
“Youcandoit!”
“Nicejob!”
“Greateffort!”
IoftenwonderifIamembarrassingher.Ithinkso,butIdoitanyway,becausemyonlyotheroptionistowatchhergamesinsilence.Thatseemscruel.Iwouldratherbeembarrassing.Whensheblockstheballfromgoinginthenet,Ilosemymind.Shesmilesbutwavesherhand,tellingmetoshutup.Inthesemoments,Idonotthinkaboutanythingbutmydaughterandhersoccergame.
Millicentinterruptsbysendingatext.
Don’tworry.
Thisisallshesays.
Onthefield,thekidsareyelling.Theotherteamtriestoscore,andmydaughterhastoblocktheballagain.Shemisses.
Jennaturnsaround,herbacktome,handsonhips.Iwanttotellherit’snobigthing,everyonemakesmistakes,butthatwouldbeexactlythewrongthing.Allparentssaythat,andallkidshateit.Idid.
Jennalooksstraightdownatthegrass.Ateammatewalksupandpatsherontheshoulder,sayssomething.Jennanodsandsmiles,andIwonderwhatherteammatesaid.IthinkitisthesamethingIwould’vesaid,butitmeantmore.
Playresumes.Ilookbackdownatmyphone.Millicenthasnotsaidanythingelse
Ipullupthenewsandgasp.
Themedicalexaminer’sreportstatesthatLindsayhasbeendeadonlyafewweeks.
Somewhere,somehow,Millicentkeptheraliveforalmostayear.
???
IHAVEANurgetorun.Towhere,Idon’tknow.Itdoesn’tmatter.Todowhat,Ihavenoidea.Ijustwanttorunanywhere.
ButIcannotleaveJennahere,aloneatasoccergamewithnoonetocheerforher.Icannotleavemydaughter.Ormyson.
WhenJenna’sgameisover,IpickRoryupattheclubandthethreeofushaveourusualpostsportpizzafollowedbyfrozenyogurt.Itisdifficultformetostaywiththeconversation.Theynotice,becausetheyaremykids—theyseemeeverydayandknowwhensomethingiswrong.ThismakesmewonderwhattheythinkaboutMillicent.
Exceptsheneverlookslikeanythingiswrong.Forthepastyear,shehasbeencalm,evenforher.She’dmentionedfindingthenextwomanamonthago.
Everythingfallsintoplace.Shedidn’tmentionthenextoneuntilaftershehadkilledLindsay.
Forme,thepastyearhadbeenfilledwithwork,thekids’activities,choresaroundthehouse,arguingaboutbills,andgettingthecarwashed.Nothingstoodout.Nosingleevent,day,memory,wasanythingIwouldremembertwenty,thirty,orfortyyearsfromnow.Jenna’ssoccerteamalmostwenttothecityfinalsbutdidn’t.Millicenthadanothergoodyearatwork.Gaspriceswentupandthendown,alocalelectioncameandwent,andmyfavoritedrycleanerwentoutofbusinessandIhadtofindanother.
Ormaybethedrycleanerclosedtwoyearsago.Itallrunstogether.
Duringthesametime,MillicenthadbeenkeepingLindsayalive.Holdinghercaptive.
Theimagesrunningthroughmymindrangefromdisturbingtobarbaric.IenvisionthekindsofthingsIhaveheardaboutinthenews,whenwomenarefoundafteryearsofbeingheldcaptivebysomederangedman.Ihaveneverheardofawomandoingthis.Andasaman,Icannotimaginedoingthismyself.
IleavethekidsathomeanddrivetotheopenhousewhereMillicentisworking.It’sjustafewblocksfromours;thedrivetakesminutes.Twocarsareoutfront,hersandoneother,anSUV.
Iwait.
Twentyminuteslater,shecomesoutofthehousewithacoupleyoungerthanus.Thewomaniswide-eyed.Themanissmiling.AsMillicentshakestheirhand,sheseesmeoutofthecornerofhereye.Icanfeelhergreeneyeslandonme,butshedoesnotpause,doesnotbreakherfluidmovement.
Thecouplewalkbacktotheircar.Millicentstaysinfrontofthehouse,watchingthemgo.Sheiswearingnavybluetoday,aslimskirtandheels,andapin-stripedblouse.Herredhairisstraightandcutsharpatherjawline.Itwasmuchlongerwhenwemetandhasgrownshortereachyear,asifshewerecommittedtocuttingoffhalfaninchatregularintervals.Itwouldnotsurprisemetolearnthatthisisexactlywhatshehasdone.IamnotsureanythingaboutMillicentwouldsurprisemenow.
ShewaitsuntiltheSUVisgonebeforeturningtome.Igetoutofmycarandwalkuptothehouse.
“You’reupset,”shesays.
Istareather.
Shemotionstothehouse.“Let’sgoinside.”
Wegoin.Theentrywayishuge,theceilingsmorethantwentyfeethigh.Newconstruction,justlikeours,onlythisoneisevenbigger.Everythingisopenandairy.anditallleadstothegreatroom,whichiswherewego.
“Whatdidyoudotoher?Forayear,whatdidyoudo?”
Millicentshakesherhead.Herhairswingsbackandforth.“Wecan’tdiscussthisnow.”
“Wehaveto—”
“Nothere.Ihaveanappointment.”
Shewalksawayfromme,andIfollow.
???
AFEWMONTHSafterwemarried,Millicentgotpregnant.Itwasasurpriseinsomeways,becausewe’dtalkedaboutwaiting,butnotcompletely.Wewerenotalwayscarefulaboutusingprotection.Wehaddiscussedvariousmethodsofbirthcontrolbutalwayscamebacktocondoms.Millicentdidnotliketakinganythingwithhormones.Theyallmadehertooemotional.
WhenMillicentwaslate,webothsuspectedshewaspregnant.Weconfirmeditwithatestathomeandoneatthedoctor’soffice.Laterthatnight,Icouldnotsleep.Wesatupforalongtime,sittingonoursecondhandcouchinourrun-downrentedhouse.Icurledupnexttoher,myheadonherstomach,andIstartedworryingabouteverything.
“Whatifwescrewitup?”Isaid.
“Wewon’t.”
“Weneedmoney.Howarewegoing—”
“We’llmanage.”
“Idon’twanttojustmanage.Iwanttoprosper.Iwant—”
“Wewill.”
Iraisedmyheadtolookather.“Whyareyousosure?”
“Whyareyousounsure?”
“I’mnot,”Isaid.“I’mjust—”
“Worried.”
“Yes.”
Shesighedandgentlypushedmyheadbackdowntoherstomach.“Stopbeingsilly,”shesaid.“We’llbefine.We’llbebetterthanfine.”
Minutesearlier,Ihadfeltmorelikeachildthanasoon-to-befather.
Shemademestronger.
Wehavecomealongwayfromthoseearlydayswhenwehadnomoney.IhadgonebacktoschooltogetmyMBA,butIwashalfwaythroughwhenshegotpregnant.Weneededmoney,soIwithdrewfromtheprogramandreturnedtowhatIknowbest:tennis.Itwasmyonetalent,thethingIcoulddobetterthananyoneelseIgrewupwith.ThetenniscourtwaswhereIshone.Notbrightenoughgopro,butbrightenoughtostartofferingprivatelessons.
WhenImetMillicent,shehadjustfinishedayearofrealestateclassesandwasstudyingtotakethetest.Onceshepassed,ittookawhileforhertostartselling,butshedid,evenwhilepregnant,evenwhenthekidswerebabies.Andshewasright—wemadeitwork.Wearebetterthanfine.AndasfarasIknow,wehavenotscrewedupthekidsyet.
Seven
NOW,ASWEstandinthatemptyhousesheistryingtosell,Millicentdoesnotmakemefeelstronger.Shemakesmefeelscared.
“It’snotokay,”Isay.“Noneofthisisokay.”
Sheraisesoneeyebrow.Thatusedtobecute.“Nowyou’regrowingaconscience?”
“Ialwayshad—”
“No.Idon’tthinkyoudid.”
Sheisrightagain.IhaveneverhadaconsciencewhenI’mtryingtomakeherhappy.
“Whatdidyoudotoher?”Iask.
“Itdoesn’tmatter.She’sgone.”
“Notanymore.”
“Youworrytoomuch.We’refine.”
Thedoorbellrings.
“Workcalls,”shesays.
Iwalkwithhertothedoor.Sheintroducesme,tellsthemaboutmytennisskills.Theyareasyoungasthelastcoupleandjustasclueless.
Iheadhomeanddriverightbyourhouse.
First,IgototheLancaster.Naomiisthere,behindthecounter,withmanyhoursleftonhershift.
Next,Igobythecountryclub.Ithinkaboutdistractingmyselfbyhangingoutintheclubhouse,chattingwithsomeofmyclientswhilewatchingsports.Again,Idon’tstop.
Anumberofotherplacesrunthroughmymind:abar,apark,thelibrary,amovie.Iburnthroughalmosthalfatankofgasdrivingaround,tryingtopickadestination,beforeIheadtowardtheinevitable.
Home.
ItiswhereIalwaysgo.
WhenIopenthedoor,Ihearthesoundsofmylife.Myfamily.TheonlyrealoneIeverhad.
Roryisplayingavideogame,electronicgunshotsringingthroughthehouse.Jennaisonthephone,talking,texting,andsettingthetable.Thesmellofdinnerwaftsthroughoutthegreatroom,chickenandgarlicandsomethingwithcinnamon.Millicentisbehindthecounter,puttingitalltogether,andshealwayshumstoherselfwhilefixingmeals.Hersongchoiceisusuallysomethingridiculous—ashowtune,anaria,thelatestpopmusic—andthat’sanotherinsidejokeofours.
Shelooksupandsmiles,anditisreal.Iseeitinhereyes.
Weallsitdownandeattogether.Jennaentertainshermotherandboresherbrotherwithaplay-by-playofhersoccergame.Rorybragsabouthisgolfscore,whichtodaywasbetterthananyoneelseundersixteen.Onmostdays,ourmealsarelikethis.Theyareboisterousandloud,filledwithtalesofthedayandtheeaseofus,wewhohavelivedtogetherforever.
IwonderhowmanytimeswedidthiswhileLindsaywasbeingheldcaptive.
???
WHENIGETintobed,IamsurprisedthathourshavepassedsinceIlastthoughtaboutLindsay,aboutthepolice,aboutwhatMillicentandIhavedone.Home,andallthatgoeswithit,isthatpowerfultome.
Mychildhoodwasnotthesame.WhileIdidgrowupinatwo-parentfamilyinourniceHiddenOakshouse,withtwocars,goodschools,andalotofextracurricularactivities,wedidnoteatmealstogetherlikemyownfamilydoes.Andifwedidhappentoalleatatthesametime,weignoredoneanother.Myfatherreadthepaper,mymotherstaredoffintospace,andIateasquicklyaspossible.
TheyshoweduptowatchmeplaytennisonlyifIwasinatournamentandeventhen,onlyifImadeittothelastround.NeitherofmyparentswouldhavegivenupaSaturdayforanything.Homewasaplacetosleep,aplacetoholdmystuff,aplacetoleaveassoonaspossible.AndIdid.IleftthecountryassoonasIcould.Itwasimpossibletoimagineanentirelifeoffeelinglikeadisappointment.
ThoughIamnotsureitwasme,notpersonally.IfIhadtoguess,Iwastheonewhowassupposedtofixtheirmarriage.Afterspendingyearsthinkingaboutit,runningthroughmywholechildhoodagainandagain,Ihavecometotheconclusionthatmyparentshadmetotryandfixtheirmarriage.Itdidn’twork.Andtheirdisappointmentbecamemyfailure.
IreturnedtoHiddenOaksonlybecausemyparentspassedaway.Itwasafreakaccident,impossibletopreventorpredict.Theyweredrivingdownthehighway,andatireflewoffacaraheadofthem.Itsmashedthroughthefrontwindshieldofmyfather’sluxurysedan,andtheybothdied.Gone,justlikethat.Stilltogether,stillundoubtedlymiserable.
Ineversawtheirbodies.ThepolicesaidIwouldn’twantto.
Itturnedoutmyparentshadfarlessmoneythantheypretendedto,soIcamehometoahouseburiedinmortgagesandjustenoughmoneytopayanestatelawyertosettleeverythingandgetridofit.Myparentsweren’tevenwhoIthoughttheywere;theywerefrauds.Theycouldn’taffordtoliveinHiddenOaks;theyjustpretendedtheycould.Ihadnofamilyleftanddidn’tknowwhatonewas.
Millicentbuiltours.Isayitwasherbecauseitcouldn’thavebeenme.Ihadnoideahowtobuildahomeorevenhowtogeteveryonetogetherforameal.Shedid.ThefirsttimeRorysatinahighchair,shepushedhimuptothetable,andwe’vebeenhavingmealstogethereversince.Despitetherisingcomplaintsfromourgrowingkids,westilleattogether.
WhenMillicentwaspregnantwithJenna,shecreatedourfamilyrules.IcalledthemMillicent’sCommandments.
Breakfastanddinnertogether,always.Notoysorphonesatthetable.Allowancesmustbeearnedbydoingchoresaroundthehouse.Wewillhavemovienightonceaweek.Sugarwillbelimitedtofruit,notfruitjuice,andspecialoccasions.Allfoodwillbeorganic,asmoneyallows.Physicalactivityandexerciseareencouraged.No,they’remandatory.HomeworkmustbedonebeforeTVorvideogames.
Thelistmademelaugh.SheglaredatmewhenIdidlaugh,though,soIstopped.Bythen,Iknewthedifferencebetweenwhenshewaspretendingtobemadandwhenherangerwasgenuine.
Onebyone,Millicentinstitutedherrules.Insteadofturningthehouseintoaprison,shegavethefamilystructure.Bothourkidsplaysports.Theyaren’tgivenmoneyunlesstheyworkforit.Weallsitdownandwatchamovietogetheronceaweek.Theyeatmostlyorganicandveryfewsugaryfoods.TheirhomeworkisalwaysdonebythetimeIgethomefromwork.ThisisallbecauseofMillicent.
ThesameMillicentwhokeptLindsayaliveforayearwhiledoinggodknowswhattoher.
???
ISTILLCANNOTsleep.Igetupandcheckonthekids.Roryisspreadoutonhisbed,thecoversthrowneverywhere.Whenheturnedfourteen,henolongerwanteddinosaurspaintedonthewalls.Weredidtheroom,repaintedit,refinishedthefurniture,andnowithasonedarkwallandthreebeigeones,asmatteringofrockbandposters,adarkstainonallthewoodenfurniture,andblackoutcurtainsforwhenhesleeps.Itlookslikeachild’sideaofanadultroom.Mysonisbecomingateenager.
Jenna’sroomisstillorange.Shehasbeenobsessedwiththecoloralmostsincebirth.IthinkitcomesfromthecolorofMillicent’shair.Jenna’shairislikemine,darkbrownwithnosignofred.Shehaspostersoffemalesoccerplayersonherwalls,alongwithafewmusicalgroupsandamaleactorortwo.Idon’tknowwhotheyare,butwhenevertheyareonTV,Jennaandherfriendssqueal.Nowthatshehasreachedthematureageofthirteen,allherdollshavebeenstuffedintohercloset.Sheisintofashion,jewelry,andmakeupsheisnotallowedtowearyet,alongwithafewstuffedanimalsandvideogames.
Iwalkaroundthehouse,checkingallthedoorsandwindows.Ievengointothegarage,lookingforsignsofrodentsorbugsorwaterdamage.Igooutintothebackyardandcheckthesidegate.Idothesameinthefrontyard,andthenIgoaroundthehouseagain,relockingallthedoors.
Millicentusedtodothis,especiallyafterRorywasborn.Wewerelivingintherun-downrental,andeverynightshewalkedaroundlockingallthedoorsandwindows.Shewouldsitdownforafewminutes,thengetupanddoitalloveragain.
“Thisisn’tadangerousneighborhood,”Itoldher.“Nooneisgoingtobreakin.”
“Iknow.”Shegotupagain.
Eventually,Idecidedtofollowher.Ifellinlockstepbehindherandmimickedeverymoveshemade.First,Igottheglare,therealone.
WhenIstilldidn’tstop,sheslappedme.
“You’renotfunny,”shesaid.
Iwastoostunnedtospeak.Ihadneverbeenslappedbyawoman.Ihadn’tevenbeenspanked,notevenplayfully.ButsinceIhadjustmockedmywife,Ithrewupmyhandsandapologized.
“You’reonlysorrybecauseyougotslapped,”Millicentsaid.Shewhippedaround,wentintothebedroom,andlockedthedoor.
Ispentthenightthinkingshewasgoingtoleaveme.Shewasgoingtotakemysonandjustgo,becauseIhadruinedeverything.Extreme,yes.ButMillicentdoesnotputupwithshit,period.Once,whenweweredating,IsaidIwouldcallheratacertaintime,andIdidn’t.Shedidn’tspeaktomeformorethanaweek.Wouldn’tevenpickupthephone.
Shecamebacktomethattime.ButIhadnodoubtthatifIpissedMillicentoffenough,shewouldjustleave.Andonetimeshedid.
Rorywasoneandahalf,Jennawassixmonthsold,andMillicentandIspentallday,everyday,jugglingthekidsandourjobs.Oneday,Iwokeup,exhaustedagain,andrealizedIwastwenty-sevenyearsoldwithawife,twokids,andabrand-newmortgage.
AllIwantedwasabreak.Atemporaryreprievefromallthatresponsibility.Iwentoutwiththeguys,andIgotsodrunktheyhadtocarrymeintothehouse.WhenIwokeupthenextday,Millicentwasgone.
Shedidnotanswerherphone.Shewasnotatheroffice.Herparentssaidshewasnotwiththem.Millicenthadonlyafewclosefriends,andnonehadheardfromher.Shehadvanished,andshehadtakenmykidswithher.
Afterthreeorfourdays,Iwascallingherphoneeveryhour.Ie-mailed,Itexted,IbecamethemostinsaneversionofmyselfIhadeverbeen.Itwasn’tbecauseIwasworriedabouther.Iknewshewasfine,andIknewmychildrenwerefine.IwentcrazybecauseIthoughtshe,they,weregoneforever.
Eightdayswentby.Thenshewasback.
Ihadfallenasleeplate,sprawledoutontheunmadebedlitteredwithpizzaboxesandassortedplates,cupsandrandomfoodpackages.Iwokeuptoagarbage-freebedandthesmellofpancakes.
Millicentwasinthekitchen,makingbreakfast.Rorywasatthetable,inhishighchair,andJennawasinherbassinet.Millicentturnedtomeandsmiled.Itwasreal.
“Perfecttiming,”shesaid.“Breakfastisjustaboutready.”
IranovertoRoryandpickedhimup,holdinghimhighintheairuntilhesquealed.IkissedJenna,whostaredupatmewithherdarkeyes.Isatdownatthetable,afraidtospeak.AfraidIwasinadream,andIdidn’twanttowakeup.
Millicentbroughtafullstackofpancakesovertothetable.Asshesetthemdown,sheleanedinclose,sothathermouthwasrightnexttomyear,andshewhispered:
“Wewon’tcomebackasecondtime.”
Ihavespentourentiremarriagewithnochoicebuttobelieveher.YetIstillsleptwithPetra.
Andtheotherone.
Eight
WHENIGETHOMEfromwork,Millicentandthekidsarethere.Roryislyingonthecouch,playingavideogame.Millicentisstandingoverhim,handsonhips,herfacehard-set.Behindher,Jennaismovingherphonebackandforth,tryingtotakeaselfieinfrontofthewindow.TheTVscreencastsaglowoverallofthem.Forasecond,theyarefrozen,aportraitofmodernlife.
Millicent’sglareshiftsfromRorytome.Hereyesarethedarkestofgreen.
“Doyouknow,”shesays,“whatoursondidtoday?”
Rory’sbaseballcapispulleddownlowoverhiseyesandface.Itdoesn’tcompletelyhidehissmirk.
“Whatdidoursondotoday?”Iask.
“Tellyourfatherwhatyoudid.”
Jennaanswersforhim.“Hecheatedonatestwithhisphone.”
“Gotoyourroom,”Millicentsays.
Mydaughterwalksout.Shegigglesallthewayupthestairsandslamsherbedroomdoor.
“Rory,”Isay,“whathappened?”
Silence.
“Answeryourfather.”
IdonotlikeitwhenMillicenttellsoursonhowtoacttowardme,butIsaynothing.
MillicentsnatchesthegamecontrolleroutofRory’shand.Hesighsandfinallyspeaks.
“It’snotlikeI’mgoingtobeabotanist.IfIeverneedtoknowaboutphotosynthesis,I’lllookitup,thesamewayIdidtoday.”Helooksatme,eyeswide,silentlysaying,“Right?”
Iwanttoagree,becauseheiskindofright.ButI’mthefather.
“He’sbeensuspendedforthreedays,”Millicentsays.“He’sluckyhewasn’tkickedout.”
Iftheykickedhimoutofprivateschool,hewouldbeplacedinapublicschool.IdonotremindMillicentofthiswhilesheisdolingoutourson’spunishment
“…nophone,novideogames,noInternet.Youcomestraighthomeafterschool,and,don’tworry,I’llcheck.”
Shewhipsaroundandclicksdownthehalltothegarage.Sheiswearingherflesh-coloredheels.
AfterIhearhercarstart,Isitdownnexttomyson.HehasMillicent’sredhair,buthisgreeneyesarelighter.Open.
“Why?”
Heshrugs.“Itwasjusteasier.”
Igetit.Sometimesit’sjusteasiertogoalongwiththings.It’seasierthanbreakingitallupandstartingfromscratch.
“Youcan’tcheat,”Isay.
“Butyoudo.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Ihearyousneakout.”
Heisright.IhavebeensneakingoutinthenightbecauseIcannotsleep.“SometimesIgoforadrive.”
Rorysnickers.“DoIlooklikeamoron?”
“No.”
“Dad,Isawyousneakbackintothehousewearingasuit.Whoputsonasuittogooutforadrive?”
Ihaven’twornasuitsinceIwaswithPetra.
“YouknowIspendalotofeveningsattheclub.Networkingispartofthejob.”
“Networking.”Hesaysthiswithnosmallamountofirony.
“Iamnotcheatingonyourmother,”Isay.Andit’salmosttrue.
“You’realiar.”
IstarttotellRoryI’mnot,butrealizethisisuseless.IstarttodenythatIamcheating,butrealizeit’salsouseless.Mysonistoosmart.
IwishIcouldexplainittohim,butIcan’t.SoIbecomethehypocrite.
“Wearen’ttalkingaboutme,”Isay.
Herollshiseyes,saysnothing.
“AndInevercheatedinschool.Imean,whatifonedaythezombieapocalypsearrivesandyouescapetoanislandtostartawholenewcivilizationandyouhavetogrowplants?Don’tyouthinkphotosynthesiswouldbeahelpfulthingtoknow?”
“Ireallyappreciatetheeffortthere,Dad.Especiallythezombieapocalypseandall.Butletmesaveyousometime.”Hepullssomethingoutofhispocketandsetsitdowninfrontofme.
Theshinyblueglassmakesmyjawdrop.OneofPetra’searrings.
“Jennadoesn’thavepiercedears,”hesays.“AndMomwouldneverwearsomethingthistacky.”
Heisright.Millicentwearsdiamondstudearrings.Realdiamonds,notglass.
“Notmuchtosaynow,Iguess,”Rorysays.
Twofortwo.Ihavenothingtosay.
“Don’tworry.Jennadoesn’tknowaboutyoursidechick.”Thesmirkisback.“Yet.”
Ittakesasecondformetorealizemysonistryingtoblackmailme.Withevidence.
Iamimpressed,becauseheissoclever,andpetrified,becausethelastthingIwantisformychildren,especiallymydaughter,togrowupwithanassholecheatforafather.Thisisthekindofthingexpertssaytoavoid.Theysayitwillaffectherrelationshipswithmenforever.IhaveseendaytimeTV.
Jennacannotknow,cannotevensuspectwhatRorybelievesistrue.Anythingmustbebetterthanthat.
IturntoRory.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“ThenewBloodyHellgame.”
“Yourmotherbannedthosefromthehouse.”
“Iknow.”
IfIdisagree,hewilltellJennaIamcheatingontheirmother.Hewilldoexactlywhathethreatens.
IfIagree,myfourteen-year-oldsonwillhavesucceededinblackmailingme.
IfeellikeIshouldhaveseenthiscoming.Shouldhaveseenitthedayhewasborn.Hewassoquietatfirsteveryonethoughthewasdead.Whenhefinallydidcry,itwassolouditmademyearsring.
OrmaybeIshouldhaveseenitthedayhissisterwasbornandhemadejustasmuchnoise,nottoannouncehisarrivalbuttoannouncehislackofattention.
ThentherewasthetimeJennaandRorywenttrick-or-treatingtogether,andheconvincedheralltheminicandybarshadbeenpoisonedbythepsychowhoworkedatourlocalsuperstore.Thepsychowasabiglumberjackofaman,gentleasahamster,buthescaredchildrenwithouteventrying.Jennabelievedherbrotheranddumpedoutalltheallegedlypoisonedcandy.NeitherMillicentnorIknewwhathappened,notuntilJennahadnightmaresforaweekandwefoundapileofminicandybarwrappersinRory’sroom.
Sonow,whileIaminthemidstofbeingblackmailedbyson,IcanlookbackandsayIshouldhaveknownhewoulddothis.Butbeforethismoment,Ididn’thaveaclue.
“Answermeonequestion,”Isaytohim.
“Okay.”
“Howlonghaveyouknownaboutthis?”Iamcarefulnottousethewordcheat.Asifitmatters.
“Afewmonths.Thefirsttime,Iwentdowntothegarageearlyinthemorningtogetmysoccerball.Yourcarwasn’tthere.ThenIjuststartedpayingattention.”
Inod.“I’llbuyyourgametomorrow.Don’tletyourmotherseeit.”
“Iwon’t.Don’tletherseeyousneakingbackin,either.”
“Iwon’tbedoingthatanymore.”
Hesmilesashepicksuptheearringandputsitbackintohispocket.Rorydoesn’tbelievemebutissmartenoughtokeephismouthshutwhenhe’sahead.
???
ISHOULDTELLMILLICENTaboutourson.IthinkaboutthisduringdinnerwhileJennadoesherbesttomakefunofRorywithoutgettingcaught.Ithinkaboutitafterdinner,asMillicenttakesRory’sphoneawayforthenight.Ieventhinkaboutitwhenit’sjustmywifeandme,inourbedroom,goingthroughournightlyroutine.ThisiswhenIshouldtellherwhatoursonisupto,butIdon’t.
Idon’ttellherbecauseitwillcreatemorequestionsthanIcananswer.
IthasbeenjusttwoweekssinceIspentthenightwithPetra.Ithinkaboutheronlyinthemiddleofthenight,whenIamalreadyawakeandcan’tgobacktosleep.That’swhenIwonderwhatIdidtogivemyselfaway.WhatmadeheraskifIwasreallydeaf?DidIreacttoasound,didIlookathereyesinsteadofhermouthwhenshewastalking,ordidIpaytoomuchattentiontothesoundsshemadeinbed?Idon’tknow.Idon’tknowifIwilleveractdeafagain,butthisstillkeepsmeupatnight.IthasbecomealoosethreadIhavetopull.
Rory’sblackmailisthesame.Anothermistake.LikeI’dslippedandshouldnothaveletmysonfigureoutIwassneakingoutatnight.Millicentwouldnotlikethat.
SoIdon’tsayanything.RoryandPetraarebothsecretsthatIdonottellmywife.Maybebecauseshehasherown,morethanIthoughtshedid.RoryandPetraarealsobothrisks,eachintheirownway,andstillmymouthstaysshut.
IdonotwanthertoknowhowbadlyI’vescrewedup.
Nine
ITDIDN’TSTARTOUTassomethingbad.Istillbelievethat.
Threeyearsago,lateoneSaturdayafternooninOctober,IwasinthefrontyardwithRoryandJenna.Theywerestillyoungenoughtobearoundmewithoutgettingembarrassed,andthethreeofuswereputtingupHalloweendecorations.Theholidaywasalmosttheirfavorite,secondonlytoChristmas,andeveryyearweblanketedthehouseincobwebs,spiders,skeletons,andwitches.Ifwecouldhaveaffordedanimatronics,wewouldhaveusedthoseaswell.
Millicentcamehomefromshowingahouse.Dressedinherworkclothes,shestoodonthefrontwalkandsmiled,admiringourwork.Thekidssaidtheywerehungry.Withabig,overdramaticrollofhereyes,Millicentsaidshewouldgoputsomesandwichestogether.Shewassmilingwhenshesaidthat.Ithinkweallwere.
Thingsweren’tperfect,however.Thehouseweweredecoratingwasnewtous—wehadbeenlivingthereonlysixmonths—andthemortgagewashuge.Millicentwasunderalotofpressuretosellmorehouses.Iwasunderthesamepressure;attimes,Ieventhoughtaboutgettingasecondjob.
WealsohadongoingissueswithMillicent’smother.Herfatherhadpassedawaytwoyearsearlier.ThenhermotherhadbeendiagnosedwithAlzheimer’sandhadbegunthelongslowdeclinethatcamewithit.Wehadspentalongtimelookingforalive-innurse.Thefirsttwodidn’tworkout,becauseneithermetMillicent’sstandards.Thethirdonewasworkingout,atleastsofar.
Ourfamilyhaditsproblems—lotsofthem—butonthatday,wewereallsmiling,rightupuntilMillicentscreamed.
Iraninside,thekidsrightatmyheels.ImadeittothekitchenjustintimetoseeMillicentthrowherphoneacrosstheroom.Itcrashedagainstthewall,breakingintopieces,makingamark.Sheburiedherfaceinherhandsandstartedtocry.
Jennascreamed.
Rorypickedupthepiecesofthebrokenphone.
IputmyarmsaroundMillicentasherbodyshookwithsobs.
Thetwomosthorrificthingswentthroughmymind.
Someonewasdead.Maybehermother.Maybeafriend.
Orsomeonewasdying.Aterminaldisease.Maybeitwasoneofthekids.Maybeitwasmywife.
Ithadtobeoneofthetwo.Nothingelsewarrantedthiskindofresponse.Notmoneyorajoboreventhelossofpetwedidn’tevenhave.Someonehadtobedeadorsoonwouldbe.
Itcameasashocktolearnitwasneither.Noonewasdead,noonewasdying.Infact,itwastheopposite.
???
AFEWMONTHSAFTERwestarteddating,MillicentandIhadwhatwecalledTriviaNight.Weboughtpizzaandwineandbroughtittohertinyapartment.Thelivingroomwassosmallshejusthadaloveseatandacoffeetable,sowesatonthefloor.Shelitsomecandles,arrangedthepepperonislicesonrealdishes,andpouredthewineintochampagneglasses,becausethatwasallshehad.
Wespentthewholenightaskingquestions.Noboundaries,nothingwasoff-limits—we’dplanneditthatway.Thefirstquestionswereprettytame;wewerestilltoosobertotalkaboutsex,sowetalkedabouteverythingelse.Movies,music,favoritefoods,favoritecolors.Ievenaskedifshehadanyallergies.Shedoes.Eyedrops.
“Eyedrops?”Isaid.
Shenodded,takinganothersipofwine.“Thekindthatgetridoftheredness.TheymakemyeyesswellupuntilIcanhardlysee.”
“LikeRocky.”
“ExactlylikeRocky.IfigureditoutwhenIwassixteenandgotstoned.Triedtohideitfrommyparentsandendedupatthehospital.”
“Aha,”Isaid.“Soyouwereabadgirl?”
Sheshrugged.“Whataboutyou?Anyallergies?”
“OnlytowomennotnamedMillicent.”
IwinkedtoshowherIwaskidding.Shekickedmyfootandrolledhereyes.Eventually,webecameintoxicatedenoughtoaskthegoodquestions.Mostrevolvedaroundsexandoldrelationships.
Igrewtiredofhearingaboutherex-boyfriend,soIaskedaboutherfamily.Iknewwhereshewasfromandthatherparentswerestillmarried,butthatwasaboutit.Shehadnevermentionedsiblings.
“Doyouhaveanybrothersorsisters?”
Wewereprettyintoxicatedbythen,oratleastIwas,andIkeptplayingwiththewaxthathaddrippedoffthecandleinfrontofus.Ithadpooledontothelittledishbelow,andIsquisheditbetweenmyfingers,rollingitintoaballandthenflatteningitoutagain.Millicentwatchedmeinsteadofansweringmyquestion.
“Hello?”Isaid.
Shetookasipofwine.“Asister.Holly.”
“Olderoryounger?”
“Shewasolder.Nowshe’sgone.”
Idroppedthewaxandreachedover,placingmyhandonhers,claspingitagainstherchampagneglass.“I’msosorry,”Isaid.
“It’sokay.”
Iwaitedtoseeifshewouldsayanythingelse.Whenshedidn’t,Iasked.“Howdidithappen?”
Sheleanedbackagainstthewallbehindher.Thealcoholandcandlelightmadeeverythingflicker,includingherredhair.Forasplitsecond,itlookedlikehotemberswerefallingawayfromit.
Sheturnedawayasshespoke.“Shewasfifteen,twoyearsolderthanme.Hollywantedtodrivemorethananythingelseintheworld.Couldn’twaittogetherlicense.Thenonedayourparentswereout.TheyhadusedDad’scarandleftMom’s.Hollysaidweshouldtakeitout.Justaroundtheblock—shesaidshe’dgorealslow.”Millicentturnedtomeandshrugged.“Shedidn’t.Andshedied.”
“Ohmygod.I’msosorry.”
“It’sokay.Hollywasmysister,butshewas…notaniceperson.Sheneverwas.”
Iwantedtoaskmore,andIcouldhave,becauseitwasTriviaNight,butIdidn’t.Instead,Iaskedaboutthefirsttimeshegotdrunk.
Hollydidn’tcomeupagainuntilIwenttodinnerattheirparents’house.Ihadmetthemoncebefore,atarestaurantwhentheywereintown,butthistimewedrovethethreehourstotheirhouse.Millicent’sparentslivedinalargehouseupnorth,neartheGeorgiaborder,inthemiddleofnothing.Herfather,Stan,hadinventedafishinglure,haditpatented,andthensoldittoasportinggoodscompany.Theyweren’trich,buttheyalsodidn’thavetowork.Stannowspenthistimebird-watching,fly-fishing,andcarvingwoodenbirdhouses.Millicent’smother,Abby,usedtobeateacher,andwhenshewasn’ttendingtotheherbgarden,shewroteaneducationalblog.Theywereabitlikehippiesexcepttheygrewcilantroinsteadofweed.
Millicentlookedlikeherfather,rightdowntothemultihuedeyes,butherpersonalitywaslikehermother’s.AbbywasevenmoreorganizedthanMillicent.
Ididn’tseethepictureuntildinnerwasover.Ihelpedclearthetableandcarriedmydishesintothekitchen.Thepicturewasonthewindowsillabovethesink;itwasjustatinythinghalf-hiddenbehindaplant.Theredhairinthephotocaughtmyeye.WhenIpickedituptolookatit,IrealizeditwasMillicentandhersister,Holly.Upuntilthatmoment,Ihadn’tnoticedthelackofphotosthroughoutthehouse.TherewerepicturesofMillicent’sparents,andofMillicent,butthiswastheonlyoneofHolly.
“Don’tletherseethat.”
Ilookedup.Millicent’smotherstoodinfrontofme.Herwarmbrowneyesalmostlookedasiftheywerepleading.
“DoyouknowwhathappenedtoHolly?”
“Yes.Millicenttoldme.”
“Thenyouknowitupsetsher.”Shetookthepictureoutofmyhandandputitbackbehindtheplant.“Wetakethepicturesdownwhenshecomesover.Millicentdoesn’tliketoberemindedofher.”
“Theaccidentupsetsher.LosingHollylikethatmusthavebeendifficult.”
Shegavemeanoddlook.
Ididn’tunderstandthatlookuntilthedaythephonerangandMillicentscreamed.
Ten
THEBOXFORBloodyHellVIIissographicitiscoveredwithabigyellowwarningsticker.Ontheback,thereisaredwarningstickeraboutthegameitself.
Iamnotsurethisissomethingthatshouldbeinmyhouse.
Ibuyitanyway.
Rory,stillonhisthree-daysuspensionfromschool,isathome.HismothertookRory’scomputer,changedtheInternetpassword,andtriedtodisconnectthecableTVbutgaveuphalfwaythrough.Roryisonthecouchinthelivingroom,channelsurfing.
Ithrowthegameonthecouchnexttohim.
“Thanks,”hesays.“Butyourattitudecoulduseanadjustment.”
“Don’t.”
Hesmirksandgrabsthegame,peelingtheyellowwarningstickeroffthefront.Thepictureunderneathshowsdozensofbodiespiledupontopofoneanother.Anuglyhornedcreature,presumablythedevil,standsontopofthem.
Rorylooksupatme,hisgreeneyeslitup.Heaskswherethegamesystemis.Ihesitate,thenpointtotheglasshutchinthediningroom.“Behindthesilvertray.Don’tbreakanything.”
“Iwon’t.”
“Andputitback.”
“Iwill.”
“Youaren’tgoingtocheatagain,areyou?”Isay.
Herollshiseyes.“Likefather,likeson.”
WeareinterruptedbytheTV.Abreaking-newsannouncementinterruptsadaytimetalkshow.
Thelocalnewslogoappears.Itisfollowedbythatyoung,earnestreporterfollowingLindsay’sstory.HisnameisJosh,andIhavebeenwatchinghimeverydaysinceLindsay’sbodywasfound.Today,helooksalittletired,buthiseyesarewild.
ThepolicedepartmenthasfinallyrevealedhowLindsaywaskilled.
“We’reheretonightwithDr.JohannesRollins,theformermedicalexaminerofDeKalbCounty,Georgia,”Joshsays.“Thanksforjoiningus,Dr.Rollins.”
“Ofcourse.”Dr.RollinslooksolderthaneveryoneIknowputtogetherandremindsmeofSantaClaus,excepttheclothesarewrong.Heiswearingaplaidbutton-upwithaplainbluetie.
“Dr.Rollins,you’veseentoday’spolicestatement.Givenyourexpertise,whatcanyoutellusaboutit?”
“Shewasstrangled.”
“Yes,yes.Itsaysthatrighthere.Asphyxiaduetoligaturestrangulation.”
Dr.Rollinsnods.“That’swhatIsaid.Shewasstrangled.”
“Anythingelseyoucantellus?”
“Shelostconsciousnessinsecondsanddiedinminutes.”
JoshwaitstoseeifDr.Rollinshasanythingelsetosay.Hedoesnot.“Okaythen.Thankyouverymuch,Dr.Rollins.Wereallyappreciateyourtime.”ThecamerazoomsinonJosh,andhetakesabreath.Hisofficialreportisalwaysfollowedbyanunofficialreport,becauseJoshisambitiousandseemstohavesourceseverywhere.
“Thatisn’tallwehave.Asalways,News9hasmoreinformationthananyoneelse,andyouwon’tfinditinthepolicestatementoronanyotherstation.MysourcestellmethatthemarksonLindsay’sneckindicateshewasprobablystrangledwithachain.Thekillerstoodbehindherandheldthechainagainstherwindpipeuntilshewasdead.”
“Cool,”Rorysays.
Ifeeltoosicktoadmonishhim,becauseIamimagininghismother,mywife,asthemurdererJoshisdescribing.
It’sallveryclearinmymind,inpartbecauseIknow,orknew,bothwomen.IcanseethelookofhorroronLindsay’sface.IcanalsoseeMillicent’sface,althoughtheexpressionkeepschanging.Sheishorrified,sheisrelieved,sheisorgasmic.Sheissmiling.
Rorystartssettinguphisvideogame.
“Youokay?”hesays.
“I’mfine.”
Hedoesn’tanswer.BloodyHellVIIisbootingup.
Ileave,becauseIhavetogettoatennislesson.Ihavecanceledfartoomanyrecently.
Downtheroad,attheclub,amiddle-agedwomaniswaitingforme.Shehasstraightdarkhair,adeeptan,andanaccent.KekonaisHawaiian.Whenshegetsfrustrated,shecursesinpidgin.
Kekonaisaretiredwidow,whichmeansshehasalotoftimetopayattentiontowhateveryoneelseisdoing.Andshegossipsaboutit.BecauseofKekona,Iknowwhoissleepingwithwhom,whichcouplesarebreakingup,whoispregnant,andwhichkidsaregettingintotrouble.Sometimes,itismorethanIwanttoknow.Sometimes,Ijustwanttoteachtennis.
Today,IlearnoneofRory’steachersmaybehavinganaffairwithastudent’sfather.Itisdisturbing,butatleastsheisn’thavinganaffairwiththestudent.ShealsohasnewsabouttheMcAllisterdivorce,whichhasbeengoingonformorethanayearnow,alongwithanewrumoraboutapossiblereconciliation.Sheisquicktolabelthatoneas“probablyunreliable,butyouneverknow.”
Thirtyminutesintoourone-hourlesson,shementionsLindsay.
Thisisunusual,becauseLindsaywasnotfoundwithinourlittlecommunityofHiddenOaks,norwassheamemberofthecountryclub.Lindsaylived,worked,andwasfoundtwentymilesaway,whichisoutsideKekona’sgossipzone.MostofthetimeshestaysinsidetheOaks,deepwithinitsgates,whereshelivesononeofthelargesthouses.SheliveslessthanablockawayfromwhereIgrewup,andIknowKekona’shousewell.OrIusedto.Myfirstgirlfriendlivedthere.
“There’ssomethingweirdaboutthisgirlinthemotel,”Kekonasays.
“Isn’ttheresomethingweirdaboutallmurders?”
“Notreally.Murderisalmostanationalpastime.Butthenagain,normalgirlsdon’tjustshowupdeadinabandonedmotels.”
KekonasayswhatI’vebeenthinkingallalong.
Themotelstillbafflesme.Idon’tunderstandwhyMillicentdidn’tburyherortakeLindsay’sbodyahundredmilesouttothewoods,oranywherebuthere,nearwherewelive,inabuildingwhereshewassuretobefoundeventually.Itdoesn’tmakesense.
NotunlessMillicentwantstogetcaught.
“Normalgirls?”IsaytoKekona.“What’sanormalgirl?”
“Youknow,notadrugaddictoraprostitute.Notsomeonewholivesonthefringe.Thisgirlwasnormal.Shehadajobandanapartmentand,presumably,paidhertaxes.Normal.”
“Doyouwatchalotofthosepoliceshows?”
Kekonashrugs.“Sure,whodoesn’t?”
Millicentdoesn’t.Butshedoesreadthebooks.
Isendmywifeatext:
Weneedadatenight.
MillicentandIhaven’thadarealdatenightinmorethantenyears.Thephraseisourcode,becauseatsomepointwesatdownandcameupwithacode.Datenightmeansweneedtotalkaboutourextracurricularactivities.Arealconversation,notjustwhispersinthedark.
???
BETWEENTHETEXTANDDATENIGHT,thereisRory’ssuspension.Hehasbeenathomealoneallday,andinMillicent’sfantasieshersonhasbeenreadingabooktoimprovehismind.Instead,hehasbeenplayinghisnewvideogame,courtesyofme.ThereisnosignofitwhenIwalkinthedoor.Roryissettingthetableinsilence.
Helooksupatmeandwinks.Forthefirsttime,Idonotlikethepersonmysonisbecoming.Andit’smyfault.
Igoupstairstotakeaquickshowerbeforedinner.WhenIcomebackdown,Jennahasappeared.SheismakingfunofRory.
“Everyonewastalkingaboutyoutoday,”shesays.Jennatypesintoherphonewhileshetalks.Shealwaysdoesthis.“Theysaidyou’resostupidyouhadtolookupthespellingofyourownname.That’swhyyouwerecheating.”
“Haha,”Rorysays.
“Theysaidyou’retoostupidtobeolderthanme.”
Roryrollshiseyes.
Millicentisinthekitchen.Shehaschangedoutofherworkclothesandisnowwearingyogapants,alongsweatshirt,andstripedsocks.Herhairispiledontopofherhead,securedwithagiantclip.Shesmilesandholdsoutabowlofsaladformetoputonthetable.
ThekidscontinuetobickerassheandIputthefoodout.
“You’resostupid,”Jennasays.“TheysayIgotallthebrainsinthefamily.”
“Yousuredidn’tgetanybeauty,”Rorysays.
“Mom!”
“Enough,”Millicentsays.Shesitsdownatthetable.
RoryandJennashutup.Theyputtheirnapkinsontheirlaps.
Itisallsonormal.
Whenwearedoneeating,MillicentasksJennaandmeifwewilltakecareofthedishes.ShewantstogooverRory’sschoolworkwithhimtomakesurehegotitalldonetoday.
Iseethepanicinhiseyes.
ItisgoingtobealongeveningforRory;IcanhearitfromthekitchenasJennaandIcleanup.Irinse,shestacksthedishwasher,andwetalkalittle.
Jennababblesaboutsoccer,goingintodetailsIcannotpossiblyunderstand.Notforthefirsttime,IwonderifIshouldbecomemoreinvolvedandvolunteertobeanassistantcoachorsomething.ThenIrememberIjustdon’thavethetime.
Shekeepstalking,andmymindwanderstoMillicent.Toourdatenight.
WhenthedishesaredoneandRoryisoutofexcuses,everythingwindsdownforthenight.Rorygoestohisroomtodothehomeworkhedidn’tdoearlier.Jennachatsandtalksandtextsallatthesametime.Whenitistimetogotobed,Millicenttakesbothoftheircomputers.Shetakesthemeverynightatbedtimesotheywon’tstayupandchatwithstrangersontheInternetafterwe’vegonetobed.IthinktherearestrangersontheInternetatallhours,butIdonotarguewithheraboutthis.
Oncethekidsareinbed,MillicentandIgotothegarageforourdatenight.
Eleven
WESITINMillicent’scar.Shedrivesthenicerone,aluxurymodelcrossover,becausesheoftendrivesclientsaroundwhileshowingthemhouses.Theleatherseatsarecomfortable,it’sroomy,andwiththedoorsshut,thekidscan’teavesdrop.
Myhandrestsbetweenus,onthecenterconsole,andsheputhersontopofit.
“You’renervous,”shesays.
“Youaren’t?”
“Theywon’tfindanythingthatleadstous.”
“Howcanyoubesure?Didyouthinkthey’dfindher?”
Sheshrugs.“MaybeIdidn’tcare.”
ItfeelslikewhatIknowcouldfitinmyhandandeverythingIdon’tknowwouldfillthehouse.Ihavesomanyquestionsbutdon’twanttoknowtheanswers.
“Theothershaveneverbeenfound,”Isay.“WhyLindsay?”
“Lindsay.”Shesaysthenameslowly.Itmakesmethinkbacktowhenwefirstfoundher.Wedidthattogether:Welooked,wechose,Iwasapartofeverydecision.
AfterIwenthikingwithLindsayasecondtime,ItoldMillicentshewastheone.Thatwaswhenwefirstdevisedthecode,ourspecialdatenight,exceptwedidn’tmeetinthegarage.Whileaneighborwatchedthekidsforalittlewhile,MillicentandIwentoutforfrozenyogurt.Shegotvanilla,Igotbutterpecan,andwewalkedthroughthemall,whereeverythingwasclosedexceptthemovietheater.Westoppedinfrontofanupscalekitchenstoreandstaredatthewindowdisplay.ItwasoneofMillicent’sfavoritestores.
“So,”shesaid,“tellme.”
Iglancedaround.Theclosestpeoplewereatleastahundredyardsaway,inlinetobuymovietickets.Still,Iloweredmyvoice.“Ithinkshe’sperfect.”
Millicentraisedhereyebrows,lookingsurprised.Andhappy.“Really?”
“Ifwe’regoingtodoit,thenyes.She’stheone.”Shewasn’ttheonlyone;shewasthethird.LindsaywasdifferentbecauseshewasastrangerwechosefromtheInternet.Wepickedheroutofamillionotheroptions.Thefirsttwowedidn’tpickatall.Theyhadcometous.
Millicentateaspoonfulofvanillayogurtandlickedthespoon.“Youthinkweshould,then?Weshoulddoit?”
Somethinginhereyesmademelookaway.Onoccasion,MillicentmakesmefeellikeIcannotbreathe.Ithappenedrightthen,aswestoodinthemalldecidingLindsay’sfate.IlookedawayfromMillicentandintotheclosedkitchenstore.Allthatnewandsparklyequipmentstaredbackatme,mockingmewithitsunattainability.Wecouldnotaffordeverythingwewanted.Notthatanyonecould,butitstillbotheredme.
“Yes,”IsaidtoMillicent.“Weshoulddefinitelydoit.”
Sheleanedoverandgavemeacoldvanillakiss.
WeneversaidanythingaboutholdingLindsaycaptive.
Now,wearesittinginthegaragehavinganotherdatenight.Nofrozenyogurt,justasmallbagofpretzelsIhaveintheglovecompartment.IofferthemtoMillicent,andsheturnsuphernose.
Igetbacktothereasonwearesittinginthecar.“YoumusthaveknownLindsaywouldbefound—”
“Idid.”
“Butwhy?Whywouldyouwanthertobefound?”
ShelooksoutthecarwindowtothestacksofplastictubsfilledwitholdtoysandChristmasdecorations.Whensheturnsbacktome,herheadiscockedtothesideandsheishalfsmiling.“Becauseit’souranniversary.”
“Ouranniversarywasfivemonthsago.”
“Notthatone.”
Ithink,notwantingtoscrewthisup,becauseI’msupposedtoknow.I’msupposedtorememberthesethings.
Allatonce,Ido.“WepickedLindsayayearago.Wedecided.”
Millicentbeams.“Yes.Ayeartothedaythatshewasfound.”
Istareather.Itstilldoesn’tmakesense.“Whywouldyouwant—”
“HaveyouheardofOwenRiley?”shesays.
“What?”
“OwenRiley.Doyouknowwhoheis?”
Thenameisnotfamiliaratfirst.ThenIremember.“YoumeanOwenOliver?Theserialkiller?”
“That’swhatyoucalledhim?”
“OwenOliverRiley.WeusedtojustsayOwenOliver.”
“Soyouknowwhathedid?”
“OfcourseIknow.Youcouldn’tlivehereandnotknow.”
Shesmilesatme,and,assometimeshappens,Iamlost.“It’snotjustouranniversary—it’sOwen’s,”shesays.
Ithinkback,scouringmymindforeventsthathappenedwhenIwasbarelyanadult.OwenOlivershowedupthesummerafterIgraduatedfromhighschool.Noonepaidattentionwhenonewomandisappeared,andnoonepaidattentionwhenthesecondwomandisappeared.Theynoticedwhenonewasfounddead.
IrememberbeinginabarwithafakeID,surroundedbyfriendsthesameage.Wedrankcheapbeerandcheaperliquoraswewatchedthefirstbodybeinguncovered.NothingeverhappenedinWoodview.CertainlynothinglikethemurderofanicewomannamedCalliewhoworkedasaclothingstoremanager.Shewasfoundinsideanabandonedreststopofftheinterstate.Atruckerfoundherbody.
Atfirst,itwasjustthegruesomemurderofonewoman.Ispentthatsummerwatching,riveted,asthenewsandthepoliceandthecommunitytriedtocomeupwithamotive.
“Adrifter”becametheacceptableanswer.Everyonefeltbetterbelievingthekillerwasn’taresident,evenifitmeantthisoutsiderkidnappedCallieandkeptheraliveformonthsbeforekillingher.Webelieveditanyway.EvenIdid.
Whenithappenedasecondtime,weallfeltbetrayed.Ithadtobeoneofus.
NooneknewitwasOwenOliverRiley.Notyet.WejustcalledhimtheWoodviewKiller.
Ninedeadwomenlater,hewascaught.OwenOliverRileywasathirtysomethingmanwithstrawlikeblondhair,blueeyes,andthebeginningofapauncharoundthemiddle.Hedroveasilversedan,hungoutatasportsbar,andvolunteeredathischurch.Peopleknewhim,hadspokentohim,hadsoldhimgoodsandservices,andwavedtohimashepassed.IstaredathispictureontheTV,thinkingthatcouldn’tbehim.Helookedsonormal.Andhewas,exceptthathehadkilledninewomen.
OwenOliverwasinitiallychargedwithonemurder;therestofthechargeswerepending,duetolackofevidence.Bailwasdenied.OwenOliverstayedinjailforthreeweeks,rightupuntilhewasreleasedonatechnicality.ThewarrantforhisDNAsamplehadnotbeensignedatthetimethepoliceswabbedtheinsideofhischeek.Evenhiscourt-appointedlawyercoulddriveatruckthroughthatdiscrepancy.Andhedid.
WiththeDNAthrownout,thepolicehadnothing.TheywerestillscramblingforevidencewhenOwenOliverwalkedoutofjail.Hewassonormal-lookingheblendedrightbackinwithsocietyanddisappeared.
Whenhewentfree,IwasoverseasandIstillheardaboutit.ThatwasoneofthefewtimesIheardfrommyparentsbeforetheydied.Whentheydid,Ireturnedhomebuthadnoplanstostay,untilImetMillicent.Backwhenshefirstagreedtogooutwithme,Iassumeditwasbecauseshewasnewanddidn’tknowanyoneelse.
Sometimes,Istillthinkthat.
Bythen,OwenOliverwaslonggone.Buteveryyear,ontheanniversaryofthedayhewasreleased,hisfaceisbackonthenews.Overtheyears,Owengrewtobeourlocalmonster,boogeyman,serialkiller.Eventuallyhebecameamyth,toolargeforlife.
“Itmustbeseventeenyearssincehelastkilledsomeone,”Isay.
“Eighteen,actually.Eighteenyearsagothismonth,hislastvictimdisappeared.”
Ishakemyhead,tryingtoputthepiecestogetherinmyhead.Asalways,Millicentdoesitforme.
“RememberwhenLindsayfirstdisappeared?Whenpeoplewerelookingforher?”shesays.
“Ofcourse.”
“Sowhatdoyouthinkwillhappenwhenanotheronegoesmissing?Likeoneofthewomenonourlist.”
Onebyone,thelooseendsstarttocometogether.Ifanotherwomandisappears,thepolicewillstarttothinkwehaveaserialkiller.MillicenthasresurrectedOwentoblameourworkonhim.
Sheissettingupourfuture.
“That’swhyyoukeptLindsayaliveforsolong,”Isay.“Youwerecopyinghim.”
Millicentnods.“Yes.”
“Andhestrangledhisvictims,didn’the?”
“Yes.”
Iexhale.Itisbothphysicalandpsychological.“Itwasallasetup.”
“Ofcourseitwas.Whenthepolicestartlooking,andtheywill,they’regoingtolookforOwen.”
“Butwhywouldn’tyoutellme?Forayear?”
“Iwantedtosurpriseyou,”shesays.“Forouranniversary.”
Istareather.Mylovelywife.
“It’sdemented,”Isay.
Sheraisesaneyebrowatme.Beforeshecanspeak,Iputmyfingeragainstherlips.
“Andit’sbrilliant,”Isay.
Millicentleansinandkissesmeonthetipofmynose.Herbreathsmellslikethedessertwehadtonight.Notvanillathistime.Chocolateicecreamandcherries.
Sheslidesoverthecenterconsole,straddlingmeinthepassengerseat.Asshepullsoffhersweatshirt,theclipinherhaircomeslooseandherhairtumblesout.Shelooksdownatme,hereyesdarkasaswamp.
“Youdidn’tthinkweweregoingtostop,didyou?”sheasks.
No.Wecan’tstopnow.
Idon’tevenwantto.
Twelve
WHENITSTARTED,itwasaboutHolly.Anditwasbecausewehadto.
Onthatbriskfalldaywhenthephonerang,ourworldshattered.ThephonecallhadbeenaboutHolly.Shewasgoingtobereleasedfromapsychiatrichospital.
Iwasnothearingright.That’showIfeltwhenMillicentfirsttoldmehersisterhadnotdiedinanaccidentattheageoffifteen.Shehadbeencommittedtoapsychiatrichospital.
ItwaslatethatSaturdaynight,afterthekidshadbeencalmeddownandfed,andhadgonetosleep.MillicentandIsatinourlivingroom,onthenewcouchwewerestillpayingoffonthecreditcard,andshetoldmetherealstoryofHolly.
Thefirsttimewasthepapercut.Ialreadyknewthatstory,abouthowtheyhadbeenmakingcollagesoftheirfavoritethings.
“Shediditonpurpose,”Millicentsaid.“Shegrabbedmyhandandsliceditwiththepaper.Rightthere.”Shepointedtothespotbetweenherthumbandindexfinger.“Sheconvincedourparentsitwasanaccident.”
Amonthpassed,andsix-year-oldMillicenthadalmostforgottenaboutit.Untilithappenedagain.SheandHollywereinHolly’sroom,playinginwhattheycalledthePurplePit.Millicentandhersisterhadcreatedtheirownlittleworld,usingdolls,stuffedanimals,andplasticmodelhorses,andtheycalleditthePurplePit.ThenamereferredtothecolorofHolly’sroom.Herswaslavender,andMillicent’swasyellow.
WhiletheywereinthePit,Hollycutheragain.Thistimesheusedasharppieceofplasticshehadbrokenoffanothertoy.
ThecutwasonMillicent’sleg,downnearherankle.Shescreamedasthebloodtrickledontotherug.Hollystaredatituntiltheirmothercameintotheroom.ThenshestartedtocryrightalongwithMillicent.
Theincidentwasdismissedasanotheraccident.
Overthenextcoupleofyears,Millicentsufferedanumberofotheraccidents.Herfatherthoughtshewasclumsy.Hermothertoldhertobecareful.
Hollylaughedather.
ThemoreMillicenttoldme,themorehorrifiedIbecame.SomeofwhatIhadseennowmadesense.
Thebiteonherarm,blamedonthedog.Twosmalldiscoloredmarksthatneverwentaway.
Abrokenfingerslammedinthedoor.Itwasstillalittlebent.
Thattinychiponherfrontbottomtooth,fromwhenshetrippedandfellintothedoorjamb.
Thelong,deepcutinhercalffrombrokenglassinthestreet.Thescarisstillvisible,atanstripealmostsixincheslong.
Thelistwentonforwhatseemedlikehours.Andastheygotolder,itgotworse
WhenMillicentwasten,Hollypushedherdownthestairs.Millicentbrokeherarm.Sixmonthslater,HollycrashedintoMillicentwithherbike.Afterthat,shefelloutofatreeinthebackyard.
Herparentsbelievedtheywereallaccidents.Ortheysawwhattheywantedtosee.Noparentwantstobelievetheirchildisamonster.
Partofmecouldunderstandthat.NothingwouldmakemebelieveRoryorJennacouldactlikethat.Itjustisn’tpossible,isn’tfeasible.AndIwassureMillicent’sparentsfeltthesamewayaboutHolly.
Thatdidn’tmakemeanylessangry.AsIsatandIlistenedtowhatMillicenthadenduredgrowingup,Icouldnotreasonawaytherage.
Thetreatment—no,thetorture—continuedintotheirearlyteens.Bythen,Millicenthadlonggivenuptryingtobenicetohersisterinthehopesshewouldstop.Instead,shetriedtohurtHollyback.
Thefirst,andonly,timeshetriedtohurtHolly,waswhentheywerebothinmiddleschool.Whenthedaywasover,theyheadedoutfrontwiththerestofthechildren,tothelineofparentswaitingtopickuptheirkids.Theywalkedtogether,sidebyside,andMillicentstuckoutherfoot.
Hollyfellflatontheground.
Thewholethinghappenedinasecondbutwasseenbyhalftheschool.Kidslaughed,teachersrushedtohelp,and,inside,Millicentsmiledtoherself.
“Itsoundssick,”Millicentsaid.“ButIreallythoughtitwasover.Ithoughthurtingherwouldmakeherstophurtingme.”
Shewaswrong.
Hourslater,Millicentwokeupinthemiddleofthenight.Herwristswereboundandtiedtoherheadboard.HollywasintheprocessoftyingagagaroundMillicent’smouth.
Hollydidn’tsayawordtoher.Shejustsatinthecorner,staringatMillicentuntilthesuncameup.Justbeforetheirparentswokeup,Hollyuntiedherandtookthegagoutofhermouth.
“Don’tevertrytohurtmeagain,”shesaid.“NexttimeI’llkillyou.”
Millicentdidn’t.Shecontinuedtotaketheabusewhilesearchingforawaytoproveshewasn’tclumsyandshewasn’thurtingherselfbyaccident.Hollywastoosmarttogetcaughtoncamera,tooclevertogetcaughtbyanyone.
Tothisday,Millicentisconvinceditwouldhavecontinuedifithadn’tbeenforthecar.
Thecaraccidentshetoldmeaboutdidhappen.Hollywasfifteen,Millicentwasthirteen,andHollydiddecidetotaketheirmom’scaroutforaspin.SheorderedMillicenttocomealongfortheride,thenpurposelydroveintoafence,passengersidefirst.
Itwouldhavebeenwrittenoffasanaccidentifnotforthevideo.
Twoseparatesecuritycamerasrecordedtheaccident.Thefirstshowedthecardrivingstraightdownthestreetwhenasuddenturnrightmadeitplowintoafence.Thesecondvideoshowedthedriver’ssideofthecar.Hollywasbehindthewheel,anditlookedlikesheturnedthewheelonpurpose.
Thepoliceinterviewedheranddecidedtheaccidentwasnoaccident.
AftermanyinterviewswithMillicent,Holly,andtheirparents,theycametorealizesomethingwasverywrongwithHolly.Theyalsobelievedshewastryingtokillherlittlesister.
Ratherthanhavetheirdaughterchargedwithattemptedmurder,Millicent’sparentsagreedtoputherinlong-termpsychiatrichospitalization.Herdoctorskeptherthere.
Twenty-threeyearslater,shewasreleased.
Hollywasthefirst.
???
AFTEROURdatenight,IresearchOwenOliverRiley.Ifourplanistoresurrectourlocalboogeyman,thenIneedtobrushuponthefacts,specificallythetypesofwomenhetargeted.Idon’tremembermuchaboutthat.WhatIrememberisthathescaredthehelloutofeverywomaninthearea,whichmadeiteitherveryeasyorveryhardtomeetawoman.They’deitherlookedatmelikeImightbetheWoodviewKillerortheyevaluatedmychancesoffightinghimoff.
Theseweregirlsaroundmyageatthetime,betweeneighteenandtwenty,althoughitlookslikeOwenOliverwouldn’thavegiventhemasecondglance.Helikedthemabitolder,betweentheagesoftwenty-fiveandthirty-five.
Blondorbrunette—itdidn’tmatter.OwenOliverhadnopreference.
Hehadothers,though.Thewomenwereontheshorterside;nonewastallerthanfive-three.Easiertomovethem.AndmucheasierforMillicent.
Theyalllivedalone.
Manyworkedatnight.Onewasevenaprostitute.
Owen’sfinalrequirementwastheonethatgavehimaway.Atonetimeoranother,allofhisvictimshadbeenpatientsatSaintMary’sMemorialHospital.Sometimes,theworkhadgonebackyears.OnehadhertonsilsoutatSaintMary’s;anotherhadpneumoniaandspenttwodaysonanIV.Owenhadworkedinthebillingdepartment.Hekneweverythingabouttheirprocedures,aswellastheirage,maritalstatus,andaddress.
SaintMary’swastheonethingtyingthevictimstogether.Foralongtime,thatwasoverlooked,becauseeveryonegoestoSaintMary’s.It’stheonlylargehospitalinourarea.Thesecond-closestisstillanhouraway.
Iskippastmostofthedetailsaboutwhathedidtohisvictimswhiletheywereheldcaptive.ToomuchinformationIdon’tneed,toomanymentalimagesIdonotwant.
Theonlyonethatcatchesmyeyeisthefingerprints.Owenhadfiledthemoffallhisvictims.MillicenthaddonethesametoLindsay.
Next,Iscrollthroughpicturesofthewomenhekilled.Theywereyoung,bright,andhappy.Thisishowvictimpicturesalwayslook.Noonewantstoseeapictureofasomberyoungwoman,evenifshe’sdead.
Inoticeafewmorethings.Allofthewomenwerequiteplain.Theydidn’twearalotofmakeuporstylishclothes.Mostlookedsimple:ordinaryhair,jeansandT-shirts,nodarklipstick,andnopaintednails.Lindsayfitthisprofile,andshefitOwen’sheightrequirement.
Naomiwasmoresimplethanglamorous,butshewastootall.
Upuntilnow,Ihaveneverchosenawomanbasedonthiskindofprofile.Mycriteriarevolvedaroundhowmanypeoplewouldbelookingforher,howquicklythepolicewouldbenotified,andhowmuchtimetheywouldputintofindingagrownwoman.
Everythingelsewasarbitrary.IchoseLindsaybecauseshefitalltheimportantcriteria,andbecauseMillicentwouldnotgetoffmybackaboutchoosingthenextone.
Petrawasdifferent.BecauseIsleptwithher,orbecauseshesuspectedIwasn’tdeaf.Maybeboth.Sheisstilloutthere,stillarisk,butshedoesn’tfitournewprofileatall.Petraistootallandfartooglamorous;shewearsskirtsandheels,andevenhertoenailswerepaintedred.
Ineedtofindanotherone.Ourfourth.
ThatwashowOwenOliverworked.Healwaystookhisnextvictimafterthelastonewasfound.
AsIscourthroughsocialmediasites,Icanfeelmyadrenalinestarttosurge.It’snotquitearush,notyet,butitwillbe.MillicentandIwillbringbackOwentogether.
AndI’mlookingforwardtoit.
Thirteen
WEDIDN’TPICKTHEfirsttwowomen.Lindsaywasthefirstonewechose,andwefoundheronsocialmedia.Butthatwaswhenwedidn’thaveaprofileoraheightrequirement.Mostdon’tputtheirphysicalstatisticsonsocialmedia,andtherearenocategoriesforexactheightorweightoreyecolor.Thismakesmypreliminarysearchfornumberfourdifficult.
Ididfindoneplacethatlistedheight:datingwebsites.Butabriefsearchthroughafewofthemisuninspiring.Thenextday,IaskMillicenttomeetmeforamiddaybreak.Wegrabacupofcoffeeandsitintheparkacrossthestreet.Thedayisabeautifulone,theskyanunbrokenblueandnottoomuchhumidityintheair,andtheparkiscloseenoughtousethecoffeeshop’sInternet.
IexplainournewprofilerequirementsandshowherwhatI’vefoundonline.Shepagesthroughthewomenonthedatingsiteandthenlooksatme.
“Theyallseemso…”Sheshakesherheadashervoicetrailsoff.
“Fake?”
“Yes.Likethey’retryingtobewhomenwantinsteadofwhotheyare.”
Ipointtoone,whosaysherhobbiesarewindsurfingandbeachparties.“Andtheymighthavetoomanyfriends.”
“Somedo,I’msure.”
Shecontinuestopagethroughprofiles,herbrowfurrowed.“Wecan’tpickfromadatingsite.”
Isaynothing,andshelooksupatme.Iamsmiling.
“What?”shesays.
“Ihaveanotheridea.”
Sherelaxes,nolongerworried,andraisesoneeyebrow.“Doyounow?”
“Ido.”
“Tellme.”
Iglanceacrossthepark,myeyesfinallysettlingonawomansittingonanotherbenchandreadingabook.Ipoint.“Whatabouther?”
Millicentlooksover,studiesthewoman,andsmiles.“Youwanttolookforsomeoneintherealworld.”
“Tostart,yes.Sowefindsomeonethatfitsthephysicalprofile.Thenwe’llresearchonlinetomakesureshe’llwork.”
Millicent’seyesturntome.Theyaresobright.Sheplacesherhandonmine.Hertouchspreadsthroughoutmywholebody;itfeelslikeIambeingrecharged.Evenmybrainhums.
Shenods,andthecornersofhermouthturnupasshestartstosmile.AllIcanthinkaboutiskissingher.Aboutthrowingherdowninthemiddleoftheparkandrippingoffherclothes.
“IknewtherewasareasonImarriedyou,”Millicentfinallysays.
“BecauseI’munbelievablybrilliant?”
“Andhumble.”
“Nottoobad-looking,either,”Isay.
“Ifwedothisright,”shesays,“thepolicewillnevereventhinktolookforacouple.We’llbefreetodowhateverwewant.”
Somethingaboutthatmakesmeevenmoreexcited.TheworldisfilledwiththingsIcan’tdoandcan’tafford,fromhousestocarstokitchenequipment,butthis,this,ishowwecanbefree.Thisistheonethingthatisours,thatwecontrol.ThankstoMillicent.
“Yes,”Isaytoher.
“Yestowhat?”
“Yestoeverything.”
???
IDRIVETOTHESunRailstationandtakethetraintoAltamonteSprings,theoppositedirectionfromwherePetralives.Technically,thetownisoutsideWoodview,butitwasstillpartofOwen’soriginalhuntinggrounds.
Womenareeverywhere.Young,old,tall,short,thin,heavy.Theyareoneverystreet,ineverystore,aroundeverycorner.Idon’tseethemen,onlythewomen,andithasalwaysbeenthisway.WhenIwasyoung,Icouldn’timaginechoosingonlyone.Notwithsomanyavailable.
Obviously,thatwasbeforeMillicent.
I’mtheonewhoisdifferent.Istillevaluateallwomen,justnotthesameway.Idonotseethemaspossiblepartners,lovers,orconquests.IevaluatethembasedonwhetherornottheywillfitOwen’sprofile.Isizeeachoneupfirstbasedonheight,thenonmakeupandclothes.
IwatchayoungwomanleaveaLaundromatandgoupstairs,totheapartmentaboveit.FromwhereIamstanding,Iamnotsureifsheistootall.
Asecondwomanexitsanofficebuilding.Sheisquiteshortbutannoyinglybrisk,andIwatchasshegetsintoacarthatisnicerthanmine.IamnotsureIcouldgetclosetothatone.
Iseeawomanatacoffeeshopandsitatthetablebehindher.Sheisonalaptop,scrollingthroughsitesthatfallintotwocategories:politicsandfood.Iknowasmidgeaboutbothandwonderwhatkindofconversationwewouldhave.Thismakesmecuriousenoughtowatchassheleaves,andthentrailafterhertogetalicenseplatenumber.
IcontinuedownthesidewalkuntilIseeasmallwomanwhoisalsoametermaid.Sheiswritingaticket.Hernailsarecutshort;soisherhair.Icannotseehereyesbecauseofhersunglasses,butsheisn’twearinglipstick.
Ipassbyhercloseenoughtoreadhernametag.
A.Parson.
Maybeher,maybenot.Ihaven’tdecidedyet.Whensheisn’tlooking,Itakeacoupleofpictures.
???
LATERTHATNIGHT,Millicentislyinginbedandstudyingaspreadsheetonhercomputer.Thekidsareasleep,orshouldbe.Ifnothingelse,they’resilent.Thatmightbethemostwecanhopeforthesedays.
IslideintobednexttoMillicent.“Heythere,”Isay.
“Hey.”Shescootsovertomakeroom,thoughourbedismorethanbigenough.
“Iwentshoppingtoday.”
“Jesus,Ihopeyoudidn’tspendanymoney.I’mlookingatourbudgetrightnow,andwedon’thaveanyextra.Notafterthewasherhadtobereplaced.”
Ismile.“Notthatkindofshopping.”Iplacemyphoneinfrontofher,withapictureofA.Parsononthefront.
“Oh,”Millicentsays.Shezoomsinonthepictureandsquintsatit.“Whatkindofuniformisthat?”
“Metermaid.”
“Icertainlywouldn’tmindgettingalittlerevengeononeofthose.”
“Meneither.”Welaughtogether.“AndshefitsOwen’sprofile.”
“Indeedshedoes.”Millicentcloseshercomputerandturnsherwholebodytome.“Nicework.”
“Thankyou.”
Wekiss,andallourbudgetproblemsmeltaway.
Fourteen
ATFIRST,nothingaboutitwassexy.Itwaspetrifying.
Hollywassupposedtobetheend,notthebeginning.Thedayaftershewasreleasedfromthehospital,MillicentopenedthefrontdoortofindHollyontheporch.Sheslammedthedoorinhersister’sface.
Hollywrotealetterandputitinourmailbox.Millicentdidnotanswerit.
Shecalled.Millicentstoppedansweringthephone.
WhenIcontactedthepsychiatrichospital,theywouldn’ttellmeanything.
Hollystartedshowingupinpublic,stayingatleastahundredfeetaway,butshewaseverywhere.AtthegrocerystorewhenMillicentwentshopping.Intheparkinglotatthemall.Acrossthestreetwhenwewhenouttodinner.
Sheneverstayedanywherelongenoughforustocallthepolice.AndeverytimewetriedtotakeHolly’spictureforproof,sheturned,walkedaway,ormovedtocreateablur.
Millicentwouldnottellhermother.TheAlzheimer’swasalreadymakingherforgetwhoHollywas,andMillicentwantedtokeepitthatway.
Online,IresearchedthestalkerlawsandmadealistofeverytimeHollyhadshowedupsofar.WhenIshowedittoMillicent,shetoldmeitwasuseless.
“Thatwon’thelp,”shesaid.
“Butifwe—”
“Iknowthestalkerlaws.Shehasn’tbrokenthem,andshewon’t.Hollyistoosmartforthat.”
“Wehavetodosomething,”Isaid.
Millicentstaredatmynotebookandshookherhead.“Idon’tthinkyouunderstand.Shemademychildhoodhell.”
“Iknowshedid.”
“Thenyoushouldknowalistisn’tgoingtohelp.”
Iwantedtogotothepoliceandtellthemwhatwashappeningtous,buttheonlyphysicalevidencewehadwastheletterHollyputinthemailbox.Itwasnotthreatening.AsMillicentsaid,Hollywastoosmartforthat.
M,Don’tyouthinkweshouldtalk?Ido.H.
Insteadofgoingtothepolice,IwenttoseeHolly.ItoldhertoleaveMillicentandmyfamilyalone.
Shedidn’t.ThenexttimeIsawher,shewasinmyhouse.
ItwasonaTuesday,aroundlunchtime,andIwasattheclubfinishingupalessonandthinkingaboutwhattoeat.Myphonedingedthreetimesinarow,alltextsfromMillicent.
911GethomeNOWHolly
ThiswaslessthanaweekafterIpaidHollyavisit.
Ididn’tpausetotextMillicentback.WhenIarrivedhome,Millicentmetatthedoor.Hereyeswerewet,tearsthreateningtoslidedownhercheek.Mywifedoesnotcryovereverylittlething.
“Whatthehell—”
BeforeIcouldfinish,shegrabbedmyhandandledmeintothefamilyroom.Hollywasatthefarend,sittingonthecouch.Assoonasshesawme,shestoodup.
“HollywasherewhenIgothome,”Millicentsaid.Hervoiceshook.
“What?”Hollysaid.
“Righthere,rightinourfamilyroom.”
“No,itwasn’tlikethat—”
“Iforgotmycamera,”Millicentsaid.“IwassupposedtophotographtheSullivanplacetoday,soIcamehomeandshewasjusthere.”
“Wait—”
“Ifoundhersittingonourcouch.”Thetearsfinallycame,inforce,andMillicentcoveredherfacewithherhands.Iputmyarmaroundher.
Hollylookedlikeanormalthirtysomethingwomandressedinjeans,aT-shirt,andsandals.Hershortredhairhadbeenslickedback,andsheworebrightlipstick.Hollytookadeepbreathandheldupbothhandsasiftoshowmetheywereempty.“Holdon.That’snot—”
“Stoplying,”Millicentscreamed.“You’realwayslying.”
“I’mnotlying!”
“Wait,”Isaid,steppingforward.“Let’salljustcalmdown.”
“Yes,”Hollysaid.“Let’sdothat.”
“No,I’mnotgoingtocalmdown.”Millicentpointedtothewindowinthecorner,facingthesideofthehouse.Thecurtainwaspulledshut,butglasswasscatteredonthefloor.“That’showshegotin.Shebrokeawindowtogetintoourhome.”
“Ididnot!”
“Thenhowdidyougetin?”
“Ididn’t—”
“Holly,stop.Juststop.You’renotgoingtofoolmyhusbandthewayyoufooledMomandDad.”
Millicentwasrightaboutthat.
“Ohmygod,”Hollysaid.Sheclaspedherhandsonherheadandclosedhereyes,asiftryingtoblockouttheworld.“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”
Millicenttookastepback.
Isteppedforward.“Holly,”Isaid.“Areyouokay?”
Shedidn’tstop.Itwaslikeshecouldn’tevenhearme.Whenshesmackedthesideofherheadwithanopenhand,IglancedbackatMillicent.ShewasstaringatHollyandlookedtooscaredtomove.Millicenthadfrozen.
Iraisedmyvoice.“Holly.”
Herheadjerkedup.
Shedroppedherhands.
Holly’sfacehadcontortedintosomethingangry,somethingalmostferal.ItfeltlikeIwasseeingwhatMillicentwassoafraidof.
“Youshouldhavediedinthataccident,”shesaidtoMillicent.Itsoundedlikeagrowl.
Millicentmovedcloser,usingmeasashield,andshegrippedmyarm.Ihalfturnedtotellhertocallthepolice,butshespokefirst.Hervoicewasbarelyawhisper.“Thankgodthekidsaren’theretoseethis.”
Thekids.Apictureofthemflashedinmymind.IsawRoryandJennaintheroominsteadofus.Ifelttheirfearasthisinsanewomanconfrontedthem.
“Holly,”Isaid.
Shecouldn’thearme.Shecouldn’thearanyone.HereyeswerefixedonMillicent,whowastryingtohidebehindme.
“Youbitch,”Hollysaid.
Shelungedtowardme.
TowardMillicent.
Inthatmoment,Ididnotmakeadecision.Ididnotrunthroughtheoptionsinmymind,weighingtheprosandcons,usinglogictoarriveatthebestpossiblecourseofaction.IfIhadgonethroughallthat,Hollywouldstillbealive.
Instead,Ididnotthink,didnotdecide.WhatIdidnextcamefromsomewheremuchdeeper.Itwasbiology,self-preservation.Instinct.
Hollywasathreattomyfamily,soshewasathreattome.Ireachedfortheclosestthing.Itwasrightnexttome,leaningagainstthewall.
Atennisracket.
Fifteen
AFEWDAYSPASSbeforesomeoneonTVasksaboutOwenOliverRiley.
Josh,myearnest,youngJosh,broughtuptheserialkiller’snameduringapressconference.EversinceLindsaywasfound,thepolicehavebeenholdingpressconferencesatleasteveryotherday.Theyareheldinthelateafternoonsothehighlightscanbereplayedontheeveningnews.
Josh’squestionwillbetoday’shighlight.
“HasitoccurredtoyouthatOwenOliverRileyisback?”
Theleaddetective,abaldingmaninhisfifties,didnotlooksurprisedatthequestion.
JoshisfartooyoungtorememberanydetailsaboutOwenOliver,butheisanintelligent,ambitiousreporter,capableofsurfingtheInternetatlightspeed.Hejustneededsomeonetogivehimastartingpoint.
Forthis,Iwentbacktosomeofthemostfamousserialkillers.Severalcommunicatedwiththepress,sometimeseventhepolice,andthatwaslongbeforee-mailwasinvented.Butgivenhoweasyitwastotrackanythingelectronic,Idecidedagainstusinge-mail.Iwentold-school.
Owenneverwroteletterstoanyone,soallIhadtodowascreatesomethingjustplausibleenoughtobereal.Afterseveralattempts,fromlongtoshort,poetictorambling,Iendedupwithasingleline:
It’sgoodtobehome.—Owen
Iworesurgicalgloveswhilehandlingthepaper,envelope,andstamp.Whenitwassealedandreadytogo,Ispritzedtheenvelopewithacheapdrugstorecologne.Itsmelledlikeamuskycowboy.
ThatwasjusttomesswithJosh.
ThenIdroveacrosstownanddroppeditinamailbox.Threedayslater,JoshbroughtupOwenatthepressconferencebutnottheletter.MaybeJoshiskeepingthistohimself,ormaybethepolicehaveaskedhimnottomentionit.
Fornow,Iamcontenttowaitandsee,becausethereissomethingelseIneedtodo.Lastnight,IwasoutwatchingAnnabelleParson’sapartment.Finally.Themetermaidwho’dcaughtmyeyewasmoredifficulttofindthantheothers.ForLindsayandPetra,allIhadtodowaslookuptheirnamesontheInternet.Annabellewassmarterthanthat,nodoubttohideherselffromallthoseangrypeoplewhogotaparkingticketfromher.Tofindoutwhereshelived,Ihadtofollowherhomeoneevening.Itwasalittleannoying.
Lastnight,Iwaitedoutsideherapartmenttoseeifshewouldreturnhomealoneorifshewasseeingsomeone.Aroundmidnight,Ireceivedatextfrommyson.
Outagain?It’sgoingtocostyou.Whatdoyouwant?Youmean,howmuchdoIwant?
Thistimehedoesn’twantanothervideogame.Hewantscash.
Thenextday,Imeethimathomeafterwork.Heisalreadyonthecouch,channelsurfing,texting,andplayingagame.Millicentisnothomeyet.Jennaisupstairs.
Isitdownnexttohim.
Heglancesup,eyebrowsraised.
Thisisamistake.IshouldhavetoldMillicenteverything.WecouldhavesatdownwithbothRoryandJenna,andexplainedthatnothingisgoingon.
Dadjustlikestotakelongdrivesinthemiddleofthenight.Occasionallywhilewearingasuit.
IhandRorythecash.
Heissobusycountingthemoneyheisn’tpayingattentiontotheTV,wheretheyarereplayingpressconferencehighlightsonthenews.Roryisoblivioustotherealreasonhisfatherisoutatnight.Allhehastodoislookup.
???
WEHAVETACOSFORdinner,madewithleftoverchicken,andtheyaredelicious.Mywifeisagoodcookandinsistsonmakingdinnereverynight,butthequickershethrowssomethingtogether,thebetteritseemstobe.
Idon’ttellherthat.
Dessertispeachslicessprinkledwithbrownsugar,andweeachgetonesnickerdoodlecookie.Roryisthefirsttorollhiseyes,thoughJennaisrighttherewithhim.Millicenthasalwaysbeenstingywithdessert.
Wealleatitdifferently.Jennalicksthebrownsugaroffherpeaches,theneatsthecookieandfinishestherestofthepeaches.Roryeatsthecookiefirst,thenthepeaches,althoughit’sallsortofablur,becauseheinhaleseverythingsofast.Millicentalternatesbetweenthefruitandthecookie,abiteofoneandthenabiteoftheother.Imashthepeachesandcookietogetherandeatitallwithaspoon.
Tomorrowisourmovienight,andwediscusswhatwewillwatch.Lastweek,itwasatalkinganimalmovie.Roryalwaysgroansatfirst,buthelovesthoseasmuchasanyone.Bothofthekidslikesportsmovies,sowepickoneaboutabaseballyouthleaguetryingtomakeittotheworldchampionships.Wevoteonthislikeit’saseriouselection,andBatterUpwinsbyalandslide.
“I’llbehomebyfivethirty,”Isay.
“Dinneratsix,”saysMillicent.
“Arewedonehere?”Roryasks.
“Who’sOwenOliverRiley?”Jennasays.
Everythingstops.
MillicentandIlookatJenna.
“Wheredidyouhearthat?”Millicentsays.
“TV.”
“Owenisahorriblemanwhohurtpeople,”Isay.“Buthecanneverhurtyou.”
“Oh.”
“Don’tworryaboutOwen.”
“Butwhyaretheytalkingabouthim?”Jennaasks.
“Becauseofthatdeadgirl,”Rorysays.
“Woman,”Isay.“Deadwoman.”
“Oh.Her.”Jennashrugsandlooksoveratherphone.“Soarewedone?”
Millicentnods,andtheypickuptheirphones,clearingthetablewhiletexting.Irinseoffthedishes,Jennahelpsputtheminthedishwasher,andMillicentgetsridofwhateverisleftofthetacos.
???
WHILEWEGETREADYforbed,Millicentturnsonthelocalnews.Shewatchesthepressconferencehighlightsandthenturnstome.Sayingnothing,sheasksifIhadsomethingtodowithit.
Ishrug.
Sheraisesaneyebrow.
Iwinkather.
Shesmiles.
Sometimes,wedonothavetosayanything.
Weweren’talwayslikethis.Inthebeginning,wespententirenightstalking,justlikeallyoungcouplesdowhentheyfallinlove.Itoldherallmystories.Couldn’tgetthemoutfastenough,becauseIhadfinallyfoundsomeonewhothoughttheywerefascinating.WhothoughtIwasfascinating.
Eventually,sheknewallmyoldstories,sowetradedonlynewones.Itextedherinthemiddleofthedaytotellherthesmallestthings.Shewouldsendmeafunnypicturedepictinghowherdaywasgoing.Ihadneverknownsomeonesowell,norsharedmylifesocompletelywithanother.Thiscontinueduntilwegotmarried,evenafterwardwhenMillicentwaspregnantwithRory.
IstillrememberthefirstthingIdidn’ttellher.Thefirstthingofanyimportance,Imean.Itwasthecar.Wehadtwo;herswasthenewerone,andminewasabeat-upoldtruckthatheldallmytennisequipment.WhenMillicentwaseightmonthspregnant,mytruckbrokedown.Itneededathousanddollarsinrepairs,andwedidn’thavethemoney.Anymoneywedidhavehadbeensquirreledaway,bitbybit,toaffordacribandastrollerandthemountainsofdiapersweweregoingtoneed.
Ididn’twanttoupsether,didn’twanttomakeherworry,soImadeachoice.Itoldherthetruckbrokedownbutnothowmuchitwouldcost.Topayfortherepairs,Iopenedanewcreditcardonlyinmyname.
Ittookmorethanayeartopayitoff,andInevertoldMillicent.Inevertoldherabouttherestofthecharges,either.
Thatwasthefirstbigthing,butwebothstoppedtalkingaboutthesmallthings.Wehadababy,thenanother,andherdaysbecamemoreexhaustingthanfunny.Shenolongerrecountedeverylittlething,nordidItellherallthedetailsaboutmyclients.
Webothstoppedasking,stoppingsharingtheminutiae,andinsteadwestucktothehighlights.Westilldo.
Sometimesasmileandawinkisallweneed.
Sixteen
WITHINTWENTY-FOURHOURS,OwenOliverRileyiseverywhere.Hisfaceisalloverourlocalnewsandwebsites.Myclientswanttotalkabouthim.Thosewhoaren’tfromherewantmoredetails.Thosewhoarefromherehavenotdecidedithe’sreallyback.Kekona,thelocalgossip,isinthemiddleonbothcounts.
ThoughshewasborninHawaii,shehasbeenlivingherelongenoughtoknowallourlegends,myths,andinfamousresidents.Shedoesn’tbelieveOwenOliverisback.Notforonesecond.
Weareonthecourt,andKekonaisworkingonherserve.Again.Shethinksifshecanjustserveoneaceafteranother,shedoesn’tneedtoplaytherestofthegame.Intheory,sheisright.Inreality,noonecandothat.Notunlessheropponentisafive-year-old.
“Owencouldgoanywheretokillwomen,buttheythinkhe’sbackhere?”shesays.
“Ifby‘they’youmeanthepolice,thenno,theyhaven’tsaidanythingaboutOwenOliver.Itwasjustsomereporter’squestion.”
“Pfft.”
“I’mnotsurewhatthatmeans.”
“Itmeansthat’sridiculous.Owengotawayonce.Hehasnoreasontocomeback.”
Ishrug.“Becauseit’shome?”
Kekonarollsherdarkeyes.“Lifeisnotahorrormovie.”
Sheisnottheonlyonewhofeelsthisway.Anyonewhodidn’tlivethroughitthefirsttimethinksitwouldberidiculousforhimtocomeback.TheyseethisasKekonadoes,likeachoicethatmakesnorationalsense.
Butthosewhodidlivehere,andareoldenoughtoremember,believeOwenhasreturnedhome.Especiallythewomen.
Theyrememberwhatitwasliketobescaredwhenevertheywerealone,indoorsorout,becauseOwensnatchedhisvictimsfromalmostanywhere.Twodisappearedfrominsidetheirownhomes.Onewasinalibrary,anotherinapark,andatleastthreehadbeeninparkinglots.Twoofthesehadbeencaughtonsecurityvideo.Thefootagewasoldandgrainy;Owenlookedlikeabigblurdressedindarkclothesandwearingabaseballcap.Thevideoshavebeenonthenewsallday,alloveragain.
Today,IhaveatennislessonwithTrista,Andy’swife,butasIwalkthroughtheclubhouseIseeherinthesportsbar.Sheiswatchingthenewsononeofthebigscreens.Likeherhusband,sheisinherearlyfortiesandcouldn’tpassforyounger.Theendsofherhairaretooblond,hereyesarealwaysrimmedinblack,andshehasadeep,disturbinglynaturaltan.Sheisaloneanddrinkingredwineatoneo’clockintheafternoon.Thebottlesitsonthetable.
Iguesswearenothavingalessontoday.
Fromadistance,Iwatchher,unsureifIshouldgetinvolved.Sometimes,myclientstellmemorethanIwanttoknow.I’mlikethehairdresserofexercise.
ButIhavetoadmit,itcanalsobeinteresting.
IwalkuptoTrista.“Hey.”
Shewavesandpointstoanemptychair,nevertakinghereyesofftheTVscreen.Ihaveseenherdrinkplentyoftimesatpartiesanddinners,butI’veneverseenherlikethis.
Atthecommercialbreak,sheturnstome.“I’mcancelingourlessontoday,”shesays.
“Thanksforlettingmeknow.”
Shesmiles,butitdoesn’tmakeherlookhappy.ItoccurstomethatshemightbeupsetwithAndy.Maybehehasdonesomethingwrong,andIdon’twanttogetinthemiddleofit.Istarttogetupfromthechairwhenshespeaks.
“Doyourememberwhatitwaslikebackthen?”shesays,pointingattheTV.“Whenhewaskilling?”
“Owen?”
“Whoelse?”
“Ofcourse.Everyonefromhereremembers.”Ishrugandsitbackdown.“DidyouevergotoTheHatch?AbunchofususedtodrinkthereonSaturdaynights,andalltheTVsweretunedintothenews.Ithinkthat’swhereI—”
Shetakesadeepbreath.“Iknewhim.”
“Who?”
“OwenOliver.Iknewhim.”Tristapicksupthebottleandrefillsherglass.
“Younevertoldmethatbefore.”
Sherollshereyes.“Notexactlysomethingtobeproudof.EspeciallybecauseIdatedhim.”
“Noway.”
“I’mserious.”
Myjawdrops.Notanexaggeration.“DoesAndyknowthis?”
“No.Anddon’teventhinkabouttellinghim.”
Ishakemyhead.NowaywouldItellhim.Iamnotabouttobethebearerofthatnews.“Buthowdidyou—”
“First,havesomeofthis.”Tristapushesthebottleofwinetowardme.“You’regoingtoneedit.”
???
TRISTAWASRIGHT.Thewinedulledthehorrorofthestoryshetold.
ShemetOwenOliverwhenhewasinhisearlythirties.Shewasadecadeyoungerwithadegreeinarthistoryandajobatacollectionsagency.Thatwashowtheymet.OwenworkedinbillingatSaintMary’s.Whenthebillsweren’tpaid,theywereturnedovertothecollectionsagency.
“Itwasascumjob,”shesaid.Hervoiceslurredfromthewine.“Icalledsickpeopleanddemandedmoneyfromthem.Sothatwasme.Scum.Allday,Ifeltlikeascummypersonwhodidscummythings.”
Owentoldhershewasn’t.TheyfirstspokeaboutsomeonenamedLeann,whoowedthehospitalmorethan$10,000.AftercallingLeannseventeentimes,Tristahadbecomeconvincedthenumberwaswrong.Theonlypersontoanswerthephonewasamanwhosoundedaboutninetyandhadanobviouscaseofdementia.Leannwasatwenty-eight-yearoldwomanwholivedalone.TristacalledovertothebillingdepartmentofSaintMary’stocheckthephonenumber.Shewasn’tsupposedtocontactthehospitaldirectly,butshediditanyway.Owenhadansweredthephone.
“OfcourseIhadtherightnumber.OwentoldmeLeannwasanactress.”Tristaheavedabigsigh.“IwassoembarrassedIdidn’tevenaskhowheknewthat.”
Theytalked.Shelikedhisvoice,helikedherlaugh,andtheyagreedtomeet.TristadatedOwenforsixmonths.
“Webothlikedtoeatanddrink,andwouldratherwatchsportsthanplaythem.Exceptsex.Wehadalotofsex.Goodbutnotgreat.Notearth-shattering.But”—Tristaheldupafingerandwaveditaround—“hedidmakeearth-shatteringcinnamonrolls.Madethemfromscratch,too.Rolledoutthedough,spreadmeltedbutteroverit,andthenaddedthiscinnamon-and-sugarmixture…”Forasecond,shestaredatnothing.Shewasslowtocomeback.“Anyway.Thecinnamonrollsweregood.Therewasnothingwrongwiththecinnamonrolls.Therewasn’treallyanythingwrongwithOwen,either.Excepthewasamedicalbillingclerk.”
Tristalookeddownatthetableandsmiled.Notarealsmile—onethatisfilledwithloathingandaimedatherself.Sheliftedherheadandlookedmefullintheeye.“IbrokeupwithhimbecauseIwasnevergoingtomarryathirty-three-year-oldmedicalbillingclerk.Therewasnochanceinhell.Andifthatmakesmeasnob,sobeit,buthellifIwasgoingtobepoormywholelife.”Shethrewupherhands,surrenderingtowhateverinsultsImayhavewantedtoslingather.
Isaidnothing.Instead,Iliftedmyglass,wetoasted,andwedrank.
TristatalkedaboutOwenOliverRileyforalmosttwohours.
Hewatchedsports.Hockeywasoneofhisfavorites,althoughtheclosestprofessionalteamishundredsofmilesaway.Owenalwaysworejeans.Always,unlesshewasintheshower,inbed,ornearapool.Buthecouldn’tswim.Tristasuspectedhewasafraidofthewater.
Helivedinahouseonthenorthsideoftown,thesameareaMillicentandIlivedwhenwefirstgotmarried.Thenorthsideisn’tabadarea,butitisolderandmorerun-downthanthesoutheasternside,whereHiddenOaksislocated.Owenhadinheritedthehousewhenhismotherdied,andTristadescribeditas“cuteenough,butalmostashack.”Thiswasn’tsurprising.Alotofhousesonthenorthsidearesmallcottageswithporches,elaboratewoodwork,andlittledormerwindows.Inside,mostareoutdatedandfallingapart.Owen’swasnoexception.
Theheaterdidn’twork,thebedroomwindowwasjammed,andthecarpetwasanobnoxiousshadeofteal.Thebathroomdidhaveaclaw-foottub,whichTristaliked,butthefaucetdrippedanddrovehercrazy.Ifshespentthenight,sheshutthedoortothebathroom;otherwise,shewouldhearthedripdownthehall.WhentheyateatOwen’s,theyusedhismother’sdishes,withayellowfloralpatternaroundtheedge.
Afterawhile,Tristawastoodrunkandtiredtocontinue,soIhadadriverattheclubtakeherhome.ItoldherifshewantedtotalkmoreaboutOwen,Iwouldbehappytolisten.Itwasthetruth.
She’dprovidedmewithexactlywhatIneededforthesecondlettertoJosh.
Seventeen
PLANSHAVENEVERBEENmything.Notevenmytripoverseaswasplanned.Igotacallfromafriend,andaweeklaterImetupwithhimattheOrlandoairport.WhenIrealizedIwouldneverbegoodenoughtoplaytennisprofessionally,Ididn’thaveaplan.ThedayMillicenttoldmeshewaspregnantwithRory,Ihadnoplantoraiseachild.WhenshegotpregnantwithJenna,Istilldidn’thaveone.OnlythesecretIhavewithMillicentmakesmeplan.
Mygameistennis,notchess.Iplay,andteach,singlestennis,andusuallythatisallIsee:twosidesofthenet,twoopposingforces,onegoal.Itisn’tcomplicated.YethereIam,designingaplaninvolvingmultiplepeople,likeIhavesomethingtoprove.
Thecurrentversionofmyplaninvolvesthreepeople:Owen,Josh,andAnnabelle.Millicentmakesitfour,andIcouldevenincludeTrista.OratleasttheinformationTristagaveme.
First,I’llsendanotherlettertoJosh.NotonlywillitincludedetailsaboutOwen’sreallife—specificallyhismother’shome—butitwillalsoincludethedatewhenanotherwomanwilldisappear.
Thisisrisky,Iknow.Maybeevenunnecessary.Butinonefellswoop,itaccomplishesourgoal.Yes,Owenisback.Yes,heisresponsibleforLindsayandforthenextone.Noguessinggames,noback-and-forthbetweenthepoliceandthemedia,wonderingifheisreallybackorifthereisacopycat.TheinformationTristagavemewillprovetothemit’sOwen.Noonewillhaveadoubtwhenthenextonedisappears.
ItwillbeAnnabelleParson,thoughIdon’tincludehername.
Thedownsideisthattheentirepolicedepartmentwillbewaitingforawomantodisappearthatnight,andtheywillbesearchingforherassoonassomeonereportshermissing.
TheupsideisthatAnnabellehasveryfewfriends.Nooneisgoingtoreporthermissinguntilshedoesn’tshowupforwork.Itwouldbeeasyenoughtogiveusatwo-daylead.
We’llstillhavetofigureouthowtosnatchAnnabellewithoutbeingseenbyanyone,includingacamera,onanightwheneveryoneisexpectingawomantodisappear.AndwhilethepolicearelookingforOwen,theywillcompletelymissMillicent.
Theplanissosimpleitcouldbebrilliant.
Igothroughitagain,startingwiththelettertoJoshandendingwiththedisappearanceofAnnabelle.Alongtheway,Iseeahundredholes,looseends,andpotentialproblems.
ThisiswhyIdonotplan.It’sexhausting.WhichisalsowhyIdoit.ItrytoputtheplantogetherbeforetellingMillicentaboutit.Evenafteralltheseyears,Istillwanttoimpressher.
Andit’sbeenawhile.ImpressingMillicentwasn’teasywhenshewasyoung.Now,italmostimpossible.
Ourrelationshipisnotone-sided,though.Therehavebeenplentyoftimesshehastriedtoimpressme.MillicentwastryingtoimpressmewhenshedecoratedourChristmastreewiththeoxygenmasks.Onourfifthanniversary,sheputonthesamelingeriesheworeonourweddingnight.Andforourtenthanniversary,sheplannedalittlevacation.
Withtwokidsandabiggerhouseonourwishlist,wehadnomoneyforavacationorevenanicedinner.Millicentfoundaway.
First,sheshowedupatthetenniscourts.Millicentnevercomestothetenniscourts.Ifshecomestotheclubatall,it’stoswimorhavelunchwithsomeone,sowhenshewalkedontothecourt,Ithoughtsomethingwaswrong.Mywifejustwantedtokidnapme.
Millicentdroveusouttothemiddleofnowhere,stopped,andpointedtothewoods.
“Walk,”shesaid.
Idid.
Acouplehundredyardsfromtheroad,wecametoaclearing.Atentwasalreadysetup,rightnexttoastonefirepit.Alittlepicnictablewassetwithplasticplates,glasses,andthickcandles.
Millicenttookmecamping.Sheisnottheoutdoorsytype,but,foronenight,shepretendedtobe.
Thebugswereaproblem,becausesheforgotbugspray.Thecandleswerecovered,buttheykeptgettingblownout,andshedidn’tthinktobringextrawaterforcleaningdishesorbrushingteeth.Noneofthatmattered.Wesatinfrontofourfirepitandatewarmed-upsoup,drankcheapbeer,andhadevencheapersex.Wetalkedaboutthefuture,whichlookedmuchdifferentthanbefore,becauseofthekids.Notbaddifferent,justprioritydifferent.
Weavoidedtalkingaboutthethingsweusedtowantbutcouldnolongerhave.
Sometimeaftermidnight,wefellasleep.Ihadn’tbeenupthatlatesinceChristmasEve,whenwehadtostayuptoputoutSanta’spresents.
ThenextmorningwhenIsteppedoutofthetent,Millicentwasjuststandingthere,handsclaspedoverhermouth.Ourcamphadbeenransacked.
Everythingwasoverturned,tossedaround,cleanedout.Thefoodhadbeentakenorrippedopen,andourextraclotheswerestrewnacrosstheground.
“Scavengers,”Isaid.“Probablyraccoons.”
Shedidn’tanswer.Shewastoopissedofftoanswer.
Millicentstartedgatheringupwhatwasleftofourthings.
“Westillhavesomecoffee,”Isaid,holdingupalittlejarofinstant.“Wecouldmakesome—”
“Idon’tthinkthosewereraccoons.”
Istaredatherasshecollectedwhatwasleftofabackpack.“Thenwhat—”
“Peopledestroyedourcamp.Notanimals.”
“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
Shepointedtowherewehadslept.“Theydidn’ttouchthetent.”
“Maybetheyjustwantedthefood.Maybetheydidn’tcare—”
“Ormaybetheywerepeople.”
Istoppedarguing.Wetrudgedoutthewoodsandbacktothecar.
Tothisday,ifthatcampingtripcomesup,shetalksaboutthehorriblepeoplewhoransackedourthings.Istillthinkitwasdonebysomeanimal,notpeople,butIdon’targue.Millicentseesamotivebehindeverything.
ButwhatIremembermostaboutthattripisdifferent.TheimportantthingwasthatMillicentplannedthetriptoimpressme.
???
ANNABELLEPARSONHASNEVERcalledinsickorlate,shehasnevertakenmorethantwovacationdaysinarow,andshealwaysfillsinwhensomeoneissick.Thatmeansshedoesnothaveaboyfriend.Anyonewhodoeswilloccasionallycallinlate.Couplesalsotakerealvacations,especiallycoupleswhodon’thavekids,andAnnabelledoesn’t.Totopitalloff,liketheperfectcherryonasundae,Annabellehasbeennamed“MeterMaidoftheMonth”fivetimesandisfeaturedonthecountywebsite.
IshowallofthistoMillicent,wholooksthrougheverythingandsays,“You’reright.She’sperfect.”
“I’malsoworkingonthenextlettertoJosh,butI’mnotgoingtoshowyou.”
“You’renot?”
“Iwantittobeasurprise.”
Shesmilesalittle.“Itrustyou.”
ThisisthebestnewsIhaveheardallweek.
IstartwatchingAnnabellethewayIwatchedtheothers.Duediligenceandall.
TodayItakethetrainbackouttowheresheworks,justtoswitchthingsupincasesherecognizesmycar.Itisimpossibletofollowherwhensheisworking.Annabelleusesacounty-issuedATVtodrivearound,lookingforexpiredmetersandillegalparkers.Shestopsandstartsatrandomtimes.
Forawhile,Isitinacoffeeshoponthemainthoroughfare.Everytwentytothirtyminutes,shepassesbytocheckthemeters.Whilewaiting,IdraftmynextOwenOliverletter.Iworkundertheassumptionthatthisonewillbesoconvincingitwillbecomepublic.Josh,andthestationheworksfor,won’tbeabletoresist.
JustthementionofOwen’sreturnisgettingeveryoneworkedup.Localstationsarereplayingoldnewsclips,retrospectives,andprofiles.Owenhasbeenonthecoverofthepaperforthepastfewdays.RoryandhisfriendshavealreadyturnedOwen’snameintoaverb(“I’llOwenOliveryourass,”)andthelocalwomen’sgroupislobbyingforLindsay’smurdertobedeclaredahatecrime.
Itrytoimaginehowitwouldescalateiftherumorwasconfirmed.Orevenifpeoplethoughtitwasconfirmed.That’sallwereallyneed.Belief.IfIcanmakethepolicebelieveit,theywon’tbelookingforanyonebutOwen.
Millicentmayhavestartedthis,butIcanbringithome.Shewillbesoimpressed.
Eighteen
IFITHADN’TBEENforRobin,noneofthiswouldhavehappened.Wedidn’tlookforher;shehadn’tbeenchosenthewayLindsaywas.Robinchangedeverythingbyknockingonourdoor.
IthappenedonaTuesday.Ihadjustwalkedintothehouse.Itwaslunchtime,noonewashome,andIhadacoupleofhoursbeforemynextlesson.ThiswasalmostayearafterHolly,andlifehadreturnedtonormal.Herbodywaslonggone,wastingawayinaswamp.MillicentandIdidnottalkabouther.Inolongerwaitedforthepolicesirens.Myhearthadstoppedthumpingeverytimethephoneordoorbellrang.IwasnotonguardwhenIopenedthedoor.
Thewomanontheporchwasyoung,earlytwenties,wearingtightjeansandashirtwitharippedneck.Hernailswerered,herlipstickwaspink,andherlonghairwasthecolorofaroastedchestnut.
Behindher,alittleredcarwasparkedonthestreet.Thecarwasanoldone,closetoaclassicbutnotquite.Minutesbefore,Ihadseenitatastopsignnotfarfromthehouse.Shehadhonked,butI’dhadnoideashewashonkingatme
“CanIhelpyou?”Isaid.
Shecockedherhead,lookingatmesideways,andsmiled.“Ithoughtitwasyou.”
“Excuseme?”
“You’reHolly’sfriend.”
Hernamemademejolt,likeIhadstuckmyfingerinalightsocket.“Holly?”
“Isawyouwithher.”
“Ithinkyou’vemistakenmeforsomeoneelse.”
Shehadnot,ofcourse.NowIrecognizedher.
WhenthehospitalreleasedHolly,oneofthedoctorshelpedarrangeforhertoworkatagrocerystore.Hollystockedshelvespart-time.That’swhereIhadgonetotellhertostayawayfromus,whereIhadconfrontedheraboutscaringourfamily.
Inevermeantforittogetoutofhand.
IwentonaMondaymorning,whenthestorewasslowandeverythingwasbeingrestocked.Hollywasinoneoftheaisles,fillingashelfwithboxesofgranolabars,andshewasalone.AsIwalkeddowntheaisletowardher,sheturnedtowardme.Hercleargreeneyeswerestartling.
HollyputherhandsonherhipsandstaredatmeuntilIstoodrightnexttoher
“Yes?”shesaid.
“Idon’tthinkwe’veformallymet.”Istuckoutmyhandandwaitedforhertoshakeit.Eventually,shedid.
ItoldherIwassorrywehadtomeethisway—thatinanotherplace,atanothertime,perhapswewouldbelikefamily.Butrightnow,itwasn’tpossible,becauseherbehaviorwasscaringmywifeandkids.Mykidshadneverdoneanythingtoher.Theydidnotdeservethis.“I’maskingyou,”Isaid.“Canyoupleaseleavemyfamilyalone?”
Shelaughedatme.
Hollylaugheduntiltearssprangfromthecornersofhereyes,andshelaughedsomemore.Thelongeritwenton,themorehumiliatedIstartedtofeel.Thatmayhavemadeherlaughharder.IstartedtounderstandhowshemadeMillicentfeel,anditmademeangry.
“Youbitch,”Isaid.
Shestoppedlaughing.Hereyesalmostglowedwithrage.“Getout.”
“WhatifIdon’t?WhatifIstayhereandmakeyourlifemiserable?”Myvoicewasmuchlouderthanitshouldhavebeen.
“Getout.”
“Stayawayfrommyfamily.”
Hollystaredatme,stillasastatue.Shedidnotbudgethen,andsheneverdid
Iturnedaroundtoleave,feelingabithelpless.IcouldnotreasonwithHolly,couldnotmakeherunderstand.
Robinwasattheendoftheaisle,watchingeverything.
Shealsoworkedatthestore.Shewaswearingthesameyellowshirtandgreenapron.Isawher,walkedrightpasther,andImayhavenoddedather.OrmaybeIdidn’t.Butshewasthere,shehadseenme,andnowshewasstandingatmydoor
“I’mnotwrong,”shesaid.“YouweretheoneIsawthatday.”
Ididnotpause.“I’msorry—you’vegotthewrongperson.”Ishutthedoor.
Sheknockedagain.
Iignoredit.
Robin’svoicecamethroughthedoor.“Youknowshe’sgone,right?Didn’tevenpickupherlastcheck.”
Iopenedthedoor.“Look,I’mreallysorryaboutyourfriend,butIhavenoidea—”
“Igotit,Igotit.Wrongguy.Wasn’tyou.NowthatIknowwhoyouare,I’lljustletthepolicesortitallout.”
Sheturnedaroundandstartedtoleave.
Ididnotlether.
NooneknewHollywasmissing.Noonewaslookingforher,andIdidn’twantthemtostart.MillicentandIwerenotexpertsinforensicsorDNAoranythingofthesort.Anyonewholookedtoodeepwasboundtofindallourmistakes.
IaskedifRobinwantedtocomeinsideandtalk.Shehesitatedatfirst.Shetookoutherphoneandkeptitinherhandasshewalkedintothehouse.Wewenttothekitchen.Iofferedheradrink;shesaidno.Instead,shegrabbedanorangefromthetableandstartedpeelingit.Withoutadmittingathing,withoutevenintroducingmyself,Iaskedherwhathappened.Shestartedtotalkaboutthegrocerystore,aboutHolly,andaboutherself.
Shegavemeahistoryofhowshecametoworkatthegrocerystore,whenshemetHolly,andhowtheyhadbecomefriends.Igotupfromthetableandwenttotherefrigeratortogetasoda.Whilethedoorwasopen,IsentaquicktexttoMillicent.IusedthesamelanguageshehadusedwhenHollywasinthehouse.
911GethomeNOW
Itfeltlikehourspassedbeforehercarpulledup.Bythen,Robinwasaskingwhatweshoulddotoresolveourcurrentsituation.ShedidnotwantjusticeforherdearoldfriendHolly.Shewantedmoney,andlotsofit.
“Ifigurethiscanbeawin-winforbothofus,”shesaid.Thefrontdooropened,andRobin’sheadspunaround.“Who’sthat?”
“Mywife,”Isaid.
Millicentappearedinthedoorway,breathinghard,likeshehadbeenrunning.Shewasdressedforworkinaskirt,blouse,andheels.Herjacketwasopen;shehadn’tbotheredtobuttonit.ShelookedfrommetoRobinandbackagain.
“ThisisRobin,”Isaid.“SheusedtoworkwithawomannamedHolly.”
MillicentraisedaneyebrowatRobin,whonodded.
“That’sright.AndIsawyourhusbandtalkingtoher.Hecalledherabitch.”
Theeyebrowturnedtome.
Isaidnothing.
Millicenttookoffherjacketandslungitoverachair.“Robin,”shesaid,walkingintothekitchen,“whydon’tyoutellmeeverythingthathappened?”
Robinsmirkedatmeandstartedtotalk,beginningwithwhenIwalkedintothegrocerystore.
Behindme,Millicentwasrummagingaroundinthekitchen.Icouldnotseewhatshewasdoing.Iheardherheelsclickagainstthefloorasshecamebacktous.Robingaveheranoddlookbutkepttalking.
IdidnotseethewaffleironinMillicent’shanduntilIheardthecrackofRobin’sskull.Shehitthefloorwithathud.
MillicentkilledRobinthesamewayIhadkilledHolly.Nohesitation.Allinstinct.
Anditwassexy.
Nineteen
THECALLCOMESASIleavetheclub,onmywayouttocheckonAnnabelle.Millicentisonthephone,tellingmeourdaughterissick.
“Ipickedherupfromschool.”
“Fever?”Iask.
“No.What’syourschedule?”
“Icancomehomenow.”
AllthoughtsofAnnabellevanish.Iturnthecararound.
Athome,Millicentispacingaroundthefoyerwhiletalkingonthephone.TheTVisoninthefamilyroom,whereJennaisonthesectionalcouch,cocoonedinblankets,herheadrestingonastackofpillows.Ontheendtable,aglassofgingerale,astackofplaincrackers,andabigbowljustincase.
Isitdownonthecouchnexttoher.“Momsaysyou’resick.”
Shenods.Pouts.“Yeah.”
“Notfaking?”
“No.”Jennasmilesalittle.
Iknowsheisn’tfakingit.Jennahatesbeingsick.
Inkindergarten,shehadpneumoniaandmissedamonthofschool.Shewasn’tsickenoughtobeinthehospital,butshewassickenoughtorememberitall.SodoesMillicent.SometimessheactslikeJennaisfivealloveragain.It’sabitmuchnowthatJennaisthirteen,butIdon’targue.IworryaboutJenna,too.
“Watchwithme.”JennapointstotheTV.
Itakeoffmyshoesandputupmyfeet.Wewatchagameshow,yellingouttheanswersbeforetheyarerevealed.
Millicent’sheelsclickacrossthefloor.ShewalksoverandstandsinfrontoftheTV.
Jennahitsthemutebutton.
“Howarewe?Arewegood?”asksMillicent.
Jennanods.“We’regood.”
Millicentturnstome.“Howlongcanyoustay?”
“Allafternoon.”
“I’llcallyoulater.”
MillicentwalksovertoJennaandfeelsherforehead,firstwithherhandandthenwithherlips.“Stillnofever.Callifyouneedanything.”
Herheelsclickbackdownthehall.JennakeepstheTVmuteduntilafterthefrontdoorcloses.Wegobacktowatchingthegameshow.Atthecommercialbreak,JennamutestheTVagain.
“Areyouokay?”shesays.
“Me?I’mnottheonewho’ssick.”
“That’snotwhatImean.”
Iknowit’snot.“I’mfine.Justbusy.”
“Toobusy.”
“Yeah.Toobusy.”
Shedoesn’taskagain.
Millicentcallstwice,firstinterruptingatalkshowandthenateenagesoapopera.Rorygetshomearoundthree,and,aftersomeinitialgrumbling,hejoinsourTVmarathon.
Atfiveo’clock,Ibecomeafatheragain.
“Homework,”Isay.
“I’msick,”Jennasays.
“Rory,homework.”
“You’rejustnowrememberingIgotoschool?”
“Homework,”Isayagain.“Youknowtherules.”
Herollshiseyesandheadsupstairs.
Ishouldhavesaidsomethingearlier.Itwasn’tbecauseIforgot;itwasbecauseIcouldn’trememberthelasttimeIspenttimealonewithmykids.
Millicentgetshomeforty-fiveminuteslater.Sheisbriskwithherhellosandthenaflurryinthekitchen,gettingdinnerintheovenbeforesheevenchangesherclothes.Theenergyinthehouseisdifferentwhensheishere.Everythinggoesupanotchbecauseexpectationsarehigher.
Tonight,wealleatchickennoodlesoup,andnoonecomplains.It’swhatwedowhensomeoneissick.
Otherrulesarerelaxedaswell.SinceJennaissetuponthecouch,Millicentdecidesthat’swhereeveryonewilleat.WeallsitinfrontoftheTVwithourplatesontraytables.Bythen,Millicenthaschangedintosweats,andRoryclaimshehasfinishedhishomework.Wewatchanewsitcomthat’sterrible,followedbyamediocrepoliceshow,andforacoupleofhourseverythingfeelsnormal.
Afterthekidsgotobed,MillicentandIstraightenupthefamilyroom.AlthoughIhavebeenlyingaroundonacouchallday,Ifeelexhausted.Isitdownatthekitchentableandrubmyeyes.
“Didyoumissalottoday?”Millicentasks.
Sheistalkingaboutmyrealjob,whichIwouldhavemissedanyway,becauseIhadplannedonwatchingAnnabelle.
Ishrug.
Shecomesupbehindmeandstartstorubmyshoulders.Itfeelsgood.
“Ishouldberubbingyourshoulders,”Isay.“You’retheonewhoworkedallday.”
“Takingcareofasickchildismorestressful.”
Millicentisright,thoughJennawasmoreundertheweatherthansick.“She’llbefine,”Isay.
“Ofcourseshewill.”
Shekeepsrubbing.Afteraminute,shesays,“Howiseverythingelse?”
“Yoursurpriseisalmostready.”
“Good.”
“Itwillbe.”
Millicentstopsrubbingmyshoulders.“Thatsoundslikeapromise.”
“Maybeitis.”
Shetakesmebythehandandleadsmeuptoourbedroom.
???
AFTERROBIN,WEDIDN’TTALKabouther.Andwedidn’ttalkaboutHolly.MillicentandIwentbacktoourlives,ourwork,ourchildren.TheideaofLindsay—ofathird—startedayearandhalfago.Ididn’tknowitatthetime,couldnotimaginechoosing,stalking,andkillingawoman.Itwasjustalittlethingthathappenedatthemall.
IwastherewithMillicent,justus.WewerebuyingChristmaspresentsforthekids.Moneywasmoreofaproblemthanusual.Millicenthadbeenwaitingfortwohousestoclose,butbothwereonholdduetofinancingissues.AweekbeforeChristmas,andwehadnopresents,nocash,andnotmuchleftonthecreditcards.Weloweredourholidaybudgetthreetimes.Iwasn’thappyaboutit.Wedidn’tjusthavetobuypresentsforthekids;wealsohadtobuygiftsforourfriends,colleagues,andclients.
Atthemall,Millicentkeptsayingno.EverythingIpickedupwastooexpensive.
“We’regoingtolookcheap,”Isaid.
“You’rebeingdramatic.”
“Igrewuparoundthesepeople.”
Millicentrolledhereyes.“Thisagain?”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Nothing.Nevermind.”
Iputmyhandonherarm.Shewaswearingalong-sleevedshirtbutnojacket,becauseeveninDecemberourtemperatureswerearoundsixty.“No,whatdidyoumeanbythat?”
“Imeanyou’realwaysgoingonabout‘thesepeople.’HiddenOakspeople.Youinsultthembutthenbragaboutbeingoneofthem.”
“Idonot.”
Millicentdidnotanswer.Shewaslookingatashelfofcandlesticks.
“Idon’tdothat,”Isaid.
“Whatdoyouthinkofthese?”Sheheldupapairmadeofsilver.Orsomethingthatlookedlikesilver.
Iturnedupmynose.
Sheslammedthecandlesticksbackontheshelf.
Iwasalreadyirritated.Thefatiguehitnext.Recently,allwetalkedaboutwasmoney.Iwastiredofhearingwedidn’thaveit,Icouldn’tbuyit,Ihadtopicksomethingcheaper.Icouldn’tevengetmykidswhattheywantedforChristmas.
Millicentkepttalking,goingonandonaboutthebudgetandbankaccounts.Itunedherout.Icouldn’tlistentoitanymore,couldn’tthinkaboutit—andIneededadistraction.
Bychance,onewalkedrightby.Herhairwasthecolorofaroastedchestnut.
“Hello?”Millicentsnappedherfingersinfrontofmyface.
“I’mhere.”
“Areyousure?Because—”
“ShelookedkindoflikeRobin,”Isaid.“Holly’sfriend.”
Millicentturnedaroundandwatchedthewomandisappearintothecrowd.Whensheturnedbackaround,shehadoneeyebrowraised.“Youthinkso?”
“Yes.”
“Howodd.”
Itwasodd.SowasthefeelingIgotwhenIreplayedRobin’smurderinmyhead.EverytimeIdid,Ithoughtabouthowfantasticthatdaywas,howwecametogetheranddidwhatneededtobedonetoprotectourselves.Toprotectourfamily.Itwasamazing.
Andsoverysexy.
Istartedtellingmywifejustthat.
Twenty
ANNABELLE’SWORKSCHEDULEneverchanges.MondaythroughFriday,fromeightuntilfive,shehandsoutparkingtickets,callsfortowtrucks,andgetsyelledatfordoingherjob.Peoplecurseather,makerudegestures,andcallhernames.Annabellekeepshercool,butIwonderhowshedoesit.Doesshereallynotcare,ordoesshegethelpfromasubstanceortwo?Iwonderwhattheaddictionrateisformetermaids.
Hereveningsarenotaseasy.Sheisasinglewomanwholikestogoout,butnottoomuch,andasametermaid,shedoesn’tmakemuchmoney.OnWednesdays,shehasdinnerwithherparents,butotherthanthat,hernightshavenosetpattern.IfIhadtopickanightshegoesoutmoreoftenthantheothers,it’sFriday.
TwoweeksfromnowwillbeFridaythe13th.Itdoesn’tgetmoreridiculouslyperfectthanthat.OnFridaythe13th,Annabellewilldisappear.
IamfinallyabletoputtogetherOwen’ssecondlettertoJosh.Itistyped,likethefirst,onlymuchlonger.
DearJosh,Iamnotsureyoubelieveitisme.Ormaybeyoudobutthepolicedon’t.Iamnotacopycatoranimposter.It’sme,thesameOwenOliverRileywhousedtoliveat4233CedarCrestDrive,inthatlittleoldhousewiththeobnoxiouscarpet.Ididn’tputthatin,bytheway.Thatwasmymother’sbadchoice.Ifeellikewhatwehavehereisalackoftrust.Completelyunderstandable,giventhatnoonehasseenmeorspokentome.Well,exceptLindsay.Shesawalotofme.Andwespokemany,manytimesduringtheyearshewasmine.ButnowI’maloneandyoudon’tbelieveme.SoI’llmakeyouapromise.Twoweeksfromnow,anotherwomanwilldisappear.I’lleventellyoutheexactdate:Fridaythe13th.Cheesy,right?Ohyes,itis.It’salsoeasytoremember.AndJosh,youmaynottrustmenow,butyou’lllearnthatIalwayskeepmyword.—Owen
JoshwillhavetheletterbyTuesday.Onceagain,Ispritzitwiththemuskycowboycolognebeforemailingit.Theletterwillfirstbeexaminedbythepolice,andwhoknowshowmanydiscussionsmusttakeplaceuntiltheydecidetogopublicwithit.OratleastthepartaboutFridaythe13th.
Inthemeantime,backtomyreallife.I’vecanceledtoomanylessonsoverthepastfewweeks.Myworkscheduleisnowpackedallday,everyday,inadditiontoallthelittlethingsthatmustgetdone.Pickingupthekids,droppingthemoff,quickrunstothestoreforwhateverwearemissing.Buryingmyselfintheminutiaemakesmylifefeelnormal.ItalmostmakesthatnervoustwitchIalwaysfeelgoaway.AndifMillicentdidn’tkeeplookingatme,askingsomanyquestionswithhereyes,itmighthave.
HeranswersarriveonThursdayevening.
MillicentandIareatthecountryclub,attendingaretirementpartyforsomeoneontheboard.Soireesattheclubaregarishtothepointofvulgar.Thefoodisrich,thewineisheavy,andeveryonecongratulateseveryoneelseontheirsuccess.
Wegobecauseweshould;networkingispartofbothourjobs.Weevenhaveasystem.Afterwalkingintogether,weseparate.Igoleft,shegoesright,andwemakeourwayaroundtheroomandmeetagaininthemiddle.Weswitchsides,separateagain,andcometogetherbackattheentrance.
Millicentiswearingabrightyellowgown;withherredhair,shelookslikeaflame.Frommysideoftheroom,Icatchglimpsesofherasshemoveswithinthecrowd,thatyellowdressneverfarfrommyeye.Iseeherlaugh,smile,showconcernordelight.Whenherlipsmove,Itrytoguesswhatsheissaying.Shecarriesaglassofchampagnebutneverdrinksit.Noonehasevernoticed.
Tonight,hereyesarethelightestI’veseeninalongtime,likeabrand-newleafunderthesun.Theyshiftuptomine.MillicentseesthatIamstaringather.
Shewinks.
Iexhaleandmoveonwithmyownnetworking.
AndyandTristaarehere,bothwithfullglassesofwine.Andypatshisstomachandsayshereallyneedstostartworkingoutorsomething,whichhedoes.Tristadoesn’tsaymuch,butshelooksatmealittletoolong.ShemustrememberourconversationaboutOwen,oratleastpartsofit.
Kekonaisalsoattheparty.Sheiswithayoungman,herlatestescort,andshedoesn’tbothertointroducehim.Instead,shetalksabouteveryoneelse—wholooksgoodandwhodoesn’t,whohashadworkdoneandwhoneedsit.Asoneofthewealthiestmembersoftheclub,Kekonacansayanythingshewantsandpeoplewillstillaccepther.
Beth,awaitressattheclub,passesbywithatrayofdrinksandoffersmeone.HerAlabamaaccentsticksoutandmakesheralwayssoundperky.
Ishakemyhead.“Nottonight.”
“’Kay,”shesays.
Imoveontoanewercouple,theRhineharts.LizzieandMaxjustmovedintoHiddenOaks.Mywifesoldthemtheirhouse,andImetthemonce.Maxisagolfer,butLizziesayssheusedtoplaytennis.Shethinkssheshouldgetbackintoit.Herhusbandtiresofthetopicandchangesittomarketing,whichishisbusiness.MaxthinkshecandogreatthingsfortheHiddenOaksCountryClub,althoughhehasn’tofficiallybeenhiredbyanyone.
Imoveon,tellingLizzietocallifshewantstoplaytennisagain.Shepromisesshewill.
MillicentandImeetatthehalfwaymark.Herglassofchampagneisstillfull.Shepourshalfofitintoaplant.
“Youokay?”shesays.
“I’mfine.”
“Anotherround,then?”
“Let’sdoit.”
Weseparateasecondtime,andImovethroughtheothersideoftheroom,greetingeveryoneIhaven’tseenyet.ItfeelslikeIammovingincircles,becauseIam.
Theannouncementcomesbeforetheeleveno’clocknews.Idon’tknowwhosawitfirstorwhomentionedit,butIdoseepeoplepullingouttheirphones.Toomanyofthem,allatonce.
Awomannexttomewhispers,“It’shim.”
AndthenIknow.
SomeoneturnsontheTVscreensinthebar.WearesurroundedbyJosh,whoisinthemiddleofhisshiningmoment.Hedoesn’tlookquiteasyoungtonight,anditmightbetheglasses.They’renew.
“Ireceivedthisletterearlierintheweek.Afterdiscussingitwithboththepoliceandtheownerofthestation,wedecidedthatintheinterestofpublicsafety,wehadnochoicebuttoputitontheair.”
Ashotoftheletterappearsonthescreen.Weallfollowalong,readingthetypedwordsasJoshsaysthemoutloud.WhenhegetstothepartaboutawomandisappearingonFridaythe13th,acollectivegasperuptsfromthepartyguests.
Ilookaroundandfindtheyellowdress.
Millicentislookingatme,ahalfsmileonherlipsandoneeyebrowraised,asifsheisaskingmeaquestion.
Iwink.
???
“BRILLIANT,”shesays.“Youarebrilliant.”
Millicentislyingonthebed,naked,theyellowgownthrownoverachair.
“Youthinkeveryonebelievesitnow?”Iknowtheydo.Iwanthertosayit.
“Ofcoursetheydo.Theyallbelieveit.”
Iamstandingatthefootofthebed,alsonaked,smiling,andfeelinglikeIcapturedtheflag.
Millicentstretchesherarmsup,grabbingontotheheadboard.
Ifallbackontothebednexttoher.“They’reallgoingtobelookingforOwen.”
“Yes.”
“Theywon’tseeanythingelse.”
Millicenttouchesmeonthenose.“Becauseofyou.”
“Stop.”
“It’strue.”
Ishakemyhead.“Wehavetostopgloating.”
“Tomorrow.”
???
THENEXTFEWDAYSareasgoodasiteverwas.ThewayMillicentsmilesatmeliftsmyheart.Ievenstandupstraighter.
Shefeelsit,too.Thedayaftertheparty,shesendsmeatextsignedPenny.ItistheonlynicknameIeverhadforher.Ihaven’tuseditinyears.
Ifirstcameupwithitwhilewewereonadate,beforewewereofficiallyacouplebutafterwehadslepttogether.Neitherofushadmuchmoney,somanyofourdatesweresimple.Wetooklongwalks,wenttobargainmatinees,andtookadvantageofhappyhourbuffets.Occasionally,wegotmorecreative.Onthisparticularnight,wedrovetwentymilestoeatcheappizzaandplayvideogamesatanold-fashionedarcade.Ibeatheratthesportsgames,butshekickedmyassinanythinginvolvingguns.
Acrossthestreetfromthearcade,therewasasmallparkandafountain.Shetookoutapenny,madeawish,andtosseditin.Wewatcheditsinktothebottom,settlingontopofsomanyothers.ThewaterwassoclearIcouldstillseethewordsatthebottomofthecoin.
OneCent.
“That’swhatIshouldcallyou,”Isaid.“Penny.”
“Penny?”
“Millicent.”
“Ohgod.”
“Plusyouhaveredhair,”Isaid.
“Penny?Areyouserious?”
Ismiled.“Penny.”
Sheshookherheadatme.
Iwasinlove,fullyandundoubtedly,butIhadn’tsaidthewordsoutloud.Instead,IcalledherPenny.Eventually,wesaidtherealwordsandIstoppedcallingherPenny.Now,shehasbroughtitback,andIdon’twanttoletitgo.
Twenty-one
MONDAYTHE9TH,Annabelleisatwork.Thedayisbeautiful—plentyofsunshinebutnottoohot.Almostbrisk.Annabellehasparkedhercarattheendoftheblockandwalksdownthestreet,scanninglicenseplatesandcheckingmeters.Hershorthairsticksoutfromunderthecapshewearstoshadehereyes.Shewearsoneearbudinherrightear,thewhitecordsnakingdownherchest,throughhershirt,andintotherightfrontpocketofherpants.Herblueuniformisdecidedlyunisex.
Iwatchfromdowntheblock,waiting.Whenshereachesthegreencar,shestartspunchingthebuttonsonherhandheldscanner.
Isprintdowntheblock,stoppingafewfeetawayfromher.Iholdupmyhandsasiftellinghertowait.
AnnabellelooksatmelikeI’mcrazy.
Ipulloutmyphone,type,andhandittoher.
Sorry,didn’tmeantostartleyou!MynameisTobias.Iamdeaf.
Shereadsit.Hershouldersrelax,andshenods.
Ipointtothecarandthentome.
Shepointstotheexpiredmeter.
Iclaspmyhandstogetherbelowmychin,asifI’mbegging.Orpraying.
Shelaughs.Annabellehasanicelaugh.
Ismile,showinghermydimples.
Anabellewagsherfingeratme.
Ihandhermyphone.
PromiseI’llneverdoitagain…
Shesighs.
I’vewon.Thegreencardoesnotgetaticket.
It’snotevenmycar.
IamnotevensurewhyIspoketoAnnabelle.Thistime,Ididn’thaveto;Idon’tneedtoknowmoreaboutherlifeorwhereshelivesorwhomightbewaitingforher.Ialreadyhavetheanswers,butIdiditanyway.Allpartofmyprocessforchoosing.
OnWednesday,Iwillseeheragain.Shedoesn’tknowit.
???
OWEN’SPICTUREiseverywhere.Thecomputerexpertshaveagedhimup,theorizingaboutwhathelookslikenow.Theyevenconsiderhowhemightdisguisehimself.Iambombardedbythesepictures;theyarealloverthenews,inthepaper,ontheInternet.Flyersaretapedtotelephonepoles.Owenwithabeard,amustache,darkhair,bald,fat,andthin.Owenwithlonghairandshort,sunglassesandcontacts,withsideburnsandagoatee.Owenlookedlikeeverymanandnoman.
Ididthis.
Well,Millicentdidit.Orstartedit.ButIdidit,too.
Ihavenotachievedmuch—certainlynothingoutoftheordinary—butbecauseofme,everyoneislookingforOwenOliverRiley.
Ialwayswantedtobemorethanaboveaverage.
First,itwastennis.Myfatherplayed,mymotherpretendedto,andattheageofsevenIhitmyfirsttennisball.ItwasthefirstsportIwasinterestedin,sotheyhiredacoach,boughtmemyfirstracket,andsentmeonmyway.Withinafewyears,Iwasthebestyoungplayerattheclub.Istilldidn’tgettheirattention,notthewayIwanted,butthatonlymademebetter.IhadnoideahowmuchangerIhaduntilIhitthatlittleyellowball.
Iwasn’taveragethen,wasn’tadisappointmenttoanyonebutmyparents.Iwasbetterthaneveryoneelse,rightupuntilIwasn’t.ThenIdidn’tknowhowtobeaverageanymore,soIwentoverseas,awayfrommyparents,insearchofaplacewhereIcouldbebetterthanaverage,betterthanadisappointment.WithMillicent,Iam.
It’sterribletosay,butmylifehasbeensomuchbettersincemyparentsdied
AndsinceMillicentcameintomylife.Shemakesmefeelbetterthaneveryone.Sheissoimpressedwithmyletter.Inbed,shetalksaboutit.
“IwishIcouldcutitoutandpasteitonthefridge.”
Ilaughandrubherleg.Itisslungovermineinthatlazyway.“Thekidsmightthinkit’sweird.”
“Theywouldn’tevennotice.”
Sheisright.Ourrefrigeratorisamishmashofpictures,tapedandmountedandpastedtogetherintoafamilyalbumofsorts.Thedetailsaresoblurrednothingstandsout.“You’reright,”Isay.“Theywouldn’t.”
Millicentrollsoverandputsherfaceclosetomine.Shewhispers.“Ihaveasecret.”
Myheartjumpsalittle,andnotagoodway.“What?”Isay.Notawhisper.
“Iwatchedher.”
“Her?
“Annabelle.”Shemouthsthename,notmakingasound.Myheartrelaxesalittle.Wedidthislasttime;wewatchedLindsayandreportedback.
“And?”Isay.
“She’sgoingtolookperfectonTV.”
Thelightsinourroomareoff,butit’snotpitch-black.Ourbedroomisonthesecondfloorandfacesthefront.Thelightfromastreetlampglowsaroundtheedgesofthecurtains.Ihavestaredatitmanytimessincewehavemovedintothishouse.Thesquareofgoldenlightseemssounnatural.
“Penny,”Isay.
Shelaughs.“What?”
“Iloveyou.”
“AndIloveyou.”
Iclosemyeyes.
Sometimes,Isayitfirst;othertimes,shedoes.Ilikethat,becauseitfeelseven.Butshesaiditfirst.Originally,Imean.Shewasthefirsttosayshelovedme.
Ittookthreemonths.Threemonthsfromthetimewemetontheplanetothemomentshesaidshelovedme.I’dlovedherforatleasttwoandhalfmonthsofthethreeIhadknownher,butIdidn’tsayit.Notuntilshedid.Whenithappened,wewereliterallyupatree.Wewereyoung,broke,andinsearchofsomethingtodo,soweclimbedatree.
Asexpected,Woodviewdoeshavetrees.Wehaveaparkfullofgiantoaktrees,perfectforclimbing.Butonthatday,MillicentandIwereupamapletree.IshouldhaveknownthatwhenMillicentsaidshewantedtoclimbatree,shewouldpickonethatrequiredtrespassing.
Thetreewasonprivateproperty,infrontofahousesetafewhundredyardsback.Theonlythingbetweentheroadandthefrontdoorwasaflatgreenlawnandthatgiantmapletree.
ItwasthemiddleofAugust,theheightofsummerheat,andwestaredatthetreefrominsidemyair-conditionedcar.Wehadparkeddowntheblock,aspotwithagoodviewofeverything,andwewaitedforallthelightsinthehousetogooff.Justonewasleft,upstairsontheright.Millicentclutchedmyhand,asifshewereonedge.
“Youreallywanttoclimbthattree?”Isaid.
Sheturnedtome,hereyesshining.“Don’tyou?”
“Ineverthoughtaboutitbefore.”
“Andnow?”
“Now,Ireallywanttoclimbthatdamntree.”
Shesmiled.Ismiled.Thelightfinallywentout.
Iturnedthekey,shuttingdowntheair-conditioning.Theinsideofthecarimmediatelyfelthotter.Millicentgotoutfirst.Sheheldthehandleassheclosedthedoorbehindher,makingaslittlenoiseaspossible.Igotoutanddidthesamething.
Istareddownatthemapletree,whichsuddenlyfelttooopen,tooexposed,andIwonderedifthepunishmentfortrespassingincludedjailtime.
Millicenttookoffrunning.Sheboltedacrossthestreet,overthelawn,andshedisappearedbehindthetrunkofthetree.Ifshemadeasound,Ididn’thearit.
Iranthesamepath.Myfeetfeltheavy,plodding,asifeverystepwereboomingthroughtheneighborhood.IkeptrunninguntilIgottoMillicent.AsIreachedthetree,shepulledmeagainstherandkissedme.Hard.Ihadtocatchmybreathwhenitwasover.
“Readytoclimb?”shesaid.
BeforeIcouldanswer,shehadhoistedherselfupusingalargeburl.Fromthere,shereacheduptograbthelowestbranch,andthenclimbedhigher.Iwatched,waitingforalightinthehousetoturnon.OrwaitingforhertofallsoIcouldcatchher.Neitherhappened.
“Comeon,”shewhispered.
Millicentwassittingonahighbranchandlookingdownatme.Themoonlightturnedherintoanoutlineofherself.Icouldseeherlonghairswinginginthebreeze,andherfeetdanglingoneithersideofthetreebranch.Everythingelselookedlikeashadow.
Iclimbedthetree,whichwasalotharderthanIexpected,andagainmygruntsandpantssoundedloudenoughtowakeanyoneinaten-mileradius.Still,thefamilyinthehousenexttouscontinuedtosleep.Theirroomsstayeddark.
BythetimeImadeituptoMillicent,Ihadbrokenoutinasweat.Itwasthathot.Theairwasthickerinthetrees.Itsmelledofsweatandmossandbark.
MillicentgrabbedmyT-shirt,pullingmeclosetoher,smotheringmymouthwithhers.Iswearshetastedlikemaplesyrup.Sheburiedherfaceinmyneck,asifsheweretryingtoburrowintoit,herbreathhotagainstmyskin.
“Hey,”Isaid.
Sheliftedherheadandlookedatme.Adampstrandofhairstucktothesideofherface.
“Iloveyou,”shesaid.
“Iloveyou.”
“Doyou?Doyoureally?”
“OfcourseIdo.”
Sheputherhandagainstmycheek.“Promise.”
“Ipromise.”
Twenty-two
AUTOMATICCOFFEEMACHINESareoneofthemostconvenientinventionsever.Nobaristas,nofull-fatmilkinsteadof2percent,nomissingextraflavorshot.AllIhavetodoismakemyselections,choosethetypeofcoffee,milk,flavor,andeventhetemperature,thenhitthegreenGObutton.Outcomesmycoffee.Andit’scheap.
Thedownsideisthattheseelaboratebutsimplemachinesareavailableonlyatgasstationconveniencestores.Realcoffeeshopsdon’thaveself-servemachines
MyfavoritemachineisattheEZ-GostoreandgasstationtwomilesfromtheOaks.EvenifIdon’thavethetime,Igoanyway.ThecashierisaniceyoungwomannamedJessica;she’sthetypewhoalwayssmilesandhasanicewordforeveryone.MaybesheispartofwhyIdrivethetwomilestotheEZ-Go.Thepointis,EZ-Goispartofmyregularroutine.Andeveryonehasaroutine.
Annabellecertainlydoes.
EveryWednesdaynight,sheandherparentseatatthesameItalianrestaurant.Myguessisthattheyorderthesamefood,thesamedrinks,maybeeventhesamedessert.Dinnerstartsatsixthirtyandendsbyeight.Annabellewalks,andittakesherelevenminutestowalkfromtherestauranttoherapartment,unlessshestopsatastore,getsaphonecall,orrunsintosomeonesheknows.Likeme.
WhileAnnabelleislookingatherphone,Ibumprightintoher.
Shelooksupatmeinsurprise.Then,recognition.
“Hithere,”shesays.
Sheiswearingmoremakeupthanshedoesduringtheday.Herlipstickisdarker,eyesoutlined.Hershort,croppedhairmakesherfacelookevenmoreattractive
Itakeoutmyphone.
Wellifitisn’tthenicestmetermaidintown?
Sherollshereyes.“Howareyou?”
Inodandpointtoher.
Shegivesmethethumbs-up.
Whatareyoudoingoutalone?Don’tyouknowthere’sserialkillerontheloose?
Shesmilesasshereadsit.“I’mheadedhomerightnow.”
Careforadrinkfirst?
Shehesitates.
Ipointtoabardownthestreet.
Annabellelooksatherwatch.Iamsurprisedwhenshesaysyes.Sheshouldsayno,especiallywiththewholeOwenOliverthing,butAnnabelleisevenlonelierthanIthought.
???
THEBARTENDER,Eric,greetsmewithawave.Ihavebeenhereseveraltimes,alwaysalone,alwayswaitingforAnnabelletowalkbyonherwayhomefromdinnerwithherparents.EricknowsmeasTobias.ItaughthimallthesignlanguageIknow.Hecanspelloutmynameandmydrink,ginandtonic.
Annabelleordersthesame.“Heavyonthetonic,”shesays.
Shedoesnottrustme,andIdonotblameher.Iamjustaguywhobeggedhernottogivemeaticket.Aprobablyverynice,nonthreateningdeafguy.
“Soyouknowhim?”AnnabellespeakstoEricwhilepointingatme.
“Sure,Iknowhim.Tobiasisalightdrinkerandabigtipper.Hedoesn’tsaymuch,though.”Hewinks,lettingherknowheiskidding.
Shelaughs,anditisanicesound.Istarttopicturebeinginbedwithher.Thismakesmewonderhowlongitwilltakebeforesheasksmetoherplace.Ialreadyknowshewill,andIknowherplaceisnotfar.Thepowerofknowingsomuchandchoosingwhatwillhappennext—thisiswhatIlike.
“You’reatagteam,”shesays,motioningtoEricandme.Annabelleiscarefultofacemewhenshespeaks.ShedoesnotforgetIamdeaf.
Afterthefirstsiportwoofourdrinks,Ericfadestotheotherendofthebar.ItisjustAnnabelleandme,andshetellsmemanyofthethingsIknowandsomeIdon’t.Forexample,Ididnotknowthatshehadlinguinewithmushroomstonight.ButnowIknowthisiswhatsheeatsonWednesdaynights.
ItellhermyTobiasstory.Iamanaccountant,divorced,nokids.Ilovedmywifeverymuch,butwemetinhighschoolandmarriedtoosoon.Ithappens.
Annabelleisagoodlistenerandnodsinalltherightplaces.
Whataboutyou?Boyfriend?
Sheshakesherhead.“Ihaven’thadaboyfriendinawhile.”
Iknowitwon’tbelongnow.Iexpectthatinvitewillcomeafterdrinknumbertwoandbeforenumberthree.
Whydon’tyouhaveaboyfriend?
Thequestionisnotjustconversation.Iamgenuinelycurious.
Annabelleshrugs.“Ihaven’tmetanyone?”
Ishakemyhead.
Toogeneric.
Ittakesheraminute.Iassumesheisabouttotellmeherlastboyfriendwasanasshole.Hecheatedonher.Hewasalwaysoutwiththeguys.Hewasaselfishprick.
“Mylastboyfriendwaskilled,”shesays.
Theshockalmostmakesmespeakoutloud.
That’shorrible.Howdidithappen?
“Drunkdriver.”
IvaguelyrememberthatAnnabellehadpostedsomethingonlineaboutafund-raiseragainstdrunkdriving.Therewasnoindicationitwaspersonal.
Iaskhermoreabouthim.HisnamewasBen,andAnnabellehadmethimthroughwork.Benhadbeenacop.Hetooknightclassesincriminaljusticeandwantedtoworkhiswayuptodetective,thensergeant.
Shenolongerkeepshispictureonherphone,becauseshedidn’tthinkitwashealthytostareatit.
ThisstatementissosadthatIhavetolookaway.
“Hey,”saysAnnabelle.Shetapsmeonthearm,tellingmetolookather.“I’msorry.Thisisalltooserious.”
No,it’sokay.Iasked.
“I’mtiredoftalkingaboutme.Whataboutyou?Girlfriend?”
Ishakemyheadno.
“Yourturn.Whynot?”
It’sbeenhardtogetbackintodating.Iwasmarriedfortenyears.Andbeingdeaf…itjustmakesthingsharder,Iguess.
“Well,anywomanthatwon’tgooutwithyoubecauseyouaredeafisn’tworthit.”
Ismile.Herwordsaregeneric,butfromhertheysoundgenuine.ItmakesmewonderwhatshewouldsayifItoldherthetruth.
ThenIdecide.Iamnotgoingtosleepwithher.
Instead,Ishifttheconversationandwestoptalkingaboutourselves.Wetalkaboutmusic,movies,currentevents.Nothingpersonal,justrandomtalkthatdoesn’tcausepain.WhenIstopflirting,sodoesshe.Theairbetweenuschanges.
Ericreturnstoourendofthebarandasksifwewantanotherdrink.Neitherofusordersone.
Shedoesnotwantmetowalkherhome.Understandable,butIinsistthatEriccallheracab.Shetakesit,andI’msureit’sbecauseofOwenOliver.Beforesheleaves,Iaskforhernumber.Shegivesittome,andIgiveherthenumbertothedisposablephone.
Annabellethanksmeforthedrinkwithahandshake.Itisbothformalandendearing.Iwatchherwalkoutofthebar.
Iwillnottexther.OfthisIamsure.
IamalsosurethatAnnabelleisnottheone.ShewillnotgomissingonFridaynight.
???
ITISBECAUSEofherboyfriend.AssoonasIheardthestory,Iknewitwouldn’tbeher.
Maybebecauseitwouldbetoomuchtragedyforoneyounglife.Tolosealovedoneinaviolentcrashonlytobemurdered.
Noneofthisisfair.Oursystemofchoosingherwasdeveloped,inpart,byOwen,buthowwediditwasarbitrary.IjusthappenedtoseeAnabellethatday.Itcouldhavebeenanyone.
Now,IambackattheLancasterHotel,watchingNaomi.SheisstillabittootallforOwen’sprofile.IknowheronlythroughthecomputerandtheglassdoorsoftheLancaster.Ihaveneverspokentoher,haveneverheardthesoundofhervoice.
Iwantto,though.Iwanttohearherlaugh,toseehowsheactsafteradrinkortwo.Iwanttoknowifshereallyhasathingforoldermenorifshejustneedsthemoney.IwanttoknowifIlikeher,dislikeher,orfeelnothingforher.ButIwon’t.Icannottakethechancethatsomethingwillmakemewanttoletherlive.
SoIdonotgoinsidethehotel;Idonotapproachher.Whenhershiftisover,Iwatchherleave.ShehaschangedoutofheruniformandintoapairofjeansandaT-shirt.Shetalksonthephoneasshewalkstohercar,atinythingthecolorofalime.AtelevenfifteenonaWednesdaynight,heronlystopisatafast-fooddrive-through.Minuteslater,sheishome,walkingtoherapartment,bagoffoodinonehandanduniformintheother.Naomilivesonthefirstfloorofaquietbuildingthatcaterstopeoplewhodon’tmakemuchmoney.Theyardisovergrown,withthickbushesnearherfrontdoor.
Perfect.WehavelotsofchoicesfortheFridaythe13th,fromthehotelparkinglottoNaomi’sapartmentbuilding.
NowIjusthavetotellMillicentI’vechangedmymind.
Twenty-three
ATSIXINTHEmorning,theradioannouncer’svoiceboomsintomyear,andit’sloudenoughtomakemejump.Millicentlikesherclockradio.Itisanoldone,thekindwithflipnumbersandfauxwoodcasing,anditannoysmetonoend.Theradioisherwayofleavingthetoiletseatup.
“Goodmorning.It’sThursday,October12,andyou’vegotonemoredaytolockup,ladies.OwenOliveriscomingtogetoneofyoupretties—”
Theradiogoessilent.IopenmyeyestoseeMillicentstandingaboveme.
“Sorry,”shesays.“Forgottoturnitoff.”
Sheturnsandwalksbacktothebathroom.Herredhair,cottonshorts,andtanktopdissolveintoalongdarkponytailandablueuniformwithgoldtrim.
IhadbeendreamingaboutNaomiwhenthealarmwentoff.ShewasbehindthedeskattheLancaster,chattingwithamansooldhewheezedwhenhespoke.Naomithrewherheadbackandlaughed.Itsoundedlikethecackleofawitchinafairytale.Thensheturnedtomeandwinked.Thefrecklesacrosshernosestartedtobleed.IthinkIhadbeenabouttosaysomethingwhenthealarmwentoff.
Millicentlied;shedidnotforgettoturnthealarmoff.Sheisstillalittleupsetwithme.NotbecausewehadtoswitchbacktoNaomiatthelastminute,butbecauseImadethedecisionwithouther.
Lastnight,wehadanotherdatenightinthegarage.Shethoughtitwasalast-minuteplanningsessiontorunthrougheverythingbeforethebigday.Andoriginallyitwas,atleastuntilItoldheritcouldn’tbeAnnabelle.
“Idon’tunderstand,”shesaid.
“IsaidweshouldswitchbacktoNaomi.”
“Naomiistootall.Shedoesn’tfittheprofile.”
“Iknow,butAnnabelleis—”
“She’swhat?”
Imadethedecisiontolieinasplitsecond.“Shestartedseeingsomeone.”
“Aboyfriend?”
“Ifhe’snotyet,hewillbe.He’llcallthepolicerightaway.”Thisisthetypeofscenarioweprefertoavoid.
Millicentshookherhead.Shemayhaveevencursedunderherbreath.“Ican’tbelievewe’rejustfindingthisout.”
“Wealwayswatchedheratwork.”
“Notalways.”
Iletthatgo.ThiswasnotthetimetoquestionMillicentaboutwhatshehasn’ttoldme.NotwhenIwaslying.
“So,”Isaid.“Naomi.”
Millicentsighed.“Naomi.”
WedonotmentionAnnabelleagain.
???
IDONOTWANTtowork,butIhavenochoice.Mydayispackedwithback-to-backlessons,andwhentheyarefinallyoverIpickupthekidsfromschoolandtakethemtothedentist.Bychance,theirappointmentshavelandedonThursdaythe12th.Millicentschedulestheircleaningsinadvance,everysixmonthsonthedot.
Aswewalkintotheoffice,JennaandRoryplayroshambotoseewhogoesfirst.Itisoneofthefewtimestheyspeakinunison.
“Rock,paper,scissors,shoot.”
Roryloses,Jennagloats,andthebiggerpictureeludesthem.Bothstillhavetogettheirteethcleaned.
Inthewaitingroom,IcheckthenewsonmyphoneandambombardedbypicturesofOwen’spreviousvictims.Ourlocalpaperputallofthemonthefrontpage,andallthepictureshadbeentakenwhentheyweresmilingandalive.Themessageisnotsubtle.Ifyoulooklikethesewomen,tomorrowyouwillbeatrisk.Owencouldbecomingforyou.Thereisnoindicationthatanyonewouldbeabletofightbackorescape,andtheonlywaytosurviveistonotgetchosen.Itisalittleoffensive,Ithink,thatwomenaretreatedasiftheyaresohelpless.Thewriterofthisarticlehasnevermetmywife.
Afterthedentist,icecream.Millicentmeetsusforthisbizarrefamilytradition.Iwastheonewhostartedit,backwhenthekidsweremuchyoungerandIwantedtomakethemstopcryingatthedentist.Thepromiseoficecreamworked,andnowtheywon’tletitgo.
Weallhaveourfavorite.Millicentordersvanilla,Ihavechocolate,andRorygetsrockyroad.Jennaistheexperimentalone.Shealwaysordersthespecial.Today,itisblueberrychocolatechip,andshelovesit.Ithinkitisdisgusting.
Onceeveryone’steetharetinglingandourbrainsarefrozen,wesplitup.Millicenttakesthekidshome,andIgobacktowork.Onmywayintotheclub,IrunintoTrista.Shecanceledourlastlesson,andI’vebarelyseenhersincethatdrunkendayshetoldmeaboutherrelationshipwithOwenOliver.Iamsogratefultoherforthat,butshedoesn’tknowit.Shedoesn’tknowmuchofanythingrightnow;shestaresatmewiththedeadstareofadrunk,butitisn’tbecauseofalcohol.Sheisonpills—mostlikelypainkillers,andalotofthem.Iseeitquiteoftenatthecountryclub.
Butneverfromher.
“Hey.”Ireachoutandtouchherarm.“Areyouokay?”
“Perfect.”Shesaysthewordhard,likeshe’sanythingbut.
“Youdon’tlookokay.DoyouwantmetocallAndy?”
“No,Idon’twantyoutocallAndy.”
IthinkIshould,becauseI’dwanttoknowifmywifewasstoneduptohereyebrows.Ireachformyphone.
Tristalooksatme.“Awomanisgoingtodisappeartomorrow.Andthenshe’sgoingtodie.”
Iwanttotellherthatmaybeitwon’thappen,maybethey’llcatchhim,butIdon’t,becauseit’salie.ThepolicearenotgoingtocatchMillicentandme.Theydon’tevenknowweexist.
“Yes,”Isay.“Someoneisprobablygoingtodisappear.”
“Owen’sabastard.”Tristalooksvacantbutisn’t.Beyondthepillsissomethingthatrefusestogonumb.Somethingangry.
“Hey,stopthat.Youcan’tblameyourselfforthisasshole.”
Shesnorts.
“Youwon’tbealonetomorrow,willyou?”IsaythisbecauseIamgenuinelyworriedabouther.EverythingTristadoeshurtsonlyherself.
“Andywillbehome.”ShelooksupattheTV,wheretheyareshowingfootagefromwhenOwenwasarrestedfifteenyearsago.Tristashivers.“Ihavetogo.”
“Wait—letmegiveyouaridehome.”
“I’mnotgoinghome.”
“Trista.”
“I’llseeyoulater.TellMillicentI’llcallher.”Shewalkstowardthewomen’slockerroombutthenturnsback.“Don’ttellAndy,okay?”
InevertoldhimaboutseeingTristadrunk,anddidn’ttellhimabouthiswife’spastwithOwenOliver.Anotheromissionwon’tmakethebetrayalworsethanitalreadyis.
“Iwon’ttellhim,”Isay.
“Thankyou.”
Shevanishesintothelockerroom,andIstareafterher,wonderingwhatwehavedone.BringingbackOwenhasaffectedmorethanthepoliceinvestigation.
Mylastclientofthedayalsotalksaboutit.Heisanicemanwiththreedaughters,andtwoareinOwen’stargetagegroup.Allofthemstillliveinthearea.Twoaresingleandlivealone,andheissoworriedhehasofferedtosendthemawayfortheweekend.Hedidn’tliveherewhenOwenwasaroundthefirsttimebuthasheardmorethanenough
Despitetheafternoonicecream,dinnerisstillatsix.JennasayseveryoneatschoolhasbeentalkingaboutOwenallweek.OneofherfriendshasanoldersisterwhoisconvincedthatOweniscomingforher.Rorysnickersatthisandsaysitwon’thappen,thatbotharetoouglyevenforaserialkiller.Jennathrowsadinnerrollatherbrother,andMillicentordersthemtostop.Theyresorttocallingeachothernamesbymouthingthemacrossthetable.
“Isaidstopit.”
Millicentdoesnotliketorepeatherself,sotheystop.Foraminute.JennaflincheswhenRorykicksherunderthetable.IamsureMillicentseesit,butshesaysnothing,becausewhendinnerisoversheannouncesanimpromptumovienight.Sometimeswhentheyfighttoomuch,shemakesthemspendmoretimetogether.Itisherwayofmakingsuretheyworkitoutinsteadofgoingtheirseparateways.
Theyarguefortwentyminutesaboutwhichmovietowatch.NeitherMillicentnorIinterfere;infact,wedon’tpayattention.Weareinthekitchen,finishingupthedishes,whensheasksifIamgoingbackouttonight.
“Yes.”
“Areyousurethat’sagoodidea?”
“It’sfine.”
MytoneissharperthanImeanittobe.HearingaboutOwenalldayhasnothelpedmystresslevel.NeitherdidseeingTrista.Somethingabouther,aboutwhatsheisdoingtoherself,bothersme.
Everythingthathappenstomorrowisbecauseofme.IwrotethelettertoJosh,Ichosethedate,Ipromisedanotherwomanwoulddisappear.AndIamtheonewhoswitchedfromAnnabelletoNaomijustlastnight.Iamtheonewhohastomakesuresheisright.
Theflipofaquarterchoosesourmoviefortheevening,anditisaboutadolphin.RoryandJennasittogetheronthefloorwithabowlofpopcornanddonotthrowitateachother.MillicentandIsitonthecouchwithourownpopcorn.Shespendsmoretimelookingatourkidsthanatthemovie,andhereyeslooktenshadeslighter.Theyalwaysdowiththekids.
Shestayslikethatuntilthemovieisoverandthekidstrudgeupstairstobed,theirbanterlightandfilledwithdolphins.Istarttostandupwhensheputsherhandonmykneeandsqueezesit.
“Youbettergetready,”shesays.
Shemakesitsoundlikethisisheridea,anditirritatesme.“You’reright,”Isay.“Ineedtogetoutofhere.”
“Youokay?”
Ilookdownather,atmywifewiththecleareyesthataresounlikeTrista’s.EverythingaboutMillicentistheoppositeofAndy’swife.
Ismile,thankfulIamnotmarriedtoTrista.
Twenty-four
IHADNOTINTENDEDtowearmysuit,becausespeakingtoNaomiwasn’tintheplan,butatthelastminuteIputontheoneMillicentlikesbest.Itisdarkbluewithahand-stitchedcollar,anditcosttoomuch.ButsinceIhaveit,Imightaswellwearit.
AsIstandinfrontofthemirrorandputonmytie,Millicentappearsbehindme.Sheleansagainstthewall,armscrossedoverherchest,andshewatchesme.Iknowshewantstoask,becauseIneverwearthissuitexceptwithher.Sheboughtit.
Icontinuewithmytie,putonmyshoes,collectmywallet,phone,andkeys.Mydisposablephoneisnotinthehouse.
WhenIlookup,sheisstillthere,stillinthesameposition.
“IguessI’moff,”Isay.
Shenods.
Iwaitforhertosaysomething,butsheremainssilent.Iwalkpastheranddownthestairs.AsIreachthedoortothegarage,Ihearhim.
“Dad.”
Roryisatthedoortothekitchenwithaglassofwater.Heholdsuphisotherhandandrubshisthumbandforefingertogether.Moremoney.
Hedidnotjusthappentobeinthekitchen.Hewaswaitingforme.
Inodandwalkout.
???
NAOMIISATthefrontdesk,checkingpeoplein,answeringthephone,troubleshootingforeveryonewhowalksupwithaproblem.Tonight,Idonotsitoutside.Iaminthelobby.
Itislargeandplush,withoverstuffedfurnitureindarkcolorsandthickfabrics.Velvetcurtainshangagainstthewalls,trimmedingoldbraidliketheLancasteruniforms.Fringeandtasselsareeverywhere.
Icanhideinthislobby,hiddenintheornatedecor,justanotherunknownguestworkingonmycomputer,havingadrink,becauseIcannotsitinmyhotelroomforonemoreminute.Thisisalmostthetruth.Icannotsitinmycaroutsidethehotelforonemoreminute.IfNaomiistheone,Ifeelcompelledtogetalittlebitcloser.
Butnottospeaktoher;I’vedecidednottodothat.Thereisjustnotime.Notafterthelast-minutechange.Iamtoostressed,tooworried.ResurrectingOwenOliverhasbecomemorecomplicatedthanIthoughtitwouldbe.Maybebecauseofthemedia,maybebecauseofTrista,butit’salsobecausemykidswon’tshutupabouthim.
ThisissomuchdifferentthanLindsay.ItwasjustMillicentandme,nooneelse,notevenontheperiphery.
NewYear’sEve,MillicentandIwenttoapartyatthecountryclub.Jennawastwelve,Roryayearolder,anditwasthefirsttimewehadleftthemaloneonDecember31.Theyhadbeenecstaticaboutit.Sowerewe.RingingintheNewYearwithadultshadn’thappenedsincebeforethekidswereborn.
LessthanamonthearlierwaswhenIsawthatwomanatthemall,theonewholookedlikeRobin.MillicentandIhadsexthatnight.Notthemarriedget-it-over-withkindofsex.Itwasthekindwehadwhenwewerefirstdating,whenwecouldn’tgetenoughofeachother.Thegreatsex.
Thenextday,itwasallover.Thesex,themood,thefeeling.Wewentbacktoarguingaboutmoney—whatwecouldandcouldnotafford.ThatincludedtheNewYear’sEvegala.
Itwasacostumeparty.MillicentandIdresseduplikewewerefromthe1920s,agangsterandhisflappergirlfriend.Mysuitwaspin-striped,andIworeshinywingtipsandafedora.Millicentworeashimmeryvioletdresswithafeatheredheadband,andherlipswerepaintedcrimson.
Inormallyfoundcostumepartiesdepressing.Theymademefeelsurroundedbypeoplewhodreamedofbeinganyoneotherthanwhotheywere.
Thatnight,weweredifferent.Notliketheothers,notlikeanyoneelseatthatparty.MillicentandItalkedaboutdoingitagain.Killingawoman.Wetalkedaboutwhatwewoulddotoher.Ifwewoulddoit.Whywewoulddoit.
“Whatabouther?”Millicentsaid,motioningtoawomanwhosebreastsweresolargetheyborderedongrotesque.Theywerefake,andweallknewit,becauseshehadtoldeveryonehowmuchtheyhadcost.
Ishrugged.“Wewouldn’tbeabletodrownher.”
“You’rerightaboutthat.”
“Andher?”Isaid,noddingtoabeachyblondewithadateasoldashergrandpa.
Millicentsmiled,herwhiteteethstarkagainstherrubylips.“Mercykilling.Judgingbythattan,she’llgetskincanceranyway.”
Istifledalaugh.Millicentgiggled.Wewerebeinghorrible,gossipinginthemosttwistedway,butitwasalljusttalk.Formostofthenight,wespokeonlytoeachother.
Giventhatitwasourfirstbignightoutinalongtime,Iwaspreparedtostayoutlate,andevenhadanenergydrinkbeforeleavingthehouse.Butwedidn’tstayoutlate.Byfiveminutesaftermidnight,wewereonourwayhome.
Byaquarterafter,our1920scostumeshadbeenthrownoffanddiscardedonourbedroomfloor.
Ihadnoideaifwewerestartingsomethingorcontinuingit,butIdidn’twantittoend.
???
INTHELOBBYOFtheLancaster,Ilookatmywatch,checkmyphone,andsurftheInternet.It’salltopretendI’mnotwatchingNaomi.Shedoesnotnoticeme.Thenightismuchbusierthannormal,inpartbecausethenextdayisFridaythe13th.PeoplehavecometotowntoseewhatOwenwilldo,whohewilltakeandkill.Someofthesepeopleworkforlegitimatemediasources;othersarethekindwhofollowspectaclesoreventthatcanberecordedandloadedonline.
Agroupofthemsitnearmeinthelobby.Theyarecollege-agedkidswhoarelookingtomakemoney,andtheyspeculateabouthowmuchmoneytheycanmake.It’sallbasedonhowgraphictheirvideois,althoughcapturingtheactualkidnappingofawomanwouldbethemotherlode.Providingtheyholdthecamerastill.
Whentheyfinallyleave,offtofindlikelyplacesserialkillershangout,IcanfocusbackonNaomi.IlookforsomethingtotellMillicent,somethingwecanshare.Iwantthistofeellikeitdidbefore.
Naomiissmilingandhasbeenallnight.Thisisamazing,evenadmirable.Manyofthepeoplewhoapproachthefrontdeskaredisgruntledorneedsomething,yetsheneverfailstobekind.Shesmilesevenwhensomeonecallsheranidiot.
IstarttothinksheissomekindofPollyanna,someonewhoisniceandhappynomatterwhat.Idon’tlikeit.MillicentandIcan’twhisperinthedarkaboutthat.
ThenIseeit—thecrackinNaomi’ssugary-sweetpersona.Whenoneparticularlyrudeguestturnshisback,Naomigiveshimthefinger.
Ismile.
TimetogohomeandtellMillicent.
Twenty-five
IWAKEUPTOsilence.Dawnisanhouraway,andtheworldisdarkasvelvet.
ItisSaturdaythe14th.
Millicentisnothomeyet.
OurdecisiontoseparatecamelateonThursdaynight,afterIreturnedhomefromtheLancaster.TheplanwastokeepNaomialiveforawhile,justlikeLindsay.Ithadtobedone,becauseit’swhatOwenalwaysdid.
Ijustdidn’tlikeit.Didn’tevenwanttoseeit.
PartofmeknewIshould,becauseitwasn’tfairtomakeMillicentdoitbyherself.ItriedtoimaginewhatitwouldbeliketolockNaomiupandkeepheralive,feedingher,givingherwater,andtorturingher.Itmakesmystomachturn.
Idon’tthinkIcanseethat,upcloseandinperson.
ThiskeepsmefromtalkingtoMillicentaboutwhereshekeptLindsayandwhereshewillkeepNaomi.I’vethoughtaboutaskingherbutneverhave.Attimes,Ifeelalittlebadaboutit,butnotbadenough.Mostofthetime,I’mjustrelieved.
“Icandoit,”Millicentsaid.
WewereathomealoneonFridaymorning.Thekidswerealreadyatschool.Wesatinthekitchenhavinganothercupofcoffeeanddiscussingourplans.
“Youshouldn’thavetodoitallyourself,”Isaid.
“Ididitbefore.”Millicentstoodupandcarriedhercoffeemugovertothesink.
“Still,”Isaid.Myprotestswereweak,andIknewit.Theymademefeelbetteranyway.
“Stillnothing,”Millicentsaid.“I’lltakecareofit.Youtakecareofthatreporter.”
“Iwill.Eventually,I’llhavetocontacthimagain.”
“Exactly.”
Sheturnedtomeandsmiled,litupbythemorningsuncomingthroughthewindow
Ourplanwasset.ItwasthesameplanwehadusedonLindsay.
Wehadpreparedeverydetail,thewayMillicentalwaysdoes.First,thedrug.Lindsay,andnowNaomi,hadtobeunconscioussowecouldtakehertoadesertedplace.Turnedoutchloroformisnotthemiracleknockoutdrugthemoviespretenditis.OurresearchledustosomedarkandscaryplacesontheInternet,whereeverythingisavailableforaprice.Electroniccurrency,ananonymouse-mail,andaprivatemailboxcangetyouanything,includingatranquilizerstrongandquickenoughtoknockoutadinosaur.
Sincewehadonlyhadtoknockouta130-poundwoman,wedidn’tneedmuch.
Millicentboughtanotebookcomputerthatonlyweknewabout.Weuseditforresearchingthedrugs.AlsotofindLindsay.
AndPetra.
AndNaomi.
OnFridaynight,wetookNaomitogether.JustaswehaddonewithLindsay.
Intheparkinglotbehindthehotel,MillicentwaveddownNaomiasshewasdrivingaway.Theywerejustbeyondthesecuritycameras.IwatchedasMillicentbentdowntothedriver’s-sidewindow,talkingfastasifsheneededhelpbecausehercarhadbrokendown.ThenIsawthetelltalejerkofherarmwhensheinjectedNaomiwiththedrug.MillicentpushedNaomi’sbodytothesideassheslippedintothedriver’sseatanddroveaway.
Ifollowed,smiling.Aftersomuchsearchingandplanningandtalking,Ilovedwatchingitallplayout.
???
WESEPARATEDINthewoods.ItookNaomi’scarandgotridofitwhileMillicentdroveawayinmycarwithourstill-unconsciousvictim.BythetimeImademywaytoMillicent’scar,parkedablockfromtheLancaster,andthenbackhome,itwasaftermidnight.InHiddenOaks,everyone’sporchlightwason,includingours.
Thekidswerenotasleep.TheyweredoingexactlywhatIwould’vedoneattheirage:watchingscarymovies.Bothwerecampedoutinthelivingroomwiththeirphonesandtabletsandapileofjunkfood.Ijoinedthem.
TheythoughtIhadbeenoutpatrollingtheneighborhood,helpingtoprotectHiddenOaksfromOwenOliver.Wehaveourownprivatesecurity,butlastnightagroupofresidentsdecidedtohelpbeonthelookout.Ijustwasn’toneofthem.
ThekidsalreadyknewMillicentwouldn’tbehomeuntilmorning.Wetoldthemshewouldbewithagroupofgirlfriendswhodidn’twanttobealone.Neithercared.I’mnotsureOwenOliverisrealtothem.HeistheboogeymanonTV,thepsychointhemovies.Itdoesn’toccurtothemthatanywoman—ateacher,aneighbor,oreventheirmother—couldbeatrisk.Myfeelingsaboutthisareconflicted.Iwantmykidstofeelsafe.Ialsowantthemtoknowhowdangeroustheworldis.
Stilllyinginbed,IstarttowonderaboutwhereMillicenttookNaomi,aboutwhatwillhappentoher.Whatmayalreadybehappening.Tostopmyself,IgetupandturnontheTV.Thesportschannel.Whilelisteningtothebaseballscoresfromyesterday,Imakecoffee.Thenewspaperthumpsagainstthefrontdoor,andIleaveitthere.Instead,Idrinkcoffeeandwatchcartoonsuntilthekidsgetup,thenturnofftheTVbeforetheycomedownstairs.Roryisfirsttothekitchen.Hegrabstheremoteandclicksonthenews.
“Sowhogotwhacked?”Hetakesabowloutofthecupboardanddumpscerealinit.
“Don’tsaywhacked.”
Herollshiseyes.“Okay,whogotmurdered?”
Jennaappearsinthedoorway.ShelooksbackandforthbetweenRoryandme.“Didithappen?DidOwencomeback?”
RoryturnsupthevolumeontheTV.ThereportertheyshowisnotJosh.ItisayoungblondwomanwholookslikeOwen’stype.
“Policetellustheywon’tknowanythingforawhile.Giventheconcernaboutlastnight,theyhavereceivedmanycallsaboutwomenwhohavenotansweredtheirphonesorcheckedinwiththeirfamilies.Wedon’tknowifanyofthesewomenareactuallymissing,anditwilllikelybesometimebeforethepolicehavesortedeverythingout…”
“Thepoliceareidiots,”Rorysays.HeturnstoJennaandpokesherarm.“Likeyou.”
Sherollshereyes.“Whatever.”
TheystoptalkingaboutOwen.Idonothearhisnameagainuntilweareinthecar,onthewaytoJenna’ssoccergame.Duringabreakinthemusic,theradioannouncersaysthepolicehavereceivedmorethanathousandcallsfrompeopleclaimingtheysawOwenOliveronFridaynight.
StillnowordfromMillicent,thoughIlietothekidsandtellthemsheishavingbrunchwithherfriends.Neitherseemstocare.
Atthegame,Istartcheckingmyphonemoreoften.
Afewoftheparentstalkaboutthenews,speculatingaboutOwenandtheFridaythe13thnoteandwonderingifitwasallahoax.Oneofthefatherssaidithadtobe,butthewomenwerenotsosure.Whenhelaughed,awomanaskedwhatwassofunnyaboutclaimingsomeonewouldbekilledonFridaythe13th.
Icheckmyphone.Stillnothing.
Jenna’steamisupbyone.Igiveherthethumbs-up.Shesmilesandrollshereyesatthesametime.Itoccurstomethatthethumbs-upsignisprobablyuncool
ThenIseeher.SheisbehindJenna,neartheparkinglot,andsheiswalkingaroundthefield.Herredhairisdown,bouncingasshemoves.Sheiswearingjeans,sneakers,andaT-shirtwithalion,theschoolmascot,onthefront.She’salwaystryingtolooklikealltheothersoccermoms,butsheneversucceeds.Millicentalwaysstandsout.
Asshegetscloser,shesmiles.Itisabig,widesmilethatreachestothedepthsofhereyes.Relieffloodsthroughmyveins.OnlythendoIrealizehownervousIhavebeen.Silly.IknowbetterthantodoubtMillicent.
Ireachouttoher.Sheslidesherarmaroundmywaistandleansintokissme.Herlipsarewarm,andherbreathsmellslikecinnamonandcoffee.
“How’sJennadoing?”Millicentsays,turningtowardthefield.Icannotstoplookingather.
“Winningbyone.”
“Perfect.”
Sheslipsawayfrommeandsayshellotosomeoftheotherparents.Theychataboutthegame,aboutthebeautifulweather,and,eventually,aboutOwen.
Whenthegameisover,Ihavetogotowork.ItisMillicent’sSaturdaytotakethekidsouttolunch,andwehaveonlyamomentaloneintheparkinglot.Thekidsareinthecar,buckledupandarguing.Westandtogetherbetweenourcars.
“Everythinggood?”
“Perfect,”shesays.“Noproblemsatall.”
Wegoourseparateways,andasIdrivetotheclub,Ifeelmorethanhappy.Buoyant,maybe.LikeI’mfloating.
???
ATTHECLUB,IhavearareSaturdaylessonwithKekona,ourHiddenOaksgossip.IthinkshescheduleditbecauseshewantstotalkaboutOwen,aboutwhatmayhavehappenedthenightbefore,andourlessonconfirmsit.Owenisallshetalksaboutit.
“Fifty-threewomen.Thenewssaysfifty-threewomenwerereportedmissingbetweenlastnightandthismorning.”Sheshakesherhead.Kekona’slongdarkhairisrolledupintoabunatthebaseofherneck.
“Owendidnotkidnapfifty-threewomenlastnight,”Isay.
“No,hedidn’t.Hemaynothavekidnappedanyone.Butfifty-threefamiliesbelievehedid.”
Inod,absorbingherwords,wrappingmyheadaroundsomuchpain.Ifeelremoved,asifithasnothingtodowithme.
Twenty-six
WEWAITFOReveryoneelsetofigureoutwhathappened.Whenthenewsison,Millicentwinksatme.WhensomeonementionsOwen,Igiveheralookonlysheunderstands.Itisourthing,thethingthatseparatesusfromeveryoneelse.
IfirstfeltitafterHolly.AgainafterRobin,andthenafterLindsay.Aftereachwoman,MillicentandIhadamomentinwhichweweretheonlyonesintheworld.Itfeltthesameasitdidwhenweclimbedthatbigtree.Itfeelsthatwaynow,afterNaomi.
MillicentandIarewide-awakewhileeveryoneelseisasleep.
???
BYMONDAY,thepolicearedowntotwowomen.Alltheothershavebeenfoundorhavereturnedhome.Ihearthisontheradioduringthedrivetowork,anditsurprisesme.Ihadnoideaitwouldtakethislongforeveryonetorealizewhohadgonemissing.ItalmostmakesmewanttosendanothernotetoJosh,tolethimknowitwasNaomi.
Almost.Butthemoretimetheyspendtryingtofigureoutwhoismissingmeansthelesstimetheyspendtryingtofindher.Thepolicedonotevenknowwhotolookfor.
Halfwaythroughtheday,Igetacallfromtheschoolprincipal.Thisisodd,becausetheschoolalwayscallsMillicentfirst,buttheprincipalsaysMillicentisn’tansweringherphone.ShealsotellsmetherehasbeenanincidentattheschoolandthatIneedtocomedownthererightaway.Iaskifit’sRory.
“It’syourdaughter,”shesays.“WehaveanissuewithJenna.”
WhenIarriveattheschool,Jennaissittinginthecorneroftheprincipal’soffice.NellGrangerhasbeenattheschoolforeverandhasnotchangedabit.Shelookslikeasweetoldgrandmotherwhowouldpinchyourcheeksuntiltheybruised.
Jennaisstaringattheflooranddoesnotlookup.
Nellgesturesformetosit,andIdo.ThenIseetheknife.
Six-inchblade,stainlesssteel.Carvedwoodenhandle.Itcomesfromourkitchen,andnowitisontopofNell’sdesk.
Nelltapsherpinkfingernailagainsttheknife.“Yourdaughterbroughtthistoschooltoday.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”Isay.AndIamnotsureIwantto.
“Ateachersawitinherbackpackwhenshewastakingoutanotebook.”
Jennasitsagainstthewall,facingus,butherheadisstilldown.Shesaysnothing.
“Whywouldyoubringthistoschool?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.Saysnothing.
Nellstandsupandmotionsformetofollow.Wewalkoutoftheoffice,andsheshutsthedoorbehindus.
“Jennahasn’tsaidaword,”Nellsays.“Iwashopingyou,oryourwife,couldgethertotelluswhyshehastheknife.”
“I’dliketoknowmyself.”
“Sothisisn’tsomethingyou’ve—”
“Jennahasneverbeenviolent,”Isay.“Shedoesn’tplaywithknives.”
“Andyet…”Nelldoesnotfinishthesentenceanddoesnothaveto.
Igobackintotheofficealone.ItdoesnotlooklikeJennahasmovedaninch.Imoveachairclosertohersandsitdown.
“Jenna,”Isay.
Nothing.
“Canyoutellmeabouttheknife?”
Sheshrugs.It’sastart.
“Wereyougoingtohurtsomeone?”
“No.”
Hervoiceisstrong,unwavering,anditstartlesme.
“Okay,”Isay.“Ifyoudidn’tplantohurtanyone,whywouldyoubringaknifetoschool?”
Shelooksup.Hereyesdonotlookasstrongashervoice.“Toprotectmyself.”
“Issomeonebullyingyou?”
“No.”
ItisallIcandotostopmyselffromgrabbingherbytheshouldersandshakingtheanswersoutofher.“Jenna,pleasetellmewhathappened.Didsomeonethreatenyou?Hurtyou?”
“No.Ijustwanted…”
“Wantedwhat?”
“Ididn’twanthimtohurtme.”
“Who?”
Shewhispershisname.“Owen.”
Thepunchtomygutisshocking.Painful.ItneveroccurredtomethatJennawouldbeafraidofOwen.
Iputmyarmsaroundher.“Owenisnevergoingtohurtyou.Notinamillionyears.Amilliontrillionyears.”
Shechucklesalittle.“You’restupid.”
“Iknow.Butnotaboutthis.NotaboutOwenhurtingyou.”
Jennapullsbackandlooksatme,hereyesnotquiteaswidenow.“That’swhyIbroughttheknife.Iwasn’tgoingtohurtanyone.”
“Iknow.”
ShewaitsoutsidethedoorwhileIspeaktoNell,whonodsandhalfsmilesasIexplainJenna’sfearofOwenOliver.Isayhehasbeenalloverthenewsforafewweeksnow;hisfaceisallovertheInternet,theTV,andevenonflyersinfrontofthegrocerystore.“Somethinglikethiswasprobablyinevitable,”Isay,pointingtotheknife.“NowthatIthinkaboutit,thisdoesn’tsurprisemeatall.Themediahasn’tstoppedtalkingaboutOwensincehecameback.”
Nellraisesaneyebrow.“Youthinkhe’sback?”
ItfeelslikeIamthirteen,coveredindirtandbruises,andalittlebloodatthecornerofmymouth.MyfightwithDannyTurnbullhadgonewell,atleastfrommyperspective,exceptIwassenttotheprincipal’soffice.WhenItoldmyprincipalDannyhadstartedthefight,shegavemethesamelookNellGrangerisgivingmerightnow.
“Idon’tknowifhe’sback,”Isay.“Butobviouslymydaughterthinksheis.”
“Soshesays.”
“Youhavesomereasontodoubther?BecauseIdon’t.”
Nellshakesherhead.“No,noreason.Jennahasalwaysbeenagoodkid.”Shedoesn’tsay“sofar,”butshedoesn’thaveto.
“CanItakeherhomenow?”
“Youcan.ButIhavetokeeptheknife.”
Idonotargue.
Jennahasbeenexcusedfortherestoftheday,sowehavelunch.Wegotoabigchainrestaurantthathasaten-pagemenu,witheverythingfromagreasybreakfasttobarbecuedribsandeverythinginbetween.Wehavebeentothisrestaurantahundredtimes,andJennaalwaysordersagrilledcheese-and-tomatosandwichoraclub.Today,sheordersasaladwithdressingontheside,andnosoda,justwater.
WhenIaskifsheisokay,Jennasayssheisfine.
IwanttotalktoMillicent.Iwanttotellheraboutourdaughter.Butmywifeisstillnotansweringherphone.
ShemustbewithNaomi.Theyareprobablyinsomebunkerorcementroom,justlikeinthemovies,andthisiswhyshehasnotpickedupthephone.Itdoesnotringunderground.
Ormaybesheisjustbusy.
Isendheratext,lettingherknoweverythingisfine,eventhoughI’mnotsureitis.Aftersendingit,Ihearthefamiliarsoundofabreaking-newsalert.
Ontheothersideofourbooth,thereisabarareawithmultipleTVs,andNaomistaresbackatmefromallofthem.Shelookslargerthanlifeonthegiantscreens.Thebanneracrossthebottomreads:
LOCALWOMANSTILLMISSING
“That’sher,isn’tit?”Jennaisalsolookingatthescreens.“She’stheoneOwentook.”
“Theydon’tknowforsure,”Isay.
“She’sgoingtodie,isn’tshe?”
Idonotanswer.Inside,Iamsmiling.Atleasthalfofmeis.
TheotherhalfisworriedaboutJenna.
Twenty-seven
NAOMI.NAOMIWITHherhairdown,withherhairup,withnomakeup,andwithherlipspainted-bubblegumpink.Naomiinherworkuniform,injeans,inagreensatinbridesmaiddress.Naomiiseverywhere,allovertheTVandonlineandoneveryone’slips.Withinhours,herthreefriendshavemultiplied.Suddenly,everyoneknowsher,andtheyaremorethanhappytotellreportersallabouttheirdearfriendNaomi.
WeareathomeMondaynight,andtheTVison.Millicentishere.Sheoffersjustavagueexplanationofherafternoonabsence.Inreturn,IgiveheravagueexplanationofwhathappenedatJenna’sschool.Imakeitsoundmuchlessalarmingthanitwas.
“Basically,itwasabigmisunderstanding,”Isay.
Millicentshrugs.“You’resure?”
“I’msure.”
Thenewsison.Jennaisobsessedwithit,butRoryisboredunlessthereisnewinformation.Heordershertochangethechannel.Sherefuses.
IdidnotrealizehowOwenOliverwouldaffectourkids.HollyandRobinneverhadthiskindofpublicity.Now,theyhavebeentalkingaboutOwenforweeks.JennamaytalkaboutNaomiforever.
ThismakesthegoodfeelingsIhadstarttofade.
Iwalkouttothebackyard.Inonecorner,wehavealargeoaktree.Thekids’oldplaysetisintheothercorner;ithasbeenwastingawayforyears.Iforgotitwasevenhere,butnowallIcanseeishowfadeditis,howtheplasticiscrackedanditmustbedangerous.Igobackthroughthehouse,intothegarage,andgetmytoolbox.Itisimportant,evencrucial,thatItaketheplaysetapartandgetridofitbeforesomeonegetshurt.
Theboltsholdtight,eventhoughtheyarebigpiecesofchildproofplastic.Ibreakonewiththehammer.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Millicent’svoicedoesnotstartleme.Infact,Iexpectit.“Whatdoesitlooklike?”
“Itlookslikethiscouldwaituntiltomorrow.”
“ButIwanttodoitnow.”Icannothearhersighing,butIknowsheis.Shestandsbehindmeandwatchesmebreakanotherplasticbolt.“Areyougoingtowatchmeallnight?”Isay.
Shegoesbackintothehouse.Theslidingdoorslamsshut.
Lessthananhourlater,Ihaveworkedupasweatandmadeapileofplastic.IleavethebackyardlookingworsethanwhenIstarted.
Nooneisinthelivingroom.Ihearthemupstairs;someoneisinthebathroom,andsomeoneelsewalksdownthehall.IsitdowninfrontoftheTV.Asitcomison,andthefamilyislikemine,withtwoparentsandtwokids,buttheyaremuchfunnierthanweare.Theirproblemsdonotinvolvethirteen-year-oldgirlsbringingknivestoschoolorsonsblackmailingtheirfathers.
Duringthecommercialbreak,apreviewofthenewscomeson,andIturnthechanneltoanothershow,andanother,andIkeepdoingthisuntilMillicentcomesintotheroomandtakestheremoteawayfromme.Sheleansincloseandhissesinmyear.
“Getyourshittogether.Now.”Shetossestheremotetotheothersideofthecouchandwalksoutoftheroom.
???
ITMAYSEEMLIKEIneverstanduptoMillicent,butthatisn’ttrue.Itmaynotbeoften,butit’snotunheardof.Ithappenedonce,atleast,andIrememberitwell.Itwasimportantenoughtostandupfor.
Rorywassix,Jennawasfive,andMillicentandIweretoobusytobreathe.Ihadtwojobs.Inadditiontogivingprivatetennislessons,Ialsoworkedatahealthclub.Millicentwastryingtosellrealestate.Thekidswereintwodifferentschools—kindergartenandfirstgrade—andonealwayshadtobedroppedofforpickedup.Wehadtwocars,butonealwaysseemedtobebroken.Still,wehadfoodandaroofandallthenecessities.Everythingelsewasjustapainintheass.
Oneday,awindfall.AweirdthingIneversawcoming.Therehadbeenaclass-actionlawsuitagainstaformeremployerofmine,fromajobIhadbackinhighschool,andafterten-plusyearsithadfinallysettled.Maybetheclasshadbeensmall,ormaybethelawyerswerebetterthanmost,butmyportionwas$10,000.ItwasmorethanI’deverhadatonetime.
MillicentandIsatatthekitchentableandstaredatthatcheck.Thekidswereinbed,thehousewasquiet,andforawhilewedreamedofallthethingswecoulddowithit.AweekinHawaiioramonthinthemountains.AtriptoEurope.TheengagementringMillicentdeserved.Wehadaglassofwine,andourdreamsbecamemoreridiculous.Custom-madeclothes.Ahometheatersystem.Fancychromewheelsforbothofouroldcars.Tenthousanddollarswasnotavastfortune,butwepretendeditwas.
“Seriously,though,”shesaid,finishingoffthelastofherwine.“Thekids.College.”
“Veryprudent.”
“Wehaveto.”
Shewasright.Collegewasexpensive,anditneverhurttosaveforit.Exceptitdidhurt.Ithurtusandourfuture,whichcouldmakeeverythingbetterforallofus.“Ihaveabetteridea,”Isaid.
“Betterthanourchildren’seducation?”
“Hearmeout.”
Isuggestedweusethemoneytoinvestinourselves.Intheyearssincewewerefirstmarriedandhadourkids,oureconomicsituationhadnotimprovedmuch.Neitherhadourcareers.Millicentwasstucksellingcondosandlower-pricedhomes.Themoreexperiencedagentshadallthehigher-endlistingsandsales.Myprivatelessonswereheldatthepublictenniscourtsatthepark,andtheclientswerenotconsistent.Iproposedwedosomethingaboutthis.
Atfirst,itsoundedlikeoneofourridiculousdreams.TheChristmasgalaattheHiddenOaksCountryClubcost$2,500aticket.Butthegalawasnotjustanotherparty;itwasatickettopeoplewewouldnotmeetanywhereelse.AnewgenerationlivedintheOaks.Mostneverknewmyparentsorme.Thesewerethepeoplewhocouldaffordprivatetennislessonsandexpensivehouses.Theywouldpayforourchildren’seducation.
“Insane,”Millicentsaid.
“Youaren’tlistening.”
“No.”Shebrushedoffmyideawithawaveofherhand.
Thatmademedigin.
Wefoughtforaweek.Shecalledmeachild,andItoldhershewasshortsighted.Shecalledmeasocialclimber,andItoldhershehadnoimagination.Shestoppedtalkingtome,andIsleptonthecouch.Still,Ididnotgiveup.Shedid.
Millicentclaimedshewastired.Ithinkshebecamecurious.IthinkshewantedtoseeifIwasright.
Wespenthalfthemoneyontickets,andthenboughtadressandshoesforher,atuxedoandshoesforme,andaluxuryrentalcarforthenight.Millicentalsogotherhair,makeup,andnailsdone.Bythetimewepaidthebabysitter,notmuchofthemoneywasleft.
Itwaswortheverypenny.Sixmonthsafterthegala,Iwasofferedajobasthetennisproattheclub.Millicentmetherfirstwealthyclientsatthatgalaandstartedtomoveupintherealestateworld.Inonenight,wehadskippedagoodfiveyearsofgrindingourwayuptheladder.Itwaslikeautomaticallylevelingupinavideogame.
Wearen’twealthy,notlikeourclients,butthatnightmoveduscloser.
Andtothisday,Millicentknowsthatitisbecauseofme.BecauseIdecidedwhattodowiththatmoney.Sheisremindedofthiseveryyearwhenwegototheannualgala,although,tobehonest,Iamnotsureshecares.
Twenty-eight
ATFIRST,ITwasimpressivethatRoryhadfiguredoutawaytoblackmailme.Icanadmitthat.Iwasmoreannoyedwithmyselfforgettingcaughtthanwithhimforcatchingme.
Butnow,heisstartingtopissmeoff.
Iaminhisroom.Heissittingathisdesk.Hiscomputerison,andNaomiisstaringbackatme.Forty-eighthourshavepassedsinceshewasnamedastheonlymissingwomanleft.Herfaceiseverywhere,alloverthenewsandsocialmedia.
“Whyareyoulookingatthat?”Isay,noddingtohiscomputer.
“You’rechangingthesubject.”
Heisright.Iamavoidingthefactthathehasjustaskedforhundredsofdollarstokeephismouthshutaboutmynonexistentaffair.Ormyone-night-stand,Ishouldsay,becauseIdidsleepwithPetra.
“Howlongareyougoingtokeepthisup?”Isay.
“Howlongareyou?Isawyousneakoutjustlastweek.”
It’simpossibletothinkofRoryasachildwhenhetalkslikethis.Despitehisfloppyredhairandbaggyclothes,hedoesnotlooklikeafourteen-year-old.Helookslikemyequal.
“I’llmakeyouadeal,”Isay.“I’llgiveyouthemoney,andwebothstop.Youwillneverseemesneakoutagain.”
“Andifyoudo?”
“IfIsneakoutagain,I’llgiveyoudouble.”
Rory’spokerfacefallsapartwhenhiseyebrowsshootup.Hecovershissurprisebyrubbinghischin,pretendingtothinkaboutmyoffer.“I’llbewatching,”hesays.
“Iknowyouwillbe.”
Henods,thinks,andthensaysnotomyoffer.“Ihaveanotheridea.”
Iamalreadyshakingmyheadathim,pissedoff.Before,Iwasontheverge,andnowIamthere.“Iamnotgivingyouanymore—”
“Idon’twantmoney.”
“Thenwhat?”
“Thenexttimeyousneakout,Idon’twantmoney.Idon’twantanything,”hesays.“ButI’mgoingtotellJenna.”
“You’dreallytellyoursister?”
Hesighs.Itisnotoneofthoseold-mansighs,filledwithwearinessandfatigue.Thisisachild’ssigh,thekindthatcomeswithatremblinglip.“Stop,Dad,”hesays.“JuststopcheatingonMom.”
NowIamtheonewhoissurprised.Thefullimpactofwhathehassaidspreadsovermeaninchatatime,untilIhavethewholepicture.
Heisachild.Adulthoodisstillyearsaway,andheisnotevenclose.Now,helooksyoungerthanever.HelooksyoungerthanhedidthefirsttimeIliedtohim,youngerthanthesecondandthethird.HelooksyoungerthanhedidthedayItaughthimhowtoholdatennisracketandyoungerthanthedayherejecteditforgolf.Rorylooksyoungerthanhedidyesterday.Heisstilljustalittleboy.
Thishasneverbeenaboutthemoneyorthevideogamesoreventheblackmail.
ThishasallbeenaboutwhathethinksIamdoing.HethinksIamsneakingouttocheatonhismother.Andhewantsmetostop.
WhenIrealizethis,itfeelslikeashotgunblasttothestomach.OratleasthowIimaginethatmightfeel.Itismuchstrongerthanapunch.Idonotknowwhattosayorhowtosayit.
Inodandoffermyhand.
Weshakeonit.
???
IKEEPALLofthisfromMillicent,justasIhaveallalong.Idon’teventellherthatRoryhasbeenreadingaboutNaomiontheInternet.Thekidsseeitallanyway.It’severywhere.
JoshisstillcoveringthestoryandisonTVallday,forbreakingnewsandontheeveningreports.Heisstillveryyoungandearnest,butnowhelookstiredandneedsahaircut.
Forthepasttwodays,hehasbeentravelingaroundwiththepoliceastheycheckreststops.ThatwaswhereOwenkepthisvictims,inanabandonedreststop,wherehehadhollowedoutthebuildingandturneditintoabunker.Thepolicehavebeensearchingallofthem,alongwithanybunkertypeofbuildingonthemap.Theyhavenotfoundathing.
Tonight,Joshisoutonanemptyroad,behindhimafleetofpolicecars.Heisbundledupinajacketandabaseballcap,whichmakeshimlookevenyounger,andhesaystheyarecheckingonanotherpossiblelocation.Theyhavebeensearchingfartherandfartherout,evenwayouteastnearGoetheStatePark.
ItisbecauseNaomiisstillalive.
Joshdoesnotsaythat.Thepolicedonotsayit,either.ButeveryoneknowsthatifOwenisstillalive,soisNaomi.Healwayskeepsthemalive,andhedoesawfulthingstothem.ThingstheydonottalkaboutonTV.ThingsIdonotthinkabout,becauseMillicentisdoingthemnow.
OrIassumesheis.IassumeNaomiisstillalive,thoughIhavenotaskedandhavenoideawhereMillicentwouldkeepher.Thepolicesearchesmakemewonder.
Thenextmorning,whileIambackingoutofthedriveway,Millicentcomesoutofthehouse.Sheraisesherhand,tellingmetowait.Iwatchherwalkfromthedoortomycar.Sheiswearingaslimpairofslacksandawhiteblousewithtinypolkadots.
Millicentbendsdownatthewindow.HerfaceissoclosetomineIcanseethetinylinesinthecornersofhereyes—notdeepwrinklesbutwellontheirway.Whensheplacesherhandontheedgeofthedoor,Iseescratchesonherforearm.Likeshehasbeenplayingwithacat.
SheseeswhereIamlookingandpullsdownthesleeve.Myeyesgouptohers.Inthemorningsun,theyalmostlookliketheyusedto.
“What?”Isay.
Shereachesintoherpocketandpullsoutawhiteenvelope.“Ithoughtthiswouldbeuseful.”
Theenvelopeissealed.“What’sthis?”
Shewinks.“Foryournextletter.”
Thistinythingliftsmymood.Idonotwriteletters,butOwendoes.
“Itwillconvincethem,”Millicentsays.
“Whateveryousay.”
Sheputsherhandonmycheeksandstrokesitwithherthumb.Ithinksheisgoingtokissme,butshedoesn’t,notouthereinthedrivewaywhereanyneighborcouldseeus.Instead,shewalksbacktothehouseascasuallyasshewalkedout,likeshehasjustremindedmetopickupalmondmilkonthewayhome.
Islidemyfingerundertheflapoftheenvelopeandopenthecorner.
Inside,alockofNaomi’shair.
Twenty-nine
DESPITEWHATMILLICENTsaid,IgobackandforthaboutthelockofNaomi’shair.Iwonderifitwillmakethingsbetterorworse.AlthoughJennaisnolongercarryingaknife,asfarasIknow,shealsoisnoteatingmuch.Shepicksatherfood,swishingitaroundherplate.Shedoesnotsaymuchatdinner.Wehavenotheardanyblow-by-blowsofhersoccerpracticesorschooldays.
Idonotlikethis.IwantmyJennaback,theonewhosmilesatme,theonewhoasksforsomething,soIcansayyes.Theonlythingsheasksfornowistobeexcusedfromthetable.
IfIsendalettertoJosh,confirmingthatNaomiisOwen’svictim,thesearchwillonlyintensify.Thepolicewillgothrougheverybuildingwithinfiftymilestofindher,andthemediawillcovereverymomentofit.
Butperhapsitisworsetonotsendtheletter.Perhapsit’sworsetoleteveryonewonderifOwenhasNaomi,maybeforever.BecausethenJennawilllearnthatpeoplecanjustdisappearwithnooneeverfindingthem.Itisthetruth,butmaybesheshouldnotknowthat.Notyet,anyway.
Onceagain,Millicentisright.Thelockofhairisuseful.
Igothroughseveraldraftsoftheletter.Thefirstistooelaborate;thesecondisstilltoolong.Thethirdisdowntoaparagraph.ThenIrealizeOwendoesnothavetosayanything.
Thehairwillsayenough.
TheywillDNA-testit,andtheywillknowitisNaomi’s.AllIhavetodoiswrapitupinapieceofpaperandsignatthebottom.
—Owen
Thefinaltouchisthecheapcologne.
Idumpthelockofhairontomyletter.Fiftystrands,ahundred—Idon’tknowhowmany,buttheyareacoupleofincheslong.Atoneend,thehairisfrayedwithslightdifferencesinlength.TheotherendwascutsostraightIcanalmosthearthescissorssnip.
Idonotallowmyselftothinkaboutitanyfurther.IdonotwanttopicturethelookonNaomi’sfacewhensheseesthescissors,donotwanttoimaginethereliefshefeelswhenonlyherhairiscut.
Instead,Ifoldupthepaperaroundthehair,putitintoanewenvelope,anduseaspongetosealtheflap.Idonottakemyglovesoffuntiltheletterisinthemailbox.
AssoonasIdropitin,Ifeelasurgeofadrenaline.
???
WORKSHOULDBEanescape,butisnot.EveryoneistalkingaboutNaomi,aboutOwen,aboutwhereshemightbeheldandifshewilleverbefound.Kekonaisintheclubhouse;shedoesnothavealessonbutisthereanyway,gossipingwithagroupofwomenwhoarealloldenoughtobeNaomi’smother.Themensittingatthebarstareupatthescreen,attheprettymissingwomantheywouldhavelikedtomeet.NooneissayinganythingaboutNaomi’sactivitiesattheLancaster.Shehasbecomeeveryone’sdaughter,sister,thegirlnextdoor.
Itisscaryhowfastthishashappened.
Theotherswerenotlikethis—especiallynotHolly.Nooneeverlookedforher,becauseshewasneverreportedmissing.
MillicentandImadethatdecisiontogether.WeneverdiscusseditafterHollywasgone;itneveroccurredtome.Iwastoobusythinkingaboutnotgettingcaughttowonderwhatcamenext.Dayslater,Millicent’smothercalled.HerAlzheimer’shadnotadvancedtothepointwhereshe’dforgottenhowmanydaughtersshehad.WenevertoldherHollyhadbeenreleased,butsheknewanyway.Shehadcalledthehospital.
Thatevening,wehadourfirstdatenight.We’dneverhadonebefore.Weusedtomakefunofthetermrightupuntilitbecameuseful.
WhenItoldMillicenthermotherhadcalled,theexpressiononherfacedidnotchange.Dinnerhadjustended,thekidswerewatchingTV,andwewerestillatthetable.Veggie-burgerpattiespiledwithtomatoesandorganiccheese,sweet-potatofriesandsalad.Iwasstillpickingatthefries,dippingtheminthespicypseudomayonnaise.
“Ithoughtthiswouldhappen,”shesaid.
Iglancedbehindme,makingsurethekidswerenotaround.Inthosedays,Ijumpedatmyownshadow.Iwasnotusedtobreakingthelaw,muchlesskillinganyone,soeverylittlesoundmeantweweregettingcaught.Eachday,itfeltlikeIhadagedayear.
“Weshouldn’ttalkaboutthishere,”Isaid.
“Ofcourse.Later,whenthekidsareasleep.”
Eventhatmademenervous.“Weshouldgooutside.Orinthegarage.Wecansitinthecarorsomething.”
“Perfect.It’sadate.”
Ourfirstdatenighttookplaceaftereleven-year-oldRoryandten-year-oldJennawereasleep.Millicentleftthedoortothehousecracked,justincasetheyneededus.
IassumedwewouldtellhermotherwehadnotseenHolly.Iwaswrong.
“Wecan’ttellherthatshe’smissing,”Millicentsaid.“They’lllookforher.”
“Butshewon’tfind—”
“No,shewon’t.Butshewon’tstoplookinguntilshecan’trememberto.”
“Sowelietoyourmother?WetellherHollyishereandshe’sfine?”
Sheshookherhead.Millicentwasstaringatthedashboard,lostinthought.Finally,shesaid,“There’snowayaroundit.”
Iwaited,afraidIwouldsoundstupidagain.
WhenMillicentsaidshewantedtopretendHollywasstillalive,Irememberthinkingitwouldnotwork.Afterallwehaddone,andafterallwehadapparentlygottenawaywith,thiswasthethingthatwouldruinus.Wehadnotthoughtitthroughproperly.Weneverevendiscussedit.
“Itwon’twork,”Isaid.“Eventually,she’llwanttotalktoher,seeher.They’llcomedownortrytogetholdofher…”Irambledon,listingallthereasonsthiscouldnotwork.WecouldnotclaimtobetheonlypeoplewhosaworspoketoHolly.
“IthinkHollywantstogetaway,”Millicentsaid.“Probablybecauseofme,becauseIremindherofwhatshedidandwhyshewasputaway.”
Istartedtogetit.“Ifitwereme,andifIwantedafreshstart,Imightevenleavethecountry.”
“Iwoulddefinitelyleavethecountry,”shesaid.
“Wouldyousendyourmotherane-mail?”
“Aletter.Alongone,lettingmymotherknowthatI’mfine,thatIjustneedsometimetofigureitallout.”
ShesenttheletteralmostaweekafterHollydied.HollysaidshewasgoingtoEuropetoheal,tofindherself,tomakeherownwayintheworld,butshewouldcheckinregularly.Hermotherresponded,sayingsheunderstood.Sheevenincludedapicture.Itcamefrommyphone,whenItookapictureofHollyinfrontofthekids’school.TheletterthencamefullcirclewhensheshowedittoMillicentduringavisit.
Whenmymother-in-lawpassedaway,shenolongerrememberedeitherofherdaughters.
Thirty
IFIRSTSEETHEreportonmyphone,whilesittinginmycaroutsideacoffeeshop.Iaminbetweenhomeandwork,onmywaybacktoclubafterdroppingthekidsoffafterschool,andIstoppedtogetacupofcoffee.Thebreaking-newsalertonmyphonegoesoff.
OWENMAKESCONTACTAGAIN
Inthevideo,JoshtalksaboutthelatestnotefromOwen.Forthefirsttimeinawhile,hedoesnotlooktired.Heisstandingoutsidethepolicestation.Hischeeksareflushedpink,andhiseyesarewidefromexcitement,notcaffeine.Afterspendingaweekwatchingthepolicecheckemptyreststopsandabandonedsheds,helookslikeanewman.
Apictureoftheletterflashesonthescreen.Owen’snameisclearlyvisible.
“ThisnotewasnottheonlythingIreceivedfromthemanwhoclaimstobeOwenOliverRiley.Wrappedupinsidethispieceofpaperwasalockofhair.Wedon’tknowwhoitbelongsto.Wedon’tevenknowifthehairbelongstoamanorawoman.DNAtestingisgoingonaswespeak,butassoonasweknowanythingmore,wewillbringittoyoufirst.”
JoshbringsinayoungwomanwhosayssheisafriendofNaomi’s,thoughagainhepointsoutthatwedonotknowwhathappenedtoNaomi.Thefrienddoesnotlookfamiliar;IdonotrememberseeingherwithNaomiinreallifeoronline.Thiswomanhasanasallyvoicethatgrates,anditfeelslikeIamlockedinmycarwithher.SheclaimsthatNaomiis“sweetbutnotcutesy,agreatfriendbutalsoindependent,smartbutnotaknow-it-all,”andIhavenoideawhatanyofthatmeans.
Shestepsoutofview.ThecamerapansovertoJoshandthenwidens.Amanisstandingnexttohim.Heisabigman,withamustachethatmakeshimlooklikeawalrus.JoshsaysheisanassistantmanagerattheLancasterHotelandheworkedwithNaomi.JoshdoesnotaskhimtodescribeNaomiinoneword,buthedoes.
“IfIhadtodescribeNaomiinoneword,itwouldbe‘kind.’Shewaskindtoeveryone,alltheguestsandallofhercoworkers.Alwayswillingtohelp.Ifaguestneededsomethingupinhisroomandroomservicewasbusy,shevolunteered.Ifsomeonewassick,shewouldcoverforthem.Neveraskedforanything.Notfromme,anyway.Can’tspeakforeveryone.”
Aknockonmycarwindowmakesmejump.
Trista.
Iseeher,andthereflectionofher,ontheglass.ThelasttimeIsawher,shewasdruggedintoanearcoma.Aspromised,InevertoldAndy.
Tristaissmiling,motioningformetorolldownmywindow.WhenIdo,sheleansintokissmeonthecheek.Herapricot-coloredlipstickfeelssticky.
“Well,heythere,”Isay.
Shelaughs.Itmakesherlookyounger,andsodoesthedaisy-printvisoronherhead.“Sorry.I’minagoodmood.”
“Icanseethat.”Igetoutofthecarandfaceher.Trista’seyesareclear,herpupilsnottoobigortoosmall.Herskinisafaintshadeofpink,likeshespentyesterdayonthebeach.“Youlookgreat.”
“Iamgreat.”
Reliefhits,makingmerealizehowstressedI’vebeenabouther.“I’msohappytohearthat.I’vebeenworriedaboutyou.”
“IleftAndy,”shesays.
“Lefthimwhere?”Ilookbehindher,thinkingheisinthecoffeeshop.Really
“No,Imeanwearen’ttogetheranymore.”
Icannothidemyshock.AndyandTristamarriednotlongafterMillicentandIdid.Weattendedtheirwedding.Neitherhaseverhintedattrouble,nottomeandnottoMillicent.Shewouldhavesaidsomething.
“Hedidn’ttellyou?”Tristasays.
“No.”
“Well,Ididit.Ilefthim.”
IwanttotellherI’msorryhermarriagehasbrokenup,becauseIam.Becausetheyaremyfriends.ButshelookssohappyIdon’tsayaword.
Tristarollshereyes.“It’sokay.Youdon’thavetosayanything.Butyouknowwhat?Ineverreallylovedhim.NotthewayyouloveMillicent.”Shesmiles,notembarrassedatall.“It’strue.ImarriedAndybecausehetickedalltheboxes.Thatsoundshorrible,doesn’tit?Goahead,youcansayit.I’mhorrible.”
“Ineversaidyouwerehorrible.”
“Butyou’rethinkingit.Youhaveto—you’reAndy’sfriend.”
“I’myourfriend,too.”
Sheshrugs.“Thelessonshavetostop.Iamsorryaboutthat,butIcan’tcometotheclubwithAndythere.”
“Igetit.”
“Youreallyhelpedme,youknow,”shesays.“Thatdaywetalkedhelpedsorteverythingout.”
Thetalkhelpedmeaswell.BecauseofTrista,IknewthingsaboutOwenIwouldnothaveotherwiseknownandwasabletowriteaconvincinglettertoJosh.Butthisisnotwhatshemeans.
“Ididn’tdoanything,”Isay.MaybetoconvincemyselfIdidnotbreakupmyfriend’smarriage.
“Ifyouhadn’tlistenedlikethat,IwouldneverhavegoneonandonaboutOwen.Noonewantstohearallthat.Theyjustwanthimtobeamonster.”
“Isn’the?”
Shethinksaboutthiswhilesuckingonherstraw.“Yes.Andno.RememberItoldyouthatsexwithOwenwasgood?Notgreatbutgood?”
Inod.
“Lie.Itwasgreat.Itwasfantastic,actually.Owenwas,hewas…”Hervoicedriftsoff.Shestaresoutovertheparkinglotoutsidethecoffeeshop,lostinamemoryIcannotsee.Itfeelsawkwardtojuststareather,butitwouldbeevenmoreawkwardtospeak,soIdon’t.
“Ilovedhim,”shesays.
“Owen?”
Shenodsandthenshakesherhead.“Thatsoundsterrible.Idon’tmeanI’mgoingtorunoffandbewithhimoranything.NotthatIwouldknowwheretofindhim.Ohgod,thatdidn’tcomeoutright.”Shethrowsupherhands,givingupontheexplanation.“I’msorry.Thisisweird.”
“No,it’s…”Icannotthinkofanotherword.
“Weird.”
Ishrug.“Okay,it’sweird.”Andhorrible.
“Lovingamonsterisn’tbad?”
“Youdidn’tknowwhenyoufellinlovewithhim,didyou?”
“No.”
“Andyoudidn’tfallinlovewithhimbecausehewasamonster,didyou?”
Nowsheshrugs.Smiles.“HowwouldIknow?”
Ihavenoanswer.
Thirty-one
ACHURCHCALLEDtheFellowshipofHopehasbecomeagatheringplaceforanyonewhowantstotalkaboutNaomi,prayforher,orlightacandle.Itbeganwithherfriendsandcoworkers,perhapsstartedbythatwalrus-lookingguyorthenasallygirl,andnowithasexpandedtothewidercommunity.
Ihavenotbeeninsidethechurch,butIhavestoppedbyonmywayhomefromworkandwatchedthepeoplegoinandout.Somestayawhile;others,justafewminutes.Irecognizeafewofthemfromtheclub,andIbetnoneofthemhadmetNaomi.Thesearenotthepeoplewhohangoutwithhoteldeskclerks.
WordgetsbacktoMillicent,perhapsthroughoneofherclients,andshedecidesourfamilyshouldgotothechurchonFriday.
Thatevening,weareallinarush.Igethomelatefromalessonandjumpintheshower.Rorywenttoafriend’shouseafterschool,butheforgotthetime,andMillicentdrivesovertopickhimup.Jennaisgettingreadyinherroom.Wehavenotimefordinnerathome,sowe’llgooutafterourvisittothechurch.Millicentstartsagrouptextaboutwhichrestaurantwewillgoto.RorywantsItalian,MillicentwantsMexican,andIdonotcare.
Whenthecarpullsintothegarage,IcalluptoJenna.
“Let’shitit,”Isay.JennaalwaystellsmeIsoundlikesuchadadwhenIsaythat.
Now,shesaysnothing.
“Jenna?”
Whenshedoesn’tanswerthesecondtime,Igoupstairsandknockonherdoor.Shekeepsasmallwhiteboardonthedoor.Itisdecoratedwithrainbow-coloredribbons,andthewordsNo,Roryarewritteninherbubblyhandwriting.
Downstairs,thedoortothegarageopensandMillicentcallsout.“Ready?”
“Almost,”Isayandknockonthedooragain.
Jennadoesnotanswer.
“What’sgoingon?”Millicentsays.
Thedoorisunlocked.Iopenitafewinches.“Jenna?Areyouokay?”
“Yeah.”Atinysound.Itcomesfromthebathroom.
Inourhome,noonehasjustabedroom.Wehavesuites,withabathroomattached.Fourbedrooms,fourandhalfbaths—thisishowallhomesarebuiltinHiddenOaks.
“Comeon!”Roryyells.
Millicentiswalkingupthestairs.
IcrossJenna’sbedroom,throughthechildhoodtoysandtheclothes,shoes,andmakeupofablossomingteenager.Thedoortothebathroomisopen.JustasIlookinside,MillicentappearsinthehallwayoutsideJenna’sroom.
“Whatisgoingon?”shesays.
Jennastandsonthewhitetilefloorwithherfeetsurroundedbylocksofdarkhair.Shelooksatme,andhereyesseemlargerthanever.Jennahascutoffallherhair.Shorndowntothescalp,nomorethananinchlong.
Behindme,Millicentgasps.Sherushespastme,toJenna,andholdsherheadwithbothhands.“Whathaveyoudone?”shesays.
Jennastaresback,unblinking.
Isaynothing,thoughIknowtheanswer.IknowwhatJennahasdone.Therealizationmakesmefreeze;mybodyrootsitselfrightintothepersimmon-coloredrugonJenna’sfloor.
“Whatthe…”Roryisintheroomnow,staringathissister,atthehaironthebathroomfloor.
Jennaturnstomeandsays,“Nowhewon’ttakeme,willhe?”
“Jesus,”Rorysays.
NotJesus.
Owen.
???
WEDONOTgotochurch.Wedonotgooutatall.
“Adoctor,”Millicentsays.“Ourdaughterneedsadoctor.”
“Iknowadoctor,”Isay.“Heisaclient.”
“Callhim.No,wait.Maybeweshouldn’tuseoneofyourclients?Maybewedon’twantthemtoknow?”
“Knowwhat?”
“Thatourdaughterneedshelp.”
Westareateachother,havingnoideawhattodo.Surrealdoesnotcoverit.
Thisisanewproblemforus.Ananswerforeverythingcanbefoundinchild-rearingbooks.Millicenthasthemall.Physicallysick,gotodoctor.Notfeelingwell,gotobed.Fakingit,gotoschool.Problemwithanotherchild,calltheirparents.Throwingatantrum,givethematime-out.
Notthisproblem,though.Thebooksdonotsaywhatdotowhenyourchildisafraidofaserialkiller.Especiallynotonelikethis.
Weareinourbedroom,ourvoiceslow.Jennaisdownstairsonthecouch,watchingTVwithabaseballcaponherhead.Roryiswithher.Wehavetoldhimnottolethissisteroutofhissight.Wealsotoldhimnottomakefun.Foronce,hedoesaswesay.
Millicentdecidestocallourfamilydoctor.Dr.Barrowisnotaclient.Heisjustafamilypractitionerwehavebeenseeingforyears.Hetreatsoursorethroatsandtummyaches,checksforbrokenbonesandconcussions,butIdonotthinkhecanbehelpfulinthissituation.Heisamucholdermanwhomayormaynotbelievementalhealthisarealthing.
“It’slate,”IsaytoMillicent.“Hewon’tanswer.”
“Theservicewillcallhim.There’salwaysawaytogetholdofadoctor.”
“Maybeweshould—”
“I’mgoingtocall,”shesays.“Wehavetodosomething.”
“Yes.Isupposewedo.”
Millicentgivesmealookasshepicksupthephone.ItisrarewhenIcannotdecipherwhatherlookmeans,butthisisoneofthosetimes.IfIhadtoguess,Iwouldsayitlooksabitlikepanic.
IgodownstairstocheckonJenna.BothsheandRoryareonthecouch.TheyarewatchingTVwhileeatingsandwicheswithpotatochipsstuffedbetweenthebread.Jennalooksupatme.Ismileather,tryingtoconveythateverythingisfine,thatsheisfine,thattheworldisfineandnoonewillhurther.Shelooksawayandtakesanotherbiteofhersandwich.
Ihavefailedtoconveyanything.
Backupstairs,Millicentisonthephone.Hervoiceistoocalm,tooeven,assheexplainstoanansweringservicethat,yes,thisisanemergencyand,yes,shedoesneedtospeakwithDr.Barrowtonight.Shehangsup,waitsfiveminutes,andtriesagain.
Dr.Barrowfinallycallsback.Millicentsoundsrushedassheexplainswhathashappened,whatourdaughterhasdone.Shecannotgetthewordsoutfastenough.
Thisisacrisisforher,forus,forourfamily.Mypartisinbetween.
Jenna,theoneincrisis.
Millicent,theonedoingsomethingaboutit.
Rory,theonestayingoutoftheway.Outofthelineoffire.
Me,theonerunningupanddownthestairs,checkingoneveryoneanddecidingonnothing.Iaminthemiddleagain.
Thirty-two
DR.BARROWRECOMMENDSachildpsychologist,whoagreestomeetusonSaturdayfortwicehisusualfee.Everythinginhisofficeisbeige,fromcarpettoceiling,anditfeelslikeweareinabowlofoatmeal.
Thepsychologistspecializesinthiskindofthing,becauseitisarealthing,andhesaysJennadoesnotfeelsafe.Hesuspectsshehassomekindofmedia-inducedanxietydisorder,althoughtherealnameisirrelevant.Soarethereasonssheisactingout,whichdonotmatter,becausetheydonotmakesense.Reasonhasnoplacehere.
“YoucanexplainthatJennaissafeuntilsherepeatsitinhersleep,butitwon’tmakeadifference.”
Millicentsitsinfrontofthedoctor,ascloseaspossible.ShespentthenightinJenna’sroom,barelyslept,andshelookslikehell.Ilookaboutthesame.Jennasleptfinelastnight.Cuttingoffherhairseemedtobringherpeace.WhenItrytotellthedoctorthis,heholdsuphishand.
“False.”
“False,”Isay.Itrytomimichistone,butthearroganceistoomuch.
“Thepeaceislikelytemporary,untilsomeotherpieceofnewssetsheroffagain,”hesays.HehasspentthelasthourwithJenna,partoftheemergencySaturdaymorningsessionarrangedbyDr.Barrow.Wearethesecondpart.
“Whatdowedo?”Millicentsays.
HehassomeideasforhowtomakeJennafeelsafe.First,twice-weeklyappointmentsinhisoffice.Theyare$200apiece,noinsuranceaccepted,cashordebitcardonly.Second,doeverythingyousayyouwilldo.NeverletJennadown.Neverletherthinkyouwillnotbethereforher.
“Butwedon’t,”Isay.“Wealways—”
“Always?”hesays.
“Atleastninetypercentofthetime,”Millicentsays.“Maybeninety-five.”
“Makeitahundred.”
Millicentnods,asifshecanwaveamagicwandandthiswillhappen.
“Lastbutcertainlynotleast,”hesays.“Getherawayfromthemedia—fromthisserialkiller,fromallthestoriesabouthisvictim.IrealizeI’maskingtheimpossible,especiallyinthisdayandage,buttrytodoitasmuchaspossible.Don’twatchthenewsathome.Don’tdiscussOwenoranythingabouthim.Trytoactasifhehasnothingtodowithyourfamily.”
“Hedoesn’t,”Isay.
“Ofcoursenot.”
Wewritethedoctorabigcheckandleave.Jennaisinthewaitingroom.TheTVonthewallisshowingcartoons.Sheisstaringatherphone.
Millicentfrowns.
Ismileandtrymybest.“Whowantsbreakfast?”
???
THEWEEKENDISaflurryofmeetings:withthewholefamily,withJennaalone,withRoryalone,withboththekids,andwithjustMillicent.SomanymeetingswithMillicent.BySundayevening,wehaveanewsetofrules,andtheyrevolvearoundeliminatingthenewsfromourlives.Allnewsprogramsarebanned,asarenewspapers.WewillstreammoviesandavoidliveTVasmuchaspossible.Noliveradio.AlloftheseareeasycomparedtotheInternet.Thekidsuseitforschool,forfun,forcommunication.
Millicenttriesanyway,beginningwiththepassword.Noonewillbeabletoconnectunlessshedoesitherself.
Mutiny.
“ThenIcan’tlivehere.”Rorygoesforbrokewithhisopeningstatement.
Jennanods,agreeingwithherbrother.Araremomentofsolidarity.
Iagreewiththekids.Millicenthasproposedsomethingthatisimpractical,unworkable.Absurd.
ButIsaynothing.
Rorylooksfrommetohismother,sensingweakness.Helistsallthereasonsthepasswordideawillnotwork,beginningwithMillicent’slonghours.
Jennafinallypipesup.“I’llfailEnglish.”
Thatdoesit.
Englishhasbeendifficultforherthisyear.Shehasworkedtwiceashardatittostayonthehonorroll,andtheideaofJennafallingoffitchangesMillicent’smind.Shedowngradestoalessersetofrules.
Parentalcontrols,laptopsmovedtothefamilyroom,allnewsappsremovedfromphones.Psychologicalratherthanpractical,butweallgetthepoint.IhavenoideaifJennawillfollowthenewrules.
Ahairdressertriestoshapewhat’sleftofJenna’shair.Nowthatit’seven,itdoesnotlookbad—justdifferent.Millicentbuysallsortsofhatsandcapsincaseshewantstocoverup.Shelaysthemalloutonthediningroomtable,andJennawalksthelengthofit,tryingoneachone.Attheend,sheshrugs.
“They’renice,”shesays.
“Doyouhaveafavorite?”Millicentasks.
Jennashrugsagain.“I’mnotsureIneedahat.”
Millicent’sshouldersslumpalittle.SheismoreconcernedaboutJenna’shairthanJennais.“Okay,”shesays,gatheringupthehats.“I’lljustleavetheminyourroom.”
Beforebedtime,IgoseeRory.Heisonhisbedreadingacomicbook.Heslidesitunderapillow,andIpretendnottoseeit.
“What,”hesays.Irritationeverywhere.
Isitdownathisdesk.Books,notebooks,emptychargers.Afullbagofchips,andadrawingofsomethingthatlookshalfmonsterandhalfhero.“It’snotfair,”Isay.“Noneofthisisyourfault,butyouhavetolivewithitanyway.”
“Takeonefortheteam.Gotit.”
“Whatdoyouthink?”Isay.
“Aboutwhat?”
“Yoursister.”
Hestartstosaysomething.Icantellbythosegreeneyesthatheisgoingtobeasmart-ass.
Buthestops.Pauses.“Idon’tknow,”hesays.“She’sbeenalittleobsessedwiththisthing.”
“Owen.”
“Yeah.Like,moreobsessedthanusual.Youknowhowshegets.”
HeisreferringtoJenna’sabilitytolaser-focusonatopic,whetheritbesoccerorribbonsorponies.Rorycallsitobsessionbecausehedoesn’thaveit.
“How’sshebeenatschool?”Isay.
“Fine,asfarasIcantell.Stillpopular.”
“Canyouletmeknowifanythingchanges?”
Hethinks,perhapsaboutaskingforsomethinginreturn.“Yeah,”hesays.
“Anddon’tbetoomuchofanassholetoher.”
“Butthat’smyjob.I’mherbrother.”Roryissmiling.
“Iknow.Justdon’tbesogoodatit.”
???
MILLICENTANDIarefinallyalonelateSundaynight.Iamexhausted.Worried.IdreadthenextstoryaboutOwenorNaomiorLindsay.
Naomi.Forthefirsttimeintwodays,itoccurstomethatMillicenthasnotleftourside.ShehasbeenwithJenna,me,us,sinceFridaynight.ItmakesmewonderwhereNaomiis,ifsheisstillalive.Shemusthavewater.Shewouldnotsurvivewithoutthat.
IneverwantedtothinkaboutwhereNaomiwas,howshewasrestrained,whathersurroundingswerelike.Iforcedmyselfnottothinkaboutit.Still,theimagescome.TheonesIhaveheardabout,theundergroundbunkerorbasement,thesoundproofroominanotherwisenormalhome.Restraints—Ithinkabouttheseaswell.Chainsandcuffs,madeofsteelsotheycannotbebroken.
Butitmaynotbelikethat.Maybesheisjustlockedinaroomandfreetoroamaround.Itcouldbelikearegularroomwithabed,adresser,abathroom,maybearefrigerator.Comfortableandclean.Notachamberofhorrorsortortureoranyofthosethings.MaybesheevenhasaTV.
Ornot.
IturntoMillicent,whoissittingupinbed,onhertablet,researchingchildrenwhoareafraidofwhattheyhearonTV.
Again,IthinkaboutaskingheraboutNaomi.IwanttoknowwhereandhowMillicentiskeepingher,butIamafraidofwhatImightdowiththatinformation.
Idon’tthinkIcouldcontrolmyself.
IfIknowwheresheis,Iwillgotoseeher.Iwillhaveto.Whatifit’stheworst-casescenario?Whatifsheischainedtoaradiatorinabasementsomewhere,coveredindirtandbleedingfromtorture?Becauseifthat’swhatIsee,I’mnotsurewhatIwoulddo.
IfIwouldkillher.IfIwouldlethergo.
SoIdonotask.
Thirty-three
BRINGINGOWENbackhasserveditspurpose.NoonedoubtsheistheonewhokidnappedandkilledLindsay,theonewhonowhasNaomi.Nowit’stimeforhimtofadeaway.Theonlywayistostopthenews:Nomoreletters,nomorelocksofhair.Nomoremissingwomen.Nomorebodies.
Weneedanexitstrategy.Jennaneedsit.
Attheclub,theyarestilltalkingaboutOwen.Irefuse.Igetoutoftheclubhouse,awayfromthegossip,evenawayfromKekona.Westillhavetwolessonsaweek,butsheisattheclubeveryday.Ispendthewholedayonthecourt,eitherwithaclientorwaitingforthenextone.Afterthepastfewweeks,andthepastweekend,thedayisalmosttoonormal.Somethinghastobreakitup.
IhavealessonwithacouplewhohaslivedinHiddenOakssinceitsinception.Theyareslowtomove,butthefactthattheycanmoveatallissayingsomething.
Whenwearedone,thethreeofuswalkuptotheproshoptogether.Iwanttogetacoffeeandgetalookatmyschedulefortheweek.Theshortestroutetotheproshopisthroughtheclubhouse,whichiswhereIseeAndy.
IhavenotseenhimsincebeforeTristalefthim.Backthen,helookedlikealways:pauncharoundthemiddle,thinninghair,ruddycomplexionfromallthatwine
Now,helooksallwrong.Heisleaningupagainstthebar,wearingsweatpantsthatlookahundredyearsold.HiscottonHiddenOaksshirtisbrand-new,stillcreasedinthefolds,asifhejustboughtitfromtheproshopandputiton.Heisclean-shaven,buthishairlooksunkempt.Thedrinkinhishandisbrownandpure—nomixer,noice.
Iwalkuptohimbecausehe’smyfriend.OrhewasuntilIstartedhidingthingsfromhim.
“Hey,”Isay.
Heturnstomebutdoesn’tlookhappy.“Well,ifitisn’tthepro.Thetennispro,Imean.Unlessyou’resomeotherkindofpro.”
“What’sup?”
“Oh,Ithinkyouknowwhat’sup.”
Ishakemyhead.Shrug.ActlikeIhavenoideawhat’sgoingon.“Youokay?”
“No,notreally.Butmaybeyoushouldaskmywifeaboutthat.Youknowherprettywell,right?”
Beforehehasachancetosayanythingelse,Itakehimbythearm.“Let’sgogetsomeair,”Isay.Thankfully,hedoesnotprotest.Hedoesnotsayanythingthatcouldgetmeintroubleatwork.
Wewalkthroughtheclubhouseandoutthefrontdoor.Westandinanarchedwalkway.Ivycrawlsupandaroundanddowntheotherside.Inonedirection,theproshop.Theparkinglotisintheother.
IstopandfaceAndy.“Look,Idon’tknow—”
“Areyousleepingwithmywife?”
“Jesus.No.”
Hestaresatme,unsure.
“Andy,I’dneversleepwithyourwife.Never.”
Hisshouldersslumpalittleastheangerleaveshim.Hebelievesme.“Butshe’sinlovewithsomeoneelse.”
“It’snotme.”Ihavenointentionoftellinghimwhoitis.
“Butyouseeherallthetime.Twiceaweek,right?Shedoestaketennislessonsfromyou?”
“Forafewyearsnow.Youknowthat.Butshenevermentionedhavinganaffair.”
Andynarrowshiseyesatme.“Isthatthetruth?”
“Howlonghaveweknowneachother?”
“Sincewewerekids.”
“AndyouthinkI’dbemoreloyaltoTristathantoyou?”
Andythrowsuphishands.“Idon’tknow.Shewasreallyupsetaboutthosemissinggirls.Shewon’twatchthenewsanymore.”Helooksdownandscuffshisfootagainstthefauxcobblestone.“Youswearyoudon’tknowanything?”
“Iswear.”
“Allright.Sorry,”hesays.
“It’sokay.Youwanttograbsomelunchorsomething?”Idonotmentiongettingadrink.
“Notrightnow.I’mgoingtogohome.”
“Yousure?”
Henodsandwalksaway.Andydoesnotgobackintotheclubhouse;hegoestowardtheparkinglot.Istarttotellhimhecannotdrive,butIdon’t.Thevaletswillstophim.Liabilityandwhatnot.
???
MYLESSONSCONTINUE.Thereisnonews.Nocalls,nofurtherdisruptions.NotuntilIleaveworkandstopatthecarwashonthewayhome.
Inormallycheckmyphone—thedisposable—atleasteveryotherday,butIbrokemyownrule.Toomuchgoingon,toomanyotherthingstodealwith.
Thephoneishiddeninsidethesparetireinmytrunk.Atthecarwash,Itakeeverythingoutofthebacksoitcanbevacuumed,grabbingthephonealongwitheverythingelse.Asthecargoesthroughthewash,Iturnonthephone.Thenew-messagebeepstartlesme.Boththesoundandthephoneareold-fashioned.It’snotevenasmartphone,justaprepaidphonethatisheavierthanitlooks.
Iboughtitatadiscountstoreyearsago.Ittookmeawhiletodecide.Notonthephoneitself—backthenalltheprepaidslookedthesame.Ittookmeawhiletodecidetogetoneinthefirstplace.Anicesaleswomancamealongandaskedifshecouldhelp.Shelookedtoooldtoknowalotaboutelectronics,butitturnedoutshekneweverything.Andshewassopatient,sokind,andIaskedonequestionafteranother.Theanswersdidnotmatter.Ididnotcareaboutthetechnicaldetails.IwastryingtodecideifIwantedasecondphone,thedisposablekind,andIthinkIendedupwithonebecauseatsomepointitwouldhavebeenrudenottobuysomething.Ihadtakenuptoomuchofhertime.
Ihavehadthisthingeversince.Annabelleisjustthelatestentry.
Ihavenotthoughtabouthersincedecidingshewouldnotbetheone.TherehasbeennoreasontothinkaboutAnnabelle,notuntilshecalled.Ortexted,Imean.Itdoesnotdoanygoodtocalladeafman.
Heystranger,let’shaveadrinkagainsoon.Oh,andit’sAnnabelle?
Ihavenoideawhenshesentthemessage.ItdoesnotarriveonmyphoneuntilIturniton,butshecouldhavesentitaweekago.AtleastaweekhaspassedsinceIcheckedit.
Iconsideransweringthetext,atleasttosayIwasnotignoringheronpurpose
Mycarisstillbeingwashed,soIscrollbackwardonthephone.BeforethetextfromAnnabelle,thereistheonetextfromLindsay.TheoneIignored.Itisnowfifteenmonthsold.
Hadagreattimetheotherday,Tobias.Seeyousoon!
Tobias.Hewasneversupposedtohaveapersonalityofhisown.Andhewasn’tsupposedtosleepwithanyone.
MillicentandIcameupwithhimtogether.ItwasonararecoldnightinFlorida,wherethetemperaturesdippedbelowfortydegrees.Betweenhotcocoaandapintoficecream,Tobiaswasborn.
“Youcan’treallychangehowyoulook,”shetoldme.“Imean,notwithoutsomekindofwigorpaste-onbeard.”
“I’mnotwearingawig.”
“Sothenyouneedsomethingelse.”
IwastheonewhosuggestedpretendingIwasdeaf.Justafewdaysbefore,Ihadtaughtateenagekidwhowasdeafandweusedcellphonestocommunicate.Itstuckwithme,soIsuggestedit.
“Brilliant,”Millicentsaid.ShekissedmejustthewayIlikeit.
Next,wediscussedmyname.Ithadtobememorablebutnotweird,traditionalbutnotcommon.Itcamedowntotwo:TobiasandQuentin.Iwantedthelatterbecauseofthenickname.QuintwasbetterthanToby.
Wedebatedtheprosandconsbothnames.Millicentevenpulleduptheoriginsofthem.
“TobiascomesfromtheHebrewnameTobiah,”shesaid,readingfromtheInternet.“QuentincomesfromtheRomannameQuintus.”
Ishrugged.Neitheroriginmeantanythingtome.
Millicentcontinued.“QuentinisfromtheRomanwordfor‘fifth.’Tobiasisabiblicalname.”
“WhatdidhedointheBible?”
“Hangon.”Millicentclickedandscrolledandsaid,“HeslayedademontosaveSarahandthenhemarriedher.”
“IwanttobeTobias,”Isaid.
“Areyousure?”
“Whodoesn’twanttobethehero?”
Thatnight,Tobiaswasborn.
Notmanypeoplehavemethim—justafewbartendersandafewwomen.NotevenMillicenthasmethim.Tobiasisalmostlikemyalterego.Heevenhashisownsecrets.
IdonotanswerAnnabelle’stextaskingmeoutforadrink.Ishutoffthephoneandputitbackinmytrunk.
Thirty-four
CHRISTMAS,SIXYEARSago.Rorywaseight,Jennawasseven,andbothhadstartedaskingwhytheyhadonlyonesetofgrandparents.Ihadnevertalkedaboutmyparents,neversaidanythingaboutwhotheywereorhowtheydied.TheirquestionsmademethinkaboutwhatIcouldsay.WhatIshouldsay.
Onenight,Iwentdowntothekitchen,hopingthatifIfilledupmystomachitwouldmakemesleepyenoughtogetpasttheinsomnia.Iateleftoverblackbeancasserolerightoutofthepan.Cold,butnothalf-bad.IwasstilleatingwhenMillicentcameintothekitchen.Shegrabbedaforkandsatdownwithme.
“What’sgoingon?”shesaid.Millicenttookabigbiteofthecasseroleandstaredatme,waiting.Inevergotupinthemiddleofthenighttoeat.Sheknewthat.
“Thekidsareaskingaboutmyparents.”
Millicentraisedhereyebrows,saidnothing.
“IfIlieandtellthemtheirgrandparentswerewonderful,they’llhatemeiftheyfindoutthetruth,right?”
“Probably.”
“Buttheymighthatemeanyway.”
“Forawhile,”shesaid.“Ithinkallkidsgothroughastagewhereeverythingwillbeourfault.”
“Howlongdoesitlast?”
Sheshrugs.“Twentyyears?”
“Ihopethingsareprettyquietduringthattime.”
Ismiled.Shesmiled.
Icouldtellthemmyparentsabusedme.Mentally.Physically.Evensexually.Icouldsaytheybeatme,tiedmeup,burnedmewithcigarettebutts,andmademewalktoschoolandbackuphillbothways.Theydidnot.Igrewupinanicehomeinanicearea,andnoonetouchedmethewrongway.Myparentswererefined,politepeople,whocouldrecitemannersintheirsleep.
Theywerealsohorrible,coldpeople,whoshouldnothavebecomeparents.Theyshouldhavebeensmartenoughtoknowababycouldn’tfixanything.
ThefinalstrawcamewhenIwentoverseas.WhenItoldthemIwantedtotakeabreakfromcollegeandtravel,theygavemesomemoney.Iboughtanopen-endedticketandalargebackpack,anddrankafewdozenshots.Andyandtwootherfriendsdecidedtojoinme,sowemadeahaphazardplanandsetadate.Ididnottellthem,ortellanyone,thatIwasafraid.
Afewhoursbeforetheflight,Iwasstillpacking,stilltryingtodecidewhichT-shirtstobringorifIneededaheavyjacket.Excited,yes.IwasdyingtogetoutofHiddenOaks.Dyingtogetawayfrommychildhoodbedroom,wherethewallswerepaintedtolooklikeIwasinthesky,surroundedbystars.Iwastiredofdreamingaboutwhatelsewasoutthere,andwantedtoseeitformyself.
Ialsohadnoideawhatwouldhappen.Ihadalreadyfailedattennis,thenagainatgettingintoagoodcollege.Middle-of-the-roadtennisplayer,middle-of-the-roadgrades.WhatwouldhappenifIwasmiddle-of-the-roadwhileontheroad?Noidea.ButithadtobebetterthanfeelinglikeIshouldneverhavebeenborn.
I’dhopedIwouldneverreturnandneverseethosesky-paintedwallsagain.
Myparentsdidnotdrivemetotheairport.Acabpickedmeup,becauseIwastooembarrassedtoaskforaridefrommyfriendsandtheirparents.ItwasaWednesdaymorning,myflightwasearly,anddawnhadjuststartedtobreak.Mymotherwithhercoffeecup,myfatheralreadydressed—allofusstoodinthefoyer,ontheshinytile,surroundedbymirrors.Thevaseonthecentertablewasfilledwithorangechrysanthemums.Therisingsunhitthecrystalchandelieraboveus,makingarainbowonthestairway.
Thecabhonked.Mymotherkissedmeonthecheek.Myfathershookmyhand.
“Dad,Iwant—”
“Goodluck,”hesaid.
IcouldnotrememberwhatIwasgoingtosay,soIleft.ItwasthelasttimeIsawthem.
???
INTHEEND,Ididn’tlietothekids.Isaidtheirgrandparentsdiedinafreakcaraccidentandhadbeengoneformanyyears.
Ididnottellthemeverything,butitwasclose.ThatwasbecauseofMillicent.Together,wedecidedhowmuchtosay.Tomakeitasofficialaspossible,wecalledafamilymeeting.RoryandJennaweresoyoung.Maybeitwasn’tfair,butwediditanyway.
Wesatinthelivingroom.Jennawasalreadyinheryellowpajamaswiththeballoonsalloverthem.Shelovedballoons,andRorylovedtopopthem.Jenna’sdarkhairwascuttothechin,andshehadbangsstraightacrossherforehead.Herdarkeyespeekedoutfromunderthem.
RorywaswearingablueT-shirtandsweatpants.Whenhe’dturnedseven,hehaddeclaredhimselftoooldforpajamas.MillicentandIdecidedwecouldlivewiththat,andshestoppedbuyingthem.
Itwashardtolookattheirtiny,trustingfacesandtellthemthatsometimespeoplearebetteroffnothavingkids.
“Noteveryoneshouldbeaparent,”Isaid.“Justlikenoteveryoneisnice.”
Jennawasthefirsttospeak.“Ialreadyknowaboutstrangers.”
“Noteveryoneinyourfamilyisnice.Orwasnice.”
Scrunched-upfaces.Confusion.
Ispokefortenminutes.Thatwasallittooktotellmychildrentheirgrandparentswerenotgoodparents.
TheironyofwhatIhaddonehitmeyearslater,afterHollyandtheothers.Someday,RoryandJennamighthaveatalkwiththeirkidsandsaythesamethingaboutMillicentandme.
Thirty-five
IHADASSUMEDTHEDNAtestingonthelockofNaomi’shairwouldtakelongerthanaweek.PerhapsbecauseitwasalwayssofastonTV,Ifiguredthattheirtimingmustbefake.ThatrealDNAtestingmusttakemonths.Andapparentlyitdoes,butnotforthepreliminarytests.Andnotwhenthepolicearetryingtofindawomanwhomaystillbealive.
Thetestsindicatethereismorethana99percentchancethehairbelongstoNaomi.
Kekonaistheonewhotellsmeallofthis.Ourregulartennislessonbecomesaclassinforensics,becausehernewhobbyistrue-crimeTVanddocumentaries.Missingand/ordeadwomenarecommonontheseshows.
“Alwaysyoung,beautiful,andbasicallyinnocent,”shesays,tickingoffthequalitiesonebyone.Shehasacupofcoffeewithher,andIdonotthinkitisherfirst.“Althoughoccasionallytheyhaveacaseaboutaprostitute,asacautionarytale.”
“Thenwhat?”Iask.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imean,afterthisyoung,beautifulandbasicallyinnocentwomangoesmissing,whathappens?”
Kekonaholdsupbothherhands,asifsheistryingtoquietaloudaudience.“Optionone—theboyfriend,becausehe’sjealousandpossessive.Ortheex-boyfriend,becausehe’sjealousandpossessive.”
“Wasthatalloneoption?”
“Yes.Payattention.Optiontwoisthestranger,ormostlikelyastranger.Thisisthepsycho/stalker/sociopath/mentallyill/serialkilleroption.Atleastoneofthem,maybemore.”
Kekonaisnottellingmeanythingnew.IwatchTV,too.Butnotthepastdayorso,becausethenewsisstillbannedinourhouse.ImissedJosh’sreportabouttheDNAresults,andImakeamentalnotetolookituponline.
“Possibleoutcomes?”KekonasaysthisasifI’daskedaboutthem.Ihadnot.“Death.Rapeanddeath.Tortureandrapeanddeath.”
Notmuchtosaytothat.
“Occasionally,onelives,”shesays.
“Butnotoften.”
Kekonashakesherhead.“Noteveninfiction.”
Wegobacktoplayingtennis.Eventually,Ihaveanotherquestionforher.“Whydoyouthinkit’ssopopular?Themissing-womanstory?”
“Becausewhocanresistadamselindistress?”
???
THENEWSBANinourhousehasalwaysbeenalittlefake,becauseallofushavetheInternetonourphones.EveryoneknowstheDNAresults.Afterdinner,Millicentbringsmeintothegarage.Animpromptudatenight.
ShewantstodiscusstheresultswithJenna.It’sbeenlessthanaweeksincethehairincident,butJennahasseemedfinesincethen.Evenhappy.Millicentisworriedaboutarelapse.Intowhat,Iamnotsure.IamstartingtothinkJennaisbeingproactive,notparanoid.Becausewhowantstobeabductedbyapsycho/stalker/sociopath/serialkiller?Notmydaughter.
Aswesitinthecar,Millicentdescribesherplanforhowweshouldapproachthetopic.Wedonotwanttoupsether,butwedonotwanttoignorethenews.WedonotwanttotalkdowntoJenna,butwecannotbeherfriend.Wewanttodiscussbutnotlecture,tocomfortbutnotbaby.Millicentkeepsusingthewordwe,asifthisplanisours,nothers.
“Howisshe?”Isay.
“Rightnow,sheseemsfine.Butlastweeksheseemedfine,andthen—”
“I’mnottalkingaboutJenna.”
Shetiltsherhead,confused.Annoyed.Then,clarity.
“We’retalkingaboutJenna,”shesays.
“Isshestillalive?”
“Yes.”
Iwanttotakethatquestionback.IwanttosaysomethingthatmakesMillicentlaugh,thatmakesmyadrenalinesurge,thatmakesusbothfeelgood.
Mymindisblank.
Westareateachother,hereyessodarktheylooklikeholes.IstareuntilIhavetoeitherstoporaskwhereNaomiis.
Ilookaway.
Millicentexhales.
Ifollowherbackintothehouse.Inthefamilyroom,wesitdownonthecouch,whereJennaandRoryarewatchingTV.Roryisthefirsttonoticethatwearelookingatthem,nottheTV.Hedoesnotstickaroundforthetalk.
Itgoeswell,Ithink.Jennalistensandnodsandsmiles.WhenMillicentasksifshehasanyquestions,Jennashakesherhead.WhenIaskhowshefeels,shesaysfine.
“Areyouscared?”Millicentsays.
Jennareachesupandtoucheshershorthair.“No.”
“Owenwon’thurtyou.”
“Iknow.”
Theirritatedtoneisreassuring.Shesoundsnormalandlooksnormal,exceptforherhair.
???
LATER,MILLICENTandIareinourroom.Sheisorganizing,walkingbackandforthbetweenthebedroomandthecloset,puttingsomethingsawayandtakingoutothers.Shefixeseverythingbeforebedsothemorningsareeasier.Franticisnotherthing.Norisbeinglate.
Iwatch.Herredhairisloose,messy,andshekeepsbrushingitbackwithonehand.Shewearsthermals,thenubbyold-fashionedkind,andstripedsocks.Hernighttimeclothesaretheleast-fashionablethingabouther,andIhavetoldherhowdorkytheyare.ButIdonotsaythattonight.Instead,IgodownthehallandcheckonJenna.
Sheisasleep,nestledbetweentheorangesheetsunderthewhitecomforter.Herfaceisrelaxed,peaceful.Notafraid.
Backinourroom,Millicenthasjustgottenintobed,andIgetinbesideher.Shelooksatme,andIthinksheisgoingtomentionourearliertalkinthegarage.Instead,sheturnsoutthelight,likeitmeantnothing.
Iwaituntilherbreathingslows,thengetupandcheckonJennaagain.
ThesecondtimeIgetup,Idonotbothergoingbacktobed.Throughoutthenight,Icheckonherthreemoretimes.Duringthehoursinbetween,IwatchTV.Aroundtwointhemorning,Idozeoffwhilewatchinganoldmovie.WhenIwakeup,IseeOwen’sface.AdocumentaryabouthimisonTV.
SeveraloftheseshowshavebeenmadewithvaryinglevelsofdetailaboutOwen’scrimes.Ihavemanagedtoavoidthem,justasIavoidedreadingaboutwhatOwendidtohisvictims.Thistime,Icannot,becauseIwakeupatexactlythewrongtime.JustasIseeOwen’sfaceonthescreen,theshowcutsaway.ThenextthingIseeistheroomwherehekepteachoneofhisvictims.
ThevideohadbeenmadeforOwen’strial,whichneverhappened.Itisfifteenyearsoldandfilmedwithahandheldcamerathatshakestoomuch.Owenhadguttedanabandonedreststop,knockingdownthewallbetweenthemen’sandwomen’srestrooms.Thetiledfloorsmighthavebeenwhitebutnowwereagreyishbrown.Onetoiletremained,alongwithasink,amattress,andatable.Pipesranupanddownthecutoutwalls;theystarteddeepinthegroundandranacrosstheceiling,downtheotherside,andbackintothecementfloor.Theyweretheperfectsizeforhandcuffs.Apairisstillattachedtooneofthepipes.
Thevideojerksandzoomsinonthefloor.Thebloodwasnotvisibleinthewiderangle.Now,Iseeasmatteringofbloodhere,afewdropsthere.Theredspotsareeverywhere,asifsomeonehadflungabrushofredpaintatthefloor.Thecameramovesacrossthefloor,intoacorner.Alargeramountofbloodissmearedonthewall.Itisdownlow,inchesfromtheground,asifwhoeverwasbleedinghadbeencroucheddown.
Theanglemovesagain,towardthemattress.IimagineNaomilyingonit.
Ichangethechannel.
Thirty-six
TWODAYSPASSbeforeIhearaboutTrista.Millicentistheonewhotellsme.
ItisSaturdayevening.Roryisupstairs,andJennaisstayingoveratafriend’shouse.Assoonastheyareoutofsight,Iflopdownonthecouchandputmyfeetonthetable.Thisisnotallowed—notformeorthekids—butwhenMillicentsitsdownnexttome,shedoesnotmentionit.
Thismakesmeremovemyfeetwithoutbeingasked.Itisthatweird.“What’swrong?”Isay.
Sheputsherhandonmine,andnowI’mworried.Panicked,even.“Millicent,just—”
“It’sTrista,”shesays.
“Trista?”
“Hersistercalledmeearlier.Andyistooupsettotalktoanyone.”
“Hersister?Whywouldher—”
“Shecommittedsuicide.”
Ishakemyheadasifmyearsaren’tworking.Asifshedidn’tjustsayTristakilledherself.
“I’msosorry,”Millicentsays.
Irealizethisisreal,anditknocksthewindoutofme.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Fromwhatshesaid,neitherdoesanyoneelse.EspeciallyAndy.”
“How?”Isay.
“Shehungherselfontheshowerrod.”
“Ohgod.”
“Iknewtheywerehavingproblems,butIhadnoideashewassoupset.”
Millicenthasnoideawhattherealreasonis,becauseInevertoldheraboutTrista,nevermentionedshehaddatedOwen.Andwasstillinlovewithhim.
Mydinnerfeelslikeitisburningaholeinmystomach.Iruntothebathroomandthrowitallup.Millicentisatthedoor,askingifIamokay.Isayyesevenasthedryheavingstarts.
Toomuchfood,Itellher.
Shereachesdownandchecksmyforehead;itisnotwarm.Isitdownontheflooragainstthewallandwavemyhand,lettingherknowIamfine.
Shewalksaway.Iclosemyeyes,listeningtoherinthekitchen,rummagingthroughtherefrigerator.Huntingforwhatevermademesick.
Iwanttotellheritisus.Wehaveadaughterwhobroughtaknifetoschoolandhascutoffallherhair.Nowawomanisdead.NotNaomi,adifferentwoman.
BecauseofOwen.Becauseofme.IwrotethoseletterstoJosh.
Millicentrunsbackintothebathroomwithabottleofthepinkmedicine.
Ichugitdownandgetsickalloveragain.
???
THEFUNERALSERVICEisheldatAlton’sFuneralParlor,thesameplaceLindsay’swasheld.Ididnotattendhersbutreadaboutit.Lindsayhadaclosedcasket,becauseofwhatMillicenthaddonetoher.Tristahasanopencasket.
Andyisstillherhusband,andhearrangedeverything.Theroomislarge,andeverychairisfilled.IthinkTristawouldhavebeenpleasedtoknowherfuneralisstandingroomonly.Everyoneishere,dressedintheirfinestblackclothing,eithertopaytheirrespectsortogawk.IamherebecauseIamresponsible.
Millicentiswithme,thoughshestillhasnoideawhyTristakilledherself.Neitherdoesanyoneelse.Fordays,peopleattheclubhavetalkedaboutthebreakupofhermarriage,depression,moneyproblems.Atanygivenmoment,shecouldbeadrugaddict,analcoholic,anymphomaniac.Shewaspregnant,orhadbeen,butlostthebaby.Maybeshewasdyinganyway,aterminaldiseaseorabraintumor
Nooneseemedtoremember,orevenknow,shehaddatedOwenOliverRileysometwentyyearsago.
Hersisterisattheservice.Sheisaheavier,brunetteversionofTrista.ShesaysTristausedtotakecareofherwhiletheirparentsworked;shefixeddinneranddidtheirlaundry.
“Wegrewupontheothersideoftown.Shedidn’talwaysliveinHiddenOaks.”
Itsoundslikeaninsult.Trista’syoungersisterstilllivesontheothersideoftown.
ShedoesnotmentionAndy.
NextisoneofTrista’smorerecentfriends.SheisasthinandblondasTristawas,andshetellsalongstoryabouthowTristawasalwayswillingtolisten,help,andpitchinwhenevershecould.
ThelastonetospeakisAndy.HehascuthishairsincethelasttimeIsawhim,andheiswearingadarksuitinsteadofsweatpants.HetalksabouthowhemetTrista.Shewasanunpaidinternatamuseum,stilllookingforajobthatusedherarthistorydegree.Hewasthereattendingabenefit,andtheirpathscrossedinfrontofasculpture.Shetoldhimallaboutit.
“Iwasenchanted.Byher,bythewayshespokeandwhatshesaid,andeventhetoneofhervoice.Ican’tthinkofabetterword.Tristawassimplyenchanting.”
Andybreaksdownashesaysthis.Firsttears,thensobs.
Noonemoves.
Ilookaway.Thismakesmefeelsickalloveragain.
Andy’sbrotherwalksuptohimandwhispersinhisear.Andytakesadeepbreathandcollectshimself.Hekeepstalking.Idonotlisten.Iamthinkingaboutthatword.
Enchanting.
Whenheisdone,wehaveachancetowalkbythecoffin,tosayourfinalgoodbyestoTrista.Justabouteveryonedoes.Onlyafewhangback.MillicentandIdonot.
Thecoffinismadeofwoodsodarkitisalmostblack,andtheinteriorispalepeach.Itisnotasbadasitsounds.ThecolorcomplementsTrista’sblondhairandthatapricotlipstick.Shelookedgoodinthatcolor,andIamgladsomeoneknewtoputitonher.
Butheroutfitistheopposite.Itisasoliddarkbluewithlongsleeves.Asinglestrandofpearlshangsfromherneck,andshehaspearlstudsinherears.NoneofthislookslikeTrista.Itlookslikesomeoneboughttheoutfityesterday,becausetheythoughtsheshouldbeburiedinsomethingdignifiedinsteadofsomethingshewouldhaveliked.
Itupsetsme,unnaturallyso.IdonotliketothinkofTristaspendingeternityinanoutfitshehates.Ihopesheisnotlookingdownonthisfuneral.
“Shelooksbeautiful,”Millicentsays.
IfIcouldsaysomethingtoTrista,IwouldtellherIamsorry.Sorryfortheclothes,foraskingheraboutOwen,forbringingOwenback.
IwouldalsotellherthatAndyisright.Shewasenchanting.IknowthisbecauseIunderstandexactlywhatAndymeant.
Millicentisenchanting.ThisisexactlyasIwoulddescribeher.ShewasenchantingwhenImether,andsheisenchantingnow.AndifshediedandIhadtospeakatherfuneralservice,IwouldbejustlikeAndy.IfIhadtodescribehowenchantingshewas,atthesametimeknowingIwouldneverbewithheragain,Iwouldshakemyfistatthesky.Oratwhoeverhadruinedeverything.
InAndy’scase,itwouldbeme.Hisfriend.
Thirty-seven
THEMANONTVisoverweightandunhealthy-looking,half-deadinhisfifties.Hehasasoft,roundgut,thebeginningofjowls,andsprigsofgreyhairaroundhishead.Iknowthetype.Myclientsarelikehim,orusedtobe.
JoshisinterviewinghiminfrontoftheLancasterHotel.Thismanisthefirsttosay,oreveninsinuate,thatNaomiwasanythingotherthanthegirlnextdooreveryonesaysshewas.
“I’mnotsayingshedidsomethingwrong,”hesays.“Ijustthinkifwe’regoingtofindher,wehavetobehonestaboutwhoshewas.”
HewasafrequentguestattheLancasterandcametotowntwiceamonthforwork.HehadspokentoNaomiseveraltimes,aswellastosomeoftheotherregulars.“Let’sjustsayshedidn’talwayskeepthingsbusinesslikewithsomeoftheguests.”
“Canyouelaborateonthat?”Joshsays.
“Idon’tthinkIreallyneedtodothat.Peoplearesmartenoughtofigureitoutontheirown.”
ThisisthefirsttimeanyonementionsNaomi’sextracurricularactivities.Itisnotthelast.
Othercoworkerscomeforward,claimingtoknowthetruthaboutNaomi.Shesleptwithanumberofmen.Somewereguestsatthehotel.Noonementionedmoney,justsex.Shewasnotaprostitute.Naomiwasatwenty-seven-year-oldwomanwho’dhadsexwithmorethanonehotelguest.
Thefirstofherloverstocomeforwarddoesnotrevealhisidentity.OnTV,heappearsasasilhouette,andhisvoiceisgarbled.
“WereyoueveraguestattheLancasterHotel?”
“Yes,Iwas.”
“AnddidyouknowafrontdeskclerknamedNaomi?”
“Idid.”
“Anddidyouhavesexwithher?”
“IamashamedtosaythatIdid.”
HegoesontosaythatNaomiwastheaggressor.Sheistheonewhocameafterhim.
Anothermancomesforward.Andanother.Moreshadows,moregarbles.Allremainanonymous.NoneofthemenwhosleptwithNaomiwillrevealthemselves.Itisnotbecausetheyaremarried,becauseatleasttwoareidentifiedassingleordivorced.Theyjustdonotwanttoadmitthattheywereoneofhermen.
Orherconquests.SomeoneonTVcallsthemthat.
Attheclub,thetalkstartstochange.Peoplestopsayingitisatravestyandashame.SomeevenstopsayingOwenisamonster.Instead,peoplestartaskinghowNaomicouldhavepreventedit.Howshecouldhaveavoidedbeingavictim.
Kekonaisoneofthem.ThestoriesaboutNaomiconfirmherbeliefthattroublecomestopeoplewholookforit.Andinhermind,sexcountsastrouble.
OnTV,theywillnotstoptalkingaboutNaomi’spersonallife.Joshisfrontandcenteronthestory;everyonewhocomesforwardgoestohimfirst.ThemoreIwatch,themoremesmerizedIbecome.Naomiisonepersonandthenanotherintheblinkofaneye.
ThefirsttimeIhaveachancetodiscussitwithMillicentisafterweattendJenna’slatestappointmentwithherpsychologist.Wetakeherbacktoschool,whereshejoinsherfriendstodecoratethegymforanupcomingfund-raiser.Millicentthentakesmebacktotheclub,wheremycarisparked.Sheturnsontheradioandthenewsblastsoutofit.Theannouncersaysthatyetanotherman,whoremainsunnamedliketheothers,hasclaimedhesleptwithNaomiwhilestayingattheLancaster.Thatmakesseven.
“Fantastic,”Millicentsays.
“Fantastic?”
“Aslongasthey’retalkingabouther,orOwen,wedon’thaveanythingtoworryabout.”
IwanttobringupJennaandhowthismightbeaffectingher.WhileIwouldlikenothingmorethanformydaughtertobeavirginfortherestofherlife,evenIcanadmitthatisnothealthy.
Millicentreachesoverandsqueezesmyhand.“Youwererighttoswitch.Annabellewouldn’thavebeenthesame.”
Thisistrue.Italsomakesmesqueezeherhandback.
???
IGOUPTOJenna’sroomtosaygoodnight.Sheislyingonherbed,readinganactualbook,becauseherlaptopisdownstairs.Herhairisatinybitlongernow,anditisstartingtolookquitestylish,Ithink.Shelooksatmeoverthetopofthebook,askingwithoutaskingwhatIwant.
Isitdownontheedgeofherbed.
“Youwanttotalk,don’tyou?”shesays.
“You’regettingtoosmartforme.”
Jennanarrowshereyes.“Whyareyouflatteringme?”
“See?Toosmart.”
Shesetsdownherbookwithasigh.Itmakesmefeelstupid,whichisprettycommonwhenIamaroundmychildren.
“Howareyou?”Isay.
“Fine.”
“Seriously.Talktome.”
Sheshrugs.“I’mokay.”
“Doyoulikethedoctor?”
“Iguess.”
“You’renotstillscaredofOwen,areyou?”
Anothershrug.
Forthepastfewweeks,ourconversationshavebeenlikethis.Theyusedtobedifferent.Jennausedtotellmeaboutallherfriendsandteachers—whatthisonedidorwhatthatonesaid.ShewouldbabbleonforeverifIlether.
Ievenknewaboutherfirstcrush.HesatinfrontofherinEnglish,whichwaspartofwhyEnglishhadbecomehermostdifficultsubject.
Now,shewillnotsayanything,andit’sbecauseofthepsychologist.Ithinksheistiredoftalking.
Ileandownandkissherontheforehead.AsIdo,somethingflickersinthecornerofmyeye.Betweenthebedandthenightstand,underneaththemattress,somethingisstickingout.Irecognizeitfromourkitchen.
Mydaughterhastakenanotherkitchenknifeandhiddenitunderhermattress.
Idonotsayanything.
Instead,Isaygoodnightandleave,closingthedoorwithoutasound.AsIwalkdownthehall,IpassbyRory’sroomandhearhimonthephone.Iamabouttogoinandtellhimtogotosleep,butthenIhearhimtalkingaboutNaomi.
It’simpossibletokeepthenewsblockedoutofthehouse.
Thirty-eight
IHAVEKEPTAfewthingsfromMillicent.Likethebroken-downtruckfromsomanyyearsago.AndTrista.IdidnottellherTristahaddatedOwenOliverRiley.NevermentionedthatwaswhysheleftAndy,whyshecommittedsuicide.
Petra.ItwouldbesillynowtomentionPetra,thewomanwhosuspectedIwasnotdeaf.Noreasontobringherup.
AndRory.IhavenotmentionedRory’sblackmail,becausethatwouldleadbacktoPetra.
ThenthereisCrystal.
Millicentneverwantedanyhelpatthehouse;shedidnottrustthatanyonewouldcleanthewayshewanted,nordidshewantanyoneraisingherkids.Theonlytimewedidhiresomeone,itwastocarpoolthekidstoandfromschoolandtotheirvariousactivities.Thatwasafewyearsago,whenMillicentandIwerebothsobusyatworkwejustcouldnotgettoeverythingwithoutsomehelp.
ThiswasalsorightafterHollywaskilled.Beforetherest.
Crystalwastheonewehiredtohelpdrivethekidsaround.Shewasaniceyoungwomanwhowasalwaysontimeandgoodwiththekids.SheworkedforusuntilMillicentdecidedwedidn’tneedheranymore.
Butbeforethat,shekissedme.
ItwaswhenMillicentwasinMiamiforaconferencewithacoworkernamedCooper.Ineverlikedhim.
ForthethreedaysMillicentwasgone,Crystalwasaroundmorethanusual.Shepickedthekidsupfromschoolandmadedinnerforthematthehouse.Oneafternoon,wefoundourselvesalone,andthat’swhenithappened.
Atlunchtime,Iwenthometoeat,andshewasthere,alone,becausethekidswereatschool.Shemadeusacoupleofsandwiches,andweatetogetherwhilechattingaboutherfamily.Nothingexciting,nothingoutoftheordinary.Nothingthatmademethinkshewasflirting.Afterwefinishedeating,webumpedintoeachasIwenttotherefrigeratorandsheheadedforsink.
Shedidnotpullaway.
NeitherdidI,tobehonest.MaybeIwantedtoseewhatshewoulddo.
Shekissedme.
Ipulledaway.Atthatpoint,IhadnevercheatedonMillicent.Iwasn’teventhinkingaboutit.IwasthinkingaboutMillicentinMiamiwithhermalecoworker
BeforeIhadachancetosayanythingtoCrystal,sheapologizedandlefttheroom.Idon’tthinkwewereeveraloneagain.
IconsideredtellingMillicentrightuptothemomentIpickedherupattheOrlandoairport.Idecidednottotaketherisk.
IamthinkingaboutthisbecauseIdon’tthinkI’mtheonlyonenotbeingtotallytruthful.IthinkMillicenthasbeenlyingtome.TheideacametomewhenJennagotsick.Ihadjustarrivedhomefromwork,andIwaslate;weweresupposedtogotoapartythrownbyanassociationofmortgagebrokers.Millicentwasrushingaround,tryingtogetready,Rorywasplayingvideogames,andJennawasthrowingupinthebathroom.
Millicentwenttothepartyalonethatnight.IstayedhomewithJenna.
WehavetakenJennatothedoctoraboutherstomachoncebefore.OurfamilydoctorsaysIworrytoomuch.Kidsgetupsetstomachsallthetime,hesays.Butnowshehasthemmoreoften,herstomachproblemshavegottenworsesinceOwenwasbroughtbacktolife.Thismakesmethinkherfearofhimisnotgettingbetter.Itismakingherphysicallysick.
Ipulledupacalendaronmyphoneandtriedtofigureouthowoftenshewasgettingsick.OneofthefirsttimesithappenedwasthenightwewerewithLindsay,whenI’dleftMillicentalonewithhertogobewithJenna.
EversinceLindsay’sbodywasfound,I’vewonderedaboutthatnight,aboutwhatwouldhavehappenedifJennahadnotbeensick.WouldwehavegoneaheadandkilledLindsaythatnight?OrwouldMillicenthavetoldmeshewantedtokeepLindsayalive?
Andwhendidshetakecareofher?Whenshewassupposedtobeatwork?HowdidshesellallthosehousesandstillkeepLindsayaliveforayear?
ToomanyquestionsIcannotanswer.Ihavesecrets.Whywouldn’tshe?
???
MYFIRSTIDEAwasstupid.IthoughtIcouldfollowMillicenttofindoutwhatsheisdoing,maybewheresheiskeepingNaomi.ButassoonasIthinkoffollowingMillicent,Irealizewhyitisimpossible.Sheknowsmycartoowell;sheknowsmylicenseplate.Shewouldspotmeinasecond.
Plus,Ihavetowork.Myjobisflexible,notoptional.
ButIdon’thavetofollowher,becausetechnologycandoitforme.FiveminutesofresearchontheInternettellsmethisworksexactlylikeinthemovies.IbuyaGPStrackerwithamagneticcase,pressthepowerbutton,andstickitonthebottomofhercar.AllIhavetodoislogintotheapponmyphonetoseewherehercaris.Theappalsorecordstheaddresseswhereshestops,soIdonothavetofollowitinrealtime.Thewholesetupisunbelievablycheap,evenwiththefeeforreal-timeinformation.Spyingonsomeonehasneverbeensimpler.
Imakeitsoundeasy,andtechnicallyitis,buttherealcostistomypsyche.Andmymarriage.
EvenafterIbuythedevice,Idon’tputitonrightaway.Itstaysinthetrunkofmycar,burningaholeinthebackofmymind.Idonotwanttoblowupmymarriageandmyfamily,whichiswhatwillhappenifMillicentfindsoutIamspyingonher.
Idonotwanttodoit,butIwanttoknowwhatsheisdoing.
WhenIgethomefromwork,Millicentisalreadyhomeandhercarisinthegarage.Ittakesonlyasecondtoattachit.
Laterintheevening,itoccurstomethatmaybethereisawayforhertoknowthereisatrackeronhercar.Alltechnologyhascountertechnology—atleastIassumeitdoes—soIspendanhouronmyphone,lookingupallthewaysMillicentcouldfindoutwhatIhavedone.AndIamright;shecanfindout.Butfirstshewouldhavetosuspectsheisbeingtracked.
Ilookoverather.SheissittingwithRoryatthediningroomtable,andtheyaremakingflashcardsforhishistoryclass.Hehasneverbeenagreatstudent,because,ashisteacherssay,hedoesnotapplyhimself.Millicentagrees,andafewtimesaweekshehelpshimdojustthat.Nophones,nodistractions,nothingbuthishomeworkandhismother.NotevenIinterruptwhenMillicentisworkingwithRory.
Afterafewminutes,shefeelsmestaringather.Sheglancesupandwinksatme.Iwinkback.
Laterthatnight,Iremovethetrackerfromhercar.
Thenextmorning,Iputitbackon.
Thirty-nine
WHENIWATCHsomeoneinperson,itfeelsintimate.Theyhavenoideatheyarebeingwatched,sotheyarenotguardedorself-conscious.Igettoknowhowtheywalkandmove,theirlittleticsandgestures.Sometimes,Icaneventellwhattheywilldonext.
Usingatrackerismuchdifferent,becauseIamnotwatchingMillicent.Iamwatchingabluedotmovearoundamap.
Theapptellsmewhereshegoes—theaddress,latitudeandlongitude.Iknowhowlongshestays,howfastshedrives,exactlyhowsheparks.Theappspitsoutchartsandgraphsthattellmehowmuchtimeshespendsdriving,heraveragespeed,andtheaveragetimeateachlocation.ItrytopictureMillicentbehindthewheel,dressedupforwork,perhapstalkingonthephoneorlisteningtomusic.IwonderifshedoessomethingIdon’tknowabout.Maybeshesingswhensheisalone.Ortalkstoherself.Ihaveneverseenherdoeitherone,butshemustdosomething.Everyonedoeswhentheyarealone.
Onthefirstday,shedropsthekidsoffatschoolandgoestotheoffice.Sheworksforarealestateagencybutdoesnotspendmuchtimesittingatadesk.Afterthat,shedrivestoLarkCircle,toaresidentialaddressinHiddenOaks.Overthenexteightorninehours,shegoestoelevenhouses,allofwhichareforsale.Icheckthemall.Shepicksupthekids,stopsatthestore,driveshome.
Thesurpriseiswhereshestoppedtoeatlunch.Insteadofhavingasaladorasandwichorevenfastfood,Millicentwenttoanice-creamparlor.
Fortherestoftheafternoon,Iwonderifshegotaconeoracup.
Ourdinnerisroastturkeywithchorizoandsweetpotatoes.Roryglossesoverthegradeonhishistoryquizbytellinganexcitingstoryaboutakidwhowascaughtsmokingandmadearunforitbeforeanyonecouldidentifyhim.Jennahadheardthesamestory,butafriendofafriendsaidtheguywastheviceprincipal’ssonandthatwaswhyheran
“False,”Rorysays.“Iheardit’sChet.”
Jennaturnsuphernose.“He’sajerk.”
“ChetAllison?”Millicentsays.“IsoldtheAllisonstheirhouse.”
“No.ChetMadigan.”
“YouhavetwoChetsatschool?”shesays.
“Three,”Jennasays.
Thereisalullintheconversation.IpondertheabundanceofChetswhilesneakingalookatMillicent’splate.Shehasathicksliceofturkey,ascoopofchorizo,andatinysweetpotato.Forher,itisanormal-sizedinner.Dessertisfruitandgingersnapcookies.Noicecream.
Allofasudden,Ifindmyselffascinatedbymywife’seatinghabits.Iwonderifherlunchalwaysdetermineswhatweeatfordinner,dessert,orboth.
Iwatchthebluedotagainthenextday.
Millicentdropsoffthekids,butIpickthemup,andduringthattimesheisatahouseintheWillowParkgatedcommunity.Today,shegoestotheoffice,butshedoesnotstopforlunch.Again,shestayswithinasmallradius,concentratedintheareasandsubdivisionswhereshesellsthemosthouses.
Incontrast,thepolicehavewidenedtheirsearch.Atnight,afterMillicentisasleep,Iwatchthenewsonmyphoneinthebathroom,becauseifIgointothegarage,mysonwillthinkIamstillcheatingonhismother.
JoshnowstartshisreportswiththenumberofdaysthathavepassedsinceNaomihasdisappeared.Hecallsit“TheCount,”anditisattwenty-two.Twenty-twodayshavepassedsinceFridaythe13th,andJoshisstillfollowingthepolicearoundtoabandonedbuildings,sheds,andbunkers.Anexpertsaysthisisprobablyfutile,becauseOweniswatchingthenews,andthereforeNaomiwouldnotbekeptinanemptybuilding,shed,orbunker.Besides,awomancanbeheldanywhere.Asingleroom,astoragecontainer.Acloset.
Thereportisoverinjustafewminutes.Itusedtotakeuphalftheeveningnews.Thestoryisstartingtofade,becausenothingnewhashappenedandNaomiisnolongerthegirlnextdoor.Sheistainted.Theviewershavegrownrestless.
AndIhavebecomemesmerizedbythebluedot.Inallmyyearsofmarriage,IhaveneverwonderedhowmuchtimeittakesMillicenttoshowahouse,orhowlongofalunchshetakes,orhowmanyhousesperdayshesees.NowthatIamtrackingher,allofthishasbecomeintriguing.
IchecktheappeverychanceIget.Beforeandaftertennislessons,whenIaminmycar,intheclubhouse,inthelockerroom.ThereisnosignofNaomi.Millicentvisitsnounusualbuildingsorabandonedbusinesses,andthehousesareallonthemarket.Shegoestothestore,totheschool,andtothebankforaclosing.Afterfourdays,IstarttowonderifNaomiisalreadydead.
Asdisturbingasitis,Ithinkthismaybethebest-casescenario.
Ifsheisgone,nevertobeheardfromorfound,Owenmayfadeawaywithher.Whenheisgonefromthenews,itwillbelikehe’dnevercomeback.
Tristawillstillbegone.Nothingcanbedoneaboutthat.ButJennawillstopbeingscared.ShewillstopthinkingaboutOwenOliver.
Then,ayearfromnow,Owenwillbebackonthenews.Theanniversaryoftheeventwillbemarkedwithdocumentaries,specials,anddramaticre-creations,buttherewillbenothingnewtoreport.WewillhearaboutNaomiandthemeninshadowswiththegarbledvoices.
Onceagain,Owenwillfadeaway.Naomiwillgowithhim.
Jennawillbeayearolderandtalkingaboutboys.Herhairwillbelongagain,andshewillnothaveaknifeunderhermattress.
Asthedaysgoon,Istarttothinkitisallhappening.Naomiisnolongeralive,andMillicentisnottorturingher,notvisitingher.Thepolicestillhavenothing.Everything,allthatwehavedone,willjustfadeawayuntileveryoneforgets.
Withasmile,Iwatchthebluedot.Millicentgoeshomeintheafternoon,dropsthekidsoff,andthenheadsbackout.Shestopsatacoffeeshop,andIknowsheisgettingavanillalatte.Maybewithanextrashot,butit’shardtotellfromjustthedotonthemap.
IamsobusywatchingMillicentthatImissthebreakingnews.AwomanclaimsOwenOliverRileyattackedher.
Forty
IFIRSTHEARABOUTthiswomanwhenI’mattheEZ-Go.ATVscreenismountedabovethesodamachine,visibletoeveryoneinthestore,includinginthesecuritymirrors.Thebreaking-newsbanneriseverywhere,butIpaynoattentionuntilJoshisonthescreen.HissaysawomanhascomeforwardtoclaimshewasattackedbyOwenOliverRiley.
Shedoesn’tappearonTV,noteveninshadows.Fornow,sheisjustareportfiledwiththepolice.Thetextappearsonthescreen,andafemalereporterreadsit:
OnTuesdaynight,IbecameOwenOliverRiley’slatestvictim,butbythegraceofGodIgotawayfromhim.Iamahairdresser,andafterworkweallwentacrossthestreetforadrink.Laterthatnight,IwasatabaroutonMercerRoadbutIdecidedtoleave,becauseIhadtoworkthenextday.Thiswasrightaround11p.m.,andIrememberbecausesomeonesaiditandIthoughtIbettergethomesoon,soIdecidedtoleave.Iwasparkedinthebacklot,anditisn’tevendarkbacktherebecauseofthelights,andthemoonwasrealbright—maybeitwasafullmoon,butIdidn’tcheck.Itwaslightenoughtowalkbymyself,soIdid.Honestly,Ididn’teventhinkaboutOwen.Henevercrossedmymind.IwasacouplefeetfrommycarwhenIfeltatug.Feltlikemybaggotcaughtonsomething,thestrap.Itwasn’thard,didn’tscareme.Ijuststoppedandtugged,anditwasdefinitelycaughtonsomething.SoIturnedaround.Hewasjuststandingthere,holdingontothestrapofmybag.That’swhatitwascaughton.Owen’shand.Iknewitwashim,eventhoughhehadacappulleddownsolowitcoveredhalfhisface.Icouldstillseehismouth,though.Hissmile.Everyoneknowsthatsmile—it’salloverthenewsbecausehesmiledinthatoldmugshot,andthat’showIknowitwasdefinitelyhim.Andthat’swhyIletgoofthebagandran.Didn’tgetfarbeforehetackledme.That’swhereIgotallthesescrapes,tryingtogetoutfromunderhim.ButIcouldn’t,becausehewasjustsostrong,andeverytimeItriedtomove,hisgripgottighter.I’monlyalivebecauseofmyphone.Mybrothercalled,andIknewitwashimbecauseofthering.IpersonalizeallmyringsbecauseIliketoknowwho’scalling,right?Mybrother’sringsoundslikeanexplosion,becausethat’skindofwhathe’slike—abigexplosion.Hislifealwaysseemstobeblowingup,andwhenitdoeshecallsme.ButIcan’tcomplainanymore,becausehislifeandthatringiswhyI’mstillhere.TheexplodingsoundwassolouditmadeOwenjump.Hisheadwhippedaround,andIthinkhebelievedsomethinghadreallyblownup.Iscrambledtogetupandranstraightbacktothebar,andhedidn’tfollowme.Idon’tthinkherealizednothingblewup.Maybehestillthinkssomethingdid.
Thatistheendofthestatement,oratleasttheonlypartreadonthenews.Thewordsdisappear,andJoshisback.HeisstandingintheparkinglotbehindthatbaronMercer.Ihaven’tbeentothatbarsinceIwasabouttwenty.Backthen,theywereknownfornotcarding.
Joshlooksserious.Sad.Heisgettingbetter,becausehenolongerlooksexcitedaboutsomethinghorrible.HecallsthewomanwhogotattackedJaneDoe.
“Excuseme.”
Anolderwomanbrushespastme.Iamstillstandingintheconveniencestore,rightnearthesodamachine,staringupatthescreen.Theonlyotherpersonwatchingistheguyattheregister.It’snotJessica,thecashierIusuallysee.Thisguyhasabaldhead,whichshinesunderthefluorescentlights.
Helooksatmeandshakesherhead,asiftosay“Isn’titterrible?Isn’titashame?”
Inodwhilebuyingmyusualcoffeeandabagofbarbecuechips.
???
THISISWHATlivingwithMillicenthasalwaysbeenlike.Lifegoesalonglikeit’ssupposedto,anoccasionalbumpintheroadbutotherwiseafairlysmoothride.Andthensuddenlythegroundopensintoachasmwideenoughtoswalloweverything.Sometimes,what’sinsideisgood,evengreat;sometimesnot.
IthappenedwhenshetoldmeHollywasalive.IthappenedwhenshebashedRobinintheheadwithawaffleiron.AndagainwhensheresurrectedOwen.
Thesearethegiantevents,wherethechasmbecomeswiderthantheearthitself.Notallhavebeenquitethatlarge.Sometimes,thechasmisjustbigenoughtoswallowme,likewhensheleftwiththekidsanddisappearedforeightdaysafterIcamehomedrunk.
Andthentherearethecracks.Whenthegroundopensup,itcausescracks.Somearebiggerthanothers,likeJennahavingaknifeunderhermattress.OrTristakillingherself.Theyarealldifferentsizes—long,short,avarietyofwidths—buttheyoriginatefromthesamechasm.
Thefirstonecrackedopenonourweddingday.
MillicentandIgotmarriedatherparents’houseinafieldsurroundedbycilantro,rosemary,andoregano.Sheworeagauzywhitedressthathungtoherankles,andshehadahomemadewreathonherhead,madeofdaffodilsandlavender.Iworekhakisrolleduptomyanklesandawhitebutton-up,leftuntucked,andbothofuswerebarefoot.Itwasperfect,rightupuntilitwasn’t.
Eightpeopleattendedourwedding.ThethreeguysIwentoverseaswithwerethere,includingAndy.NotTrista.Theyweredatingbutnotmarried,andAndywasn’treadytogiveheranyideas.AbbyandStan,Millicent’sparents,werethere,andsowasafriendofMillicent’sfromhighschool.Thelasttwowereneighbors.
Theceremonywasjustthat:anact,aritual.NeitherMillicentorIwerereligious;weweregoingtogetlegallymarriedthefollowingMondayattheWoodviewCityHall.Inthemeantime,wepretendedtomarry,withMillicent’sfatherplayingtheminister’srole.Stanlookedsoofficialinaplaidshirtbuttonedtotheneckandhisthingreyhairsmootheddownwithgel.Hestoodinfrontoftheirherbfieldswithabookinhishands.NottheBible,justabook,andhealmostsaidtherightwords.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,thisyoungmanwantstomarrymydaughtertoday,andIthinkheneedstoprovehimself.”Stanpretendedtogivemetheevileye.“Somakeitgood.”
Ihadwrittenandrewrittenmyvowsadozentimes,knowingIwouldhavetosaythemoutloud.Theotherpeopledidnotbothermeatall.IwasnervousaboutsayingthemtoMillicent.Itookadeepbreath.
“Millicent,Ican’tpromiseyoutheworld.Ican’tpromiseIwillbuyyouabighouseorafancycaroragiantdiamondring.Ican’tevenpromisewe’llalwayshavefoodonthetable.”
Shestaredatme,unblinking.Inthebrightsun,hereyeslookedlikecrystals.
“Ihopetogiveyouallthosethings,butIhavenoideaifitwillbepossible.Idonotknowwhatwillbeinourfuture,butIdoknowwewillbetogether.That’swhatIcanpromiseyouwithouthesitation,withoutanyfearthatI’dbelying.Iwillalwaysbethereforyou,withyou,nexttoyou.”Ismiledalittle,becauseIsawalittletearinhereye.“Andhopefully,we’llbeabletoeat.”
Eightpeoplelaughed.Millicentnodded.
“Wellthen,”Stansaid,turningtohisdaughter.“Iguessit’syourturn.Convinceusthisisthemanforyou.”
Millicentraisedherhandandpresseditagainstmycheek.Sheleanedin,putherlipsrightnexttomyear,andwhispered.
“Herewego.”
Forty-one
ATDINNER,noonementionsthenewsorJaneDoe.Sheisherewithus,butwedonotacknowledgeher.Instead,wetalkaboutacelebritywhohasgonetorehab.Again.
WetalkaboutafootballgameIdidnotsee.
Wetalkaboutwhattowatchonmovienight.Rorywantstowatchacollege-agedcomedy,andJennaprefersaromcom.
Theonlycurrenteventwediscussisamallshootinginthenextstateover.
“Sicko,”Rorysays.
Jennapointathimwithherfork.“You’retheonewhoplaysshootinggames.”
“Thekeywordbeing‘game.’”
“Butyoulikeit.”
“Shutup.”
“Youshutup.”
“Enough,”Millicentsays.
Silence.
Whendinnerends,theybothgoupstairsandretreattotheirrooms.
MillicentandIstareateachother.Shepointstome,mouthingthewords,“Wasityou?”
SheisaskingifIamtheonewhoattackedJaneDoe.Ishakemyheadandpointtothegarage.
Afterthedishesaredoneandthekidsareasleep,wegooutandsitinthecar.MillicentbringsourleftoverHalloweencandy,andweshareabottleofsparklingwater.Sheiswearingabrightblueshirtwithshortsleeves.Ithinkitisnew,becauseearlierinthedayIwatchedhercarstopatthemall.
“Youhadnothingtodowiththiswoman?”shesays.
“Absolutelynot.Iwouldn’tdosomethinglikethatwithouttellingyou.”AtleastIdon’tthinkIwould.
“Ihopenot.”
“AndIwouldn’tdoanythingtomakeJennamoreafraid.”
Millicentnods.“Ishouldhaveknown.”
“MaybeJaneDoeislying,”Isay.
“Possibly.OrmaybesomerandomguyattackedherandshejustthinksitwasOwen.Wedon’tknowwhatshesaw.”
“There’sathirdoption,”Isay.
“Isthere?”
Iunwrapapieceofchocolate,breakitintwo,andgiveherhalf.“Whatifhe’sreallyback?”
“Owen?”
“Sure.Whatifitwashim?”
“Itwasn’t.”
“Howcanyoubesosure?”
“Becauseitwouldbestupid.Whywouldhecomebackrightwheneveryoneislookingforhim?”
“Goodpoint.”
???
IAMBACKinthebeigeoffice,waitingforJennatofinishwithherpsychologist.ThedoctorcalledafterhearingaboutJaneDoe,sayinghewantedanextrasession.HeisafraidthisnewattackwillmakeJennaregress.Iamnotsureshehasprogressedenoughtoregress,butItakeheranyway.Millicentsayssheisunabletomakeit,soIsitinthewaitingroomandwatchherbluedot.MywifeisatahouseonDannerDrive;itislistedforjustunderhalfamilliondollars.
Thenshedrivestoadeli.
Sometimes,shegoesouttolunchwithclients,butIhaveneverknownhertotakethemtoadeli.
Millicentisjustafewminutesfromthedoctor’soffice,butshedoesnotcomehere.Shegoestoadeli,andsheisstilltherewhentheofficedooropensandJennacomesout.Mydaughterlooksneitherhappynorsad,whichisaboutthesameaswhenshewentin.
ItisherturntowaitwhileIspeaktothedoctor.Dr.Beige.TomeheisalwaysDr.Beige.Thenameisneitherfairnoraccurate,becauseonlyhisofficeisbeige;hispersonalityisnot.Thedoctorisacolorful,arrogantasshole.Ihavenevermetadoctorwhoisnot.
“I’mgladIaskedJennatocomein,”hesays.“Thisnewattackwasquiteasurprise.”
Dr.BeigedoesnotsayJennawassurprised,butit’swhathemeans.Thisishowhegetsaroundthedoctor-patientconfidentiality.“Itcertainlywasasurprise,”Isay.
“Theimportantthingistoletherknownothinghaschanged.Thatshe’ssafe.”
“Sheissafe.”
“Ofcourse.”
Westareateachother.
“Haveyounoticedanychangesinherbehavior?”hesays.“Anykindofchange.”
“Actually,Iwantedtoaskyousomething.Jennahasbeenhavingsomeissueswithherstomach.Nausea.”
“Andthisstartedwhen?”
“Notthatlongago,andit’sbeengettingworse.Isitpossibletheseareconnected?”
“Oh,absolutely.Mentalstresscanabsolutelymanifestintophysicalissues.Hastherebeenanythingelse?”
Ipretendtothinkaboutitandshakemyhead.“No,Idon’tthinkso.”
IwonderifhecantellIamlying.Nooneknowsabouttheknifeunderthebed.
Ourtalkisoverwhenmyphonevibrates.Millicent.
SorryIcouldn’tmakeit,howdiditgo?
Herbluedotisjustleavingthedeli.
Jennaisinthewaitingroom,doodlinginanotebookwhilewatchingadaytimetalkshow.Hershorthairmakeshereyeslookhuge,andsheiswearingalongT-shirtwithherjeansandsneakers.Itellherwearegoingtogrababitebeforepickingupherbrother.Shesmiles.
Joe’sDeliisaseven-minutedrivebymywatch.WhenIpullintotheparkinglot,Millicentislonggone.Thedelihasseenbetterdays,perhapsbecauseofthelocation.Joe’sisintheolderpartoftown,whichhasbeenlosingthebattleagainstthenewerandshinierside.
Inside,itisbrightenoughtoseethescratchesonthecounteranddisplaycase.Themeats,cheeses,andpremadesaladslookalittlewarped.Wearetheonlyonesinthedeli,anditissilentuntilJennaspinsthedisplayofpotatochips,whichcreaks,perhapsfromrust.Awomanappears,asifshehadbeensittingdownandsuddenlystoodup.Sheisplumpandblondandlookstired,butwhenshesmilesherwholefacelightsup.
“WelcometoJoe’s,”shesays.“I’mDenise.”
“Nicetomeetyou,Denise,”Isay.“We’veneverbeenherebefore.What’syourspecialty?”
Sheholdsupafinger,tellingmetowait,anddisappearsbehindthecounter.Herhandslipsintooneoftheglasscasesandshegrabsaplatterofslicedmeat.Shesetsitdowninfrontofus.“Sugarspiceturkey.Alittleheat,alittlesweet.Nottoomuchofeither.”
IlookatJenna.
“Cool,”shesays.
Wegettwosandwiches,hersonseven-grain,andmineonakaiserroll,bothdressedwithonlylettuceandtomato.“Youhavetobeabletotastetheturkey,”saysthewoman.
Joe’sDelihasanoutdoorpatioontheside,notvisiblefromthefrontparkinglot.Afewtablesarescatteredwithinawalled-inarea;itiscleanandneat,butwithoutanycharacter.Afteraminute,itdoesnotmatter,becausetheturkeyisthatgood.EvenJennaiseating.
“Didyoufindthisplaceonline?”Jennasays.
“No.Why?”
“Seemslikesomethingyou’ddo.Searchforweirdsandwichplaces.”
“It’snotweird.It’sgood.”
“Momwouldhateit,”shesays.“It’snotorganic.”
“Don’ttellherwecamehere.”
“Youwantmetolie?”
Iignorethat.“Whatdoyouthinkaboutyourdoctor?Doeshehelp?”
Sheshrugs.“Iguess.”
“Areyoustillscared?”
Jennapoints.Throughthesidedoorofthedeli,shehasaviewoftheTVabovetheglasscounter.Theblondwomanissittingonachairneartheregister,watchingthenews.TheheadlinesaysthatJaneDoewillholdapressconferencetomorrownight.
Forty-two
MILLICENTANDIarestandingintheemptyparkinglotoftheFerndaleMall.Theonlysoundcomesfromthehighwaybehindus.ItisFridaynight,andJennaisataslumberpartywhileRoryisspendingthenightwithafriendplayingvideogames.
JaneDoe’spressconferenceendedanhourago.MillicentandIwatcheditatapopularrestaurantandsportsbarattachedtothemall.Thepressconferencewasbroadcastoneveryscreen.ThelatesttwistinourserialkillerdramabecameaFridaynightsocial,completewithchickenwingsandbeer.Wewatcheditwithanothercouple,theRhineharts,whobelievedeverywordJaneDoesaid.
Millicentisleaningagainstthecar,armsfoldedoverherchest,astrayhairblowinginthebreeze.Shealwayswearssomethingappropriatefortheoccasion,evenforthisseriousoccasionatasportsbar.HerblackjeansarepairedwithaT-shirtthatreadsWOODVIEWUNITY,asloganthathaspoppedupsinceNaomi’sdisappearance.Herhairisbraideddownherback,exceptforthatonestrand.
Sheshakesherhead.“Idon’tlikeher,”shesays.“Idon’tlikeherstory.”
IthinkofLindsaybeingheldcaptive.MaybeMillicenthadn’tlikedher,either
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Isay.
“Wedon’tknowthat.”
“Sowhat—”
“Wejustneedtoknowmore,”shesays.
“Youaren’tthinking—”
“I’mnotthinkinganything.”
WestandinsilenceforamomentbeforeMillicentturnsandopensthedoor.Iwatchhergetintothepassengersideofmycar.Sheshutsthedoorandlooksoveratme.Ihavenotmoved.Icanalmosthearhersighassheopensthedoorandstepsbackout.Sheiswearingshoeswithrubberheels,andtheyaresilentasshewalkstome.
Placingherpalmsagainstmychest,shelooksupatme.“Hey,”shesays.
“Hey.”
“Youokay?”
Ishrug.
“Thatmeansno,”shesays.
Itismyturntosigh.Orhuff.Breathehard.Something.“We’vescrewedup,youknow,”Isay.
“Havewe?”
“Ithinkso.”
“Tellme.”
Idon’tknowwheretostart;everythingissojumbled,andIdonotwanttomentionthewrongthing.LikePetra,whomIhavenevermentioned.OrRory’sblackmail.SheknowsaboutJenna,butnoteverything.Trista’ssuicide.Thetrackeronthecar.Joe’sDeli.
ThereissomuchMillicentdoesnotknow.Andstill,Ifeellikethereissomuchmoretodiscover.
“TheOwenthing,”Ifinallysay.“It’soutofcontrol.”
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“WhataboutJenna?”
“Ishouldhaveseenthatcoming.”
Herresponsesurprisesme.Itisnotoftenshemakesamistake,letaloneadmitsit.Becauseofthis,IdecidenottotellherwhatDr.Beigesaid.Itdoesn’tseemlikeagoodtimetotellherthiswholethingismakingJennaphysicallysick.
Wearehitbyheadlightsasacarcomesaroundthecornerofthemall.Asitcomescloser,Iseeitisnotacaratall.Thesecurityvehiclesforthemallaregolfcarts,andthisoneisdrivenbyamiddle-agedwoman.Shestopsandasksusifeverythingisallright.
Millicentwavestoher.“Everything’sfine.MyhusbandandIarejustdiscussingourson’sgrades.”
“Oh,Iunderstandthat.Gotthreeofmyown.”
“Thenyougetit.”
Theguardnods.Sheandmywifesmileateachotherassomemotherlyunderstandingpassesbetweenthem.
“Bestmovealong,though.Themallisclosed.”
“Thanks.We’llgetgoing,”Millicentsays.
Theguardwaitsaswegetintothecaranddriveaway.Whenwestopataredlight,Millicentputsherhandonmyarm.“IwasthinkingweshouldenrollJennainaself-defenseclass.Ithinkitwouldhelpherconfidence.”
“That’sagoodidea.”Anditis.
“I’lllookintoittomorrow.”
???
MILLICENT’SSTOPatJoe’sDeliisnotaone-timeevent.Shegoesagainthenextday,atlunchtime,andshestaysforfortyminutesbeforegoingtoshowanotherhouse.Noneofherotherstopsareoutoftheordinary.SheevenlooksattwodifferentmartialartsschoolsforJennaandtellsmeaboutthemafterdinner,whenwearealoneinthebedroom.
“Oneoftheschoolsteachescompetitivetaekwondo.Theyhavemeetsandteams,andcompeteforribbons.Butthere’sanotheronedowntownforKravMaga.It’salittlemoreexpensivebutmoregearedtowardself-defense.”
“Shecouldtryoutboth,letherpickwhichoneshelikes.”
Millicentcomesoverandkissesmeonthenose.“Youaresosmart.”
Irollmyeyes.Shegiggles.
Shedoesnotmentionthesandwichshoportheplumpblondwomanwiththebigsmile.Itrytothinkofawaytobringupwhatsheateforlunchwithoutasking,“Whatdidyouhaveforlunchtoday?”outoftheblue.ButIamnotassmartasMillicentsays,becausewhenIstartramblingabouthowgoodmyownlunchwas,shedoesnotreciprocate.Shejustnodsandsmileswhilegettingreadyforbed,actinginterestedinmylongmonologueaboutafictitiouslunch.WegotobedwithoutdiscussingJoe’sDeli.
Inthemiddleofthenight,Igetupandgodowntothelibrary.Wecallitthelibrarybecausewefilleditwithshelvesandbooksandabigmahoganydesk,buttheonlythingweuseitforisprivatephonecalls.IhavealsostartedusingittosurftheInternetinprivate.
Joe’sDeliopenedtwenty-twoyearsago.Thebusinesshashadtwoowners,notrelatedtooneanother,andthedelihasalwaysbeeninthesamebuilding.Rented,notowned.Notroubleotherthanaslip-and-falllawsuitfiledbyamanwhoclaimedthefloorwaswet.Itwassettledoutofcourt.Noothercrime,lawsuits,orserioushealthcodeviolations.Joe’sDeliisexactlyasitappears:arun-of-the-milldeli.Thefactthatitissonormalmakesthewholethingsuspicious.Millicenthadnoreasontogothereonce,letalonetwice.
Thesatellitemapsoftheareashowafreestandingbuildingonwhatusedtobeamuchbusierroad.Acrossthestreet,thereisasmallused-carlot.Nexttothat,aplumbingsupplystore,thenawatchrepairshop.
Ifshehadstoppedthereonlyonce,itcouldhavebeenafluke.Anout-of-the-wayplacethatsomeonehadtoldheraboutandshedecidedtotrybutquicklyrealizeditwasn’therkindofplace.IwouldevenbewillingtobelieveshestoppedbecauseshewasthirstyandJoe’swastheonlyplacearound,eventhoughitwasmilesfromherusualarea.Iwouldbelievejustaboutanyone-offreasonforhertostopatJoe’s.Exceptthattwodayslater,shewentback.
ShehasanotherreasonforgoingtoJoe’s.Atfirst,Ithinkit’sNaomi—perhapsshewasbeingheldinthatarea—butMillicentdidn’tstopanywhereelse.Therearenoemptybuildingsorshutteredbusinessesinthearea,noplaceshecouldwalktofromtheparkinglotatJoe’s.
Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.Notunlessshehasdevelopedatasteforunhealthy,nonorganicsandwiches.
AndIknowthathasn’thappened.
Forty-three
AFTERHOLLY,itneveroccurredtometherewouldbeanother.NotuntilRobinshowedupatourdoorthreateningtoruineverythingunlessIpaidher.
AfterRobin,itneveroccurredtometherewouldbeanother.NotuntilIwantedtodoitagain.
Theideahadbeenfloatingaroundforawhile,firstattheNewYear’sEvepartywhenMillicentandItalkedabouttheotherwomen.Theconversationcontinuedoverthenextfewmonths,tothepointthatwelookedupwomenonline.Theactivitybecameouraphrodisiac.
Wetalkedabouthowwewouldkillthemandhowwewouldgetawaywithit,andthosenightsalwaysendedwithamazingsex.Wildsex.Ineveryplacewecould,providedthekidsweren’taround.Iftheywereinthehouse,westruggledtobequiet.
Itwasalmostasifwewereclimbingaladder.Wejokedaboutit,talkedaboutit,pickedoutwomen,andplannedit.Everytimeweescalatedtoonerung,westeppeduptoanother.Thensomeonesuggestedwedoitforreal.Itwasme.
Isaiditwhilewewereinthekitchen.Itwaslatemorning,andwewerenakedonthecoldtile.WehadjustfoundLindsayonline.Bothofusagreedshewasperfect.
“Weshouldjustdoit,”Isaid.
Millicentgiggled.“Ithinkwedidjustdoit.”
“Notthat.Well,yes,that,butit’snotwhatImeant.”
“YoumeantweshouldkillLindsay.”
Ipaused.“Yes.Yes,Idid.”
Millicentlookedatmewithamixtureofsurpriseandsomethingelse.Atthetime,Iwasn’tsure.Now,Ithinkitwasinterest.Orintrigue.Butnotrevulsion.“DidImarryapsychopath?”shesaid.
Ilaughed.Sodidshe.
Thedecisionwasmade.
Millicenthasneverremindedmeaboutthatnight,neversaiditwasmyidea.Neversaiditwasmyfault.ButIknowitis.Ifitweren’tforme,therewouldbenoLindsay,noNaomi,andOwenwouldnotbeback.Ourdaughterwouldstillhavelong,shinyhair,andshewouldn’thaveaknifeunderhermattress.
OrmaybeithadbeenMillicent.Maybesheledmethereallalong.
Idon’tknowanymore.
Butafewdayslater,Iamonceagainremindedofthatdecision.Andtheunintendedconsequencesofit.
ThemartialartsstudiosletJennasitinonabeginners’classtoseeifshelikedit.First,wewenttotaekwondo.Halfanhourlater,Jennashookherheadatmeandweleft.Shedoesnotwanttobeincompetitions,nordoesshewanttowinribbonsandtrophies.JennawantstofightoffOwen.
ThefollowingafternoonwewenttoKravMaga.Unliketaekwondo,theKravMagaschooldoesnotrequireuniformsorbelts,whichJennalikedalotbetterthanthewhitegieveryoneattaekwondohadtowear.JennapreferredtowearhersweatpantsandT-shirt.
Itneveroccurredtomethatshewouldhurttheboywhowastryingtoteachhersomething,muchlesstrytoknockhimout.
Thewholethinghappenedsofastnoonesawit.Notevenme,andIhadbeenwatchingJennafromarowofchairsdesignatedforparents.Oneminute,theywerebothstandingupandtheboywasshowingJennahowtoformaproperpunch.Thenextminute,hefelltothefloorandscreamedinpain.
Afewdropsofbloodhitthemat,andeveryonelosttheirminds.
“Whatthe—”
“Howdid—”
“Isthatarock?”
AmominaturquoisejumperpointedtoJenna.“Shedidit.Shehithimwitharock.”
Pandemoniumfollowed,alongwithalotmorescreamingandbigaccusations.
Ittookafewhourstosortout,inpartbecausetheboy’smotherarrivedandstartedyellingaboutwhynoonehadcalledanambulance.Thatmadesomeonecallanambulance.Andthepolice.
Twouniformedofficersshowedupandaskedwhathappened.Theboy’smotherpointedatJennaandsaid,“Shehitmyson.”
Understandably,theofficerswereconfused,becausewewereinaKravMagastudiowherepeoplegethitonaregularbasis.Theyalsothoughtitwasalittlefunnythattheboywashitbyagirl.Themanwhoownedthestudiodidnotthinkitwasfunnyatall.
Intheend,theboywasfine.Thebloodhadcomefromasmallcutonhislipandreallywasjustafewdrops.Noonewenttothehospitalandnoonegotarrested,butJennaandIweredisinvitedfromtheKravMagastudio.
Throughoutthecourseoftheafternoon,theboy’smothervowedmorethanoncethatshewouldsue.Andontopofeverythingelse,Iwasforcedtocancelseveraltennislessons,andpissedoffatleastoneclient.
Oncewewereinthecar,alone,Iasked.“Why?”
Jennastaredoutthewindow.
“Youmusthavehadareason,”Isaid.
Sheshrugged.“Idon’tknow.MaybetoseeifIcould.”
“Couldhitthatkidwitharock?”
“Couldknockhimout.”
Idonotpointouttheobvious.Shedidnotknockhimout.Allshedidwassplithislip.
“AreyougoingtotellMom?”Jennasaid.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Actually,Ihadnoidea.Atthatmoment,IcouldnotevenlookatJenna.
ShehasneverremindedmeofMillicent.WhenRorywasborn,healreadyhadlittletuftsofredhair.Jennawasbornbald.Whenherhairfinallystartedgrowingin,itwasthesamecolorasmine:darkbrownwithoutahintofred.Hereyeswerethesameasmine,too.
Iwassodisappointed.
Itwasnotpersonal.ItwasnotanythingJennahaddoneorhadn’tdone.Ijustwantedalittlered-hairedgirltomatchmyboyandmywifewiththeflame-coloredhair.Thiswasthepictureinmymind,theimageIhadwhenIthoughtaboutmyfamily.TherealJennadidnotfit,becauseshelookedlikemymotherinsteadofherown.
ThefirsttimesheeverremindedmeofMillicentwaswhenshehitthatboywitharock.ShelookedjustlikeMillicentdidwhenshehitRobininourkitchen.
WhatIfoundsexyinmywifewashorrifyinginmydaughter.
Forty-four
ITISLATEatnight.MillicentandIareinheroffice.SheworksforAbbottRealty,asmallpondofabusinesswhereshehasbeenthebigfishforyears.Theofficeisinastripmall,sandwichedbetweenagymandaChineserestaurant.Inside,itisemptyandprivate,becausenooneislookingforrealestateatthishour.Thedownsideistheglassfront,whichmeansanyonecanseeinside.Theopenlayoutofthedesksprovidesnocover,soweleavethelightsoutandsitintheback.Ifthecircumstancesweredifferent,itmightberomantic.
MillicentknowsaboutJenna.AfriendtoldherbeforeIcould,sendingherintoarage.Shecalledandyelledloudenoughtomakemyeardrumvibrate,becauseshesaidIshouldhavecalledherwhenwewerestillatthestudio.Sheisright.
Now,Jennaissafeathome,asleepinherbedandnotthrowingrocks.Notthrowingup.Notcuttingoffwhat’sleftofherhair.Millicentiscalm.Sheevenbroughtdessert,asinglechocolateéclair.Shecutsitintwo,andthehalvesareperfectlyeven.Itakeabiteofmineandshetakesabiteofhers,andIwipechocolateoffhertoplip.
“She’snotokay,”Millicentsays.
“No.”
“Weneedtotalktoherdoctor.Icancall—”
“IsshelikeHolly?”Isay.
Millicentsetsdownheréclairasifit’sabouttoexplode.“LikeHolly?”
“Maybeit’sthesamething.Thesameillness.”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.Hollystartedtorturingbugswhenshewastwo.Jennaisnothinglikeher.”
Bythatcomparison,sheisright.Jennascreamswheneversheseesabug.Shecan’tevenkillaspider,letalonetortureone.“Thenit’sourfault,”Isay.“WehavetogetridofOwen.”
“We’vebeentryingto.”
“IthinkthehuntforNaomishouldend,”Isay.“Weshouldletherbefound.”
“Howwillthathelp—”
“SowecangetridofOwenforgood.”WhenMillicentstartstopointouttheobvious,Iholdupmyhand.“Iknow,Iknow.Hardtogetridofsomeonethatisn’tevenaround,right?”
“Thatwouldbeonewaytoputit.”
“Hewasagreatidea—I’mnotdenyingit.Butwe’vecausedsomanyproblems.”
“Somany?”
“Jenna.Thepeopleinthistown.Womenarereallyafraid.”Iamcarefultoomitwhatshedoesn’tknow,likeTrista.
Millicentnods.“InevermeanttohurtJenna.”
“Iknowyoudidn’t.”Ileanforwardinmychair,closertoMillicent,sothatshewon’tmisswhatI’msaying.“Itwouldbedifficult,ifnotimpossible,tofakehisdeathwithoutabody.Really,theonlywayisifhedrownsintheoceanoralakeandisneverfound.Buttherewouldbedoubt.Andtomakeithalfwayplausible,wewouldneedsomeonecredibletotellthestory.”
“LikeNaomi,”Millicentsays.
“AndwhatarethechancesoflettingNaomidothat?”
“Inthenegative.”
“ThenmaybeOwendoesn’tdie.Maybehejustleaves.”Ipausehere,waitingforareaction.Whenshedoesn’tsayanything,Ikeeptalking.“Owenhassuchabigegohewrotetoareportersoeveryoneknewhewasbackandknewexactlywhenhewouldgrabhisnextvictim.Sowhywouldn’thetelleveryoneheisgoingtoleave?He’sthetypethatwouldbragaboutwhathedid.Hewouldsay,‘ItoldyouexactlywhatIwasgoingtodoandwhenIwasgoingtodoit,andyoustillcouldn’tcatchme.Nowyou’llneverfindme.’”
Millicentnodsalittle,likeshe’sthinkingaboutit.
“Iknowit’snotideal,”Isay.“ButifOwen’sgone,everyonewillstoptalkingabouthimandmaybeJennawon’tbescaredanymore.”
“Thetiminghastoberight,”shesays.“TheyneedtofindNaomibeforeyousendanotherletter.”
“Oh,absolutely.”
“I’lltakecareofthatfirst.”
“Maybeweshoulddoittogether.”
Shelooksatme,herheadtiltedtooneside.Foramoment,Ithinksheisgoingtosmile,butshedoesn’t.Thisistooseriousnow.Wehavemovedbeyondusingthisasforeplay.
“IcantakecareofNaomi,”shesays.“Youconcentrateontheletter.YouhavetomakeeveryonebelieveOwenhasleft.”
Iwanttoargueandgowithmyidea,butinsteadInod.Herideamakessense.
Shesighsalittle.“Ihopethisworks.”
“Metoo.”
Ireachoverandslipmyhandintohers.Wesitlikethisuntilshepicksupwhat’sleftofmyéclairandtakesabite.Itakehersanddothesame.Atinysmileappearsonherface.Isqueezeherhand.
“We’llbefine,”Isay.
Millicenthassaidthisbefore.Shesaiditwhenwewereyoungandbrokewithonebabyandanotherontheway.Shesaiditwhenweboughtourfirsthouseandthenthesecond,biggerone.
ShealsosaiditafterHolly,whenherbodywaslyinginourfamilyroom,herheadsmashedbythetennisracket.
???
WHILEISTOODoverHolly,comingtogripswithwhatIhadjustdone,Millicentwentstraighttowork.
“Dowestillhavethattarpinthegarage?”shesaid.
Ittookmeasecondtoprocess.“Tarp?”
“Fromwhenwehadthatleak.”
“Ithinkso.”
“Getit.”
Ipaused,thinkingweshouldcallthepolice.Becausethat’swhatyoudowhenyoukillsomeoneoutofself-defense.Youcallthepoliceandexplainwhathappened,becauseyoudidnothingwrong.
Millicentreadmymind.
“YouthinkthepolicewillbelieveHollywasathreattoyou?”shesaid.
Me,theathlete.Me,withthebrokentennisracket.
Holly,withnoweaponatall.
Ididnotargue.IwentouttothegarageanddugthroughtheshelvesandplasticcontainersuntilIfoundtherolled-upbluetarp.WhenIreturnedtothelivingroom,Holly’sbodyhadbeenreadjusted;herlegswerestraightened,andherarms,flatatherside.
Wespreadthetarpoutonthefloor,andtogetherMillicentandIwrappedthebodylikeamummy.
“Let’smoveherintothegarage,”Millicentsaid.
Itwasalmostlikeshedidn’thavetothinkaboutit.
Ididwhatshesaid,andHollyendedupinthetrunkofmycar.ItookherouttothewoodsandburiedherwhileMillicentcleaneduptheblood.Bythetimethekidsgothomefromschool,everysignofHollyhadbeenscrubbedout.
WedidthesamethingwithRobin,onlyshedidn’tgetburiedintheground.Herbodyandherlittleredcarendedupatthebottomofalake.
Millicentisright.Wehavealwaysbeenfine.
Nowit’smyturntomakesureofit.
???
BOTHHALVESoftheéclairaregone,andMillicentbrushesthecrumbsintoawastebasket.Westanduptogo,walkingbackthroughthedarkofficeandouttothecar.It’slate.EventheChineserestaurantisclosed,butthegymisavailabletwenty-fourhours.Itstandsoutlikeasinglehalogenstarinadarksky.
Beforestartingthecar,IturntoMillicent.Sheischeckingherphone.Ireachoverandputmyhandagainsthercheek,thesamewayshehastouchedmesomanytimes.Itmakesherlookupinsurprise.
“Sodowehaveaplan?”Isay.
Shesmilesallthewayuptohereyes.“Definitely.”
Forty-five
THENOISEISgone.Forthefirsttime,asimprobableasitseems,claritycomesallatonce.UntilIsawJennahitthatboy,IneverrealizedMillicentandIhavebeendoingmorethanwerealized.Wehavebeendestroyingourownfamily.
Owen’sfinalletteristheeasiestonetowrite.Ihaveagoalnow—togetridofOwen—anditfeelslikeIknowhowtoachieveit.
ThoughIwillsendittoJosh,asIalwaysdo,theletterisreallyaddressedtothepublic.Itellthemtheyarestupid.
Igavethistoyou.Itriedtohelpyoucatchmebylettingyouknowwhen,theexactday,Iwouldtakemynextvictim.Ievengaveyoutwoweekstoprepare,toplan.Yetyoufailed.Youdidn’tstopme,couldn’tcatchme,andbecauseofyou,Naomiisdead.Lettherebenomistake:Herdeathisn’tmyfault.It’syours.Sheknewit.Naomihadseenthesamereports,hadreadmyearlierletter,yetshewasstilloutaloneonthatFridaythe13th.Naomiknewshehadbeenstupid.Shehadfaith,though.Faiththatyouwerelookingforher,faiththatyouwouldfindher.Shewashalf-right.IfIhadthetime,IwouldtellyoueverythingIdidtoher.Everymark,everycut,everybruise.Butthatwouldberedundant.Youalreadyhaveherbody.Really,thereisn’tanythingelsetosay.Weplayedagame,andyoulost.Naomilost.Everyonelostbutme.AndnowI’mdone.Icamebackandaccomplishedmygoal.Ihavenothinglefttoprove.Nottoyou,nottomyself.Goodbye.Finally.
Oncethefinalversionisdone,ItellMillicent.ShehascometotheclubtopickupRory,whoplayedgolfafterschoolandheisdonebeforeIam.Millicentstopsbythetenniscourt,whereIamwaitingformynextclient.Herflesh-coloredheelsthumpagainstthecementasshewalkstowardmewithasmile.
Dayshavepassedsinceourlate-nightconversation.NowthatJaneDoehasgonepublicshehasbeengivinginterviewstoanyonewhoasks.ShewasimpossibletoavoiduntilJaneDoe#2arrivedlastnight.
Insteadofhavingapressconference,shelivestreamedherstoryontheInternet,andthelocalnewsrebroadcastit.Thewomanisyoungerthantheothers,maybestillincollege,andshehasjet-blackhair,paleskin,andlipsthatlookpaintedwithblood.Jane#2isalmosttheoppositeofOwen’stypicalvictims,butshetoldalmostthesamestoryasJane#1.Onlytheparkinglotwasdifferent,alongwithafewdramatictweaks.ThisJaneclaimedOwenhitherintheface,andsheshowedoffapurplishbruiseonhercheek.
Assoonasthelivestreamended,myoldfriendJoshappearedonTV.Oflate,Joshhasbeenveryserious,butlastnighthesoundedalmostsarcastic.HedidnotcomerightoutandsayhethoughtJaneDoe#2wasaliar,buthemayaswellhave.Icannotimagineanyonebelievedher.IknowIdidn’t.
TheproblemisthatwomenlikeherarekeepingOwenastheleadstoryonthenews.IdonothavetoremindMillicentofthisasshewalksontothetenniscourt.
“I’mreadywheneveryouare,”Isay.
Herdarksunglasseshidehereyes,bothfromthesunandfromme,butshenods.“Hellotoyou,too.”
“Sorry.”Ileanoverandkissheronthecheek.Shesmellslikecitrus.“Hello.”
“Hello.Theletterisready?”
“Doyouwanttoreadit?”Iwanthertosayyes,Iwanttowatchherreadit,butsheshakesherhead.
“Idon’tneedto.Itrustyou.”
“Oh,Iknow.Justasking.”
Shesmilesandkissesmeonthecheek.“Seeyouathome.Dinneratsix.”
“Always.”
Iwatchherwalkaway.
ShedoesnotgotoJoe’sDelitoday.Todayisallwork,eitherattheofficeoropenhouses.
Istillwatchthetracker,stillcheckwheresheisgoing,butitisnotbecauseIwanttoknowaboutNaomi.Ialreadydo.Ifsheisnotalreadydead,shewillbesoon.
IwatchthetrackerbecauseIliketowatchMillicent.
???
ANOTHERDAYgoesby,thenanother,andJoshisbacktocountingdownhowmanydayshavepassedsinceNaomiwentmissing.Iwatchhimonmyphoneallthetime,waitingforthebreaking-newsannouncementaboutherbody.EvenwhenIwakeupinthemiddleofthenight,Ifeelanurgetoseeifanythingishappening.OntheInternet,newscanbreakatanytime.Normally,thisisnotaproblem.ButnowthatIamwaitingfornewstobreak,itisinfuriating.Andinconvenient.
Igodownstairsandouttothebackyard,whereIcheckmyphone.ThenewsisthesameaswhenIwenttobed.Nothingisbreaking,nothingishappening;itislikeaboringrerun.
ButI’mnottired.Attwointhemorning,theairisstill,andsoisourneighborhood.NooneinHiddenOaksthrowslate-nightpartiesorevenplaysloudmusic.Idon’tevenseealightoninanyofouralmost-mansions.
IwishIcouldsaythiswasourdreamhome,thatwetookonelookatitandknewitwastheplacewewantedtobe,theplacewehadworkedsohardtoget.Itisn’ttrue.OurdreamhomeisabitdeeperintoHiddenOaks,wherethehousesbecomerealmansions.Theinnercircleisforhedgefundersandsurgeons.
Weliveinthemiddlecircle,butonlybecauseofanastydivorce,whichledtofrozenassetsfollowedbyabankforeclosure.BecauseMillicenthadsentthatbankalotofmortgagebusiness,wewereabletobuyahouseweshouldnothavebeenabletoafford.ThisiswhyweliveinthemiddleofHiddenOaks.Weshouldbeintheoutercircle,butonceagain,Ifoundmywayintothemiddle.
Thesoundofrustlingbushesmakesmejump.Thereisnowindtonight.
Thenoisecomesfromthesideofthehouse.Ifwehadadog,Iwouldassumeitmadethenoise,butwedon’t.Wedon’tevenhavedeerinthisarea.
Therustlecomesagain,followedbyacreakingsound.
Withmyphoneinhand,Igetuptoinvestigate.Ourbackporchisabouthalfthelengthofthehouse,fromthekitchentothecorner.Inthedark,Iwalkovertothefarrailing.Thepathalongthesideofthehouseispartiallylitbyastreetlamp,andit’sempty.Noanimals,noburglars,noserialkillers.
Asoftscrapingnoisecomesfromabove.IlookupjustintimetoseeRorysneakingbackintothehouse.
Ihadnoideahe’dsnuckout.
Forty-six
PARTYING,DRUGS,GIRLS.Orjustbecause.
ThesearethereasonsRorysneaksoutofthehouse.Theyarethesameforallteenageboys.Ifirstsnuckouttosmokeweed.Next,Isnuckoutbecauseitworkedthefirsttime.Eventually,itwasbecauseofLily.Myparentsneverknew.Ormorelikely,theynevercared.
Andyet,evenwhenRorysawmesneakingout,itstilldidnotoccurtomethathewasdoingthesamething.ThisishowobliviousIhavebeen.
InsteadofconfrontingRorywhenIseehim,Iwaituntilthenextday.ThisgivesmeachancetoseeifthereisanythingImissed,anythingIshouldknowbeforehavingthisconversationwithhim.
Hisroomismessy,asalways,exceptforhisdesk.Itisalmostobsessive-compulsivebutnotofficially,becauseheisn’tparticularaboutanythingelse.Hedoesn’tcareifhisclothesarepileduporhisbooksarealloverthefloor,buthisdeskisalwaysorderly.Maybebecauseheneverusesit.
Normally,Iwouldneversearchthroughhisroom.Ihaveneverdoneitbefore.Butthen,I’veneverseenhimsneakoutbefore.Mysonhassecrets,and,inmybook,thatwarrantsasearch.
Roryisatschool.Hehashisphonewithhim,andheisnotallowedtokeepacomputerinhisroom,somysearchtakesplaceintheanalogworld.Thenightstandcomesfirst,thenhisdesk,thedresser,andthecloset.Ievenlookunderthebed,underthedresser,andinthebackofhissockdrawer.
Itisthemostdisappointingsearch.
Noporn,becausehelooksatitonline.Nonotesfromgirls,becausetheytext.Nopictures,becausetheyareonhisphone.Nodrugsoralcohol,becauseifheisusingthemheisn’tstupidenoughtohidetheminhisroom.That’ssomething,Isuppose.Mysonisnotanidiot.
IdonottellMillicent,becauseshehasenoughtodo.
Shedoesnotknow.Ifshedid,Rorywouldalreadybegroundedforlife.Butshedoesn’tknowbecauseshewouldneverhearhim.Millicentsleepslikearock.Iamnotevensurethefirealarmwouldwakeherup.
It’salmostlunchtimewhenI’mdonewiththatpointlesssearch,soIheadtotheschool.Theofficeadministratorsendsatexttohisteacher,whosendshimtotheoffice.EventhoughRoryandJennaattendaprivateschool,uniformsaren’trequired.Theydohaveadresscode,soeverydayRorywearskhakisandabutton-up.Todaytheshirtiswhite.Hisbackpackhangsononeshoulder,andhisredhairneedstobetrimmed.Assoonasheseesme,hebrushesthebangsoffhisforehead.
“Everythingokay?”hesays.
“Everything’sgreat.Justthoughtwemightspendtheafternoontogether.”
Hiseyebrowslift,buthedoesnotargue.Fornow,beingwithmeisstillbetterthanhisafternoonclasses.
LunchisatRory’sfavoriterestaurant,whereheordersthesteakMillicentnevercooksforhim.Hedoesnotquestionituntilthewaitressbringsasoda,whichwedonotkeepinthehouse.Heknowssomethingisup,soitisnosurprisewhenhesays,“What’sup,Dad?”Butitisashockwhenhefollowsitupwith,“AreyouandMomgettingdivorced?”
“Divorced?Whywouldyouevenasksuchathing?”
Heshrugs.“Becausethisisthekindofthingyoudowhenyouhavetosaysomethinglikethat.”
“Isthatright?”
“Yeah.”Hesaysthislikeeveryoneknowsit.
“YourmotherandIarenotgettingadivorce.”
“Okay.”
“Really,we’renot.”
“Iheardyou.”
Itakealongsipofmyicedtea,andhedoesthesamewithhissoda.Hesaysnothingelse,forcingmetobegin.
“Howiseverything?”
“Fine,Dad.Howiseverythingwithyou?”
“It’sgreat.Anythingnewgoingon?”
Roryhesitates.Ourfoodarrives,givinghimmoretimetothinkaboutwhatIamreallyasking.
Whenthewaitressleaves,heshakeshisheadalittle.“Notreally.”
“Notreally?”
“Dad.”
“Hmmm?”Itakeabiteofmysteak.
“Justtellmewhywe’rehere.”
“Ijustwanttoknowwhatnewandexcitingthingsaregoingoninyourlife,”Isay.“Becauseitmustbenewandexcitingifit’sdraggingyououtofthehouseinthemiddleofthenight.”
Rory’shandsfreezemidwaythroughcuttinghissteak.Icanalmostseetheoptionsrunningthroughhismind.
“Itwasjustonce,”hesays.
Isaynothing.
Rorysighsandputsdownhissilverware.“DanielandIbothdidit.Wewantedtoseeifwecouldgetawaywithit.”
“Didhe?”
“AsfarasIknow.”
“Andwhatdidyoutwodo?”
“Nothing,really.Wentdowntothefield,kickedaroundasoccerball.Wanderedaround.”
Plausible.Atfourteen,itwasthrillingjusttobeoutofthehouseatmidnight.Butthatdidn’tlooklikethefirsttimehehadclimbeduptothewindow.
???
HEDOESNOTsneakoutthatnightorthenext.Notsurprisingnowthathehasbeencaught.ButIamnotonlypayingattentionatnight;Iampayingattentiontoeverythingthathasbeenignored.
Intheevening,Iwatchhimwhenheistexting,whenhisphonevibratesandhecheckstoseewhoitis,andwhenheisonthecomputer.Onmovienight,Iwatchashekeepshisphonehiddenbutchecksitalot.Onetime,itrings,butthesoundisn’trockmusicoravideo-gamebeep.ItisasongIdonotrecognize,butthevoiceisaraspyfemale,whosingsasifsheisstandingontheedgeofacliff.
Whenpickingthekidsupfromschool,Igetthereearlyenoughforafront-rowviewofthedoors.ThisiswhenIseethegirlwhoisobviouslydrivingmysoncrazy.
Sheisatinyblondewithrosylips,milkyskin,andhairthatfallsstraighttoherchin.Shepushesitbackwhiletheytalkandshiftsherweightfromonefoottotheother.Thegirlisasnervousasheis.
Howlong,Iwonder.Howlonghashehadthisgirlfriend,orthisalmost-girlfriend?IfIhadnotcaughthimtheothernight,Iwouldhavemisseditalltogether.MaybeIwouldhavelivedmywholelifewithoutknowingaboutthislittleblondgirlthatmysonlikes.
Havetherebeenothergirls—blondesorbrunettesorredheads—whohavemademysonascrazyasthisgirlhas?DidImissthefirst,thesecond,andthethird?Atthispoint,Ihavenowayofknowing.HewouldnottellmeifIasked.Hedidnoteventellmeaboutthecurrentone.
AndIdidnotnotice,didn’thaveaclue,untilImadetheeffort.Otherwise,itwouldhaveslippedrightpastme.
Iwonderifthisiswhathappenedwithmyparents.Theynevermadeaneffort,andIslippedrightbythem.
Forty-seven
DURINGDINNER,allofourphonesarelineduponthecounterbehindMillicent.Weareeatingmushroomrisotto,withleeksandbabycarrotsontheside,whenmyphonehonkslikeahorn.
Breakingnews.
Millicentreachesbehindherandsilencesmyphone.
“Sorry,”Isay.“Sportsapp.”
Shegivesmeahardlook.Phonesaresupposedtobesilencedduringdinner.
Thebreakingnewscouldbeanything,butIknowitisn’t.MynewsappisfilteredforNaomi’snameandOwenOliverandthewordsbodyhasbeenfound.Technologyisanamazingthing.
Itisalsoahorriblething,becausenowIhavetositthroughdinneruntilIcanknowmore.Thisisworsethanbeingcompletelyignorantfortwentyminutes.
Whenwearefinallydone,Igrabmyphoneasthekidsclearthetable.
BODYOFWOMANFOUND
IlookupatMillicent.Sheisstandinginfrontofthesink,wearinganoldsweatshirtandblackleggingsandapairofmysocks.Icatchhereye,pointingatmyphone.
Shegivesmeatinynodwithasmile.
???
IDONOTSEEtherestofthestoryuntilthedishesaredoneandthekidssitdowntowatchTV.Atthatpoint,Igoupstairs,intothebathroom,andwatchthenews.
Itisperfect.
Naomi’sbodywasfoundinsideaDumpsterbehindtheLancasterHotel.Shewaslastseeninthatparkinglot,notfarfromthesameDumpster,aftershegotoffworkonthatFridaythe13th.ThelastimageofNaomiwasonasecuritycameraasshewalkedacrossthelottohercar.Thecamerasonlycoveredpartofthelot.Naomi’scarandtheDumpsterwerebothinblindspots.
Joshisstandingacrossthestreetfromthehotel,rightwhereIusedtoparkandwatchNaomi.Helooksbuzzedoncaffeineoradrenalineorboth,andit’sgoodtoseehimlikethisagain.TheJaneDoewomen,especiallythesecondone,seemedtodepresshim.
Now,heisenergetic,allfullofinnuendoandspeculation,becausenotmanyrealfactshavebeenreleased.AllwereallyknowisthatadeadwomanwholookslikethemissingNaomiwasfoundintheDumpsterwhenitwasbeingemptiedbyawastedisposalcompany.Thepolicewerecalled,thewholeareawasblockedoff,andapressconferencemayormaynothappentonight,buthethinksitwill.
TheonethingthatdoesnotcomeupisNaomi’spast.Nowthatsheisdeadinsteadofmissing,itwouldbeunkindtosaybadthingsabouther.
JoshdoesnotethatithasbeenweekssincehelastheardfromOwenOliverRiley
Ismile.
TheletterisaddressedtotheTVstation,anditismarkedPersonalandConfidentialforJosh.Iimaginethatwhenitarrives,thelookonhisfacewillbeorgasmic,thoughhewillnotbehappytolearnthatthisishisfinalletterfromOwen.ThelettershavemadeJoshastar,atleastlocally,andthereisarumorhehasbeenapproachedbyacablestation.Hewoulddowellonastationlikethat.Heissoseriousandearnestitishardnottobelievehim.
Joshisoneofthefewwhowillhaveabetterlifebecauseofthis.
Tristawillnot.
Poor,deadTristawillneverevenberecognizedasvictim.Andshewas,evenifshedidtakeherownlife.Idofeelbadabouther,mainlybecauseshefeltsobadabouttheothers.Itishardtodislikesomeonesoempathetic.
Thebestwecandonowistopreventitfromhappeningagain.
Igodownstairs,wherethekidsarearguingaboutwhattowatchnext.Millicentthreatenstosendthemupstairstoreadiftheydon’tagreeonsomething,andsuddenlytheroomgoesquiet.Theopeningmusicofateenagedramastarts;it’sJenna’sfavorite,andsomehowRorymanagesnottogroan.Isuspectthisisalsobecauseofthelittleblonde.SheprobablywatchesthesameshowsasJenna.
Millicentmotionstome,andwewalkthroughthekitchen,intotheformaldiningroomthatweuseonlyforholidaysanddinnerparties.
“Theyfoundher?”shewhispers.
Inod.“Theydid.Waitingforofficialconfirmation.”
“Nowyou—”
“I’llmailittomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
Ismile.Shekissesmeonthetipofmynose.
Wegobackintothefamilyroomandjointhekids,butsincewearewatchingliveTV,wecannothelpbuthearaboutNaomi.Thenewsisannouncedduringacommercialbreak,anditissoquickthereisnotimetoturnthechannel.
Rory’sphonelightsup.Hepicksitupandstartstexting.
Jennadoesnotreact.ShestaresattheTVasifshewerestillwatchinghershow,notnewsaboutadeadwoman.
“Whowantsicecream?”Millicentsays.
Roryraisesafinger.“Me.”
“Jenna?”
“Sure.”
“Onescoop?”
“Three.”
“Sure,honey,”Isay,gettingupfromthecouch.
Millicentraiseshereyebrowatmeandfollowsmeintothekitchen.Igetfourbowls,andeveryonegetsthreescoops.Shestartstosaysomething,andIcutheroff.
“Let’snottalkaboutsugarcontenttonight.It’sgoingtogetworsebeforeitgetsbetter.”Andit’strue.Naomiwillbeonthenewseverynight,andtheywillgoovereverydetailofhowshewasfoundandhowshewaskilled.ItwillgetevenworsewhenJoshreceivesmyletter,becausethentheywillspendhoursdebatingifOwenisreallygoneorifheisjustwaitingforallofustogetcomplacentagain.
Eventually,itwillfade.Somethingelsewilltakeitsplace,andOwenwillbegoneforgood.
Butuntilthen,threescoopsoficecream.
Wegobackintothefamilyroom,andtheteenagedramahasended.Rorychangesthechannel,andwewatchtheendofoneshowinanticipationofthenext.Inbetween,thereisanewsbreak.BeforeMillicenthasachancetograbtheremote,JoshisonourTV.Herepeatsthesameinformationweheardontheotherchannel.
WhenheisdonetalkingaboutthediscoveryofNaomi’sbody,Roryturnstohissister.“Youthinkshewastortured?”
“Yeah.”
“Moreorlessthanthelastone?”
“Hey,”Isay.BecauseIdonotknowwhatelsetosay.
“More,”Jennasays.
“Wannabet?”
Sheshrugs.Theyshakeonit.
Millicentgetsupandleavestheroom.
Itakemyice-creambowlintothekitchen.Myphoneisabouttodie,andIrootthroughourjunkdrawerinsearchofacharger.They’realwayslyingaround,butneverwhenIneedone,andthereisn’toneinthedrawer.Next,Itrythepantry,becauseweirdthingsendupinthere.WhenJennawasyounger,Iusedtofindherstuffedanimalssittingaroundthecookies,protectingthem.Now,Ifindelectronicgadgets.
Tonight,Idon’t.Butonthebottomshelf,behindsomecansofsoup,Ifindasmallbottleofeyedrops.
ThekindMillicentisallergicto.
Forty-eight
WHENISEEtheeyedrops,IthinkofRory.IfMillicentusedthemtocoverupthefactthatshewasstoned,thensurelyotherteenagershavethoughtofthesameidea.Maybethat’swhathedoeswhenhesneaksoutatnight.Maybeheandhislittlegirlfriendsmokeweed.
Thereareworsethings.Muchworsethings.
Thepantryisnotalogicalplaceforeyedrops,butIimaginehejuststashedthemthere.Perhapshehadcomehomehighandputtheminatthelastminute.Ormaybehethoughtnoonewouldlookonthebottomshelfbehindthesoup.
Thenagain,itcouldbeJenna.Maybeshe’stheonewhohasbeensmoking.
No,thatdoesn’tseemright.Jennawouldn’truinherlungs.Socceristooimportanttoherforthat.
Itakethebottle.Onmywaytotheclub,Iwonderwhatwouldcauseredeyesotherthansmokeordirtorsomeotherirritant.Allergiesandfatigue,thoughneitherissomethingtohide.Maybehangovers.MaybesomenewdrugI’veneverevenheardof.
WhenKekonaarrivesforherlesson,Iamsittingonabenchstaringatthatbottleofeyedrops.
Kekonaissoampedongossipshebouncesupanddownontheballsofherfeetlikesheissixinsteadofsixty.Assoonasshewalksontothecourt,shestartstalking,becauseshehastogetitalloutbeforeleavingtown.Everyyear,KekonagoesbacktoHawaiiforamonth,andhertripiscomingupfast.Sheisafraidofallshewillmiss,nowthatNaomi’sbodyhasbeenfound.
“Strangled,”shesays.“Liketheothers.”
“Iknow.”
“Andthetorture.Allthosedamnpapercuts.”
Myheartskips.“Papercuts?”
“Policesaidshewascoveredwiththem.Theywereevenonhereyelids.”Sheshiverslikeit’scoldoutside.
Papercuts.
Iclosemyeyes,tryingnottoimagineMillicentdoingthis.Tryingtoerasetheideathatshehasturnedourprivatejokeintosomethingsosick.
Itisonlyeleveno’clockinthemorning.Earlier,theysaidherfingerprintshadbeenfiledoff,butthepolicehadNaomi’sdentalrecordsready.Itwasher.
“Thepolicesaidthisaboutthecuts?”Isay.
“Notofficially.Justunnamedsources,”Kekonasays.“Butifyouaskme,theweirdthingisthetiming.”Shepauses.
SoIask.“Whataboutit?”
“Well,thelastwomanwasheldforayear.ButNaomi?Amonthandahalf.”
“MaybeOwengottiredofwaitingforthepolicetofindhim.”
Kekonasmilesatme.“Kindofcheekytoday,aren’tyou?”
Ishrugandholdupatennisball,indicatingthatweshouldplay,sincethat’swhatshepaysmetodo.Kekonastretchesalittleandswingsherracketaround.
“Ifthiswereamovie,thetimingdifferencewouldmeansomething,”shesays.
Sheisright,butforallthewrongreasons.“Aren’tyoutheonewhosaidlifeisn’tahorrormovie?”
Kekonadoesnotanswer.
“Serve,”Isay.
Sheservestheballtwice.Idon’treturnherserves,becauseshestilldoesn’twanttovolley.Shewantstoserveanace.
“Theyalsosaidshewasburned,”Kekonasays.
“Burned?”
“That’swhattheysaid.Shehadburnsalloverher,likeshehadbeenscalded.”
Icringeatthethoughtofbeingscaldedonaccident.YetMillicentdiditonpurpose.
“Iknow,itmakesmesick,too,”Kekonasays.Sheservesagainandstops.“Thismorning,theysaidhemightbere-creatinghisoldcrimes.Heburnedanotheroneofhisvictims,BiancaorBrianna.Somethinglikethat.Theyshowedapictureofherthismorning,andshelooksalotlikeNaomi.”
Imissedallofthis.Notbeingabletowatchthenewsathomecanbeaproblem.“That’sodd,”Isay.“Serve.”
Shedoes,andIcountnineofthembeforeshestopsagain,exceptthistimeshedoesnottalkaboutOwen.
ShetalksaboutJenna.
“Iheardaboutyourdaughter,”shesays.
ItdoesnotsurprisemethatKekonaheardabouttheincidentatKravMaga.Thisusedtobeexactlythesortofthingwegossipedabout.Itjustdidn’tinvolvemyfamily.
“Yeah,”Isay,tryingtothinkofhowtoexplain,howtoexcusemydaughterforhittingakidwitharock.Shehadabadday,flunkedatest,forgottotakehermedication?Theyallsoundbad.Theyallsoundlikemydaughtercannotcontrolherself.
Kekonawalksoverandpatsmeonthearm.“Nottoworry,”shesays.“Yourdaughterisgoingtobeabadass.”
Ilaugh.AndIhopesheisright.IwouldratherJennabeabadassthananyoftheotheroptions.
???
WHENKEKONA’SLESSONisover,Ifinallygettocheckthenews.Sheisrightaboutthisformervictim.BiancaandNaomidolookalike;bothhaddarkhairandthatwholesomegirl-next-doorlook.Biancahadalsobeenscalded,thoughnotwithwater.
Oil.
ThissimilaritymakesthemediagobackandlookatLindsayagain,andnowtheyhavecomeupwithanearliervictimwhoalsohadstraightblondhair.
Ithinkitisallastretch.Themediajustneedssomethingtotalkabout,and,withoutanyrealinformation,theyhavemadeconnectionsthatdonotexist.IfMillicentwantedtore-createacrime,thedetailswouldn’tbesimilar.Theywouldbeexact.
Thisnewsupsetsmealittle.Onthewaytowork,ImailedthelettertoJosh.Itwasearlyenoughthatthepostofficeparkinglotwasempty,sonoonesawthesurgicalglovesonmyhandsasIslippedtheletterintotheslot.ButifIhadseenthenews,Iwouldhavechangedtheletter.IwouldhavetoldJoshthemediaiswrong,and,asusual,they’rejustmakingthingsup.Theoldvictimsarenotbeingre-created,sostoptalkingaboutallthevariouswaystheyweretortured.
Mydaughterdoesnotneedtohearit.
ButIdidnotseethenews,didnothearaboutBianca,andnowitistoolate.
Intheclubhouse,Joshisonmultiplescreens,lookingexhaustedbutwired.HeisstillstandingacrossfromtheLancasterHotel.Thedaylightmakesthebuildingalmostlookgaudy.
“WhileweknowNaomiGeorgewasthewomanfoundinaDumpsterbehindthishotel,noneoftheotherreportsouttherehavebeenconfirmed.However,oursourcesaretellingusthatNaomihadonlybeendeadforonedaybeforeshewasfound…”
TheGPSdataforMillicentdoesnotshowanythingunusualonthatday.Shedidn’tevengotoJoe’sDeli—onlytheschoolwhenshedroppedoffthekids,theoffice,severalhousesforsale,thegrocerystore,andagasstation.NoindicationofwhereNaomihadbeenheld.Notunlessitwasinsideoneoftheopenhouses.Thatseemsunlikely,giventhatpeoplegoinandoutofthemalldaylong.
Notthatitmatteredatthispoint,becauseNaomihasbeenfound.Andtomorrow,Joshwillgetmyletter.
Hewon’twaittogetitontheair.Lasttime,Ihadexpectedthepolicetospendmoretimeexaminingit,butthenewsaboutitcameoutalmostrightaway.Thisoneshouldbethesame.Itlooksexactlythesame,smellsthesame,andeventhepapercomesfromthesameream.Therewillbenodoubtitcamefromthesamepersonastheothers.IfIwereagamblingman,IwouldbettheletterwillbealloverthenewsbeforeIevengethomefromwork.
ButIamnotagambler.Inthirty-nineyears,Ihaveturnedintoaplanner.Maybeevenaprettygoodone.
Forty-nine
HARDTOTELLifIwonorlostmyimaginarybet.Itisamatterofdegrees,orinthiscaseamatterofhours.
MythoughtwasthatJoshwouldgolivewiththeletterjustbeforetheeveningnews,soitwouldbeoneverychannelbythetimepeoplesatdownfordinner.Instead,itcomeshoursearlier,whileJennaandIareatDr.Beige’soffice.Hethinkssheneedstherapymoreoften.Ithinksheneedsanewdoctor.SinceJennastartedseeinghim,shehasgonefromcuttingoffherhairtomakingherselfsicktohittingsomeonewitharock.
MillicentandIdivideuptheappointmentsnow.Webothcannottakeofffromworkthreetimesaweek,whichiswhatDr.BeigerecommendsaftertheKravMagaincident.Todayismyturninthewaitingroom,wheremyoptionsaretherapeuticcomicbooks,educationalmagazines,orTV.Nooneelseisaround,exceptastern-lookingreceptionistwhowearsajet-blackwigandignoreseveryone.Iturnonagameshowandplayalonginmyhead.
ThestorybreaksabouttenminutesintoJenna’sappointment.Joshappearsonthescreen,andafterabriefintroduction,hestartsreadingOwen’sletteroutloud.
Thereceptionistlooksup.
AsJoshreadsthewordsIwrote,achillrunsupmyback.Whenhegetstotheend,toOwen’sfinalgoodbye,Ihavetostopmyselffromsmiling.Owenreallysoundslikeacockybastardinthatletter.
Goodbye.Finally.
JoshrereadsthelettertwomoretimesbeforeJennacomesoutofDr.Beige’soffice.Shelooksbored.
Thedoctorisbehindher.Helookspleased.
“Switch,”shesays.Itismyturntogointotheoffice,soDr.Beigecanfeedmeabowlofhisoatmeal-colorednonsense.
Today,Irefuse.“Iapologize,butwejustdon’thavethetime.Wouldyoubeavailableforacalllater?”
Thegooddoctordoesnotlookpleasedwithme.
Idonotcare.
“Thatwouldbefine,”hesays.“IfI’munabletotakethecall,justleavea—”
“Soundsgreat.Thankyousomuch.”
Ioffermyhand,andittakeshimasecondtoshakeit.“Well,then.Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
Assoonaswewalkintotheparkinglot,Jennalooksatmesideways.
“You’rebeingweird,”shesays.
“IthoughtIwasalwaysweird.”
“Weirderthanusual.”
“That’sprettyweird.”
“Dad.”Shecrossesherarmsoverherchestandstaresatme.
“Wantahotdog?”
JennalooksatmelikeI’dsuggestedwehaveadrink.“Ahotdog?”
“Yeah.Youknow,alittletubeofmeatorwhatever,inabunwithmustardand—”
“Momdoesn’tallowhotdogs.”
“I’lltellhertojoinus.”
IthinkJenna’sheadexplodesalittleatthisthought,butshegetsintothecarwithoutanotherword.
???
TOPDOGSERVESthirty-fivevarietiesofhotdogs,includingtofu.ThisiswhatMillicentorders.AndshedoesnotsayawordwhenRoryorderstwoall-beefchilidogs.Itfeelslikeacelebration,becauseitis.Owenisgoneforgood.ThenewsisallovertheTVscreensmountedaboveourheads.Today,everythinghasgoneaccordingtoplanandeveryoneseemstofeelit.
“Canhomegobacktonormalnow?”Roryasks.
Millicentsmiles.“Define‘normal.’”
“Notonblackout.Backincivilization.”
“Youwanttowatchthenews?”Isay.
“Idon’twanttobebannedfromwatchingthenews.”
Jennarollshereyes.“YoujustwanttoimpressFaith.”
Andjustlikethat,IknowRory’sblondfriendisnamedFaith.
“Who’sFaith?”Millicentsays.
“Noone,”Rorysays.
Jennagiggles.Rorypinchesher,andshesqueaks.
“Stopit,”shesays.
“Shutup.”
“Youshutup.”
“Wait,areyoutalkingaboutFaithHammond?”Millicentsays.
Rorydoesnotanswer,whichmeansyes.ItalsomeansMillicentknowsFaith’sparents,likelybecauseshesoldtheHammondstheirhouse.
“Whydidn’ttheycatchhim?”Jennasays.SheisstaringupattheTV.
Maybewearenotquitebacktonormal.
“Theycaughthimbefore,”Rorysays.“Andhegotout.”
“Sotheycan’tcatchhim?”
“Theywill.Peoplelikehimdon’tstayfreeforever,”Isay.
Roryopenshismouthtosaysomething,andMillicentshutshimupwithalook.
EverythingIthinkoftosaysoundsstupidinmyhead,soIkeepmymouthshut.NotevenRoryspeaks.NoonedoesuntilJennasayssomething.
“Idon’tfeelsogood.”Sherubsherstomach.Jennahadthebarbecue-and-oniondog,whichwasalmostaslargeasmychilicheesedog.Idonotthinkit’sthestressthathasupsetherstomachtoday.
Millicentgivesmethelook.
Inod.Yes,thisismyfaultforsuggestingthehotdogs.
Millicentgrabsherbagandmotionsforustogo.Shehasbeenagoodsportaboutthehot-dogthing,consideringwedidnotdiscussitbeforehand,andItakeherhandinmine.Wefollowthekidsouttotheparkinglot.
“Andhow’syourstomach?”shesays.
“Perfect.Yours?”
“Neverbetter.”
Ileanoverandtrytokissher.Sheturnsaway.
“Yourbreathisdisgusting.”
“Andyourssmellsliketofu.”
ShelaughsandIlaugh,andmystomachdoesnotfeelnearlyasgoodasIclaimed.Assoonaswegethome,bothJennaandIaresick.Shegoesupstairstothebathroom,butIcan’tmakeit.Iendupusingtheoneinthehall.
Millicentrunsbetweenthetwo,bringingusgingeraleandcoldcompresses.
“Sickasdogs!”Roryyells.Helaughs,andinsideIamlaughingwithhim.
Tonight,everythingisfunny,evenwhileIamsickonthebathroomfloor.Tonight,itfeelslikeIhaveexhaled.
Ididn’tevenrealizeI’dbeenholdingmybreath.
Fifty
THATHOTDOGKEPTmeupatnight,soIsleepinalittlethenextmorning.BythetimeIgetoutofthehouse,it’stoolatetostopattheEZ-Go.Instead,IgotoacoffeeshopjustoutsidetheHiddenOaksgate.It’sthekindwithfive-dollarcoffeeandamalebaristawhohasanobnoxiousbeardandstaresattheTV.Heshakeshisheadatitashepoursmeaplaincupofcoffee.
“Igottastopwatchingthenews,”hesays.
Inod,understandingthismorethanheknows.“It’llonlydepressyou.”
“Word.”
Ididnotknowpeoplestillsaid“Word”inarealway,butthisbigbeardedfellowsaysitlikehemeansit.
Ileavewithoutaskingaboutthenews.TheyarestilltalkingaboutwhetherornotOwenisreallygone,butthereisnorealnews.Noupdates.Justnewwaysofrepeatingtheold.
Andalready,Owenisstartingtofade.Heisstilltheleadstorybutnolongerdominatestheentirebroadcast.
JustasIthought.
Andnow,mythoughtsrevolvearoundmyfamily,mykids.AboutRory’sgirlfriend,whomIstillhaven’tmet.IdidfigureouttheHammondsliveonthenextblock.ItwouldtakeRoryallofsixtysecondstogetfromourhousetotheirsifhecutthroughthemiddleoftheblock.Ishouldhaveknownthisalready,shouldhaveknownRorywassneakingout,butIwastoobusydoingitmyself.NowIammakingupforlosttime.
Jennahasanewfascinationwithmakeup.Thishasjuststartedinthepastweek,perhapsbecausesheisnolongertryingtohidefromOwen.Icaughtherputtinglipglossonbeforeweleftforschoolonemorning,andMillicentsaiditlookedlikesomeonehadbeeninourbathroom.
Andshestillhasthatknifeunderhermattress.Iamstartingtowonderifsheforgotitwasthere.
TheseareallthingsIwouldmissifIwerestilldistractedbyOwen,byNaomiandAnnabelleandPetra.IcannotrememberthelasttimeIchargedthedisposablephone.
AndMillicent.Wehavetalkedabouthavingarealdatenight.Ithasnothappenedyet,butwhenitdoes,wewillnottalkaboutHollyorOwenoranythingofthesort.Inthemeantime,shehasstartedananti–hotdogcrusadeontheInternet
Itookthetrackeroffhercar.Now,Iwanttolookatmywife,notthebluedotrepresentingmywife.
Evenworkhasbeenbooming,Ihavetwonewclients,becausemyscheduleisnolongeraserratic.Mostofmydayisattheclub,andsowhenI’mnotteaching,Ihavetimetonetwork.
Andy.Ihaven’tspokentohimsincehemovedoutofHiddenOaks.HeleftrightafterTristadied;heputthehouseupforsale,andIhaven’tseenhimsince.Henolongercomestotheclubhouse.Itdoesn’tseemrightthatIhavelethimdisappearoutofmylife.Inpart,that’sbeenbecauseofmyownschedule.ButitisalsobecauseofTrista.
Icallhimtoseehowheis.Andydoesnotansweranddoesnotcallback.Imakeahalf-heartedattempttosearchforhimonline,totryandfigureoutwhereheislivingnow,butIgiveupafterafewminutes.
Istillhavethatbottleofeyedrops,thoughIhaveseennoevidencethatRory,oranyone,isusingdrugsofanykind.Itdoesn’tmakesensewhytheyareinthehouse,muchlessinthepantry.Eyedropsdon’tneedtobehidden.
???
KEKONAHASgonebacktoHawaiiforamonth,somyfirstclientisMrs.Leland.ShedoesnotliketotalkaboutcrimeorOwenoranythingofthesort.Mrs.Lelandisaseriousplayer,whoonlytalksabouttennis.
Afterherlessonisover,Ihaveaminutebetweenclients,justlongenoughtoseeatextfromMillicent.
?
Idonotknowwhatitmeansorwhatsheisasking,soItextback:
What?
MidwaythroughmylessonwitharetireenamedArthur,Millicentsendsmealinktoanewsstory.Theheadlinedoesnotmakesense.
OWENISDEAD
Ireadthestoryonce,thenagain,andthethirdtimeitbecomesmoreunbelievablethanthefirst.
Fifteenyearsago,OwenOliverRileywaschargedwithmurderandletgoonatechnicality.Hevanishedwithoutatraceuntilrecently,whenthebodyofayoungwomanwasfoundandsomeoneclaimingtobeRileysentalettertoalocalreporter,takingresponsibilityforthemurderandpromisingtokillanotherwoman,evennamingthedayshewoulddisappear.Whenasecondwoman’sbodywasfound,itseemedhehadmadegoodonhispromise.Thenextletterclaimedthathewasdoneandwouldnowleaveforgood.Butwasheeverhereatall?“No,”saysJenniferRiley.“Owen’ssistercontactedthelocalpolicelastweekandsubsequentlyissuedastatement.”Inatwistsoshockingithardlyseemsreal,sheclaimsthatfifteenyearsago,afterOwenRileywasreleased,bothsheandherbrothermovedtoEurope.NeitherreturnedtotheUnitedStates,notevenforavisit,herstatementsays,andtheychangedtheirfirstnamesandlivedinanonymity.Fiveyearsago,herbrotherwasdiagnosedwithpancreaticcancer,shetoldpolice,andafterseveralroundsofradiation,hefinallysuccumbedtohisillnessandpassedaway.Hisbodywascremated,herstatementsays.OwenRiley’sobituarydidnotappearinanyU.S.newspaper.ItwasannouncedonlyinaU.K.paperunderhispseudonym,JenniferRileyclaims.Sheprovidedacopyofittopolice,alongwithadeathcertificate.Authoritiesarecurrentlyworkingtoverifytheinformation.Untilrecently,JenniferRileytoldpolice,shehadnoideaherbrotherhad“returned”totheareawheretheygrewup.Shewentontosay,“Iwantednothingtodowiththis.Afterleavingtheareasomanyyearsago,Iwantednothingtodowithit.However,anoldfriendofminereachedoutandconvincedmetosaysomething,becausethepolicewereconvinceditwasOwen.“Iwillstatethisasclearlyaspossible:Therecentmurdersoftwoyoungwomenaretragicandheartbreaking.However,Ineedtomakeitclearthatmybrotherhadnothingtodowiththem.”Fifty-one
MYPHONEISlyingonthecementcourt,thescreenshattered.Idonotrememberdroppingit.OrmaybeIthrewit.
Ahandisonmyarm.Arthur,myclient,isstaringatme.Hiseyesarehiddenunderthickgreybrows,andtheyarecrinkledup.Worried.“Areyouokay?”hesays.
No.OkayisnotwhatIam.“I’msorry.Ihavetogo.It’safamily—”
“Ofcourse.Go.”
Ipickupmyphoneandbagandleavethecourt.Onthewaytotheparkinglot,Ihearpeoplesayhellobutdonotseetheirfaces.AllIcanseeisthatheadline:
OWENISDEAD
Inthecar,withtheenginerunning,itoccurstomeIhavenoideawhereMillicentis.Notwithoutthattrackeronhercar.
Throughthebrokenscreen,Isendheratext.
Datenight
Herreply:
Datelunch.Now.
Iamalreadypullingoutoftheparkinglot.
Thekidsareatschool,sowemeetathome.Hercarisoutfront,andsheisinside,pacingthelengthofthefamilyroom.Todayhershoesarenavyblue,andtheydonotmakeasoundwhenshewalks.Herhairisshorter,cutabovehershoulders,becauseshedidn’twantJennatobetheonlygirlinthefamilywithshorthair.
WhenIwalkin,shestopspacingandwelookateachother.Nothingtosay.
Otherthanwescrewedup.
Shesmilesalittle.Notahappysmile.“Didn’tseethiscoming.”
“Wecouldn’thave.”
Ireachouttoher,andshecomestome,intomyarms.Myheartisbeatingfasterthannormal,andsheleansherheadagainstit.
“They’llstartlookingfortherealkiller,”Isay.
“Yes.”Sheleansherheadbackandlooksupatme.
“Wecouldjustleave.”
“Leave?”
“Moveaway.Wedon’thavetolivehere.Wedon’tevenhavetoliveinthisstate.Icanteachtennisanywhere.Youcansellrealestateanywhere.”Theideahasjustcometome,asIamstandingherewithMillicent.“Pickaplace.”
“Youaren’tserious.”
“Whynot?”
Shemovesawayfrommeandstartstopaceagain.Icanseeherbuildinglistsinhermind,tryingtofigureouteverythingthatneedstobedone.“It’sthemiddleoftheschoolyear.”
“Iknow.”
“Iwouldn’tevenknowwheretopick.”
“Wecanfigureitouttogether.”
Shegoessilent.
Irepeattheobvious.“They’regoingtolookfortherealkiller.”
Thiswasneveraproblembefore.Nobodieshadbeenfound,notuntilLindsay.Upuntilthen,nooneevenknewtherewasakiller.Theyweren’tlookingforanyone.
Nowtheyare.AndtheyknowitwassomeonepretendingtobeOwen.
“They’llneverknowitwasus,”shesays.
“Never?”
Millicentshakesherhead.“Idon’tknowhow.Webasicallyspliteverythingup.Inevertouchedtheletters—”
“ButwhereveryoukeptNaomi—”
“Youneverevensawit.Whataboutyou?Didanyoneseeyouwith—”
“No.IneverspoketoNaomi,”Isay.
“Never?”Millicentissilentforamoment.“That’sgood,then.Noonesawyouwithher.”
“No.”
“AndLindsay?”
Ishakemyhead.LindsayandIspokewhilehiking.“Noonesawus.”
“Good.”
“Jenna,”Isay.“Ialmostthinkweshouldmovebecauseof—”
“Let’satleastwaitandmakesurethisisreal.Thatitisn’tsomekindofhoax.”
Ismile.Theironyistoothicknotto.“LikeOwen’sletters.Ahoax.”
“Yes.Likethat.”
Thereminderonmyphonebeeps.Mynextclientisinfifteenminutes.EitherIleaveorIcancel.
“Go,”shesays.“There’snothingwecandonowexceptwait.”
“Ifit’sreal—”
“We’lldiscussitagain.”
Iwalkoverandkissherontheforehead.
Sheputsherhandonmycheek.“We’llbefine.”
“Wealwaysare.”
“Yes.”
???
THEKIDSHAVEalreadyheardthenews.Wehadplannedtotellthemtogetherthatevening,atdinner,buttheyalreadyknew.TheInternetandtheirfriendsarefasterthanus.
IfRorycares,hedoesnotshowit.Hishandisclaspedaroundhisphone,thelifelinetohisgirlfriend.
Jenna’sfaceisstillasstone.Hereyes,normallysoexpressive,lookrightthroughus.Sheisnotlistening,notevenhereintheroomwithus.Idonotknowwheresheis.ShedoesnotspeakuntilMillicentandIaredonetellingherwhatwehavetoldherforweeks:Youaresafe.
Idon’tthinkshebelievesus.I’mnotevensureIbelieveus.Everythingshethoughtwastrueisturningouttobewrong.Owenwasneverhere.Itwasalwayssomeoneelse,andnoonehasanyideawho.
Icannotblameherforshuttingdown.Iwanttodothesamething.
Whenwearedonetalking,Roryjumpsupandheadsforthestairs.Alreadytexting.
Jennakeepsstaring.
“Baby?”Isay,reachingovertotouchherhand.“Youokay?”
Sheturnstome,hereyesfocusing.“Soit’sallalie.Thekillermaynotevenbegone.”
“Wedon’tknowthatyet,”Millicentsays.
“Butmaybe.”
Inod.“Maybe.”
Aminutepassed,thenanother.
“Okay,”shesays,slippingherhandoutfromundermine.Shestandsup.“I’mgoingupstairs.”
“Areyoufeeling—”
“I’mfine.”
MillicentandIwatchhergo.
TherestofmyeveningisspentontheInternet,researchinganewplaceforustolive.Iflipbetweensitesaboutweather,schools,costofliving,andthenews.
Itfeelsstrangetonotknowwhatiscomingnext.EversinceIwrotethatfirstlettertoJosh,mostofthenewshasnotsurprisedme.Ialreadyknewwhattheletterswouldsayandcouldguesshowthepunditswouldanalyzethem.NotevenNaomi’sbodywasasurprise.Ididn’tknowthedetails,butIknewitwouldbefound.
Theonlythingthatsurprisedmewasthepapercuts.
Now,nothingisfamiliar,nothingisexpected.Idonotlikeit.
Fifty-two
IWATCHTHESTORYunfoldonTVasifIamnotinvolved.AsifI’mjustanotherspectator.And,becauseIhavenopowertochangethecourseofthisstory,Ihope.EverytimeIturnonthenews,IhopeOwen’ssisterisaliar.Butonenight,Iamoutsideonthebackporch,watchingtheeleveno’clockbroadcast,andthisisnotwhatJoshsays.
Heisinthestudiotonight,wearingajacketandtie,andhisfacelookslikeitwasshavedminutesbeforetheshowstarted.JoshsoundslikeaseriousreporterwhenhesaysthatJenniferRileyiscomingbackintothecountry.Shewantstoclearherbrother’sname.
Theurgetothrowmyphone,again,isstoppedbyascrapingsoundonthesideofthehouse.Igetupandlook.
Rory.
Onlyhewouldcontinuetosneakoutaftergettingcaughtsneakingout.
Orrather,onlyhecouldcontinuetogetawaywithsneakingoutafterhewascaughtsneakingout.IwonderhowmanytimesI’vemissedhim.
Heseesmejustashisfeethittheground.Rorywasonhiswayout,notbackin
“Oh,”hesays.“Hey.”
“Goingoutforalittlenightair?”
Heshrugs,admittingnothing.
“Comesitdown,”Isay.
Insteadofsittingontheporch,wegooutfartherintotheyard.Wehaveapicnictablewithanumbrellaonthefarside,inbetweenthebigoaktreeandthedismantledplayset.
Rorysays,“Youdon’thavealotofroomtotalkaboutsneakingout.”
Daysago,whenOwenwassupposedtobegoneforever,thatcommentmightnothavebotheredme.Ihadbeenlookingforwardtotalkingwithmysonabouthisfirstgirlfriend.Now,itjustfeelslikeachore.
Ipointtooneofthebenches“Sit.Your.Ass.Down.”
Hedoes.
“First,”Isay,“youmayhavenoticedyoursisterhasbeenhavingadifficulttime.AndIamsureyou,heronlybrother,donotwanttomakeherfeelworse?”
Heshakeshishead.
“Ofcourseyoudon’t.SoIknowyouwon’ttellherthislittletheoryofyoursabouthowI’mcheatingonyourmother.”
“Theory?”
Istareathim.
Heshakeshisheadagain.“No.I’mnotgoingtosayanything.”
“AndIknowyouarenotabouttocomparemetoyouandthefactthatyouaresneakingoutlateatnight.Becauseyouarelessthanhalfmyage.Youarenotevenclosetobeinganadult.Youdonotgettosneakout.”
Henods.
“What?”Isay.
“No.Iwasn’tgoingtocompareus.”
“AndIalsoknowthatifIaskyouwhyyouweresneakingout,youarenotgoingtosayitwastohangoutwithDaniel.Becausethat’snotwhatyou’redoing,isit?”
“No.”
“You’resneakingouttoseeFaithHammond.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect.I’mgladweclearedthatup.”
Rory’sphonebuzzes.Hiseyesgobackandforth,betweenthephoneandme,buthedoesnotlookatit.
“Goahead,”Isay.
“It’sokay.”
“Don’tkeepFaithwaiting.”
Hechecksthephoneandsendsatextwhilepushingthatredhairoutofhiseyes.Faithanswersrightaway,andhesendsanother.Theconversationcontinues,andIwaituntilheputsthephonedownonthetable.Faceup.
“Sorry,”hesays.
Isigh.
IamnotangryatRory.Heisjustakidwhohasdiscoveredgirlsaren’tsobadafterall.Heusedtosaygirlswere“heinousandfouland,mostespecially,ugly.”Thequoteisfromabookhe’dread,anditalwaysmademelaugh.IwouldturntoMillicentandsay,“You’retheonewhobroughtthemtothelibraryeveryweek.”Ifwehappenedtobeinthekitchen,shewouldsnapthedishtowelatme.Once,shesnappeditsoharditcutmyarm.Thewoundwasjustsuperficial,barelybreakingtheskin,butRorywasimpressedwithhismother.Lesssowithme.
Andnow,heisleavinglateatnighttoseealittleblondenamedFaith.
“Doesshesneakout,too?”Isay.“Doyoumeetsomewhere?”
“Sometimes.ButIcangetuptoherroom,too.”
Iwanttobanhimfromdoingthis,putalockonhiswindow,andcallFaith’sparentsandsaytheyaretooyoungandit’stoodangerous.Owenisdead,andakillerisontheloose.
Exceptitisn’ttrue.Ijusthavetopretenditis.JustlikeIhavetopretendIdon’tremembermyfirstgirlfriend.
“Youhavetostop,”Isay.“You’veseenthenews.It’stoodangerousforbothofyoutobeoutaloneatnight.”
“Yeah,Iknow,but—”
“Andyoushouldn’tbesneakingoutatall.IfItoldyourmother,shewouldlockyourwindowandputcamerasalloverthehouse.”
Rory’seyebrowsshootup.“Shedoesn’tknow?”
“Ifshedid,you’dbegroundeduntilcollege.Andsowouldyourgirlfriend.”
“Okay.We’llstop.”
Itakeadeepbreath.JustbecauseI’mangrydoesnotmeanIamirresponsible.“Andsinceyouhaveagirlfriend,doyouhaveprotect—”
“Dad,Iknowhowtobuycondoms.”
“Good,good.Sojusttextheratnight,okay?Seeherduringtheday?”
Henodsandgetsupquick,asifheisscaredImightchangemymind.
“Onemorething,”Isay.“Andanswermestraight.”
“Okay.”
“Areyoutakinganydrugs?”
“No.”
“Youdon’tsmokepot?”
Heshakeshishead.“IswearIdon’t.”
Ilethimgo.Rightnow,Idon’thavetimetofigureoutifheislying.
WhenI’mnotwatchingthenews,allIcanthinkaboutiswhatelsewemighthavemissed.Allthewayswemightgetcaught,alltheforensicdataIhavelearnedaboutonTV.TheDNA,traceevidence,fibers—itallrunsthroughmymindlikeitmakessensetome,whichitdoesnot,butIknowitwillnotpointtome.IneversaidawordtoNaomi,muchlesstouchedher.AnyevidencetheyfindwillleadtoMillicent.
???
THEFIRSTTIMEIseeOwen’ssisterisonTV.Owenwasinhisthirtieswhenhewaskilling;now,hewouldhavebeenaboutfifty.Jenniferlooksalittleyounger,midforties.Shehasthesameblueeyes,butherhairisadirtiershadeofblond.Sheissothinhercollarbonesticksout,asdotheveinsonherneck.Theysaythecameraputsontenpounds,andifthat’strue,Jennifermustlooksicklyinreallife.
Sheisoneveryscreenintheclubhouse,wherethelunchcrowdhasstuckaroundforanothercocktailsotheycanwatchthepressconference.ThisisthefirsttimethepublichasseenOwen’ssister.
Thepolicechiefisononesideofher;themedicalexaminerisontheother.Onehashair,theotherdoesn’t,andtheirpaunchesarethesamesize.
JennifersaysisthatsheisOwenOliverRiley’ssisterandthatweareallwrongaboutthesemurders.
“IcanproveOwenhasnotkilledanyoneinthelastfiveyears.Icameallthewaybackheretomakesureeveryoneunderstandsthatmybrotherisdead.”JenniferholdsupapieceofpaperandsaysitisOwen’sdeathcertificate,signedbyacoronerinGreatBritainandstampedwithanofficialseal.Shesaysitagain.“Dead.”
ThemedicalexaminerstepstothemicrophoneandconfirmswhatJenniferhassaid
Dead.
Nextcomesthechiefofpolice,whogoesonandonabouthowitwasunavoidablethathispolicedepartmenthadzeroedinonOwen,buttheyhadbeenmisled.HealsoconfirmsJennifer’sclaim.
Dead.
Weareallclearnow.Webelieveher.Owenisdead,andthepolicearegoingbacktotheevidencetoseewhattheymissed.
Butfirst,Jenniferhasonemorethingtosay,“Iamsorryforthefamilies.Sorrythatsomuchtimehasbeenwastedfocusingonmybrotherinsteadoflookingfortherealkiller.AnoldfriendcontactedmeaboutwhatwasgoingonhereinWoodview.Whenshebeggedmetocomeback,IknewIhadtodotherightthing.”
Jennifermotionstosomeonebehindher,andthemedicalexaminerstepstotheside.Thecamerazoomsinonthefriend.
MyheadspinssofastIalmostloseconsciousness.
ThewomanwhocalledJenniferRileyisplumpandblond,andhasasmilethatlightsupthescreen.
Denise.ThewomanfrombehindthecounteratJoe’sDeli.
Fifty-three
THEGPSTRACKERsitsonthedashboardofmycar.Iflipitoverononeside,thentheother,andstartalloveragain.ItisthesamethingIhavebeendoinginmymindafterthewomanfromJoe’sDeli,Millicent’snewfavoritelunchspot,appearedonTV.
Denise.ThesamewomanwhoservedJennaandme.
Thisisacoincidence.Itmustbe.ThefactthatOwenisdeaddoesnothelpMillicentandme.Ithurtsus.
AndifJoe’swasanorganicbistroservingroastbeeffromcowsraisedonorganicgrass,itwouldneveroccurtomethatthisisnotacoincidence.ButJoe’sisnot.Itisadeliwhereorganicisawordfromanotherlanguage.
IfIcouldaskMillicentaboutthisnewaffectionforcheapdelisandwiches,Iwould.ButIamnotsupposedtoknow.ThisisinformationIacquiredbyspyingonmywife.
I’dneverdoneitbefore.Thoughtaboutit,butneverdidit.NotevenbackwhenMillicentwasworkingwithamanwholikedherasmorethanacolleague.ItwasobviousfromthemomentImethim.Cooper.Theone-timefratboywhonevermarriedanddidn’twantto.WhathewantedtodowassleepwithMillicent.
CooperwastheonewhowentwithMillicenttotheconferenceinMiami.TheweekendCrystalkissedme.
IwasconvincedCooperhaddonethesamethingtoMillicent.
Whentheycameback,thatbeliefalmostmademespyonbothofthem.Ididnot.Atleastnotonher.ButCooper,Iwatchedhimlongenoughtofigureouthewantedtosleepwitheverywoman.Itwasn’tjustMillicent.
AndasfarasIcouldtell,theyhadnotslepttogether.
NowthatIhavespiedonmywife,Iseetheproblemwithit.Icannotdoanythingwiththeinformation.Thetrackerisonmydashboard,andIamsittingintheparkinglotoftheclubstaringatthegadget,becausespyingonlyleadstomorespying.IfIhadknownitwassuchaviciouscircle,Iwouldneverhavedoneit
AsIgobackandforth,Millicenttextsme.
Chickenphofordinner?Soundsgood.
Iwaitforanothertext,onethatsaysdatenightorhassomereferencetothenewstoday,butmyphonestaysdark.
???
WHENIGEThome,Millicent’scarisalreadyinthegarage.Ithinkaboutputtingthetrackeronitagainbutdon’t.
Sheismakingchickenphointhekitchen.Istarttohelpher,slicingvegetableswhilesheaddsfreshonionandgingertothebroth.
Thekidsarenotaround.
“Upstairs,”shesaysbeforeIask.“Homework.”
“Didyouseethenews?”
Shepursesherlipsandnods.“He’sdead.”
“Theyonlysaiditathousandtimes.”
Ismilealittle.Shedoes,too.WecannotchangethefactthatOwenisdead.
Wearesilentforafewminutes,workingondinner,andItrytocomeupwithawaytomentionDenise.Thekidsshowupbeforeanideadoes.
Ireiteratethattheyshouldn’tpayanyattentiontoeverythinggoingoninthenews.“Nothingisgoingtohappentoyou.”
ThisdirectlycontradictswhatItoldRorytheothernight,whenIsaiditwastoodangerousforhimtosneakout,butRoryisnotbeatingupkidswithrocks.Jennais.
Still,henotices.Herollshiseyesatme.Wehaven’tsaidalottoeachothersinceourtalkinthebackyard.IamnotsureifheisangrybecausehewascaughtsneakingoutorangrybecauseIaskedifheuseddrugs.Probablyboth.
WhennoonehasanythingelsetosayaboutOwen,theconversationturnstoSaturday.Roryisplayinggolf.Jennahasasoccergame,anditisMillicent’sturntogo.Iamworking.Wewillallmeetforlunch.
Owendoesnotcomeupagainuntillater,afterdinnerisoverandthedishesaredoneandthekidshavegonetosleep.Millicentisinourbathroom,gettingreadyforbed,whileIwatchthenewsandwaitforher.ShecomesoutwearingoneofmyT-shirtsfromtheclubandapairofsweats,herfaceshinywithlotion.SherubsitonherhandswhilestaringattheTV.
JoshisstandinginfrontoftheLancasterHotel,whereJenniferRileyisstaying.Hetalksaboutthepressconference,thencutstothevideo.
“Ihaven’tseenthis,”Millicentsays.
“No?”
“No.Isawthestoryonline.”
Iturnupthevolume.Theyshowsnippetsfromthepressconference,includingeverytimesomeonesaidtheworddead.NoonesaidOwenhadpassedaway,notevenhissister.
WhenDenisecomesonthescreen,IlookatMillicent.
Shetiltsherheadtotheside.
Iwait.
Whentheclipends,shesays,“That’sweird.”
“What’sweird?”
“Iknowthatwoman.She’saclient.”
“Really?”
“Sheownsadeli.Aprettysuccessfulone,too.She’slookingforahouse.”
Millicentwalksbackintothebathroom.
Inside,Iexhale.Deniseisaclient.Ithadneveroccurredtomethatshe’dhaveenoughmoneytobuyahouse—atleastnotthekindofhousesMillicentsells—andyetshedoes.
Iamsostupid.
ThoughIamrelievedtoknowthishasallbeenaweirdcoincidence,whollycausedbymyownspying,ourproblemhasnotgoneaway.It’sworse.Owenisdead,andthepolicearelookingfortherealkiller.
Thechiefsaidanewdetectivehasbeenassignedtothecase.Thedetectiveiscominginfromanotherprecinctandwillreviewthewholecasewithfresheyes.IshouldhavelookedatDenisewithfresheyes.
WhenMillicentcomesoutofthebathroom,theTVandlightsareoff.Shegetsintobed,andIturnovertofaceher,eventhoughit’stoodarktoseeanything.
“Idon’twanttomoveaway,”shesays.
“Iknow.”
Sheslipsherhandintomine.“I’mworried.”
“AboutJenna?Oraboutthepolice?”
“Both.”
“Whatifwegooutoftown?”Isay.
“ButIjustsaid—”
“Imeantakeavacation.”
Sheisquiet.Inmymind,Irunthroughallthereasonswecannotgo.Thekidswouldmissschool.Wedon’thaveextramoney.Shehasseveraldealspending.Ishouldnotcancelonmyclientsagain.Thesamereasonsmustberunningthroughhermind.
“I’llthinkaboutit,”shesays.“Let’sseehowthingsgo.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“Thechickenphowasgreat,”Isay.
“You’resilly.”
“Evenifwedon’tgoonvacationnow,weshouldwhenthisisallover.”
“Wewill.”
“Promise.”
“Ipromise,”shesays.“Nowgotosleep.”
Fifty-four
THENEWDETECTIVEisawoman.HerfullnameisClaireWellington,anamethatsoundslikeherfamilydatesbacktotheMayflower,butIbetitdoesn’t.Notthatitmatters.
Claireisasevere-lookingwomanwithshortbrownhair,paleskin,andbrownlipstick.Shewearsno-nonsensepantsuits,allindarkcolors,andneversmiles.IknowthisbecausesheisonTVallthetime.Herideaofdetectiveworkisaskingthepublicforhelp.
“Iknowsomeoneinthiscommunitysawsomething,eveniftheydon’trealizeit.MaybeitwasthenightNaomidisappeared.Everyonewasonguardthatnight,andeveryoneknewsomethingwasgoingtohappen.OrmaybeitwaswhenNaomiGeorge’sbodywasdumpedbehindtheLancasterHotel.Please,thinkbacktothatnight,thinkaboutwhatyouweredoing,whoyouwerewith,andwhatyousaw.Youmayhaveseensomethingandnotevenrealizedit.”
Awebsitehasbeensetupforpeopletosendininformation.OrtheycanstayanonymousandcallaspecialtiplineforanythingrelatedtoLindsayandNaomi.
Idonotlikethisdevelopment.AllsortsofnewinformationmightbedredgedupbecauseofClaire’spublicrelationstouronTV.Joshisalreadyreportingthatthepolicehavedozensofnewleads.
“ThepolicehavealsomadeuseofaninnovativecomputerprogramdevelopedatUFSarasota,wherestudentshavewrittenanalgorithmthatcansortthroughthetipsandmatchwordsusedrepeatedly.Thetipsarethenrankedinorderfromthemostusefultotheleast.”
ThisallhappenswithindaysofClaire’sarrival.ItisbadenoughthatIhavetoseeherontelevision.All.The.Time.NowIalsohavetolistenabouthowinnovativeandeffectivesheis.Evenathomesheisunavoidable.Millicenthasbeeninsistingthatwedon’twatchTVintheevenings,becauseClairealwayspopsupduringthecommercials.Thelocalstationshavestartedrunningpublicserviceannouncementsaboutthetipline.
InsteadofTV,weplaygamestogether.Millicentdigsupadeckofcardsandarackofplasticchips,andweteachthekidshowtoplaypoker,becausethisispreferabletowatchingClaire.
Roryalreadyknowshowtoplay.Hehasapokerapponhisphone.
Jennapicksitupfast,becauseshepicksupeverythingfast.Shealsohasthebestpokerface.Ithinkit’sevenbetterthanMillicent’s.
Mypokerfaceisterrible,andIloseeveryhand.
Whileweareplaying,Rorymentionsthattherewillbeanassemblyatschooltomorrow.Millicentfurrowsherbrowandthenunfurrowsit.Sheistryingtofurrowlessbecauseofwrinkles.
“Ididn’tgetanoticeaboutanassembly,”shesays.
“Thatdetectiveiscomingtoschool,”Jennasays.
“Thechick,”Rorysays.
Millicent’sbrowfurrowsagain.
“Whyisthefemaledetectivecomingtoyourschool?”Isay.
Roryshrugs.“Probablytoaskusifwesawanything.Samethingshe’sbeendoingonTV.Danielsaidshe’sgoingtoalltheschools.”
Jennanodsasifshe’dheardthesamething.
“She’sannoying,”Rorysays.“Butatleastwegetoutofaclass.”
Millicentgiveshimalook.Hepretendsnottoseeitandstudieshiscards.
“Well,Ilikeher,”Jennasays.
“Youlikethedetective?”Isay.
Shenods.“Sheseemstough.Likeshe’sreallygoingtogethim.”
“Oh,I’dagreewiththat,”Rorysays.“It’slikeshe’sobsessedorsomething.”
ItfiguresthatthewomanwhomightcatchusalsomakesJennafeelbetter.“Everyonehasalotofconfidenceinher,”Isay.
“IhopeI’llgettotalktoher,”Jennasays.
“I’msuresheisverybusy.”
“Obviously.I’mjustsaying.”
???
JENNAANDRORY’Sschooldoesnotholdassembliesinthegymnasium.Ithasaspecialhall,anditisnamedafterthedonorwhopaidforit.WhenIarrive,thehallispackedwithkids,faculty,andparents.WithasmuchasClairehasbeeninthenews,sheisalmostacelebrity.
Sheistallerthanexpected,andeveninacrowdedroomsheisintimidating.Clairedoesnotwanttotalkaboutherself,herpast,orherexperience.Shebeginsbytellingthekidsthattheyareallsafe.
“Whoeverkilledthesewomenisnotlookingforyou.Heislookingforwomenwhoareolderthanallofyou.ChancesareyouwillnevercrosspathswiththepersonwhokilledNaomiandLindsay.”
Jennaissittingwithherfriendsjusttotherightofthestage.Evenfromtheback,Icanseeherleaningforward,tryingtohearandseeeverything.
Roryisthemiddle,sittingwithhisgirlfriend,andhemayormaynotbepayingattention.Hardtotell.
“However,”Clairesays,“ifyouhavecrossedpathswiththiskiller,youmaynotevenknowit.Youmayhaveseensomethingthatyoudon’tevenknowisimportant.Anythingthatyouthinkisunusual,orthatstandsout,couldbeimportant.”
ShesaysthesamethingsshesaidonTVbutwithsmallerwordsandshortersentences.Sheendsbysayingshewillbeavailableafterwardifanyonewantstotalk.ThisiswhyIamhere.First,tomakesureJennahasachancetomeetClaire.Second,tomeetherformyself.
Jenna’sfriendsarearound,soshedoesnotgivemeahug.Together,wewaittospeaktoClaire.Ajumbledlineofpeoplehasformedinfrontofher,andwhenourturncomesIstepuptoClaireandintroducemyself.Sheistallenoughthatwestandeyetoeye.OnTV,hereyeslookplainbrown.Upclose,Iseeflecksofgold.
“Thisismydaughter,Jenna,”Isay.
InsteadofaskingJennahowoldsheisorwhatgradeshe’sin,Claireasksherifshewantstobeadetective.
“Iwouldloveit!”Jennasays.
“Thenthefirstthingyouneedtoknowisthateverythingmatters.Eventhesmallthingsthatseemlikenothing.”
Jennanods.Hereyesaresobright.“Icandothat.”
“I’msureyoucan.”Claireturnstome.“Yourdaughterisgoingtobeafinedetective.”
“Shealreadyis,Ithink.”
Wesmileateachother.
Shemovesontothenextperson,turningherbacktous.
Jennaisbouncingupanddownonhertoes.“YouthinkIcanreallybeadetective?”
“Youcanbeanythingyouwanttobe.”
Shestopsbouncing.“Dad,yousoundlikeacommercial.”
“I’msorry.Butit’strue.AndIthinkyou’dbeagreatdetective.”
Shesighsandturnsbacktoherfriends,whoarewavingather.ShebrushesmeoffwhenItrytogiveherahug.“Igottago.”
Iwatchherrunovertoherfriends,whoreacttohernewswithmoreenthusiasmthanIdid.
Dadfailurenumber79,402,andshe’sonlythirteen.
IamgratefulforClaire,whoissocarefulaboutmakingthekidsfeelssafe.ShehasmadeJennahappierthanIhaveseenherinawhile.
ThatstilldoesnotmakemelikeClaire.Infact,nowthatI’vemether,Ihateher.
Fifty-five
BEFOREIHAVEAchancetoresearchournewdetective,Jennadoes.Atdinner,wearetreatedtothelifestoryofClaireWellington,aspertheInternet.BorninChicago,collegeinNewYork,firstjobwiththeNYPD.ShemovedtotheruralMidwest,whereshebecameadetectiveandwaspartofadrugtaskforce.Claireleftthesmalltownsforabiggerone,eventuallygettingpromotedtohomicidedetective.ShewaspartofateamthatinvestigatedagroupofkillingsknownastheRiverParkMurders.Theyarrestedthekillerwithintwomonthsofstartingtheirinvestigation.
Clairewentontobecomeoneofthemostsuccessfulhomicidedetectivesinherdepartment.Heraverageclearanceratewas5percenthigherthaneveryoneelse’s.
Sheisasformidableasshelooks.
ThekidsandIarenottheonlyoneswhomeetClaire.Millicentdoesaswell.Claireneededaplacetorent,becausestayinginahotelistooexpensiveforthepolicebudget,soshecalledtherealestateofficelookingforarental.Small,simple,andfurnished,withamonthlylease.Millicentdoesnothandlerentals,butshewasintheofficewhenClairestoppedby.
EarlySundaymorning,whenwearealoneinthekitchenandthekidsarestillasleep,IaskMillicentwhatshethinksofClaireWellington.
“She’sverytall.”
“She’ssmart,”Isay.
“Andwearen’t?”
Weexchangeasmile.
Millicenthasjustreturnedfromarun.Shestandsatthesink,inherspandex,andIadmiretheview.Shecatchesmeandraisesaneyebrow.
“Wanttogobacktobed?”Isay.
“Youwanttoshowmehowsmartyouare?”
“Ido.”
“ButIneedashower.”
“Wantcompany?”
Shedoes.
???
WESTARTINshowerandmovetothebed.Oursexiscozyandfamiliar,ratherthanpassionateandfurtive.Notabadthing.
WhenRorywakesup,wearestillinbed.Iknowit’sRory,becausehecannotshutadoorwithoutslammingitandhisfootstepsareheavywhenhegoesdowntothekitchen.Notlongafter,Jennagetsupandfollowsthesameroutine—bathroomandthenkitchen—buteverythingissofter.
Millicentiscurledupbesideme.Sheisnakedandwarm.
“Thecoffeeisstillon,”shesays.“They’llwonderwhereweare.”
“Letthem.”IhavenointentionofgettingoutofbeduntilIhaveto.Istretchoutandclosemyeyes.
TheTVturnson,thevolumeloud.Thekidsareprobablygladwearen’tdownstairs.Normally,wedonotwatchTVonSundaymornings,soforthemthisisatreat.Theyflipbetweencartoonsandamoviewithexplosions.
“Ibetthey’reeatingcereal,”Millicentsays.
“Wehavecereal?”
“Organic.Nosugar.”
“Wehavemilk?”
“Soy.”
Idonotsay“yuck”outloud,butIthinkit.“That’snotbad,then.”
“Iguessnot.”
Shesnugglesalittlecloser.
ThisiswhatlifewaslikebeforeHolly.Everythingmovedabitslower,lessfrantically,withoutmuchexcitement.
Thedaysblendedtogether,punctuatedonlybybigevents.Ourfirsthousewassotiny,butitfelthuge,atleastuntilweoutgrewit—followedbyMillicent’sfirsthugesale,Jenna’sfirstdayofschool,ourbiggerhouseandbiggermortgage.ThepapercutonRory’shand.
WhenJennawasfour,shegotsickwithacoldthatturnedintobronchitis.Shecouldsleepforonlyanhourorsobeforethecoughingwouldwakeherup.MillicentandIspentthreenightssleepinginherroom,meonthefloorandMillicentinJenna’slittlebed.Betweenthetwoofus,wehelpedJennagetmoresleepthanus.
ItaughtRoryhowtorideabike.Hewouldneveradmitit,butheusedtrainingwheelsforanextendedperiodoftime.Balancewasnothisthing.Stillisn’t.
Noneofthiswasexciting,notatthetime.Theywereroutinesandresponsibilities,withanoccasionalsmileorevenalaugh.Momentsofhappinessfollowedbylongstretchesofblurry,repetitivedays.
Now,Iwantitallback.MaybeIhavehadtoomuchexcitement,orthisistooexciting,buteitherwayitisnotwhatIwant.
“Hey,”Millicentsays.Shesitsupinbed,coveredbythesheet.Herredhairistangled.“Youhearthat?”
Downstairs,thebreaking-newsmusicblaresoutoftheTV.Itcutsoffwhenoneofthekidschangesthechanneltoacartoon.
Irollmyeyes.“Newsbreakseveryfiveminutes.”IpullMillicentbackdownonthebed,intomyarms,withnointentionofmovingunlessthepolicebreakdownourdoor.“Probablysomecelebritygotarrested.”
“Ordied.”
“Orapoliticiangotcaughtcheating,”Isay.
“That’snotevennewsworthy.”
Ilaughandburymyselfdeeperunderthecovers.
Myhopeisthattheyhavearrestedsomeoneforthemurders.ItwouldnotbeNaomiandLindsay’skiller,butitwouldbesomeonewhohasdoneotherbadthings.Someonewhodeservestobelockedupbeforehehurtssomeone.Iimaginehimasadisheveled,slovenlymanwhohascrazyeyes.
“Okay,that’sit,”Millicentsays.“I’mgettingup.”Shethrowsoffthecoversallatonce,liketheoldBand-Aidtrick.Itworks.Thebedisn’tcozywithouther.
Shethrowsonarobeandheadsdownstairs.Ijumpintheshowerfirst.
Thekidsareonthecouch,watchingateenageshowaboutaliens.Theiremptycerealbowlsareonthecoffeetable,andIamsurprisedMillicenthasletthemstaythere.Ifindherinthekitchen,standingnexttothecoffeemaker.Hercupistippedover,andthecoffeeisrunningoffthesideofthecounter,ontothefloor.Sheisn’tevenlookingatit.HereyesarefocusedonthelittleTVsetshekeepsinthekitchen.
Joshisonthescreen.HeisstandinginfrontofawoodsyareasothickwithbushesIcannotseethebuildingbehindhim,justthesteeplehighabovethetrees.Idonotknowtheplaceorwhereit’slocated.Thewoodensigninfrontofthechurchisweather-beatenandfaded.Josh’smouthismoving,butnosoundcomesout.Thevolumeistoolow.
Idonotneeditanyway.Thenewsisplasteredacrossthebottomofthescreen,inred.
HOUSEOFGODORHOUSEOFHORRORS?
UNDERGROUNDDUNGEONFOUNDINABANDONEDCHURCH
Fifty-six
FORASECOND,IbelievedMillicentwasupsetbecausethenewswashorrific,becauseitwasshocking,becauseithadnothingtodowithus.OrIliketothinkIbelievedthat.
Withinanothersecond,Iknewitwasher.Thechurchwaswhereshe’dbroughtLindsayandNaomi.
“Achurch?”
Wearebackupstairs,inourbedroom,butthemoodcouldnotbemoredifferent.Thereisnothingsexyaboutadungeoninachurch.
Ourfamilydoesnotgotochurch,andneverhas.Millicentwasraisedagnostic;IwasraisedCatholicandlapsedearly.Churchiswhereweattendweddings,funerals,andbakesales.AndevenIthinkthislocationisoneofthemostdisturbingchoicesMillicentcouldhavemade.Theonlyplaceworsewouldhavebeenapreschool.
Millicentisnolongershockedbythediscovery,norisshescared.Shehasturneddefensive.“Ineededaplace.Somewheretheywouldn’tevensearch.”
“Keepyourvoicedown.”ThekidsaredownstairswatchingTV,butIamstillafraidtheywillhear.
“Noonefoundit,didthey?Notwhentheywerestillalive.”
“No.NoonefoundthechurchuntilClairecametotown.”AccordingtoJosh,theyfoundthechurchbecauseofatip.Someonehadseenacarinwhatusedtobetheparkinglotbutwasnowfullofweeds.
Millicentstoodinfrontofme,handsonhips.Sheisstillwearingherrobe.
Behindher,theTVisoninourbedroom.Thepresshasnotbeenletintothechurch,norhaveanypicturesbeenreleased,soJoshisrepeatingwhathisunnamedsourceshavesaid.
“Avilescene…chainsattachedtothewalls…ironcuffsdrenchedinblood…evenaveteranpoliceofficerwasbroughttotears…likesomethingoutofamovie.”
Millicentflippedherhand,brushingthewordsaway.“Itisnotdrenchedwithblood.Thatroomisn’tavault.It’sabasement.Andthechurchhastobeahundredyearsold.Whoknowswhat’stakenplaceinthere?”
“Butyoucleanedit?”
Hereyesnarrow.“Areyoureallyaskingmethat?”
Ithrowupmyhandsasananswer.
Millicentwalksuptome,herfaceclosertominethanwhenwewerestillinbed,butthereisnothingcozyorwarmabouther.“Don’tyoudaresecond-guessme.Notnow.”
“I’mnot—”
“Youare.Stop.”
Herrobeswishesassheturnsaroundanddisappearsintothebathroom.
Icanunderstandheranger.SheisangrythechurchwasdiscoveredandangryIamquestioningher.ButIwouldnothaveleftthatbasementwithaspeckofbloodinit.ThewholethingwouldhavebeendousedinammoniaorbleachorwhatevergetsridofbloodandfluidsandDNAofanykind.MaybeIwouldhaveleftbehindalitcigaretteinsideandletitburn,makingitlooklikeanaccident.
Inevergotthechancetodoanyofthat,becauseIdidnotknowaboutthechurch.Icouldneverbringmyselftoask.
???
MILLICENTdecidesweshouldallgotothemoviesthisafternoon.Giventhecircumstances,thesuggestionisabsurd,butItellmyselfithastobebetterthanwatchingthenewsallday.Yes,it’sagoodideatogetoutofthehouse.Outofmyhead.AwayfromJosh.IrepeatthisasIgetdressed,tryingtoshoveasidethatchurchanditsbasement.Italmostworks.
“I’mnotfeelingverywell.”Foremphasis,Iholdmystomach.
Millicentgivesmethelook.“Maybesomepopcornwouldhelp.”
“No,no,youguysgoahead.Haveagoodtime.”
Theyleavewithoutme.
Idonotturnonthenews.Instead,Idriveouttothechurch.
TheTVisnotgoodenough.Iwanttoseeitformyself,thisplacewhereMillicentkeptLindsayandNaomialive.
Itisoutonalonelyroadbetweennowhereandnothing.Theonlybuildingsalongthewayareaboarded-upbar,arun-downgasstation,andanemptyranchattheendofaprivateroad.ThisiswhyIneverspottedthechurchontheGPS.Theranchisupforsale,andtheaddressshoweduponthetrackerseveraltimes.Shecouldwalkoutthebackdooroftheranchandbeatthechurchinminutes.Noonefromtheroadwouldbeabletoseeher.
Theareaisfloodedwithcars,TVvans,andlookie-loos.Iputonajacketandbaseballcap,andtrytoblendinwiththecrowd.
Reportersarespreadoutinfrontofthechurch,andthesteeplerisesupbehindallofthem.Theystandrightinfrontoftheyellowtape,whichisprotectedbyuniformedcops.Somearebaby-faced.Othersarebloatedandonthevergeofretirement.
IhaveneverbeenthisclosetoJosh,neverseenhimanywhereotherthanonTV.Heisshorterandthinnerthanhelookson-screen.
Anolderwomanisbesideme,hereyesshiftingbetweenallthreereporters.
“Excuseme,doyouknowifthey’vesaidanythingnew?”Iask.
“Sincewhen?”Hervoicehasasmoker’srasp.Shehasathickheadofwhitehairandyellowyeyes.
“Abouthalfanhour.”
“No,youhaven’tmissedanything.”
Throughathickblockoftrees,thetopofawhitetentisvisible.Itlookslikethesamekindusedatweddingsandkids’parties.“What’sthat?”
“Thepolicesetitupfirstthing.Theycallit‘homebase.’”
“Thechief’sbackthere,”saysamanstandingbehindme.Heislargeeverywhere,standingagoodfourinchestallerthanmeandatleastafootwider.
“Theywanttomakesure,”hesays.
“Makesureofwhat?”
“Makesureitwasjustthosetwowomen,”hesays.“Andnotmore.”
“Godforbid,”thewomansays.
Thereweretwoothersofcourse—HollyandRobin—butneitherwaskeptinthebasement.
NotthatIknowof,anyway.
AbrightlightflashesonasJoshgoeslive.Onceagain,hementionshissources,noneofwhomhavenames.
Theyhavegivenhimmoreinformationabouttheundergroundroombeneaththechurch,andhesaystheyfoundsomething.Onthewall,hiddeninacorner,itlookslikesomeonewhowasheldcaptivetriedtoleaveamessage.
Fifty-seven
FORASECOND,IthinkaboutaskingJoshifhehasanyfurtherinformation.Wehaveneverspoken,Ihavenevercommunicatedwithhimoutsideoftheletters,butthisrumoraboutahiddenmessagemakesmepanic.Almost.
Insteadofdoingsomethingstupid,likeIhavesoofteninthepast,Istepback.Consider.Evaluate.AndIreachaconclusion:
Nonsense.Thestoryisallnonsense.
Josh’ssourcesarewrong.Ifittookthepolicelessthanadaytofindthisso-calledmessage,thereisnochanceMillicentwouldhavemissedit.Shemaynotknowhersonissneakingoutatnight,butshecanspotdustfromtworoomsaway.Shewouldnotmissamessageonthewall.
AndwhatkindofmessagewouldNaomiorLindsayleave?Help?I’mtrapped?
ItisunfathomablethatMillicenttoldthemherrealname,sotheywouldn’thavebeenabletoleavebehindtheirabductor’sidentity.
ThehiddenmessagemustbealieplantedbyClaire,nodoubttotryanddrawusout.AnyonewhowatchesTVknowsthepolicelie.Thisislikelyenoughtomakemewalkaway.Gohome.TalktoMillicent.
WhenIarrive,thehouseisempty.IturnontheTVandsurfthroughthenews.Joshisstilltalkingaboutthispossiblemessagebuthasnofurtherdetails.AreporteronanotherchannelrepeatswhatJoshhassaid.Thethirdreportertalksaboutthechurch.
TheBreadofLifeChristianChurchbeganwithasinglefamilyandgrewtoacongregationofaboutfifty.Oldpicturesshowastern-lookinggroupwithwornfacesandtatteredclothing.Inlateryears,thegroupappearedtohaveprospered,withalotmorebread;theywereheavier,andafewevensmiled.Theypeakedinthefiftiesandthendeclinedintonothingbytheeighties.Asfarasanyoneknew,thebuildinghasbeenemptyforatleasttwentyyears.BecauseitisSunday,theblueprintsfromthecityplanningofficearenotavailable,butlocalhistorianssuspectthebasementwaspartoftheoriginalbuilding.Itmayhavebeenaroomforcoldstorage.
Isurfbetweenthechannels,waitingforsomethingnewtohappen.Millicentandthekidsdon’tgethomeuntilaboutfive.Theyspenttheafternoonatthemoviesandthemall,whereJennagotyetanotherpairofshoesandRorygotanewhoodie.Bothrunupstairs,leavingMillicentandIalone.
“Feelingbetter?”shesays.Itsoundssarcastic.
“Notreally.”
Sheraisesaneyebrow.
TheTVisoff.Ihavenoideahowmuchnewsshehasheard.“They’retalkingaboutamessage,”Isay.
“Awhat?”Millicentwalksintothekitchentostartdinner.Ifollowher.
“Amessageonthewall.Leftbysomeoneheldcaptive.”
“Impossible.”
Istareather.Sheisrippinguplettucetomakeasalad.“Yeah,that’swhatIfigured,”Isay.
“Here,finishthis.”Sheslidesthebowlandlettuceovertome.“Iwasthinkingoftunameltstonight.”
“Iatethetunaforlunch.”
“Allofit?”
“Most.”
Behindme,therefrigeratordoorbangsopen.Shedoesnotsayanything,butIcanhearheranger.
Thedoorslamsshut.
“IsupposeIcanthrowtogetheraneggplantcasseroleorsomething,”shesays.
“Soundsperfect.”
Weworksidebyside;sheslicestheeggplant,andIgratecheeseforthetopofthecasserole.Whenitfinallygoesintotheoven,Millicentturnstome.Thecirclesunderhereyesaredarkerthanever.
“I’msorryaboutearlier,”shesays.
“It’sokay.We’rebothonedge,withClaireandthischurchandall.”
“Areyouscared?”
“No.”
“Really?”Shesoundssurprised.
“Areyou?”
“No.”
“Thenwe’regood,right?”
Sheslidesherarmsaroundmyneck.“We’regreat.”
Itfeelslikeweare.
???
IGOUPtosaygoodnighttothekids.Rory’slightisoff,butheisawakeandusinghisphone.
BeforeIcansayaword,hesays,“Yes,I’mtextingwithFaith.AndDaniel.AndI’mplayingagame,too.”
“Areyoudoinganyofthemwell?”
Helowersthephoneandgivesmethatlook.ItisthesameasMillicent’s.“AndI’mnotsmokingweed.”
Asexpected,he’sstillangry.
“Sohowisthegirlfriend?”Isay.
“Faith.”
“HowisFaith?”
Hesighs.“Stillmygirlfriend.”
“Notsneakingouttonight,areyou?”
“Onlyifyoudon’t.”
“Rory.”
“Yes,Father?”Hisvoicedripswithsmart-ass.“Whatlessondoyouwanttoteachmetonight?”
“Goodnight.”
Ishutthedoorbeforehecananswer.Idonotwanttohearit.Nottonight.
Jennaisjustgettingintobed,andIsitdowntotalktoher.Boththekidsalreadyknowaboutthechurchandthebasementunderit,thesamewaytheyknowabouteverythingfasterthanlight.Iwishtherewereawaytostopit,becausesheisjustsoyoung.Notyoungenoughtostillsleepwithstuffedanimals,butyoungenoughtokeepthemaround.Butshestillknowstoomuchaboutthiskindofthing.Girlsareabductedandlockedupinbooks,movies,TVshows,andinreallife.Itwouldbeimpossibleforhertohavemissedthat,andshehasn’t.
“Theywerechainedupdownthere,weren’tthey?”shesays.
Ishakemyhead.“Wedon’tknowyet.”
“Don’tlie.”
“Probablytheywere.”
Shenodsandturnsoveronherside,towardthenightstand.Thelightontophasaflower-shapedlampshade.Orange,ofcourse.
“How’syourstomachbeen?”Iask.
“It’sfine.”
“Good.”
“Whywouldsomeonehurtpeoplelikethat?”
Ishrug.“Somepeoplearejustwiredwrong.Theythinkbadisgood.”
“IbetClairecatcheshim.”
“Ibetyou’reright.”
Shesmilesalittle.
Ihopesheiswrong.
Fifty-eight
THEFIRSTPICTURESofthebasementaresurprising.ItdoesnotlooklikethemedievaldungeonIhavebuiltupinmyhead.
Instead,itlooksliketheunfinishedbasementofanoldbuilding.Dirtfloor,oldwoodenshelvesonthewall,anoldstaircase.Onlythewallfarthestfromthestairsisdifferent,becauseitistheonlyonethatindicateswhatmayhavehappenedinthatbasement.Thewallhasbeenbrickedoverandcoveredinstucco.Ajumbleofchainsandcuffslieonthegroundbesideit.
Claireintroducesthepicturesataneveningpressconference,andIwatchitfrominsideabar.ItisthesamebarIwasinwhenLindsay’sbodywasfound.
InurseabeerandsitwhereIhaveaviewofafrontwindow.AcrossthestreetistheFirstStreetBar&Grill,wheretheymakegianthamburgerstoeatwiththeirgiantmicrobrews,andeverythingischeaperthanitsounds.Millicentisnotafanofburgersorbeer,sowegothereonlytomeetclientsorattendaparty
Clairegoesthrougheachpictureanddescribesthedetails.Thereareclose-upsofstainsonthewallsandthedirtfloor.Theylooklikerust,butshesaystheyareblood.
Thebartendershakeshishead.Noonemakesasound.Theyaretoobusydrinkingandwatching.
IcannotimagineMillicentleavingsomuchbloodbehind,ifthat’swhatitis.Clairemightbelying.Hereyesstarerightintothecamera,soitappearssheislookingrightatme.Orattheguynexttome.Oratthebartender.Itisunnerving.
IhateClaire’spantsuits.Tonight,itisnavybluepairedwithadarkgreyblouse.Shealwayslookslikeshegoingtoafuneral.
Clairestandsatapodiumnearthechurch,althoughitisn’tcloseenoughtoseeanythingbuttrees.Noteventhesteepleisvisible.Thepolicechiefandthemayorareononesideofher,andaneaselissetupontheother.Largecopiesofthepicturesarestackedonit,andacoupleofuniformedcopsflipthrougheachoneasClairespeaks.
“Wearealreadyrunningtestsontheblood,comparingittobothNaomiandLindsay.Wealsodiscoveredtracesofsaliva,andthosearebeingtestedaswell.”
Shedoesnottakequestions.Thewholepressconferencelastsabouttwentyminutes,whichgivesthenewscastersandpunditstimetodissectit.Clairedidn’tsayanythingaboutamessageleftonthewall,norwasthereaphotoofone.
Thebartenderturnsthechanneltosportsnews.Iorderanotherbeerandhardlytouchit.
Fortyminuteslater,Iseehim.Acrossthestreet,JoshwalksintotheFirstStreetBar&Grill.Itishisfavoriterestaurant.
IcameacrossthisinformationbyaccidentwhiledrivingdownFirstStreetacoupleofnightsago.Whilestuckataredlight,IwatchedJoshgetoutofhiscarandheadintotherestaurant.Thenextnight,Idrovebyagainandsawhiscarparkedoutfront.Thethirdnight,thesamething.Onthatevening,Iwalkedbyandsawhimsittingatthebar,alone,drinkingabeerwhilewatchingTV.
IgoacrossthestreetandsitafewbarstoolsawayfromJosh.SinceIhavealreadyeatendinner,Iorderashotandabeer.Sameashedoes.
Ilookathimandlookaway.ThenIlookback,asifIrecognizehim.
Withoutevenglancinginmydirection,hesays,“Yes.I’mthatguyfromthenews.”
“Ithoughtthatwasyou.IseeyouonTValmosteverynight,”Isay.Joshlooksalotdifferentinreallife.Hisfacedoesnotlookassmooth.Thetextureofhisskinisuneven.Hisnoseisred,andsoarehiseyes.ToobadIdidn’tbringtheeyedrops.
Hesighsandfinallyturnstome.“Thanksforwatching.”
“No,thankyouforyourreporting.You’vereallybeenthego-toguyonthatbigcase,right?Thewomenwhowerekilled?”
“Iwas.”
“Youstillare.Youseemtoknoweverythingfirst.”
Joshdrinksathirdofhisbeerinonegulp.“Areyouoneofthosetrue-crimefreaks?”
“Notatall.Justsomeonewhowantsthisassholecaught.”
“Cool.”
Imotiontothebartenderforanothershot.“Hey,man,”IsaytoJosh.“Letmebuyone.”
“Nooffense,butI’mnotgay.”
“Nonetaken.NeitheramI.”
Joshacceptstheshot.Thebartenderbringsacouplemorebeerswithit.
Together,wewatchthesportschannel,talkingbackandforthaboutthisteamorthatone.Ibuyacouplemoreshotsbutpourmineintoapeanutbowlwhenheisnotlooking.Joshdrinkshisandorderstwomore.
Whenasoccergamestarts,henodstoit.“IbetontheBlazers.You?”
“Same.”Lie.
“Youplay?Youlooklikeyouplay.”
Ishrug.“Notreally.”
Hegulpsdowntherestofhisbeerandmotionsfortwomore.“IusedtoplayforthissoccerteamcalledtheMarauders.Wesucked,butpeoplewerestillafraidofus.Thatwaskindofawesome.”
“Soundslikeit.”
Duringacommercialbreak,anadforthelocalnewsshowstoday’spressconference.ClaireWellingtonisonceagainonthescreen.
Joshshakeshisheadandlooksoveratme.HiseyesarenotasclearastheywerewhenIwalkedin.“Youwantsomeinsideinformation?”hesays.
“Sure.”
HepointstotheTV.“She’sabitch.”
“Really?”
“It’snotbecauseshe’sawoman.Really,that’sgotnothingtodowithit.Buttheproblemwithhavingawomaninchargeisthattheyhavetochangeeverything.Provethemselves,youknow?Andit’snottheirfaulttheyhavetodothat—Igetit.Ijustwishtheydidn’tscreweverythingup.”
“Isthatright?”
“That’samillionpercentright.”
Theyoung,earnestreporterIhavebeenwatchingisnotthepersonheisonTV.Idon’tknowwhyIexpectedhimtobe.
Iorderacouplemoreshots.Joshdrinkshisandslamstheglassonthebar.
“Acoupledaysago,Ireportedsomethingasourcetoldme.Thenextday,hecallsandsaysIcan’ttalkaboutitanymore.Technically,thepolicecangetfiredfortalkingtothepress.She’sjustdecidedtoenforcetherule.”Hethrowsuphishands,asifthisisanabomination.“Eveniftheytalktome.AndIworkedwiththepolicewhenIgotthoselettersfromOwen.Orwhoeversentthem.Ididn’thavetodothat.Icouldhavejustreadthemontheairwithouttellingthepoliceatall.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Isay.“Yoursourceswon’ttellyouanything?”
“Oh,theystilltellmestuff.I’mjustnotallowedtoreportitontheair.Well,IguessIcould,butI’maniceguy.Idon’twantanyonetogetfired,especiallynotsomeoneIneed.Thatbitchwon’tbehereforever.”
BeforeIcananswer,hisphonebuzzes.Heglancesatitandrollshiseyes.“See,thisiswhatI’mtalkingabout.Igetatipfromasource,thesecondtimeI’veheardthisinformation,butIcan’tdoanythingwithit.Y-E-O,itsays.‘YourEyesOnly.’”Heletsoutabig,noisysigh.“Worstacronymever.”
“Thatsucks.”
“Noshit.”
Iwait.IstareattheTV,notsayingaword,hopingtoconveythatnoneofthismatterstome.BecausethelessIcare,thebetterchancehewilltellme.
Ittakeshimonemoreshot.
“Okay,Ihavetotellsomeone,”heslurs.“Butifyoutellanyone,I’lldenyIshowedyouthis.Atleastuntiltheymakeitpublic.”
“Youthinktheywill?”
“Theydon’thaveachoice.”
Joshslidesthephoneovertome.Thetextisonthescreen,sentbysomeonenamedJ.ThewholethingremindsmealittleofbeingTobias.
UntilIreadthetext.
YEO:
Therearebodiesburiedunderthechurch.Fifty-nine
ITHOUGHTTHETEXTwasgoingtobeaboutthesupposedmessageonthewall.Instead,itisaboutburiedbodies.“Sowhat?”Isay.
“Sowhat?”Joshsays.
“Thatchurchisoverahundredyearsold.There’sprobablyawholegraveyardofpeopleburiedthere.”
“I’msurethereis.Butthat’snotwhathe’stalkingabout.”Joshleansinandlowershisvoicealittle.Thesmellofallthatalcoholhitsmeintheface.“Haveyoubeenoutthere?”
Ialmostsayyes,butthenrememberIamnotatrue-crimefreak.“No.”
“Theyhavethisbigtentsetup,butit’sbehindabunchoftrees.That’swherethey’retakingthebodies.”
“Youkeepsayingthat.Whatbodies?”
“Thebodiesinthebasementaren’tfromahundredyearsago,”hesays.“They’rewomenwhohavebeenkilledrecently.”
“No.”
“Yes.AndIcan’tgoontheairwithit.”
Joshrambleson,complainingalloveragainaboutClaireandhissources.Iamnotlisteninganymore.
NaomiandLindsayhavealreadybeenfound,whichleavesHollyandRobin.Hollywaskilledoutinthemiddleofnowhere,inthewoods,andweburiedheroutthere.
Robinwaskilledinourkitchen.Hercarandbodyareatthebottomofanearbylake.
IinterruptJosh.“Doyouknowwhenthisinformationwillbereleased?”
“Soon,I’msure.Theycan’thidethosebodiesforever.”
Hekeepstalking,butIthinkonlyofClaireWellington.Itwilltakeheraboutaminutetoshowupatourdoor,askingaboutMillicent’ssister,Holly.
Andwhyshewasneverreportedmissing.
Becausewethoughtshejustmovedaway.
Becausewedidn’tcare.
Becausesheusedtotorturemywife.
Becauseshewascrazy.
ItextMillicent.
Weneedadatenight.
Sheturnsmedown.
Nodatenight.I’matthehospital.
IreaditthreetimesbeforethrowingmoneyonthebarandleavingFirstStreetBar&GrillwithoutsayinganotherwordtoJosh.OrmaybeIsayIhavetogo.I’mnotsure.
MillicentcallsmeasI’mtryingtocallher.Sheistalkingfast,andI’vebeendrinking,soallIcatcharethehighlights.
Rory.Emergencyroom.Fellfromthewindow.
Idon’tbotherwiththecar,becauseI’mcloseenoughtorun.Thehospitalisthreeblocksaway,andIarrivetofindMillicentpacinginthehall.
AssoonasIseeher,Iknow.
Roryisokay.Orwillbe.
Millicent’sfistsareclenched,lipspursed,anditfeelslikeanelectriccurrentisshootingoutofher.IfRorywasreallyhurt,shewouldbeworried,crying,orinshock.Butsheisn’t.Sheisburstingwithanger.
Shegrabsmeandhugsme.Itisquickandviolent,andthenshepullsbacktosniffmybreath.
“Beer,”Isay.“Whathappened?”
“Oursonsnuckoutofthehousetoseehisgirlfriend.Hefellclimbinguptoherwindow.”
“Buthe’sokay?”
“Heis.Wethoughthiswristwasbroken,butit’sabadsprain.He’llhavetowearasling—”
“Whydidn’tyoucallmewhenithappened?”Isay.
“Idid.Itextedyou.”
Ipulloutmyphone.Thereitis,rightonthecrackedscreen.Dependingontheangle,itcanbedifficulttoread.“Ohgod,I’msorry—”
“Forgetit.You’reherenow.Theimportantthingishe’sokay.”Millicent’sangerisback,ifithadeverreallyleft.“He’sjustgroundedforacentury.”
Someonegiggles.
Aroundthecorner,Jennaissittinginawaitingroom.Shewaves.Iwaveback.Millicentdirectsmetoavendingmachineforcoffee.Itisbitterandburnsmytongue,andisexactlywhatIneed.Itsettlesmedowninsteadoftheopposite,becausemyheartisbeatingtoofast,fromthesprintover,andthealcohol,andmysoninthehospital.
MillicentdisappearsintotheexaminingroomtobewithRory.Whentheycomeout,Roryhasabraceonhiswristandaslingonhisarm.Millicent’sangerhassoftened,atleastfornow.
Hedoesnotlookmeintheeye.Maybeheisstillangryatme,ormaybeheknowsheisintrouble.Hardtotell,becauserightnowIamtornbetweenknockinghimupsidetheheadandhugginghim.Irufflehishair.
“Ifyoudon’twanttoplaygolf,youshouldhavejustsaidso,”Isay.
Hedoesn’tsmile.Helovesgolfing.
Wegethomeaftermidnight.IcheckonRoryafewminutesafterhegoestobed.Evenhefallsasleeprightaway.
Isitdownonmybed,exhausted.
MycarisstillattheFirstStreetBar&Grill.
Andtherearebodiesburiedunderthechurch.
“Millicent,”Isay.
Shecomesoutofthebathroom,halfwaythroughhernighttimeroutine.“What?”
“IwasdrinkingbeertonightwithJosh.Thereporter.”
“Whywouldyou—”
“Hetoldmetherearebodiesburiedinthatchurchbasement.”
“Bodies?”
Inod,watchingher.Hersurpriselooksgenuine.“Didhesaywhosebodies?”sheasks.
“IassumeHollyandRobin.”
“Theyaren’tanywherenearthatchurch.Youknowthat.”Shewalksaway,backintothebathroom.
Ifollowher.“Youreallydon’tknowanythingaboutthebodiesburieddownthere?”
“Absolutelynot.”
“There’sjustapileofrandombodiesinachurchbasement.”
“Jesus,Idon’tknow.Thisisthesamereporterwhoclaimedtherewasamessageonthewall.Where’sthat?”
Shehasapoint.
MaybeJoshhasitwrong.Ormaybesomeoneisfeedinghimliestokeephimfromthetruth.
Fictionalpolicedothatallthetime.AndClairemightbejustassmartastheyare.
Sixty
NOWTHATMILLICENThasdiscoveredthatRoryhasagirlfriendandhasbeensneakingouttoseeher,shewantstomeetwithFaith’sparentstodiscussthesituation.TheHammondsareclientsofhers,andtheyreadilyagreethatweshouldallmeetfordinner.NeitherRorynorFaithisinvited.
Weareonthewaytotherestaurant,atraditionalplacewithwhitetableclothsandamenuofcomfortfoods.Theirchoice,notMillicent’s.
“They’rereasonablepeople,”Millicentsays.
“I’msuretheyare,”Isay.
Whenwearrive,theHammondsarealreadywaitingatthetable.HankHammondissmallandblond,likehisdaughter.CorinneHammondisnotsmallandnotanaturalblonde.Bothwearclassicclothesandpolitesmiles.Wegetstraighttothefood.Nooneorderswine.
Hank’svoiceistwiceasbigashisbody.
“Faithisagoodgirl.Sheneversnuckoutuntilshemetyourson,”hesays.
Icanalmosttheseetheballswingovertoourcourt.Millicentsmiles,politeandsyrupy.“Icouldsaythesameaboutyourdaughter,butblameisn’tgoingtogetusanywhere.”
“I’mnottalkingaboutblame.I’mtalkingaboutkeepingthemawayfromeachother.”
“YouwanttobanRoryandFaithfromseeingeachother?”
“Faithisalreadybannedfromseeingyoursonanywherebutatschool,”Hanksays.“Isupposethat’simpossibletoavoid.”
“Youcouldhomeschoolher,”Millicentsays.“Thatwaytheywouldneverseeeachother.”
IputmyhandonMillicent’sarm.Sheshakesitoff.
“Perhapsyoursonistheonewhoneedshomeschooling,”Hanksays.
Corinnenods.
“Youreallythinkthatforbiddingthemtoseeeachotherwillmakethem…stopseeingeachother?”Millicentsays.
“Ourdaughterwilldoasshe’stold,”Hanksays.
IcanfeelMillicentbitinghertongue,becauseI’mdoingthesamething.
Corinnebreaksthetension.Hervoiceisstrongerthanexpected.“It’sforthebest,”shesays.
MillicentshiftshereyestoCorinneandpausesbeforesaying,“Idon’tmakeitahabitofjustbanningmykidsfromdoingsomething.”
Lie.
“Iguessthat’swherewediffer,”Hanksays.
“Perhapsweshouldgetbacktothesubjectathand,”Isay.“Idon’tthinkweneedtogetintoourparentingphilosophies.”
“Fine,”Hanksays.“Youkeepyoursonawayfrommydaughter,andthat’stheendofit.”
Thecheckarrives,andMillicentgrabsitbeforeHankcan.Shehandsittomeandsays,“We’vegotit.”
Thedinnerendswithatersegoodbye.
Millicentissilentonthewayhome.
Roryiswaitingatthedoorwhenwewalkintothehouse.Hehasasprainedwrist,cannotplaygolf,andheisgrounded.Faithistheonlythinghehas,orthoughthehad.Iamnotlookingforwardtotellinghimhehaslosther,too.
Exceptwedon’t.MillicentwalksovertoRoryandplacesherhandonhischeek.“Allgood,”shesays.
“Allgood?Really?”
“Justdon’teversneakoutagain.”
“Ipromise.”
RoryscampersoffwithhisphonetocallFaith,whowillgetadifferentmessagefromherparents.
Millicentwinksatme.
Iwonderifthisishowsomegirlslearntobesosneaky.Fromsomeoneelse’smother.
???
THENEXTDAY,wegetacallfromtheschool.Jenna,notRory.Andthistime,itisnotaboutaweaponorherstomach.Now,it’shergrades.
Shehasalwaysbeenanhonorstudent,buthergradeshavefallenoverthepastmonth.Today,sheneglectedtoturninapaperthatwasdue.Jennadidn’tevengiveherteacheranexcuse.
NeitherMillicentnorIhadaclue.JennahasbeensuchagoodstudentIdon’tevenchecktheweeklyreportspostedonline.Afteraflurryoftextsandcalls,wedecidetotalktoherafterdinner.
Millicentbeginsbytellingheraboutthephonecallfromschoolandthensays,“Telluswhat’sgoingon.”
Jennahasnorealanswer,otherthansomehemsandhawsandashakeofherhead.
“Idon’tunderstand,”Millicentsays.“You’vealwaysbeenanexcellentstudent.”
“What’sthepoint?”Jennasays.Shestandsupfromthebedandwalksacrosstheroom.“Ifsomeonecanjustlockmeupinabasementandtortureme,what’sthepoint?”
“Noonewilldothattoyou,”Isay.
“Betthosedeadwomenbelievedthat.”
Anotherpunchtothegut.Thisonefeelslikeanicepick.
Millicenttakesadeepbreath.
EversincemeetingClaire,Jennaseemedtobebetter.Shetalkedaboutbeingadetectiveallthetime.Butitallstoppedwhenwefoundoutaboutthechurch.
Wegoaroundincircleswithher,tryingtouselogictotakeawayherfear.Itdoesnotreallywork.Allwegetisapromisethatshewillnotflunkanyofherclasses.
AswewalkoutofJenna’sroom,Iseeanotebooklyingopenonherbed.Shehasbeenresearchinghowmanywomenareabductedandmurderedeachyear.
Millicentgetsonthephone,tryingtofindanothertherapist.
Thisisonthethirddaywithoutnewinformationaboutthechurch.Claireholdsapressconferenceeveryeveningtorepeatwhatwealreadyknow.
???
DAYFOURBEGINSwithabarkingdog.Wehaveseveralintheneighborhood,sothere’snotellingwhichonewakesmeupatfiveinthemorning,butitwillnotstopbarking.
Isitupinbed,wonderingwhyitneverhitmebefore.
Adog.
OnebigenoughtomakeJennafeelsafe,andprotectiveenoughtobarkwhensomeoneisoutside.LikeRory,whenhetriestosneakinandout.
Icouldkickmyselffornotthinkingofitsooner.Adogwouldsolvesomanyofourproblems.
Foronce,IamupbeforeMillicent.Whenshecomesdownstairsinherrunningclothes,IamdrinkingcoffeeandresearchingdogsontheInternet.Shefreezeswhensheseesme.
“DoIwanttoknowwhyyou’re—”
“Look,”Isay,pointingatthescreen.“He’sattheshelter,arottweiler-boxermix.”
Millicenttakesthecoffeeoutofmyhandandhelpsherselftoasip.“Youwantadog.”
“Forthekids.ToprotectJenna,andtokeepRoryfromsneakingout.”
Shelooksatmeandnods.“That’skindofbrilliant.”
“Ihavemymoments.”
“You’lltakecareofthisdog?”
“Thekidswill.”
Shesmiles.“Ifyousayso.”
Itakethatasayes.
Onabreakbetweenlessons,Istopbytheshelter.AnicewomangivesmeatourwhileIexplainwhatwearelookingfor.Sherecommendsafewdifferentdogs,andoneistherottweiler-boxermix.HisnameisDigger.Shechecksthepaperworkandsayshewouldbeagoodfamilydog,butthekidshavetocometotheshelterandmeethimbeforethey’llallowustoadopt.IpromisethewomanIwillbeback.
Thedogmakesmefeelalittleoptimistic.
Istopatadrive-throughforanicedcoffeeandapanini.AsIsitatthepickupwindowwaitingformylunch,theTVinsideisvisible.ClaireWellingtonishavinganotherpressconference.Thewordsatthebottomofthescreenmakemyheartjump:
ADDITIONALBODIESDISCOVEREDINCHURCH
Whenthecashierslidesthewindowopentohandmethefood,IhearClaire’svoice.
“…thebodiesofthreeyoungwomenhavebeenfoundburiedinthebasement.”
Ilistentotherestofthepressconferenceintheparkinglot,onmycarradio
Threewomen.Allweremurderedrecently.
Thepolicehavetobewrongaboutthetiming.ThereisnowaysomeoneburiedbodieswhileLindsaywas—
“Atleasttwoofthethreewererecentenoughforinvestigatorstoidentifyhowtheyweremurdered.Liketheothers,theywerestrangled.Therearealsosignsoftorture.”
IcannotcatchmybreathbecauseClairedoesnotstoptalking.
“Wealsofoundwordswrittenonthewallofthebasement,behindashelf.WhilewedonothavetheDNAtestsbackyet,thebloodtypematchesNaomi’s.”
WhenClairesaysthewordsonthewall,myheartstops.
Tobias.
Deaf.
Sixty-one
NAOMICOULDNOThavewrittenTobias’sname.Shehadnevermethim.
Iturnthisoverinmymind,tryingtofigureouthowithappened.LindsayknewTobias.Sheknewhewasdeaf.
ButherbodywasfoundbeforeNaomidisappeared.Theycouldnothavespoken,couldnothaveexchangedinformationlikethat.
Millicentwastheonlyone.
Itdoesnotmakesense.Noneofthisdoes.
AsIgetmyfoodanddriveout,Iturnontheradiotoheartheendofthepressconference.Whenit’sover,theannouncerskeeptalking.Theysaythosewordsonthewallagainandagain.
Tobias.
Deaf.
Naomididn’tknowaboutTobias.
Lindsaydid.
AndMillicent.
Ipullovertothesideoftheroad.MymindissomuddledIcannotthinkanddriveatthesametime.
Tobias.
Deaf.
Iturntheradiooffandclosemyeyes.AllIseeisNaomiinthebasementofthechurch,chaineduponthatwall.Itrytoforceitfrommymind,tothinkclearly.ButIstillseeher,huddledinacorner,dirtyandcoveredinblood.
Itmakesmesick.Bilerisesinmythroat;Itasteitinmymouth.Istepoutofthecar,feelingnauseous,andthephonerings.
Millicent.
SheisalreadytalkingwhenIanswerthecall.
“Flattire?”shesays.
“Excuseme?”
“You’resittingonthesideoftheroad.”
Ilookup,asifadroneoracameraislookingdownonme,buttheskyisclear.Notevenabird.“HowdoyouknowwhereIam?”
Shesighs.Abig,exasperatedsigh,andIhatewhenshedoesthat.“Lookunderthecar,”shesays.
“What?”
“Under.The.Car.”
Ikneeldownandlook.Atracker.JustliketheoneI’dputonhercar.
That’swhyIneverknewaboutthechurch.
SheknewIwastrackingher.
???
THEREALIZATIONOFwhatishappeningexplodeslikeabombinmyhead.
ThereisonlyonepersonwhocouldhavewrittenthatmessageusingNaomi’sblood.IknewthiswhenIheardaboutit—I’vejustbeenlookingforanotherexplanation.
Thereisn’tone.
“Yousetmeup,”Isay.“Forallofthem.Lindsay,Naomi—”
“Andtheotherthree.Don’tforgetaboutthem.”
MymindisfloodedwithimagesofMillicentkillingwomenalone,framingmeforthemurders.
Now,IknowwhatshehasbeendoingwhileIwasathomewithJennaallthosedaysandnightswhenshewassick.
Thefuturerollsoutinfrontofmelikeabloodyredcarpet.
Ipullovertothesideoftheroad.Closemyeyes,leanmyheadback,andthinkofallthewaysMillicentcouldsetmeup.AlltheDNAshehasaccessto.Everythingshecouldplant,couldgivetothepolice.ThatdoesnotevenincludethepeoplewhoknewmeasadeafmannamedTobias.
Annabelle.Petra.Eventhebartenders.
Theywillremember.
Everythingwillpointtome.
Mymindfightsagainstthisidea.AroundincirclesIgo,mappingoutanidea,followingittotheend,realizingitwillneverwork.Everypathisblocked,everyideaalreadythoughtofbyMillicent.Itfeelslikeagiantmazewithnoexit.I’mnotaplannerafterall,notlikemywife.
Ipaceupanddownthelengthofthecar.Myheadfeelslikeit’sbeingshockedagainandagain.
“Millicent,whywouldyoudothis?”
Shelaughs.Itsoundslikeabite.“Openyourtrunk.”
“What?”
“Yourtrunk,”shesays.“Openit.”
Ihesitate,imaginingwhatcouldbeinside.Wonderinghowmuchworseitcouldget.
“Doit,”shesays.
Iopenthetrunk.
Nothinginsideexceptmytennisequipment.Notasingleracketoutofplace.“Whatareyou—”
“Thesparetire,”shesays.
Myphone,thedisposableone.TheonewithmessagesfromLindsayandAnnabelle.Ireachinsidetherimofthetire,butIdon’tfindit.Instead,Ifindsomethingelse.
PixyStix.
Lindsay.
ThefirstoneIsleptwith.
Ithappenedafterthatsecondhike.
You’recute.That’swhatLindsayhadsaid.
No,you’rethecuteone.
Millicent’svoicebringsmebacktonow.“Youknow,it’samazingwhatpeoplewilltellyouwhenthey’relockedupforayear.”
“Whatareyou—”
“Shesawyouthenightwetookher.Lindsaywaswakingupbeforeyouleft.Shewasprettysurprisedyouweren’tdeaf,actually.”
Awaveofnauseahits.BecauseofwhatIdid.Becauseofwhatmywifehasdone.
“Thefunnything,”shesays,“isthatLindsaythoughtIwastorturingherbecauseshesleptwithyou.Itriedtotellheritwasn’tlikethat,notatfirstanyway,butIdon’tthinksheeverbelievedme.”
“Millicent,whathaveyoudone?”
“Ididn’tdoanything,”Millicentsays.“Youdid.Youdidallofthis.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyouthinkhappened—”
“Donotpatronizemewithadenial.”
IbitemytongueuntilItasteblood.“Howlonghaveyoubeenplanningthis?”
“Doesitmatter?”
No.Notanymore.
“CanIexplain?”Iask.
“No.”
“Millicent—”
“What?You’resorry,itjusthappened,anditdidn’tmeananything?”
Ibitemytongue.Literally.
“Sowhatareyougoingtodo?”shesays.“Runandhide,orstayandfight?”
Neither.Both.“Pleasedon’tdothis.”
“See,thisisyourproblem.”
“What?”
“Youalwaysfocusonthewrongthings.”
Istarttoaskheraboutwhatthewrongthingsarebutstopmyself.Iammakingherpoint.
Shelaughs.
Thelinegoesdead.
Sixty-two
ISHOULDgetsick.Ishouldvomitupwhateverisinmystomach,becausewhenmywifeoffifteenyearshassetmeupformurderingmultiplewomen,thisshouldmakemesicktomystomach.Instead,itfeelslikemywholebodyhasbeeninjectedwithNovocain.
Notabadthing,becauseIcanthinkinsteadoffeel.
Runandhide.Stayandfight.
Neitherisappealing.Norisprison,thedeathpenalty,lethalinjection.
Run.
First,Itakestock.Car,halfatankofgas,panini,partialicedcoffee,andabouttwohundredincash.CreditcardsIcannotuse,becauseMillicentwillbewatching.
Iwonderifthereistimetomakeacashwithdrawalatthebank.
Beyondthat,myoptionsnarrowconsiderably.Can’tkeepthecarforlongunlessIgetridofthelicenseplate,andthenthereistheissueofwheretogo.Canadaistoofar.BythetimeImakeitthere,mypicturewillbealloverthenews.
Mexicoistheonlydrivingoption,andeventhatwouldbeastretch.Itdependsonhowquicklythisallplaysout.Mynameandpicturecouldbeoutwithinhours
Icouldflyoutofthecountry,butthenIwoulddefinitelyneedtousemypassport.TheywouldknowwhereIlanded.AtnotimedidIprepareforthiskindofescape.
Millicentknowsthis.
Runningwillgetmecaught.
Italsomeansleavingmykids.WithMillicent.
Now,Igetsick.Onthesideoftheroad,behindmycar,Iemptymystomach.Idonotstopuntilthereisnothingleft.
Runandhide.StayandFight.
Istarttoconsiderathirdoption.WhatifIjustwalkintoapolicestationandtellthemeverything?
No.Millicentmightbearrested,butsowouldI.Claiminginnocenceisnotanoption,becauseitisnottrue.
Therehastobeaway,though.Awaytoimplicateherinsteadofme,becauseIneverkilledanyone.Adealcouldbemadewiththerightlawyer,therightprosecutor,therightproof.ExceptIdon’thaveany.UnlikeMillicent,Ihavenotbeensettingupmyspouseformurder.
Youalwaysfocusonthewrongthings.
Maybesheisright;maybethewhydoesnotmatter.Butitwill.Thewhyiswhatwillhauntme,whatIwillthinkaboutatnightwhenIamlyinginbed.IfIaminabed.Maybeitwillbeaprisoncot.Sheisrightaboutthewhy.It’sthewrongthingtothinkabout.
Runandhide.Stayandfight.
Theoptionsrepeatoverandover,likethosewordswrittenonthewallofthebasement.Millicentstatedtheseoptionsasiftheyweretheonlyonesthatexisted.Asifitwereaneither-orchoice.
Sheiswrong.Theoptionsarewrong.
First,Iwillstay.Leavingmykidsisn’tgoingtohappen.
AndifIstay,Ihavetohide.AtleastuntilIcanfindawaytomakethepolicebelievemeaboutMillicent.
ThatmeansIhavetofight.
Stay,hide,fight.Thefirstiseasy.Norunning.
Thepolice.Icouldgotothepoliceandtellthemeverything,tellthem…
No.Cannotdothat.Ihaverealbloodonmyhands,andevenarookiewillfigurethatout.AndifIcannotgotothepolice,Iwillhavetoavoidthem.
Money.Ihavetwohundreddollarsinmywallet,andthatwillnotlastlong.IheadstraighttothebankandwithdrawasmuchcashasIcanwithouttriggeringanalerttotheIRS.Millicentwillknowaboutit,becausethetrackerisstillonmycar.
Millicent.Howlongdidsheknow?Howlonghasshebeentrackingme?Whendidshestarttoplanthis?Thequestionsareendless,unanswerable.
Withallwehavebeenthrough,withallwehavedonetogether,itisunfathomabletomethatshedidnottalktome,askmeaboutit,evengivemethebenefitofthedoubt.Instead,Ihadnochance,noopportunitytoexplain.
Itseemsalittlebitcrazy.
Andheartbreaking.
ButIdonothavetimetothinkabouteitherone.Inlessthananhour,mylifehasbeenreducedtoitsmostbaselevel:survival.
Sofar,Iamnotverygoodatit.MillicentknowswhereIam,andIhavenoideawhattodonext.
???
HOME.ITISstillwhereIalwaysgo.
IgrabwhatIcan—clothes,toiletries,mylaptop.Theoneweusedtosearchforthewomenisgone,probablydestroyed,butIfindMillicent’stabletandtakeit.Andphotographs.Itakeacoupleofpicturesofthekidsrightoffthewalls.Ialsosendthematext.
Don’tbelieveeverythingyouhear.Iloveyou.
Beforeleaving,IturnofftheGPStrackerbutkeepitwithme.Forawhile,shewillwonderifIamjustsittinginourhouse.Maybe.ButthatisassumingIknowmywifeatall.
Ipulloutofthedrivewayanddrivedownthestreet,havingnoideawheretogonext.
Anemptybuilding,aroadsidemotel,aparkinglot?Theswamp,thewoods,thehikingtrails?Ihavenoidea,butitdoesnotseemsmarttobeinaplaceIamunfamiliarwith.Ineedsomewherequiet,somewhereIcanthink.Somewherenoonewillbothermeforafewhours.
Acompletelackofoptionsandoriginalitysendsmetothecountryclub.
Asanemployee,Ihaveakeytotheoffice,whichIneveruse,alongwiththeequipmentroomsandthecourts.Imakeaquickstopatthestoreforabagoffood,mostlyjunk,andstayoutofsightuntilafternineo’clock.That’swhenthelightsareshutdownonthetenniscourts,andsecuritylocksthemupforthenight.
ThisiswhereIgo.Theclubhascamerasinsidethebuilding.Therearenoneonthecourts.
Sixty-three
EVERYTHINGABOUTTHEtenniscourtsisfamiliar.Igrewuphere,onthesecourts.ThisiswhereIlearnedtoplaytennis,butthatwasn’tallIdid.Mycoachmademerunaroundthesecourtsendlesstimestogetintoshape.Iwontrophieshereandhadmybuttwhipped,sometimesonthesameday.
Thiswasmyescape;thisiswhereIcametogetawayfrommyfriends,school,andespeciallymyparents.Atfirst,Icameheretoseeiftheywouldlookforme.Whentheyneverdid,Iuseditasahideout.Ievenhadmyfirstkisshere.
Lily.Shewasayearolderthanmeandfarmoreexperienced,orsoitseemed.OnHalloweennight,aboutamillionyearsago,myfriendsandIdressedupaspirates.Sheandherfriendsdressedupasbabydolls.WeallranintoeachothersomewhereintheOaks,whiletrick-or-treating,andLilytoldmeIwaskindofcute.Iassumedthatmeantshelovedme,andIthinkshedid.
Onecommentledtoanother,anditwasn’tlongbeforeIaskedifshewantedtogosomewherecool.Shesaidyes.
“Cool”mighthavebeenanexaggeration,butwhenIwasthirteenIthoughtitwascooltobeoutsidethehouse,atnight,withagirl.Lilydidn’tthinkitwastoobad,either,becauseshekissedme.Shetastedlikechocolateandlicorice,andIlovedit.
Forasecond,Iamsoenvelopedbythismemorythateverythingseemsokay.Itisnot.IamonthistenniscourtbecausethepoliceareaftermeandIcannotgohome.
ButthinkingaboutLilymakesmerealizeIdohavesomewheretogo.
???
THEALARMONmyphonewakesmeupatfive.Ijumpup,gathermythings,andgetintomycar.Tryingtosleeponacourtsidebenchgavemeplentyoftimetocomeupwithaplan.TheInternetonmyphonehelpedmakeitagoodone.Turnsouttherearedozensofwebsitesthatexplainhowtodisappear,howtogooffthegrid,howtoeludethepolice,yourboss,oryourangrywife.Everyonewantstoescapesomething
Idriveoutoftown,downtheinterstate,anddonotstopforatleastanhour.Eventually,Ipullintoagasstation,turnontheGPStracker,andattachittothebottomofasemi.Aftertakingthebatteryoutofmyphone,Istopataconveniencestoreandbuyacheapdisposable.
ThenIheadbacktoHiddenOaks.
TheInternetdoesnotrecommendthispart,buttheInternetdoesnothavechildren.IfIdidn’t,Iwouldkeepdriving,changethelicenseplateonmycarorgetridofitaltogether.TakeaGreyhoundfromstatetostateandeventuallyendupinMexico.
Notanoption.NotwhenJennaandRoryarestillwithmywife.
Halfwayback,Istopandbuyatrunkfullofgroceries.Icheckallthepapers,lookingformyownface,butIdonotseeitanywhere.Theheadlinesarejustthosetwowords.
TOBIASDEAF
AsIdrivebacktowardhome,IwonderifIambeingstupidalloveragain.
???
THEREARETWOGATESattheOaks.Thefrontgateiswheretheguardsare;youhavepassthemtogetin.
ButHiddenOaksisquitelarge,giventhatishasanentiregolfcourseaswellashundredsofhomes,sothereisabackgate.Orrather,twoofthem.Onerequiresacode;thesecond,anopenerlikethekindusedforagarage,buttherearenoguards.ThisiswhereIenter.
Onceinside,Idrivepastthelessexpensivehomes,throughthemidrangedevelopment,andfinallyarriveatahousetwiceaslargeasmine.Ithassixbedrooms,atleastthatmanybathrooms,andapoolintheback.Kekona’shouseisempty,becausesheisstillinHawaii.
Thisisthemostbrilliantpartofmyplan.Orthestupidest.IwillnotknowuntilItrytogetin.
ThisiswhereLilylived.OnthatHalloweennight,shebecamemyfirstgirlfriend.Somanynights,Isnuckoutofmyhouseandintohers.Justlikemysondoeswithhisgirlfriendnow.
IthasbeenmanyyearssinceIhavedoneit,andthehousehasbeenrepainted,remodeled,andupdated.Thelockshaveprobablychangedseveraltimes.Butthat’sthethingaboutrealestate.Peoplealwayschangethelocksonthefrontandbackdoors.IambettingthelockontheFrenchdoorsaroundback,onthesecond-storywidow’swalk,hasneverbeenchanged.Thelockonthosedoorsneverclosedproperly.Itdidnotneedakey.
Climbingupisnotaseasyatmyageasitwasbackthen,butIamnotworriedaboutbeingseen.Kekona’shouseisdeepinthemiddleoftheOaks,intheexpensiveareawhereeveryonehasmorelandthantheyneed.Theclosestneighborsarebarelyvisiblefromthefront,letalonetheback.
Somehow,Imakeitupwithoutfalling,and,sureenough,IknowbeforeIeventry.Thedoorshavebeenpainted,maybeevenresealed,butthelockisthesame.Ismileforthefirsttimeintwenty-fourhours.
Minuteslater,Iaminsideandthenbackoutthroughthegarage.Kekonahasonecar,anSUV,whichleavesanextraspaceinhergarageformine.
Ibringinthegroceries,takeashower,andgetsettled.Forthefirsttime,IfeellikeIhaveachance.Achanceatwhat,Iamnotsure,butatleastIamnolongersleepingonatenniscourt.
WhenIopenmylaptop,problemnumberonehits:
Thewirelesspassword.
Kekonahasremovedthecodestickerfromthebottomofthemodem,sothepassworddoesnotcomeeasily.Ittakesmefartoolongtorealizethestickerisrightontherefrigeratordoor.
Onceonline,IsearchforawayintoMillicent’stablet.Itrequiresafour-digitPIN.Iknowwithouttryingthatshewouldneveruseagenericbirthdateoranniversary.Ineedabetterway.
Onthenews,theywon’tstoptalkingaboutthepressconference,aboutTobias,andaboutthethreewomeninthebasement.
Itrytofigureoutwhotheyare,whoMillicentwouldhavechosen.Womenfromourlist?WomenIhadrejected,likeAnnabelleorPetra?IhopeitisnotAnnabelle.Shedidn’tdoanythingtodeserveMillicent.
No,thatwouldn’tmakesense.SomeonehastobealivetoidentifyadeafmannamedTobias.Shecouldn’thavekilledeveryonewhohasseenhim.
MaybeMillicentchosestrangers,womenIhaveneverevenseenorspokento.Ormaybethatwouldbetoorandomforher.
Itellmyselftostop.Mymindisgoingincirclesandgettingnowhere.
Ikeepworkingonthetablet,hopingtofindanswers.Bythetimethesungoesdown,Iamnoclosertogettingintoit.
Itissixo’clock,andIshouldbeathomeeatingdinner.Tonightismovienight,andIamnotthere.Ifmytextdidn’tletRoryandJennaknowsomethingiswrong,myabsencewill.
???
IWAKEUPTHINKINGIamathome.IlistenforMillicentdownstairs,backfromherrun,makingbreakfast.Today’sschedulerunsthroughmymind;myfirstlessonisatnine.Irolloverandhitthefloorwithathud.
Notathome.IsleptonthecouchinKekona’sgreatroom.Herseafoamgreensectionalishuge,butIstillrollrightoffit.Realityhitswiththewoodfloor.
TheTVgoeson,thesingle-servecoffeebrews,thecomputerbootsup.Ispentthepreviousnightmakinglists.WhatIknow,whatIdon’tknow,whatIneedtoknow.HowtogettheinfoIneed.Thelastlistisalittleshort,becauseIamneitherahackernoradetective.WhatIdoknowisthattherearetwowaystogoaboutthis:proveshekilledthosewomenorproveIdidn’tkillthem.Ideallyboth.
OnthenightNaomiwentmissing,Iwenthomeandstayedwiththekids,leavingMillicentalonewithher.SamewithLindsay;IwaswithJenna,becauseshewassick.Thekidsaremyalibi,andthey’renotagoodone.Oncetheywereasleep,theycannotverifyanything.
ButcanIproveMillicentdidit?NotanymorethanIcanproveIdidn’t.
Millicent’stabletisalargerproblemthanIthought.AlthoughthereissoftwareavailabletoresetaPIN,itcanbedoneonlyifIamsignedintothee-mailaddressonthetablet.AnotherpasswordIdonothaveandcan’tevenguess.Inthemiddleofthenight,IresortedtoreadinghackermessageboardspopulatedbyteenagerslookingforthesamethingIwas.
Therecouldbeanotherway.Maybe.ButonlyifIcanconvincesomeonetohelpme
Ispendhalfthemorningwonderingifitisbettertoasknow,beforemyfaceisalloverthenews,orafterIamawantedman.Itrytoimaginesomeonecomingtomeforhelp,someonewhomayormaynotbeapsychopath.WouldIhelpthem,orslamthedoorandcallthepolice?
Theansweristhesame.Itdepends.
Andmyoptionsarelimited.MyfriendsareMillicent’sfriends;wesharethem.Ihavemanyclients,butmostarejustthat.Justonepossibilitycomestomind—theonlypersonwhomightbebothwillingandabletohelp.
IfAndywillagree.
Sixty-four
THEGOLDENWOKISaChinesebuffetthirtyminutesoutsideHiddenOaks.Ihavebeenthereonce,onmywaytosomewhereelse,anditislikeeveryotherChinesebuffetI’veseen.IarriveearlyandfillupmyplatewithMongolianbeef,sweet-and-sourpork,chickenchowmein,andfriedspringrolls.Halfwaythroughthemeal,AndyPrestonwalksinandjoinsme.
Istandupandoffermyhand.Hepushesitasideandgivesmeahug.
AndyisnotthesamemanIknewbeforeTristakilledherself.HeisnoteventhesamemanIsawatherfuneral.Theextraweighthecarriedisgone;nowheisalmosttoothin.Nothealthy.Itellhimtograbaplate.
TheChinesebuffetwashischoice.HeleftHiddenOaksafterTristadied,andKekonatoldmehequithisjobandspendshisdaysontheInternet,encouragingstrangersnottokillthemselves.Ibelieveit.
Andysitsdownatthetableandgivesmeasmile.Itlookshollow.
“Sowhat’sgoingon?”Isay.“Howareyou?”
“Notgreat,butitcouldbeworse.Itcouldalwaysbeworse.”
Inod,impressedhecansaysomethinglikethatafterwhathashappenedtohim.“You’reright,itcan.”
“Whataboutyou?How’sMillicent?”
Iclearmythroat.
“Uh-oh,”hesays.
“Ineedhelp.”
Henods.Doesn’taskasinglequestion—becauseheisstillmyfriend,evenifIhaven’tbeenmuchofonetohim.
Allmorning,IhavegonebackandforthabouthowmuchtotellAndyaboutmysituation.First,thetablet.Itakeitoutofmygymbagandslideitacrossthelaminatetable.“Canyouhelpmegetintothis?IthasaPINcode,andIhavenoideawhatitis.”
Andylooksatthetabletandthenatme.Hiseyeslookabitmorealert.“Anyeight-year-oldcouldgetintothisthing.”
“Ican’taskmykidstodoit.”
“SothisisMillicent’s.”
Inod.“Butit’snotwhatyouthink.”
“No?”
“No.”Igesturetohisplate.“Finisheating.ThenI’lltellyoueverything.”
Isay“everything,”butIdonotmeanit.
Afterwearedone,wegositinhistruck.It’sanoldpickupandnothinglikethesportscarheusedtodrive.
“Whatdidyoudo?”hesays.
“WhatmakesyouthinkI’vedonesomething?”
Heside-eyesme.“Youlooklikehell,youhaveanewphonenumber,andyouwanttogetintoyourwife’scomputer.”
AsmuchasIwanttotellsomeoneeverything,Icannot.Nomatterhowfarwegoback,therearelimitstofriendship.Murderisoneofthem.Soiskeepingsecretsaboutafriend’swife.
“IcheatedonMillicent,”Isay.
Hedoesnotlooksurprised.“Notagoodmove,I’mguessing.”
“That’sanunderstatement.”
“Soshekickedyououtandwantseverything?Thehouse,the401(k),thekids’collegefund?”
Iwishthatwasallshewanted.“Notexactly,”Isay.“Millicentwantsmorethanthat.”
“Can’tsayI’msurprised.”Hepausesforasecond,shakinghishead.“Nowthatyou’vegoneandscreweditallup,Icantellyouthetruth.”
“Whattruth?”
“IneverlikedMillicent.She’salwaysseemedalittlecold.”
Ifeeltheurgetolaugh,butthatseemsinappropriate.“She’ssettingmeupmeforthingsIdidn’tdo.Someverybadthings.”
“Illegalthings?”hesays.
“Yes.Verymuchyes.”
Heholdsupahand,asiftostopmefromsayingmore.“SoIwasright.Sheiscold.”
“Youwereright.”
Hedoesn’tsayanythingforafewminutes.Herunshishandaroundthesteeringwheel,thetypeofthingsomeonedoeswithoutthinking,becausethey’retoobusythinking.It’sallIcandotokeepmymouthshut,tolethimdecidehowinsaneIam.
“Ifallyouneededwastointothattablet,whytellmetherest?”hesays.
“BecauseyouandIgowayback.Ioweyouthetruth.”
“And?”
“AndbecauseI’llprobablybeinthenewssoon.”
“Thenews?Whatthehellisshedoingtoyou?”
“You’rethefirstonewhohasseenmesinceyesterday,”Isay.“Pleasedon’ttellanyone.”
Hestaresoutthewindow,attheneonGoldenWoksign.“Idon’twanttoknowmore,doI?”
Ishakemyheadno.
“That’stherealfavorthen,”hesays.“Keepmymouthshut.”
“Sortof.Yes.ButIdoneedtogetintothat,”Isay,pointingtoMillicent’stablet.ItissittingonAndy’sdashboard.“Willyouhelpme?”
Again,heisquiet.
Andyisgoingtodoit.Hemaynotknowit,buthehasalreadydecidedtohelp.Otherwise,hewouldhavebeengonebynow.Andbythewayhelooks,hemayneedthisasmuchasIdo.
“You’vealwaysbeenapainintheass,”hesays.“Andfortherecord,yourtennislessonsarewaytooexpensive.”
Ismilealittle.“Noted.Butyouaccusedmeofsleepingwithyourwife.Youoweme.”
Henods.“Giveittome.”
Igivehimthetablet.
???
THEWAITINGIStheworst.Likeknowingabombwillgooffbutnotwhenorwhere.Orwho.IspendthenextdayinKekona’stheaterroom.Ithasascreenaswideasthewall,anddistressedleatherrecliners.IwatchJoshtalkaboutTobiasnonstop.Heevenspeakstoexpertsaboutwhatitisliketobedeaf.
Ihavetoadmitsomeoftheinformationisinteresting.ItwouldhavebeenusefultohavebackwhenIneededit.
Thebreaking-newsmusicinterruptsmymusings.Thepictureonthescreenmakesmyheartjump.
Annabelle.
SweetAnnabelle,themetermaidwhoseboyfriendwaskilledbyadrunkdriver.
Sheisalive.
Andsheisstillcuteasever,withhershorthairanddelicatefeatures,butsheisnotsmiling.ShedoesnotlookhappyatallwhenJoshintroducesherasa“womanwhohasencounteredthedeafmannamedTobias.”
Itisnotsurprisingthatsheisthefirsttocomeforward.Shecouldnotsaveherboyfriend,soshewantstosaveeveryoneelse.
Annabelletellsourstory,assheknowsit,beginningwiththemomentshealmostticketedthecarIclaimedwasmine.SheexplainshowwebumpedintoeachotheronthestreetandIinvitedhertojoinmeforadrink.Sheevennamesthebar.IfEric,thebartender,hasnotalreadycomeforward,hewill.
Annabelleleavesoutnothing,noteventhetextshesentme.Thepolicewillnowhavethatphonenumber.
IwonderifMillicentwillanswerwhentheycall.
Lastbutnotleast,Annabellesaysshespentthemorningwithasketchartist.Thedrawingisreleasedrightaftertheinterviewends.
Itlooksexactlylikemeand,atthesametime,nothinglikeme.
IimagineMillicentwatchingthisandcritiquingthedrawing,sayingthatthenoseisabittoobigandmaybetheeyesaretoosmall.Shewouldsaytheymissedthemolebymyear,ortheshadeofmyskinisdifferent.Shewouldseeeverything,becauseshealwaysdoes.
ItwillnotbelongbeforeIamidentified,althoughpeoplemustalreadybelookingforme.Myemployer,forone.Millicentmustbeactingfrantic,pretendingIhavejustvanishedwithoutareason.
JennaandRory—Whoknowswhattheythink?
Ispendtherestofthedayinside,afraidtogooutwhileitisstilllight.
ItmakesmethinkbacktothedayImarriedMillicent,atherparents’homeinthemiddleofnowhere.Icanseeherinthatsimpledress,withherhairupandsprinkledwithtinyflowers,likeshewassomekindfairyornymphthatcamefromanotherworld.Shewaslikethat,everythingaboutherwasotherworldly.Stillis,Isuppose.
Ialsothinkofwhatshesaidthatday,becauseitissoappropriatenow.
Herewego.
???
THENEWSSTARTStobreakfaster,whichisnosurprise.Thepublichasbeengivenjustenoughinformationtoprovidemoreofit.
ThesecondpersonwhoclaimstoknowTobiasisabartender,butnotEric.ThisyoungmanworksatthebarwhereImetPetra.Josh,whileoverexcitedaboutallthenews,seemedratherdisappointedinthisyoungman,becausehedoesnotremembertheexactday,nortime,hemetTobias.Herememberssolittleitisalmostembarrassing,atleastforhim.Totopitalloff,hegetsthedrinkwrong.Tobiasneverorderedavodkatonic.
Iamalmostoffendedbythis.IalwaysbelievedTobiaswasmorememorablethanthat.
Ormaybethisbartenderisjustamoron.
Whennothingnewishappening,everythingisrepeated.IseeAnnabelle’sinterviewoverandover;theyrepeatthebestpartsuntilIhavethemmemorized.Duringcommercialbreaks,Iwonderifmykidsarewatchingthesamechannel.
IknowMillicentis.Icanjustseehersittingonthecouch,watchingAnnabelleonourbigTV.Inmymind,Millicentissmiling.Orscowling.Both.
Bytheeveningnews,Ericshowsup,butonanotherchannel.Joshdoesnotgetthisinterview.Thereporterwhointerviewshimisamiddle-agedwoman,oneofourmorefamouslocalpersonalities.Upuntilnow,Ihavenotseenhercoveringanythingaboutthiscase—notwhenOwenwasbackandnotwhenheturnedouttobedead.Thefactthatshehasbecomeinvolvedworriesme.Aseriousmanhuntisabouttobegin,oralreadyhas,andtheyarealllookingforme.
Ericremembersmorethanthelastbartender,beginningwiththedrink:ginandtonic.Hedescribesmysuit,rightdowntothetypeoftieIhadbeenwearing.Heremembersthecolorofmyeyes,mytan,eventhelengthofmyhair.
Eachnewrevelationmakesmystomachturn.Somehow,Imanagedtofindtheonlybartenderintownwithaphotographicmemory.
Withinminutes,theotherstationsrepeatwhatEricsaid.ItmakesmealittlesicktohearJoshrepeatallthosepersonalthingsaboutme.IwishIhadknownwhatahorriblepersonhereallyis.ifIdid,Ineverwouldhavesentletterstohim.
ThoughIsupposeIamnotonetojudgewhoishorribleandwhoisnot.
Hourafterhourgoesby,deepintothenight,beforetheoldmoviesandinfomercialsbegin.Iopenmylaptopandsearchthetrue-crimesites.Thesketchiseverywhere,alongwithallthesameinterviewsIjustwatched,andIscanthroughallthemessageboards.Mynameisnotthere,norshoulditbe.Notyet,anyway.
Sixty-five
IDONOTSLEEPforlong.Withinanhourofmywakingup,thenewsstationshavesetupforapressconferencebyClaireWellington.CoffeemakesmystomachturnasIwaitforittostart.Clairehasnotsaidanythinggoodyet,andIknowshewillnotthismorning.
Apodiumissetupatthepolicestation.ItisflankedbytheU.S.andstateflagsandsurroundedbymicrophones,cameras,andlights.Tenminutesafterthescheduledtime,Clairewalkstothepodium.Sheisnotwearingapantsuit.Today,itanavyskirtandamatchingjacket,whichissimilartothetypeofsuitsMillicentwears,onlynotastight.Somehow,Iknowthisisabadsign.
Clairebeginswiththesketchthathasalreadybeenreleased,andsheasksthecommunitytopostitatbusinesses,schools,andcivicbuildings,aswellasoncommunitywebsites.Althoughanyonewhohasnotseenitbynowdoesn’thaveaTVortheInternet.Orisinacoma.
ButthisisnotwhyClaireishavingapressconference.Thisisjustheropeningact.Themaineventcomesnext.
“Now,Ihaveanupdateonthethreewomenwefoundinthechurchbasement.Tryingtoidentifythemisapainstakingprocess,givingthevaryingamountsofdecomposition.Theirfingerprintshavealsobeenremoved.”
Shepauses,takesadeepbreath.“Despitethedifficulties,theWoodviewmedicalexaminerandforensicinvestigatorshavedoneanamazingjob.Thefirstofthesewomenhasbeenidentified,andherfamilyhasbeencontacted.Thankstothehardworkofalotofpeople,thisyoungwomancanfinallybelaidtorest.”
Beforeshesaysthewoman’sname,apictureappearsonthescreen.
Iknowher.
Jessica.
ThecashierattheEZ-GowhereIgetmycoffee.Sheleftnotlongago,Theguywhotookherplacesaidshewasgoingtoschoolinanotherstate.IamshockedMillicentknewwhoshewas.MillicentdoesnotbuycoffeeoranythingelseattheEZ-Go.
ShemusthavebeenfollowingmeforalotlongerthanIrealized.MaybeMillicenthasalwayskepttrackofwhatIdo.AndwhoIspeakto.
Thisideamakesmyheartbeattoofast.Iputdownthecoffee.
OnTV,asplitscreenhasJessicaononesideandClaireontheother.Thedetectiveisstilltalking,explainingthattheotherwomenhavenotbeenidentified.
Now,IknowwhatMillicenthasdone.ShehaskilledwomanIknow,whocanbeconnectedtome.Maybethiswaspartofhersetup.
OrmaybeshethinksIwassleepingwithallofthem.
Perhaps,shehasgonescorched-earth,destroyingeveryonewhocouldbeathreat.
Mymindspinswithwhotheothertwomightbe.Notanyofmyclients.Nonehavedisappearedrecently,andiftheydid,Iwouldknow.Wealthypeopledon’tjustvanishwithoutsomeonelookingforthem.
IrunthroughallthewomenIknow,particularlyyoungwomenwhofitOwen’sprofile.Anumberofthemworkattheclubasbartenders,waitresses,retailsalesclerks.Iknowallofthembysightandhavesaidhellotomost.Somehavebeentherelongerthanothers.Mostarestillthere;theyaren’tdeadinachurchbasement.
Exceptone.
Beth.
PerkyBethfromAlabama,awaitressattheclub.Weneverhadanaffair;shewasjustaniceyoungwoman,andsometimeswetalkedwhileIateattheclubhouse.Thatwasit.
Notlongago,sheleftbecauseofafamilyemergencybackinMobile.Themanageroftherestauranttoldmethat.Noonequestionedthis.Noonesuspectedanythinghadhappenedtoher.Nooneshoweduplookingforher.
Ifmoretimehadpassed,maybeherfamilywouldhave.
Igetupandstartpacing—first,aroundthetheaterroom,andthenthroughoutthewholehouse.Upstairs,downstairs,intoalltheroomsandaroundinacircle.
Onemore.
Millicentkilledathirdwoman.Nooneelsehasdisappeared—notthatIknowof—soIwonderifitmightbePetra.WithAnnabelleandthebartendersaroundtorecognizeTobias,whynotgetridofher?
???
ARINGINGPHONEbreaksthroughmypanic.TheonlyonewhohasmynewnumberisAndy.
“It’syou,”hesays.Hedoesnotmentionthepolicesketchanddoesnothaveto.
Inodatthephone,asifhecanseeme.“ThisiswhatIwastellingyou,”Isay.“She’ssettingmeup.”
“Yeah,Igotthatpart.Butyoufailedtoconveythemagnitudeofheranger.”
“Isaidyoudidn’twanttoknow.Itoldyou.”
“Howissheevendoingthis?”
Again,Iwanttotellhim,butIcan’t.Ialsodonothaveagoodanswer.“IfIknew,Iwouldtellthepolice.”
Hesighs.Rightbeforehehangsup,hesays,“Goddammit.”
AndhestillhasMillicent’stablet.
Allday,Iwatchthenews,scourmylaptop,andlookupmykidsontheInternet.Mysearchcomesupwithnothingnew—justsomeoldarticlesinthelocalpaperfromJenna’ssoccerteamorRoryinagolftournament.
IlookatthepicturesItookfromthehouse.Theyfeelliketheyarefromahundredyearsago,backwhenIhadalifethatnowfeelslikeadream.
???
NIGHTTIME.IAMoutbythepool,pacingaroundit.IfKekonahadanyneighbors,theywouldthinkImustbeamadman,whichImaybe,butnooneiscloseenough.Sincenooneis,Ijumpinthepool,clothesandall,andstayunderwateruntilIcan’t.TheairfeelslikeashockwhenIbreakthesurface.Itbothwakesmeupandcalmsmedown.
Iclimboutandliedownonthepatio,staringupatthesky,tryingnottowonderhowmuchworseitcanget.
Mylifehasjustblownup,andIshouldfeelangry.Ithinktheangeristhere,bubblingunderthesurface,allmixedinwiththesadnessandheartbreak,theguiltandshameandhorror.Itwillallcome,anditwillalloverwhelmme,butnotyet.NotuntilIfigureouthowtogetmyselfoutofthismess.
Andgetmykids.Ifallasleepthinkingofthem.Justus,notMillicent.
???
THESUNANDthebirdswakemeup.It’ssopeacefulhereatKekona’s,soeasytopretendtherestoftheworlddoesn’texist.IunderstandwhysherarelyleavestheOaks.Whywouldanyonewillinglyleavethisforreality?IwouldnotifIdidn’thaveto.
Eventually,IdogobackinsideandturnontheTV.
Me.
Iamonthatwall,staringbackatmyself.Mypicturefillsthescreen,andmynameappearsatthebottom,alongwithabanner:
PERSONOFINTEREST
EventhoughIamexpectingit,Istillfalltomyknees.
Sofast.Mywholelifehasfallenapartinlessthanaweek.Ifitwerenothappeningtome,Iwouldnotbelievethisispossible.
Josh’svoicemakesmelookup.Heistalking,alwaystalking,buttodayheisnotareporter.BecausewemetattheFirstStreetBar&Grill,heisthesubjectoftheinterview.Thestar.
Mostofwhathesaysisalie,andanabbreviatedoneatthat.Iapproachedhim.Iaskedaboutthecase.Ibeggedhimtogivemethenamesofhissources.Heskipsthepartaboutgettingdrunk,callingClaireWellingtonabitch,complainingabouttheinformationhehad,andshared,butcouldnotsayontheair.
“Iunderstandthepolicearecallingthismanapersonofinterest,andmaybethat’sallheis.IcanonlytellyouwhatIfelt.Youknowthatfeelingyougetwhensomethingisjustwrong?Likethatlittlealarmgoesoffinyourhead,tellingyoutogetaway?That’showthisguymademefeel.”
Hisremarkiscreepyenoughtomakemesoundguilty,eventhoughJoshhadbeeninnoconditiontofeelanythingwhenImethim.
Iwanttoputthebatterybackinmyrealphone.Toseeifthekidstextedme,ifthey’reworried,iftheybelievewhatisbeingsaidaboutme.Ortoseehowmanytimesthepolicehavecalled.
Instead,Iamalone,trappedinKekona’sbeautifulhousewithoutanyonetotalkto.
Untilthephonerings.Andy.
Ipickupbutdon’tsayaword.Heisalreadytalking.
“ThosemurdersreallyupsetTrista.I’malmostgladshecan’tseehowmanythereare.”
IfTristawerestillalive,shewouldknowOwendidn’tkillthesewomen.Andshewouldhavenoreasontokillherself.Idonotmentionthis.
“Iremember,”Isay.“Shetalkedaboutitattheclub.”
“Butyoudidn’tdoit.”
“Ididnotkillthosewomen.”True.IonlykilledHolly,andnoonefoundher.
“IfIfindoutdifferent—”
“Callthepolice,”Isay.“Turnmein.”
“IwasgoingtosayI’llkillyoumyself.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Deal.”
“Igotintothistablet.Canyoutellmewhereyouare?”
“Foryourowngood,you—”
“Don’twanttoknow,”hesays.“Igotit.”
???
WEMEETINANOTHERparkinglot,nottheoneoutsideGoldenWok.Mydisguiseisabaseballcapandsunglasses,andIhavenotshavedfortwodays.Itisn’tmuch,butnooneislookingformeinsideKekona’sSUV.IdriveoutthebackgateofHiddenOakstoavoidtheguards.
Itisafterdark,becauseIwillnotgooutduringtheday.Ialsowon’tletAndyseethecarorthelicenseplate,soit’sparkedtwoblocksawayandIwalkdowntothelot.HeisstandingoutsidehistruckwithMillicent’stabletinhishand.Noothercarsarearound,nolightson.Thelotbelongstoaboarded-upcarpartsstore.
AndyisstandingabitstraighterthanhewasthelasttimeIsawhim.Hischinisup.
“Wholedamncountyislookingforyou,”hesays.
“Yeah,Igotthat.”
Andyturnsaroundandsetsthetabletonthehood,keepingitproppedupwithhishand.
“Ifyoutellmeyoufailed,I’llstopbelievingyou’reagenius,”Isay.
“Ineverfail.ButIdon’tknowifanyofthisishelpful.”Heswipesthescreen,whichlightsupwithakeypad.“Newcode.Six-three-seven-four.First,thebadnews.Shemust’veknownyoutookthis,becauseshewipedouteverythinginthecloud.”
“Ofcourseshedid.”
“Nottoworry—thereissomegoodnews.Shedidhavesomeinformationstoredontheharddrive.Shecouldn’tgettothat.”
Heshowsmeafewpictures.Acoupleofthekids,afewofopenhouses,andasnapshotofagrocerylist.
Ishakemyhead.It’salltoomundanetobeuseful.
“Shelikedgames,”Andysays.HeopensafewMatch3gamesandcrosswordpuzzles.
AnyhopeIhaveblowsawaylikeadeadleaf.Ofcoursethereisnothingonthetablet.Millicentwouldneverbesostupid.
“Alsofoundafewrecipes,”hesays,bringingupsomepdffiles.
“Stuffedmushrooms,huh?”
“Thespinachhummusdipsoundsgood.”
Isigh.“You’reanasshole.”
“Hey,it’syourwife,”hesays.“Lastbutnotleast,herInternetsearchesandthesitesshevisited.Sheclearedthehistory,butIrecoveredmostofit,forwhatit’sworth.”
Notmuch.Morerecipes,medicalwebsitesaboutsprainedwristsandupsetstomachs,theschool’sonlinecalendar,andabunchofrealestatewebsites.
“Nosmokinggun,”Isay.
“Doesn’tlooklikeit.”
Isigh.“Notyourfault.Thanksfortrying.”
“Youowemeforever,youknow,”hesays.
“IfIdon’tgotojailforlife.”
Hegivesmeahugbeforedrivingawayinhisoldtruck.
Iamaloneagain,innohurrytogetbacktoKekona’s.Evenabighousecanfeelsuffocating.
Instead,Igobacktothetablet,lookingthroughallthoserealestatewebsitesshevisited.Nooneisperfect,Itellmyself.NotevenMillicent.Somehow,somewhere,shemadeamistake.
MyeyesarealmostbleedingwhenIfindit.
Sixty-six
THEWEBSITEMILLICENTvisitedthemostisapropertydatabase.Shewenttothesiteeveryday,researchingsalesrecordsandrealestatetransfers,allofwhichwerepublicinformation.Herbrowserrecordedtheaddressessheresearched.
Oneofthemisacommercialbuildingat1121BrownfieldAvenue.Sixmonthsago,amannamedDonaldJ.Kendricksoldthebuildingfor$162,000.Thebuildinghasbeenaroundformorethantwentyyearsandhashadonelongtimetenant.
Joe’sDeli.
DonaldsoldthebuildingtoanLLCownedbyanotherLLCandthenathird.Ultimately,thebuildingisnowownedbyR.J.Enterprises,LLC.
Rory.Jenna.
ThisisMillicentbeingclever,becauseshewouldnotseeitasamistake.Ourchildrenareneveramistake.Thiswasonpurpose.
Ithinkbacktosixmonthsago,realizingthatitwasrightaftershesoldthreehousesinarow.Plentyofcashforhertouse.
DenisewasneveraclientofMillicent’s.
Sheisatenant.AtenantwhojusthappenedtoknowOwen’ssister.
KnowingMillicent,shespenthoursresearchingOwen’shistory—hisfamily,wheretheylivedandwenttoschool.ShehunteduntilshediscoveredthatOwenwasactuallydead,andthenshefoundsomeonewhocouldproveit.LikeOwen’ssister.Shejustneededtogetherbackinthecountry.
Whobetterthananoldfriend?Especiallyanoldfriendwithademandinglandlord.SomeonewhocontactedJenniferRileyandbeggedhertospeakupaboutOwen’sdeath.
Millicent.AllMillicent.Andallwithinthepastsixmonths.
NowIunderstandherreactionabouttheJaneDoevictimsinthenews.Millicentwasconvincedtheywerelying;she’dinsistedthattherealOwenhadnotreturned.Shealreadyknewhewasdead.
Herdedicationtoruiningmewouldbeadmirableifitweren’tsosick.
YetIstillhavenoproof.JustanLLCandacommercialbuilding,whichevenabadlawyerwouldarguewasaninvestment,notaplottoframesomeoneformurder.
IdrivebackintoHiddenOaksthroughthebackgate,usingKekona’sremotetoopenit.Onceinside,Ihaveanurgetodrivepastmyhouse.Thesuniscomingup,andIwonderifthekidsareasleep.Iftheycansleep.Ifwelivedanywhereelse,theywouldbesurroundedbyreporters.Nothere.Thepublicdoesnothaveaccess.
ButIdon’tdriveby.Thatwouldbestupid.
Instead,IgobacktoKekona’sandturnonhergiantscreen.
Me.Itisallaboutme.
NowthatIhavebeenidentified,everyonehassomethingtosayaboutme,andtheyallsayitoncamera.Formerclients,coworkers,acquaintances—allweighinonthefactthatIamapersonofinterest.Amissingpersonofinterest.
“Niceguy.Alittletoosmoothmaybe,butwhatdoyouexpectfromatenniscoach?”
“Mydaughtertooklessonsfromhim,andnowI’mjustgladshe’salive.”
“Usedtoseehimattheclub.Alwayshustlingforclients.”
“MywifeandIhaveknownthemforyears.Neverwouldhaveguessed.Never.”
“RighthereinHiddenOaks?Thisisunbelievable.Really.”
“Terrifying.”
Joshisnowbeinginterviewedbyotherreporters,becausehistalkingtomemakeshimpartofthestory.
MybosssaysIwasthebesttennisprohehaseveremployed,andit’stoobadI’masicko.
AndMillicent.Shedoesnotappearoncamera,nordotheyshowapictureofher,butmywifereleasesastatement:
MychildrenandIaskthatyourespectourprivacyduringthisunimaginablydifficulttime.Iamcooperatingfullywiththepoliceandhavenothingfurtheratthistime.
Short,sweet,andwrittenbyMillicent.Probablydictatedbyalawyer,perhapsoneofherclients.Someonewhousedtobemyfriend.
NowIjusthaveAndy,althoughifheknewthetruthhewouldkillme.
IthinkofKekona,wonderifsheismyfriend,ifshewouldbelievemeifshewerehere.We’veknowneachotherforatleastfiveyears,andwehaverelaxedintoaneasybanteratourlessons.Evenwhenshemissesalessonshestillpays,andwhenshehasapartyshealwaysinvitesus.Doesthismakeherafriend?Idon’tknowanymore.
Iamnotusedtobeingthisalone.Forseventeenyears,Millicenthasbeenwithme,andformostofthattimesowerethekids.I’vehadafamilytoworryabout,toworryaboutme.AfterthefirstfewyearsbackinHiddenOaks,myoldfriendsstartedtogetmarried,moveaway,starttheirownfamilies.Itdidn’tseemtomatterthattheyweren’taround.Iwasbusyenoughwithoutthem.
NowIseemymistake.Focusingonlyonmyfamilyhasleftmeisolatedandalone,exceptforoneoldfriendwhocanneverknowthetruth.
???
MYPITYPARTYISbrokenupbyClaireWellington,whoIbethatesparties.She’sthatonewhochecksherwatch,sipsaglassofwater,andwaitsforanescape.Ihavenoideaifthisiscorrect,butIbelieveitanyway.
Sheholdsanothernewsconferenceatfiveo’clock,justintimefortheeveningnews.Todayhersuitisanuglycolorofgrey,likeflannel,thoughitisn’t,becausethisisFloridaandthatwouldberidiculous.Herhairisdull,andsoisherskin.Claireisnotgettingmuchsleepandshouldprobablystopworkingsomuch.
“Aseveryoneknows,wehaveateamofpeopleworkingtoidentifythewomenfoundinthechurchbasement.Twenty-three-year-oldJessicaSharpewasthefirsttobeidentified.Nowwehaveidentifiedtheothertwo.”
Shetakesadeepbreath,andsodoI.
Easelsaresetuponeithersideofher.Bothpicturesarecovered,andauniformedpolicemanrevealsthefirst.
Iamright.It’sBeth.
Sheiswearingnomakeupinthepicture,andherhairispulledbackintoaponytail.Thismakesherlookabouttwelve.
“BethRandallwastwenty-four,originallyfromAlabama,andshewasmostrecentlyemployedasawaitressattheHiddenOaksCountryClub.Notlongago,herparentsreceivedalettertheythoughtwasfromher.WhoeverwroteitclaimedBethwasmovinguptoMontanatoworkonafarm.”
Millicent.Iwouldknowhersenseofhumoranywhere.Theonlythingshehatedmorethanfishingboatswasfarms.
“Atthesametime,heremployerreceivedalettersayingthatshehadafamilyemergencyandwasreturninghometoAlabamatohelp.Neitherknewtheirletterwasafake.”
ClairepausesforamomentasthecameraszoominonthephotoofBeth.Shethenturnstotheothereasel.IstillthinkitmustbePetra.Icannotthinkofanyoneelsewhohasdisappearedormovedaway.AndIhaven’tcheckedonPetrainalongtime.IfIcouldhaveleftthehouse,Imighthave.
Thepolicemanunveilsthephoto.
Thistime,Iamwrong.ItisnotPetra.
Crystal.
Thewomanwhousedtoworkforus.
Theonewhokissedme.
???
I’DNEVEREVENthoughtofher.NowthatIthinkaboutit,Ishouldhave,butIhaven’tseenCrystalinmorethanayear.Wehaven’tbeenincontactatallsinceshestoppedworkingforus.
DidMillicentknowaboutthekiss?IsthatwhyshekilledCrystal?Orwasshejustcollateraldamage,partofMillicent’sbiggerplan?
Imayneverknow.OfallthequestionsIwouldaskMillicent,thosewouldnotbeinthetopten.
ButmyguessisthatCrystaltoldMillicent.Shewastorturedintoit.
Idonotwanttothinkaboutthat.
Thepressconferenceisstillon,andClaireintroducesamanwhosenameIrecognizefromadocumentaryaboutOwen.Heisaratherfamousprofiler,nowretired,whoisnowanindependentconsultantandhaswrittenseveraltrue-crimebooks.Thisman—thistall,thin,decrepit-lookingman—stepsuptothepodiumandsayshehasneverencounteredakillerlikeme.
“Hekillswomenheknowsinaperipheralway,suchasthiscashier,andhealsohascreatedaseparatepersona,adeafmannamedTobias,thatheusestofindmorevictims.Thevarietyofmethodsusedmaybewhathaskepthimfrombeingdiscoveredforsolong.”
Ormaybeit’sallalie.Butnoonesaysthat.
Piecebypiece,mylifeisdestroyed,likeitwasneverrealatall.ItwasjustalineofdominoessetupbyMillicent.Thefastertheyfall,thelesslikelyitseemsIcangetmyselfoutofthis.
AndstillIwatch.
Iwatchuntilmyeyesblurandmyheadfeelslikeitscrumblingintomyneck.
Definitiveproof.ThisiswhatIneed.SomethinglikeDNAevidenceonamurderweapon,orvideoofMillicentkillingoneofthesewomen.
Ijustdon’thaveit.
???
THEPHONEWAKESmeup.Inthemiddleofwatchingmypersonalapocalypse,Idozedoff.Kekona’stheaterseatsarejusttoocomfortable.
IpickupmyphoneandhearAndy’svoice.
“Stillbreathing?”
“Barely.”
“Ican’tbelievetheyhaven’tcaughtyou.”
“Youunderestimatemyintelligence.”OnTV,theyareshowingapictureofmeatmyhighschoolprom.
“Morelikedumbluck,”hesays.
Ontopofeverythingelse,thereistheguilt.Andybelievesinmebecausehedoesn’tknowthehalfofit.
AnotherprofilerisonTV.Hehasadeep,twangyaccentthatmakesmewanttoturnthechannel.ButIdonot.
“Theleveloftorturecanbedirectlycorrelatedtothelevelofangerthekillerhasforthevictim.Forexample,theburnsonNaomiindicatethatthekillerwasfuriouswithherforsomereason.It’simpossibletoknowiftheragecamefromsomethingshedidorsomeonesheremindedhimof.Likely,wewon’tknowthatuntilheiscaught.”
NowIturnthechannel.AndIseeaghost.Myghost.
Petra.
Sixty-seven
SHEISNOTONLYalive;shelooksdifferent.Notasmuchmakeupandlessflash.Moreupscale,asifshehasspentthepastcoupleofdaysgettingamakeover.Herblueeyesaresharpandfocused,andherpreviouslyunremarkablehairisshinyandstylish.
Irememberherapartment,herbed.ThecatnamedLionel.ShelikeslimegreenandFrenchvanillaicecreamandshecouldn’tbelieveIlikehamonmypizza.Idon’t.
IalsorememberthesoundofPetra’svoicewhensheaskedifIwasreallydeaf.Thesamevoiceshehasnow,onTV.Suspicious.Accusatory.Atinybithurt.
“ImetTobiasinabar.”
Whenthereporteraskswhyshewaiteddaystocomeforward,Petrahesitatesbeforeanswering.
“BecauseIsleptwithhim.”
“Yousleptwithhim?”
Shenods,hangsherheadinshame.Forhavingsexorforchoosingme,Idon’tknowwhichone.Maybeboth.
Atfirstthemediaportrayedmeasjustasick,twistedpsychopathicserialkiller.NowIamasick,twistedpsychopathicserialkillerwhocheatsonhiswife
Asifpeopleneededanotherreasontohateme.
IftheyknewwhereIwas,theywouldbelinedupwithpitchforks.Buttheydon’tknow,soIamstillabletosithere,watchTV,eatjunkfood,andwaituntiltheyeitherfindmeorKekonareturnshome.Whichevercomesfirst.
Petragoesfrombeingnowheretoeverywhere.Sheliesaboutsomethings,tellsthetruthaboutothers.Witheachinterview,thestorybecomesalittlemoredetailedandmydepressiondigsinalittledeeper.
IstillhavemomentswhenIthinkIcandosomething,soforhoursIgothroughthatstupidtabletlikesomethingnewwillappear.PerhapsavideoofMillicentinthatbasementoralistofthewomentokill.
WhenI’mnotdoingsomethinguseless,Iamuseless.Alumpofself-hateandpity,wonderingwhyIevergotmarriedinthefirstplace.WishingIhadneverseenMillicent,muchlesssatnexttoheronthatairplane.Iwouldn’thaveturnedintowhoIamnowwithouther.
AndwhenI’mnotsinkingintothequicksandofdepression,IstareattheTV.Ipretendallofthisissomeoneelse’sproblem.
Iwonderhowmuchmykidshateme.AndwhatDr.Beigeissayingaboutme.IbetheistellingJennaIamthesourceofallherproblems.ItwasneverMillicent,neverOwen,alwaysme.Becauseitcouldn’tbeher.
Andycallsagain.
“Isawyourwife,”hesays.
“Youwhat?”
“Millicent.Iwentovertoyourhouseandsawher,”hesays.
“Why?”
“Look,I’mtryingtohelpyououthere.It’snotlikeIwanttobeinthesameroomwiththatwoman,”hesays.“SoIcalledher.MillicentandIhavealotincommon.We’vebothlostourspouses.”
ExceptI’mnotdead.“Werethekidsthere?”
“Yes,sawthemboth.They’refine.Maybealittlestir-crazy,becausethey’restayinginthehouse.Themediaandall.”
“Didtheysayanythingaboutme?”
Apause.“No.”
Thisisprobablygoodnews,butitstillhurts.
“Listen,whateveryou’regoingtodo,youbetterdoitfast,”Andysays.“Millicentsaidshewantstotakethekidsandgetoutofhereforawhile.”
Thiswouldbereasonableforawifewho’ddiscoveredherhusbandisaserialkiller.Itwouldalsobereasonableforaserialkillerwho’dframedherhusband.“Shedidn’tsaywhere,didshe?”
“No.”
“Didn’tthinkso.”
“Onemorething,”hesays.
“What’sthat?”
“IfIhadn’ttalkedtoyoubeforeallthishappened,Idon’tknowifI’dbelieveyou.NotafterseeingMillicentlikethat.”
“Likewhat?”
“Likeshe’sdevastated.”
Thelastpartiswhatworriesme.NooneisgoingtobelieveawordIsay.Notwithoutproof.
???
ASTHEHOURSpass,IsinkfurtherintoKekona’schair.TheimagesontheTVfloatpastmyeyes:Lindsay,Naomi,me,Petra,Josh.Heistalking,alwaystalking,andherepeatseverything.Autopsy.Strangled.Tortured.Hemusthavesaidthatlastoneamilliontimes.
Atonemillionandone,Isitupstraight.
Iamup,racingaroundKekona’shouse,throwingasidemyclothesandgarbageuntilIfindit.
Millicent’stablet.
Shehadlookedatmedicalwebsitesforinformationaboutthekids’ailments,butmaybetherewasmore.MaybeIhadmissedit.
IfIwasgoingtotorturesomeonebutnotkillthem,Iwouldhavetoresearchit.AndIwouldstartbylookingupvariousinjuriesonmedicalwebsites.
Alongshot.Avery,verylongshot.
AsstupidasIfeelforthinkingthatthiskindofevidencemightbeonthetablet,whatkeepsmegoingisimagininghowstupidIwouldfeelifIdidn’tlook…anditwasrightthereallalong.
IfindthetabletinKekona’sdiningroom,onatablelargeenoughtoseatsixteen.Itseemslikeaperfectplacetositdownandgothroughthetabletagain.Icheckeachsite,lookingforsomethingabouttortureandstrangulation.Ilookforhotwaterburnsandoilburnsandinternalbleedingandcutsoneyelids.Ievenlookforcigaretteburns,whichisabsurd,becauseMillicentrefusestobenearcigarettes.
AndIfindnothing.
Shelookedathowlongittakesforasprainedwristtoheal.Shealsosearchedforavarietyofinformationaboutupsetstomachs—whatcausedthemandwhattodoaboutthem.
Thatwasit.
Nothingabouttorture,nothinghelpful.Ishouldhaveknownbetter.
Ishovethetabletaway,anditskids.MyimmediatereactionistocheckandseeifIscratchedKekona’sdiningroomtable.Asifitmatters,butIdoitanyway.Istandupandlookstraightdownatit,runningmyfingeracrossthewood,whensomethingonthetabletscreencatchesmyeye.
Itisstillonthepageaboutupsetstomachs.Ontheright-handside,thereisalistofpossiblecauses.Oneofthemispurpleinsteadofblue,becausethelinkhasbeenclicked.
Eyedrops.
Sixty-eight
TETRAHYDROZOLINEISTHEactiveingredientineyedropsthatgetsridofredeyes.Swallowingalargeamountcancauseseriousproblems.Thedropslowerbloodpressureandcanputsomeoneintoacoma.Orkillthem.
Butswallowingasmallamountcausesanupsetstomachandvomiting.Nofever.
TheeyedropsbelongtoMillicent.
ShehasbeengivingthemtoJenna.
No.
Impossible.
Thethoughtmakesmephysicallyill.Jennaisourchild,ourdaughter.SheisnotLindsayorNaomi.Sheisnotsomeonetotorture.
Ormaybesheis.MaybeJennaisnodifferent.NottoMillicent.
Mydaughterdoesnothavearecurringstomachproblem.
Shehasamotherwhoispoisoningher.
???
IWANTTOkillMillicent.Iwanttogotomyhouse,killmywife,andbedonewithit.Iamthatangry.
Thisfeelingisdifferent.Before,Ineveractuallythought,“Iwanttokillawoman”oreven“Iwanttokillthisparticularwoman.”Mydesirewasn’tthatclear,thatsuccinct.ItwasaboutMillicent,aboutthetwoofus,andwhatIwantedoutofitwasmorecomplex.
Nowitissimple.Iwantmywifetodie.
Iheadforthefrontdoorwithoutahatoradisguiseoraweaponofanykind.Iamangryanddisgusted,andIdonotcareifIhaveaplan.MyhandisonthedoorknobwhenIrealizehowstupidIam.HowstupidIalwaysam.
IcouldprobablygetacrossHiddenOakswithoutbeingspotted.MostthinkI’montherun,nothidinginmyownneighborhood.AndonceIdidgetallthewaytomyhouse,Icouldgetinside,becauseIhaveakey.That’sassumingit’snotundersurveillance.
Ontheotherside,mywife.WhoInowknowisamonster.
JustliketherealOwen.
Also,mykids.Theyareinthehouse,andbothbelieveitisme,nother.Iamthemonster.AndnowallIcanseeistheirreactionwhenIkilltheirmother.
Idonotopenthedoor.
AndIdonotjustneedaplan.Ineedevidence.BecauseonTV,evidenceofmeiseverywhere.
MyDNA.Thoughitshouldnotbeasurprise,Millicentstillastonishesme.IhavebeensayingthatsinceImether.
ShemanagedtogetmyDNAallovertheBreadofLifeChristianChurch.Mysweatisfoundonthedoorhandleoutfront,onthelockdowntothebasement,evenonthestairrailing.Itislikeshehadavialofmysweatanddabbediteverywhere.
Aspotofmybloodisfoundontheshelvesagainstthewall.
Moresweatonthehandcuffs.
Bloodonthechainsanddirt.
ShemakesitlookasifImostlycleanedupbutmissedafewspots.
Clairehasamiddaypressconferencetoannounceallofthis.Iamofficiallyupgradedfrompersonofinteresttosuspect.Theonlysuspect.
SheevensaysIam“probablyarmedanddefinitelydangerous.”
Afterhoursofwatchingtheexperts,reporters,andformerfriendscrucifyme,Ifinallyleavethehouse.IdriverightoutofHiddenOaksandoutintotheworld,wheresomeonemayormaynotrecognizeme.
Acrosstown,IdrivebytheEZ-GowhereIusedtogetcoffee.Insteadofstopping,IdrivetenmilesdowntheinterstatetoanotherEZ-Go,whichhasthesameself-servemachine.Withthebaseballcaponmyheadandalmostafullweek’sgrowthoffacialhair,Igoinandgetmyselfacoffee.
Theyoungguybehindthecounterbarelylooksupfromhisphone.Itisalmostanticlimactic.
Italsoemboldensmealittle.Everypersonintheworldisnotlookingforme.Icouldprobablyeatinarestaurant,shopatthemall,andseeamoviebeforesomeonerecognizesme.Ijustdon’twanttodoanyofthosethings.
OnceIaminHiddenOaks,somethingmakesmedrivebymyhouse.Thelawnisclearoftoys,andthewelcomesignonthedoorisgone.Theshadesaredrawn,andthecurtainsareclosed.
IwonderifMillicenthasboughtanotherbottleofeyedrops.Orifsheevenlookedfortheoldone.
IalsowonderifJennaistheonlyoneshepoisoned.
Ihavebeensickafewtimesaswell.IfMillicentcanmakeherowndaughtersick,sheiscapableofdoingittoanyone.
ButIdonotgoinsidethehouse.Notyet.IgobacktoKekona’s.Thepolicearenotwaitingforme,norhaveIbeenfollowed.Everythinginsidelooksthesame
IalmostleavetheTVoff,totakeabreak,butIcan’t.
JustabouteveryoneistalkingabouttheDNA,andtheonlyexceptionisJosh.Heisbacktobeingareporter,andheisinterviewingacriminalpathologist.Thisman’svoiceisnotasirritating,butheisalittleboring,likeaprofessor,atleastuntilhegetstothepapercutsonNaomi.
“Thelocationsofthepapercutsareimportanttodeterminingwhatcausedthem.Wesay‘paper’becauseofthetypeofcut,buttherealsodifferenttypesofpaper.Forinstance,Naomihadshallowpapercutsontougherskin,likethebottomsofthefeet,anddeepercutsinsofterareas,liketheundersideoftheupperarm.Thatindicatesthatthesameitemwasused,butitcouldn’thavebeenaregularpieceofpaper.Ithadtobesomethingthatwouldcutthroughtheheelofafoot.”
IjumpoffthecouchlikeI’vebeenshocked.Andinaway,Ihave.IknowwhatMillicentusedtomakethosecuts.
Sixty-nine
RARELYDOESMILLICENTdosomethingbyaccident.Shehasareasonforeverything,evenifit’stoamuseherself.
Thisisoneofthosetimes.
Itbegansomanyyearsago,whensheaskedmehowIwouldprotectherfromassholesonplaneswhotrytopickherup.
Iwouldforcethemintothecenterseat,hogthearmrests,andgivethempapercutswiththeemergencyinformationcard.
Theemergencyinformationcard.TheoneIgavetoheronthefirstChristmaswespenttogether.Shehasalwayskeptit.
Inheroldapartment,itwastapedtothemirrorinherbathroom.
Ourfirstplacetogetherwasthesmallhouse,arental,andthecardwasstucktothefridgewithagoogly-eyedfacemagnet.
Whenweboughtourfirsthouse,sheslippeditinsidetheframeofourfull-lengthmirror.
Andinourbigger,moreexpensivehouse,wehavetwokidswhodonotappreciatetheemergency-cardjoke.Theythinkit’scorny.Millicentcarriesthecardwithher,stuckinsidethevisorinhercar.Whenthesunisinhereyesandsheflipsitdown,thecardmakesherlaugh.
Thecardiswhatsheusedtomakeallthosepapercuts.IamassureofthisasIhavebeenaboutanything.
???
HIDDENOAKSisnotaneasyplacetohide.Peoplenoticenewcars,especiallytheonesthatjustshowupandpark.Theydonotnoticerunnersorwalkers.Peoplearealwaysstartingandstoppingexerciseprograms,soonanygivendaytherecouldbetenpeopleoutornone.Afewarealwaysout,likeMillicent,butmostcomeandgo.
Withthesamebaseballcap,morefacialhair,baggysweatpants,andabigT-shirt—thankstoKekona,whoownsanextraordinaryamountofoversizeclothing—Ileaveoutthebackdoorofherhouse,jumpthefence,andjogouttotheroad.
IthasbeenonlyaweeksinceIdisappeared,andthepressisstilleverywhere.ItwouldbeimpossibleforMillicentandthekidstolivenormallivesrightnow.Shecan’tgotoworkandthekidscan’tgotoschool,butIwanttoknowifMillicenteverleavesthehouse.ItwouldbealoteasiertogetthatemergencycardifshetakesthecaroutofthegarageandparksitsomewhereIcanaccess.
Justaboutanythingcangowrongwiththisidea.Maybeshehasthoroughlycleanedthatcard,sothere’snoDNAonitatall—notfromheroranyofthewomen.Ormaybeshegotridofit,threwitawayorburneditup.
Formysake,Ihopenot.
Imaynotknoweverythingshedoes,oreverythingshehasdone,butIknowwhosheisontheinside.Shekeepsthatcardtoremindherofus.Andtoremindherselfofwhatshedidtothosewomen.Millicentenjoysit.Iknowthatnow.
WillthepolicebelievemeifIbringthemthatcard?IfithasDNAfromoneormoreofthedeadwomenandfromMillicent,butnotmine?Probablynot.
WilltheybelievemeifIalsotellthemaboutthebuildingMillicentboughtwiththreeLLCs,aboutDeniseandOwen’ssister,andifIshowedthemmyschedulewhenallofthesewomendisappeared?Iwasalwayshome.AndIhavenoideawhatthekidswillsayaboutthosenights.
No,theywouldn’tbelieveme.WithmyDNAinthebasementandmultiplepeopleidentifyingmeasTobias,nottomentionMillicent’sperformance,theywon’tbelieveI’minnocentforasecond.ButtheymightbelieveMillicentandIkilledthosewomentogether,whichwouldkeepmychildrensafe.
It’stheonlychanceIhave.Notjusttosavemyselfbuttoputherwhereshebelongs.Injailorinhell—eitheroneworksforme,aslongasitisnowherenearmychildren.
Ijogdowntheblockparalleltomyhouse,watchingforMillicent’scarthroughthepathsbetweenthehouses.Onmysecondpass,Ijogdownthestreetshewouldturnontogotowardtheschool.
Asexpected,Ineverseehercar.
Throughouttheday,Icheckbackbutneverseeherleave.Ijustcan’tbesure.ItwouldbesomucheasierifIhadleftthetrackeronhercar.Still,Itry,becauseIhaveto.Joggingandwalkinghavebecomemynewhobby.ToobadIcouldn’tadoptthatdogattheshelter.Itwouldbehandytohaveonerightnow.
IcallAndy.Hesoundssurprisedtohearfromme.MaybesurprisedIamalive.
“Ijusthaveaquestion,”Isay.
“Hitme.”
IaskifMillicenteverleavesthehouse.“Iassumesheisn’tevengoingtowork,”Isay.
Hehesitatesbeforeanswering.“Idon’tthinkso.Neighborshavebeenbringingfoodbyeveryday.It’sallovertheplace.Ithinkthey’rehunkereddown,avoidingthemedia.”
“That’swhatIfigured.”
“Why?”hesays.
“Doesn’tmatter.Thanksagain.YouhavenoideahowmuchIappreciatethis.”
Heclearshisthroat.
“What?”Isay.
“Ihavetoaskyounottocallagain.”WhenIsaynothing,hekeepstalking.“It’stheDNA.Thiswholethinghasjustbecomesomuchbiggerthan—”
“Iunderstand.Don’tworryaboutit.”
“Idobelieveyou,”hesays.“Ijustcan’tkeep—”
“Iknow.Iwon’tcallagain.”
Hehangsup.
Theonlysurpriseisthathestayedbymeaslongashedid.Ididn’tdeservehisfriendship.NotafterTrista.
Thesunhasstartedtoset,andIdecidetomakeonelastpassbythehousebeforetryingtogoin.AllIhavetodoisgetintothegarage,tohercar,butithastobeafterMillicentisasleep.
AndIhavekeys.
???
FIFTEENMINUTESLATER,Ipassbyontheparallelblockandlookforanythingunusual.LikeanunmarkedpolicecarbecausetheyarewaitingformetodoexactlywhatIamabouttodo.Nothing.Nounusualcars,noworktrucks.ThereisnothingIdon’trecognizeintheneighborhood.Exceptme,thebeardedguywhojogstoomuch.It’ssurprisingnoonehasstoppedmeyet.
IheadbacktoKekona’susingdifferentstreets.It’sthelongway,butIusedtheshortwayearlier.BythetimeImakeittotheedgeofthecirculardriveuptoherhouse,Istopdead.
Atowncarisinfront.
Thedriverpullsasuitcaseoutofthetrunk.
Ihearhervoice.Kekonaishome.
Seventy
SHE’LLKNOW.Theywillallknow.
ItwilltakeKekonasecondstorealizesomeonehasbeenstayinginherhouse.Thepolicewillknowitismewithinanotherfewseconds.Mycarisinthegarage.Myfingerprintsareeverywhere.SoismyDNA,andMillicent’stabletisrightonthekitchentable.
Oh,andmywallet.Ididnottakeitwithmeonthejog.It’salsoonthekitchentable.
IgobackthewayIcameandjogallthewayouttotheleastexpensivehousesintheOaks.Here,thereisasmallgreenspace,awayfromthechildren’spark,whereIstopnearagroupoftreesandpretendtostretch.
I’vegotnowheretogo.NoAndytocallorphonetocallhimwith.Nomoney,nofriends,andalmostatotallackofhope.ButIdohavekeys.Theyaretheonlythinginmypocket.
Tonightwasgoingtobethenightanyway,thenightIgointothegaragetogettheemergencycard.Inthatrespect,nothinghaschanged.WhathaschangedisthatIneedaplacetohideuntilMillicentisasleep.
Myfirstthoughtistheclub.Plentyofsmallroomsandclosetstohangoutinuntilwellafterdark.Gettinginandoutistheproblem.Toomanycameras.
Thegolfcourseisemptyatnight,butit’sfilledwithwide-openspacesvisiblefromtheroad.
I’llneverfindanunlockedcar,notinHiddenOaks.Here,everyonehasmodern,expensivecars,thekindwithcomputersthatdoeverything,includinglockthedoors.
Foramoment,Iconsiderhidingunderacar.I’mjustafraidsomeonewillgetinandstartit.
Inthedistance,sirens.Theyarecomingthisway,butnottome.ToKekona’s.
Myoptionsaredwindling,andIhavetomove.Ican’tjuststayinthislittlegreenspaceforever.NotunlessIburymyself.
Ievenconsiderhidinginmyownbackyard.Andthen,Ido.
???
EVERYTHINGLOOKSdifferentfromabove.Theneighborhood,thecars,thesky.Myhouse.Mykitchen,wherethelightison.
Millicent.
Sheistheonewhoconvincedmetoclimbatree.ItwasnotsomethingIthoughtIwoulddoagain,buthereIam,hiddenwithinthebigoaktreeatthebackofouryard.FarenoughfromthehousethatnooneheardtheleavesrustlingasIclimbedupit.
Millicentiscleaningupinthekitchen.Sheistoofarawayformetoseeanydetailsotherthanherredhairandblackclothing.Ibetshewearsblackallthetimethesedays,especiallywhenthepolicecomeby.Mourningthosewomen,herhusband,andthebreakupofherfamily.
Iambothimpressedandsickened.
Rorywalksintothekitchenandgoesstraighttotherefrigerator.Hedoesn’tmovehisrightarm,Iassumebecausetheslingisstillonit.Hegrabssomethingandstaysthereforafewminutes,talkingtoMillicent.
Jennanevercomesintothekitchen,butIhavetobelievesheisokay.Notsick.Millicenthasnoreasontopoisonhertoday.
Mylegsstarttocrampup,andIadjustalittle,althoughthereisn’tanywheretogo.Thekitchenlightgoesoff,butthebedroomlightsareon.Stilltooearlyforsleep.
Aroundme,theneighborhoodgoesquietaseveryonesettlesin.Veryfewcarsareontheroad.It’saTuesdaynight,notapopularoneforbigoutings.Ileanmyheadbackagainstthetreetrunkandwait.
Byteno’clock,everyoneshouldbeinbed.Ateleven,Ialmostclimbdown,butthenIletanotherthirtyminutespass.Athalfpast,Iclimbdownandwalkalongtheedgeoftheyard,nexttothefence,allthewaytothehouse.
AsIheadtothesidedoorintothegarage,Ilookup.
Rory’slightisout,windowclosed.
Wealmostneverusethesidedoortothegarage.Iamexposedalittle,becauseitisinfrontofthebackyardgate.Islipthekeyintothelockandclickitopen.Thenoisesoundsmuchlouderthanitprobablyis,andIfreezeforasecondbeforesteppinginside.
Istandinthegarage,nexttothedoor,andwaitformyeyestoadjustsoIdon’thavetoturnonalight.
TheoutlineofMillicent’scarcomesintofocus.Herluxurycrossoverisparkedinthecenterofthegarage.Noneedtomakeroomformeanymore.Iwalkaroundtothedriver’sside,thankfulthatthewindowisopen.Idon’tevenhavetoopenthedoor.Ijustreachupandflipdownthevisor.Somethingfallsoutontotheseat.
Ifeelaroundbutfindnoemergencycard,noranythingthatfeelslikeone.Iopenthecardoor.Allatonce,thelightcomeson,andIseesomethinglyingonthebeigeleatherseat.
Ablueglassearring.
Petra.
Sheknew.MillicentknewaboutbothofthewomenIsleptwith.
RorynevertoldJenna.Hetoldhismother.
???
IFALLTOmyknees.Defeatdoesnotdescribeit.Done.Iamjustdone.
Eventually,Ienduplyingdownonthecementfloor,curledintothefetalposition.Nowilltogetup,muchlessrun.It’seasiertostayhereandwaitforthemtofindme.
Iclosemyeyes.Thegroundfeelssocool,almostcold,andtheairisacombinationofdust,oil,andalittleexhaust.Notcomforting,notpleasant.Still,Idonotmove.
Anhourpasses,ortwo.Noidea.Maybeit’sbeenonlyfiveminutes.
Mykidsarewhatgetmeup.
AndwhatMillicentmightdotothem.
Seventy-one
THEHOUSEISNOTquitepitch-black.Lightfromstreetlampsandthemoonfiltersinthroughthewindows,allowingmetoseejustenoughtonottrip.Tonotmakeanynoise.AlthoughIknowIwillbecaught,andsoon,itcan’thappenyet.
Atthebottomofthesteps,Ipausetolisten.Nooneupstairsismoving.Igoup.
Thefifthstaircreaksalittle.MaybeIknewthat,ormaybeIneverpaidattention.
Ikeepmoving.
Jenna’sroomisontheleft,followedbyRory’sroomand,attheendofthehall,themasterbedroom.
Istartwithmydaughter.
Sheislyingonherside,facingthewindow,andherbreathingissteady.Peaceful.Herbigwhitecomforterisbuncheduparoundher,likeshe’sinsideacloud.Iwanttotouchher,butknowit’sabadidea.Iwatch,memorizingeverything.Iftheyputmeinprisonforever,thisishowIwanttoremembermylittlegirl.Safe.Comfortable.Healthy.
Afterseveralminutes,Ileaveandclosethedoorbehindme.
Roryisspreadoutonhisbed,limbseverywhere.Mostofthem,anyway.Thearmhehasinaslingistheonlyonebyhisside.Hesleepswithhismouthopenbutdoesnotsnore;it’sthestrangestthing.IwatchhimthewayIwatchedJenna,memorizingeverything.Hopingmylittleboyturnsintoabettermanthanhisfather.HopinghenevermeetsawomanlikeMillicent.
Icannotblamehimfortellinghismothereverything.Iblamemyself.ForPetra,fortakingtheearrings.Forallofit.
Ileavehisroom,closethedoorwithoutmakingasound,andstartdownthehall.IimagineMillicentinbed,curledupunderthecovers,herredhairspreadoutonthewhitepillow.Icanhearthelongbreathsshetakeswhensheisinadeepsleep.AndIcanseetheshockedlookinhereyeswhenshewakesupandfeelsmyhandsaroundherthroat.
BecauseIamgoingtokillmywife.
WhenMillicentdiscoveredI’dcheatedonher,shefoundherbreakingpoint.
Tonight,Ifoundmine.
Ireachtheclosedbedroomdoorandleanclose,listening.Nosound.WhenIopenthedoor,thefirstthingIseeisthebed.
Empty.
Myfirstinstinctistocheckbehindthedoor.MaybebecauseIknowMillicentwouldstabmeintheback.
Empty.
“It’sabouttime.”
Hervoicecomesfromacrosstheroom.Iseeashadow,heroutline.Millicentissittingnexttothewindow,inthedark.Watchingforme.
“Iknewyou’dcome,”shesays.
Istepforward.Nottoofar.“Isthatright?”
“Ofcourse.It’swhatyoudo.”
“Comehome?”
“Youhavenowhereelsetogo.”
Thetruthhitslikeaslap.TheworstpartisIcanhearhersmile.It’stoodarktoseeituntilsheturnsonthelightandstandsup.Millicentiswearingherlongcottonnightgown.It’swhiteandswirlsaroundherfeet.Iwasnotpreparedforhertobeawake.Ididn’tevenbringaweapon.
Butshedid.
Theguninherhandisatherside,facingdownatthefloor.Sheisnotpointingitatme.Sheisalsonothidingit.
“That’syourplan?”Isay,pointingtothegun.“Tokillmeinself-defense?”
“Isn’tthatwhatyou’reheretodo?Killme?”
Iraisebothmyhands.Empty.“Notlikely.”
“You’relying.”
“AmI?MaybeIjustwanttotalk.”
Shechuckles.“Youcan’tbethatstupid.Ifyouwere,Iwouldn’thavemarriedyou.”
Thebedisbetweenus.It’saking-size,andIwonderifIcanleapoveritbeforeshecanraisethegunandshoot.
Probablynot.
“Didn’tfindthatemergencycard,didyou?”sheasks.
Isaynothing.
“Rorygavemethatcheaplittleearring,”shesays.“Hethoughtyouwerecheating,butthenrealizedyouweresneakingouttokillwomen.Ofcourse,Ididn’ttellhimhewasrightthefirsttime.”
Ishakemyhead,tryingtounderstand.“Why—”
“Ileftthatwomanalivesoeveryonewouldfindoutwhatacheatingbastardyouare,”shesays.
Petra.
Petraisstillalivebecauseshehadsexwithme.Andshe’llneverevenknowit
“Doyouhaveanyidea,”Millicentsays,“howmuchtherapyoursonisgoingtoneed?”
Icannotcomprehendthemadnessofwhatshehasdone.Thestaggeringamountofpatience.Ofdiscipline.“Whynotjustleaveme?”Isay.“Whydoallofthis?”
“Dowhat?Setupourhome,takecareofthekids,makesureeverythingrunssmoothly?Keeptrackofthefinancesandcookdinner?OrareyoureferringtoOwen?Becausetheoriginalplanwastobringhimback.Forus.”Shetakesastepclosertothebedbutnotaroundit.
“No—”
“Andyouweresowilling.Ibarelyhadtodoanything.YoukilledHolly,notme.”
“Shethreatenedyou.Threatenedourfamily.”
Millicentthrowsherheadbackandlaughs.Atme.
Istareather,rememberingallthestoriesshe’dtoldmeaboutHolly.Theinjuries,theaccidents,thethreats.Thecutonherhand,betweenherthumbandforefinger.Thepiecesrearrangeinmyhead,likeapuzzlethathadbeenputtogetherwrong.
Millicenthaddoneitalltoherself.Hollyjustgottheblame.
“Jesus,”Isay.“Hollywasneverathreat,wasshe?”
“Mysisterwasnothingbutaweak,snivelinggirl,whodeservedeverythingIdidtoher.”
“Shecrashedthecarbecauseyouweretorturingher,”Isay.“Nottheotherwayaround.”
Millicentsmiles.
Everythinghitsatonce.It’shardenoughtomakemedizzy.Millicentsethersisterupthesamewayshesetmeup.
Shehasalwaystorturedpeople.Hersister.Lindsay.Naomi.
Jenna.Maybeshedidn’tjustpoisonJennatokeepmeoutoftheway.
Andme.MaybeallthosetimesIwassick,shehaddoneit.
BecauseMillicentlikestohurtpeople.
“You’reamonster,”Isay.
“That’sfunny,becausethepolicesaythesamethingaboutyou.”
Thelookonherfaceistriumphant,and,forthefirsttime,Iseehowuglysheis.IcannotbelieveIeverthoughtshewasbeautiful.
“Ifoundtheeyedrops,”Isay.“Theonesinthepantry.”
Hereyesflash.
“You’vebeenpoisoningourdaughter,”Isay.
Shewasnotexpectingthis.Shedidn’tthinkIwouldfigureitout.
“Youreallyarecrazy,”shesays.Abitlessconvictionnow.
“I’mright.You’vebeenmakinghersickallalong.”
Sheshakesherhead.Outofthecornerofmyeye,somethingmoves.Ilooktowardthedoor.
Jenna.
Seventy-two
SHEISSTANDINGinthedoorwaywearingherorange-and-whitepajamas.Herhairisstickingoutallover,andhereyesarewide.Awake.Sheisstaringathermother.
“Youmademesick?”shesays.Hervoiceissosmallitmakeshersoundlikeatoddler.Aheartbrokentoddler.
“Absolutelynot,”Millicentsays.“Ifanyonepoisonedyou,itwasyourfather.”
Jennaturnstome.Hereyesarefillingwithtears.
“Dad?”
“Baby,no.Itwasn’tme.”
“He’slying,”Millicentsays.“Hepoisonedyou,andhekilledthosewomen.”
IstareatMillicent,nothavinganyideawhoImarried.Shestaresback.Iturntomydaughter.“Sheputeyedropsinyourfoodtomakeyousick.”
“You’reinsane,”Millicentsays.
“Thinkback,”IsaytoJenna.“Allthosetimesyouweresick,whocookedyourfood?HowoftendoIcookatall?”
Jennastaresatme,andthenhereyesshifttohermother.
“Baby,don’tlisten,”Millicentsays.
“What’sgoingon?”
Weareallstartledbythenewvoice.
Rory.
???
HEWALKSUPbehindJenna.Hiseyesarebleary,andherubsthemwhileglancingfrommetohismothertohissister,lookingconfusedabouteverything.Mykidshaveseentheirownlivesimplodeoverthepastweek.Theirfatherhasbeenaccusedofbeingaserialkiller;theirmotherhaslikelytoldthemitistrue.Idonotknowiftheybelieveit.
“Dad?”hesays.“Whyareyouhere?”
“Ididn’tdowhattheysay,Rory.Youhavetobelieveme.”
“Stoplying,”Millicentsays.
Jennalooksatherbrother.“DadsaysMommademesick.”
“Shedid,”Isay.
“He’slying,”Millicentsays.“Allhedoesislie.”
Rorylooksatherandsays,“Didyoucallthepolicealready?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Ihaven’thadachance.Hejustwalkedintothebedroom.”
“Andyoujusthappenedtohavethatguninyourhand?”Isay.
Rory’seyeswidenasheseesthegunatMillicent’sside.Shestillhasnotliftedherhand.
“Shewaswaitingformetoshowup,”Isay.“SoshecankillmeandclaimIattackedher.”
“Shutup,”Millicentsays.
“Mom?”Jennasays.“Isthattrue?”
“Yourfathercameheretokillme.”
Ishakemyhead.“That’snottrue.Icameheretogetbothofyouawayfromyourmother,”Isay.AndIgoevenfurther,becausetheyhavetoknow.“Yourmothersetmeup.Ididn’tkillthosewomen.”
“Waitaminute,”Rorysays.“Idon’tget—”
“Whatishappening?”Jennayells.
“Enough.”Millicentsays.Hervoiceislowandhard.
Weallshutup,justaswealwaysdowhenshesaysthat.Itisquietenoughtoheareveryonebreathing.
“Kids,”Millicentsays,“getoutofhere.Godownstairs.”
“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Jennasays.
“Go.”
“Daddoesn’thaveaweapon,”Rorysays.
Again,Iraisemyemptyhands.“Idon’tevenhaveaphone.”
RoryandJennaturntotheirmother.
Millicentglaresatmeasshestepsaroundthemandraisesherhand.Shepointsthegunatme.
“Mom!”Jennayells.
“Wait.”Roryjumpsforward,placinghimselfbetweenthegunandme.Hethrowsoffhisslingandholdsoutbotharms.
Millicentdoesnotlowerherhand.Sheraisestheotheroneandholdsthegunwithbothhands.Thegunispointedatourson.
“Getoutoftheway,”shesays.
Heshakeshishead.
“Rory,youhavetomove,”Isay.
“No.Putthegundown.”
Millicenttakesastepforward.“Rory.”
“No.”
Icanseetheangerinhereyes,evenonherface.Itisturninganunnaturalcolorofred.
“Rory,”shesays.“Move.”
Hervoiceisagrowl.IseeJennajumpalittle.
Rorydoesnotmove.Iholdmyhandout,intendingtograbhisarmandpullhimoutoftheway.Rightthen,Millicentshiftsthegunandfiresoneshot.Thebulletgoesrightintoourbed.
Jennascreams.
Roryfreezes.
Millicenttakesasteptowardhim.
Shehaslostcontrol.Icanseeitherpitch-blackeyes.Ifshehasto,shewillshootRory.
Shewillshootallofus.
IjumpforwardandknockRorydown,coveringhisbodywithmine.Justaswehittheground,Iseeabluroforange-and-whitepolkadots.Andaglintofmetal.
Jenna.Shehastheknifefromunderherbed.Ineverevensawitinherhand.
SheheadsrightforMillicent,thekniferaised,andcrashesintoher.Theybothtumblebackwardontothebed.
Thegunfiresasecondtime.
Anotherscream.
Ijumpup.Roryisrightbehindme.Hegrabsthegun,whichhasfallenoutofMillicent’shand.IgrabJennaandpullheroff.Theknifecomeswithher.ItslidesrightoutofMillicent.
Blood.
Somuchblood.
Millicentisonthefloornow,herhandsclaspedagainstherabdomen.Thebloodiscomingfromher.
Behindme,Jennaisscreaming,andIturntoseeifshe’shurt.Roryshakeshisheadatmeandpointstothewall.Thesecondbulletislodgedthere,notinsidemydaughter.
“Getheroutofhere,”Isay.
RorydragsJennaoutoftheroom.Sheishystericalandscreamsallthewaydownthehall,droppingthebloodyknifeasshegoes.
IturntoMillicent.
Sheislyingonthefloor,staringupatme.Herwhitenightgownisturningred,rightbeforemyeyes.Shelooksexactlylikemywifeand,atthesametime,nothinglikeher.
Sheopenshermouthandtriestospeak.Bloodcomesout.Millicentlooksatme,hereyeswild.Shedoesnothavelong.Afewminutes,afewseconds,andsheknowsit.Shekeepstryingtosaysomething.
Igrabtheknifeandbringitdownhard,plungingitrightintoherchest.
Millicentdoesnotgetthefinalword.
Epilogue
ThreeYearsLater
THEMAPONthewallshowedthewholeworld,fromAustraliatotheAmericas,andtheNorthPoletotheSouth.Wedidn’tusedarts,becauseweallhaveanaversiontometalobjectswithsharpedges.Instead,wepulledoutanancientPintheTailontheDonkeygameandputnewadhesiveontheribbontails.Blindfolded,weeachtookaturn.Jennawentfirst,followedbyRory.Iwentlast.
IbreathedasighofreliefwhentwoofthefirstthreetailslandedinEurope.NeithertheArcticnorAntarcticasoundedveryinvitingtome.
WetackedupamapofEuropeandplayedagain—wash,rinse,repeat—untilwehadfoundanewplacetolive:Aberdeen,Scotland.
Ourchoicewasmade.
Thatwastwoandhalfyearsago,rightafterIwasfinallyclearedbythepolice.Ididn’tthinkIwouldbe.Infact,IthoughtMillicentwouldbenamedanotheroneofmyvictims.NooneknewJennastabbedher,notafterIwipedofftheknifeandmadesuretheonlyprintsweremine.Ialsoconfessed.ItoldthepoliceIkilledmywifeinself-defense,becauseshewastherealkiller.Itneveroccurredtomethatanyonewouldbelieveit.
Andtheywouldn’thaveifithadn’tbeenforAndy,whosaiditcouldn’tbeme.Icouldn’tevenuseatabletcomputer,hetoldthem,sohowthehellcouldIkillsomanywomenwithoutgettingcaught?
ThentherewasKekona,whosaidIwasaterribleliarandcouldneverbeaserialkiller.AlthoughshedidmentionthatIwasaprettygoodtenniscoach.
Andmykids.Jennatoldthepolicethatsheoverheadourargumentandthathermotheradmittedtosettingmeup.Rorytoldthemitwasself-defense,becausehismotherwasabouttoshoothim.Neithertoldthepolicewhatreallyhappened.Thosedetailsdonotmatter.
Iliketothinkthepolicebelievedeveryonewhostoodupforme,thattheyknewIcouldn’tbeakiller.ButitwastheDNA.AlltheevidenceinthechurchbasementunderwentrigoroustestingattheFBIlabinQuantico.Theresultconfirmedwhatwealreadyknew:TheDNAwasmine.
Thesamplescamefromtwosources:sweatandblood.Andtheysavedme.Orrather,Millicent’slackofknowledgesavedme.TheFBItestsrevealedthatallthesamplesofbloodandsweathadtheexactsameamountofchemicaldecomposition.ItlookedlikeMillicenthadcollectedmyfluidsjustonceandthensprinkledthemaroundallatthesametime.ThereportstatedthatImusthavebeeninthatbasementonlyonce,becausetheDNAhadbeenleftonthesameday.AnimpossibilityifIhadkilledthosewomenatdifferenttimes.
It’stoobadMillicentneverknewhowbadlyshehadscrewedup.
AssoonasIwascleared,wesoldthehouseandleftHiddenOaks.ThefirstthingIhadtogetusedtowasthecold.Andthesnow.
I’veneverlivedwhereitsnowsbefore,butnowitsurroundsus.Atfirst,it’slightandfluffy,likehand-spuncottoncandy.Whenitblanketsthecity,everythinggoesquiet.It’sasifAberdeenhasbeenliftedrightintotheclouds.
Thedayafter,it’sslushyanddirtyandthewholecitylookscoveredinsoot.
Ourthirdwinteriscomingup,andIhavegrownabitmoreusedtoit.Roryhasnot.Justlastnight,heshowedmeawebsiteforacollegeinGeorgia.
“Toofar,”Isaid.
“We’reinScotland.Everythingisfar.”
Hehadapoint.Andthatwasthepoint,togetfarawayfromouroldlife.Wearedoingokay.Icansaythatwithoutcrossingmyfingers.
Jennahasanewtherapistandacoupleofprescriptions.Ifinditamazingthatshefunctionsatall,givenwhatMillicentdidtoher.Roryhashisowntherapist,asdoI.Onceinawhile,wehaveagroupsession,andwehaven’thurtoneanotheryet.
IdonottellthemthatImissher.Sometimes.Imissthefamilyshebuilt,thestructure,thewayshekeptusorganized.Butnotallthetime.Now,wedon’thaveasmanyrules,butwestillhavesome.It’salluptome,Icanmakearuleornot.Breakitornot.NooneisaroundtotellmeifIamwrongorright.
TodayIaminEdinburgh,alargercitythanAberdeen.Ihavecometoseemytaxattorney.Movingoutofthecountryiscomplicated.Taxesmustbepaidinmultipleplaces,dependingonwheremoneyiskept.OurhouseinHiddenOakssoldforagoodamount;wearemorethancomfortableforthemoment.Ialsocoachtennis.ItisahugesportinScotland,thoughmuchofthetimeweplayonindoorcourts
WhenIamdonewiththetaxlawyer,IfindmyselfwithalittletimebeforethenexttraintoAberdeen.Istopinapubnearthestationandmotiontothebartenderforanaleontap.Hefillsamugwithadark,syrupyliquid,unlikeanybeerIdrankbackhome.
Thewomannexttomehasdarkhairandpaleskin.Sheisdressedlikesomeonewhojustgotoffworkandishavingadrinkbeforeheadinghome.Icansenseherreliefthatthedayisalmostover.
Afterhalfadrink,sheglancesupatmeandsmiles.
Ireturnthesmile.
Shelooksawayandlooksback.
Itakeoutmyphone,typeoutamessage,andslideitacrossthebar.
Hello.MynameisQuentin.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
WhenIsatdowntowritethis,IrealizedIhadnoideawheretostart.I’veneverwrittenanacknowledgmentsbefore,butwhatIdoknowisthatmany,manypeopleworkedveryhardtogetthisbookintoyourhands.Icanneverthankthemallproperly,butI’llgiveitashot.
Myagent,BarbaraPoelle.Withouther,MyLovelyWifewouldnotbeapublishedbook.TurnsoutsheisasdisturbedasIam(maybemoreso)andcrazyenoughtotakeachanceonanobodylikeme.
Myeditor,JenMonroe.Shemadethisbookbetter,caughtallmymistakes,andrefusedtoletmegetawaywithanything.MyheartjumpseverytimeIseehernameinmyin-box,butthat’sagoodthing.
EveryoneatBerkley,Iamsogratefulyoudecidedtopublishthisbook,andgratefulforallthetimeandresourcesyouhavededicatedtoit.
Myfriends,critiquepartnersandfellowwriters,withoutwhomIwouldbenowhere.StartingwithRebeccaVonier,whowouldnotletmegiveuponthisbook.Ineverwouldhavefinisheditwithouther,norwoulditbeapublishedbook.MartiDumas,whopointsoutallthestoryandcharacterproblemsandisalwaysright.LauraCherry,whonoticeseverylittlethingandtellsmeaboutit.AndHoyHughes,whostartedtheoriginalwriter’sgroupwhereImetallthesewonderfulpeople.
Therearemany,manyotherswhohavetakenthetimetoreadandofferopinionsofmywriting(mostofitwasbad).Iwon’teventrytonameeveryperson,becauseIwillforgetsomeone,butyouknowwhoyouare.
Allthebloggers,writers,reviewers,andeveryonewhohasfoundthemselveswiththisbookintheirhands.Firstandforemost,Iamareader.Iamgratefulforthejoythatbookshavebroughtmeandgratefulanyonewouldwanttoreadmywords.
Ican’tleaveoutmyday-jobbossandlongtimefriend,Andrea,whohasalwaysbeensupportive.
Lastbutdefinitelynotleast,myfamily.Mymom,whoisalwaysthereformenomatterwhatcrazyadventureI’mon.Andmybrother,whomademetough.
Andfinally,tomyhusband,Bruce,whosupportsalmosteverythingIdo.Andwhonever,evertellsmenottotalksomuch.
Photo:?JacquelineDallimore
SamanthaDowningcurrentlylivesinNewOrleans,wheresheisfuriouslytypingawayonhernextthrillingstandalone.MyLovelyWifeisherfirstnovel.
ConnectOnlinewww.samanthadowning.comfacebook.com/smariedowningtwitter.com/smariedowningWhat’snextonyourreadinglist?
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Copyright
Contents
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
ChapterTwenty-six
ChapterTwenty-seven
ChapterTwenty-eight
ChapterTwenty-nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-one
ChapterThirty-two
ChapterThirty-three
ChapterThirty-four
ChapterThirty-five
ChapterThirty-six
ChapterThirty-seven
ChapterThirty-eight
ChapterThirty-nine
ChapterForty
ChapterForty-one
ChapterForty-two
ChapterForty-three
ChapterForty-four
ChapterForty-five
ChapterForty-six
ChapterForty-seven
ChapterForty-eight
ChapterForty-nine
ChapterFifty
ChapterFifty-one
ChapterFifty-two
ChapterFifty-three
ChapterFifty-four
ChapterFifty-five
ChapterFifty-six
ChapterFifty-seven
ChapterFifty-eight
ChapterFifty-nine
ChapterSixty
ChapterSixty-one
ChapterSixty-two
ChapterSixty-three
ChapterSixty-four
ChapterSixty-five
ChapterSixty-six
ChapterSixty-seven
ChapterSixty-eight
ChapterSixty-nine
ChapterSeventy
ChapterSeventy-one
ChapterSeventy-two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor