Someone We Know (Shari Lapena)

ALSOBYSHARILAPENA
TheCoupleNextDoor
AStrangerintheHouse
AnUnwantedGuest
VIKING
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ISBN9780525557654(hardcover)ISBN9780525557661(ebook)
ISBN9781984879387(internationaledition)Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businesses,companies,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Version_1ToManuel
CONTENTS
AlsobyShariLapenaTitlePageCopyrightDedicationAcknowledgmentsPrologueOneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTenElevenTwelveThirteenFourteenFifteenSixteenSeventeenEighteenNineteenTwentyTwenty-oneTwenty-twoTwenty-threeTwenty-fourTwenty-fiveTwenty-sixTwenty-sevenTwenty-eightTwenty-nineThirtyThirty-oneThirty-twoThirty-threeThirty-fourThirty-fiveThirty-sixThirty-sevenThirty-eightThirty-nineEpilogueAbouttheAuthorACKNOWLEDGMENTS
IknowIwouldn’tbewhereIamtodayifitweren’tforthefollowingpeople,towhomIowemydeepestgratitude:MypublishersintheUK—LarryFinlay,BillScott-Kerr,FrankieGray,TomHill,andthephenomenalteamatTransworldUK;mypublishersintheUS—BrianTart,PamelaDorman,JeramieOrton,BenPetrone,andtherestofthefantasticteamatVikingPenguin;andmypublishersinCanada—KristinCochrane,AmyBlack,BhavnaChauhan,EmmaIngram,andthesuperbteamatDoubledayCanada.Thankyouall,onceagain,foreverything.Iknowthere’sanelementofluckinpublishingandIfeeltremendouslyluckytobeworkingwithallofyou!You’reamongtheverybestinthebusiness,andthenicest,hardest-working,andmostfunbunchofpeopletoboot.Thankyou,eachandeveryone.
HelenHeller—whatcanIsay?You’vechangedmylife.AndIenjoyandappreciateyoumorethanIcaneverexpress.ThankyoualsotoeveryoneattheMarshAgencyforcontinuingtodosuchanexcellentjobrepresentingmeworldwide.
Specialthanks,again,toJaneCavolinaforbeingthebestcopyeditoranoverlybusyauthorcouldeverhave.
Inaddition,IwanttothankMikeIlles,M.Sc.,oftheForensicScienceProgramatTrentUniversity,forhisinvaluablehelpansweringmyforensicquestions,whichhedidwithspeedandgoodhumor.Thanks,Mike!
IwouldalsoliketothankJeannetteBauroth,whosecharitabledonationtotheWriters’PoliceAcademyearnedhernameaspotinthisbook!
I’dliketopointoutthatanymistakesinthemanuscriptareentirelymine.Idon’tthinkthereareany,butyouneverknow.
Finally,thankyoutoManuelandthekids.Icouldnotdothiswithoutyou.AndPoppy—you’rethebestcat,andthebestcompany,dayafterday,thatanywritercouldhopefor.
PROLOGUE
FRIDAY,SEPTEMBER29
She’sstandinginthekitchen,lookingoutthelargebackwindows.Sheturnstowardme—there’saswingofthick,brownhair—andIseetheconfusionandthenthesuddenfearinherwidebrowneyes.Shehasregisteredthesituation,thedanger.Oureyeslock.Shelookslikeabeautiful,frightenedanimal.ButIdon’tcare.Ifeelarushofemotion—pure,uncontrolledrage;Idon’tfeelanypityforheratall.
We’rebothawareofthehammerinmyhand.Timeseemstoslowdown.Itmustbehappeningquickly,butitdoesn’tfeelthatway.Hermouthopens,abouttoformwords.ButI’mnotinterestedinwhatshehastosay.Ormaybeshewasgoingtoscream.
Ilungetowardher.Myarmmovesfast,andthehammerconnectshardwithherforehead.There’sagrislysoundandashockingspurtofblood.Nothingcomesoutofhermouthbutagaspofair.Shestartstodropevenassheraisesherhandsuptowardme,asifshe’spleadingformercy.Ormaybeshe’sreachingforthehammer.Shestaggers,likeabullabouttogodown.Ibringthehammerdownagain,thistimeonthetopofherhead,andthere’sextraforcethistimebecauseherheadislower.Ihavemoremomentuminmyswing,andIwanttofinishheroff.She’sonherkneesnow,crumpling,andIcan’tseeherface.Shefallsforward,facedown,andliesstill.
Istandaboveher,breathingheavily,thehammerinmyhanddrippingbloodontothefloor.
Ineedtobesureshe’sdead,soIhitherafewmoretimes.Myarmistirednow,andmybreathinglabored.Thehammeriscoveredingore,andmyclothesarestreakedwithblood.Ireachdownandturnherover.Oneeyeissmashed.Theotherisstillopen,butthere’snolifeinit.
MONDAY,OCTOBER2
Aylesford,acityinNewYork’sHudsonValley,isaplaceofmanycharms—chiefamongthemthehistoricdowntownalongtheHudsonRiverandtwomajesticbridgesthatdrawtheeye.TheHudsonValleyisrenownedforitsnaturalbeauty,andacrosstheriver,anhour’sdriveonmostlygoodhighwayscangetyoudeepintotheCatskillMountains,whicharedottedwithlittletowns.TheAylesfordtrainstationhasampleparkingandfrequenttrainsintoNewYorkCity;youcanbeinManhattaninundertwohours.Inshort,it’sacongenialplacetolive.Thereareproblems,ofcourse,asthereareanywhere.
RobertPierceenterstheAylesfordpolicestation—anew,modernbuildingofbrickandglass—andapproachesthefrontdesk.Theuniformedofficeratthedeskistypingsomethingintoacomputerandglancesathim,holdingupahandtoindicatehe’lljustbeasecond.
Whatwouldanormalhusbandsay?Robertclearshisthroat.
Theofficerlooksupathim.“Okay,justgivemeaminute.”HefinishesenteringsomethingintothecomputerwhileRobertwaits.Finally,theofficerturnstohim.“HowcanIhelp?”heasks.
“I’dliketoreportamissingperson.”
TheofficernowgivesRoberthisfullattention.“Who’smissing?”
“Mywife.AmandaPierce.”
“Yourname?”
“RobertPierce.”
“Whenwasthelasttimeyousawyourwife?”
“Fridaymorning,whensheleftforwork.”Heclearshisthroatagain.“Shewasgoingtoleavedirectlyfromtheofficetogoawaywithagirlfriendfortheweekend.Sheleftworkasplanned,butshedidn’tcomebackhomelastnight.Nowit’sMondaymorning,andshe’sstillnothome.”
Theofficerlooksathimsearchingly.Robertfeelshimselfflushundertheman’sgaze.Heknowshowitlooks.Buthemustnotletthatbotherhim.Heneedstodothis.Heneedstoreporthiswifemissing.
“Haveyoutriedcallingher?”
Robertlooksathimindisbelief.Hewantstosay,DoyouthinkI’mstupid?Buthedoesn’t.Insteadhesays,soundingfrustrated,“OfcourseI’vetriedcallingher.Numeroustimes.Buthercelljustgoestovoicemail,andshe’snotcallingmeback.Shemusthaveturneditoff.”
“Whataboutthegirlfriend?”
“Well,that’swhyI’mworried,”Robertadmits.Hepausesawkwardly.Theofficerwaitsforhimtocontinue.“Icalledherfriend,CarolineLu,and—shesaystheydidn’thaveplansthisweekend.Shedoesn’tknowwhereAmandais.”
There’sasilence,andtheofficersays,“Isee.”HelooksatRobertwarily,orasifhefeelssorryforhim.Robertdoesn’tlikeit.
“Whatdidshetakewithher?”theofficerasks.“Asuitcase?Herpassport?”
“Shewaspackedfortheweekend,yes.Shehadanovernightcase.Andherpurse.I—Idon’tknowifshetookherpassport.”Headds,“ShesaidshewasgoingtoparkatthestationandtakethetrainintoManhattanforashoppingweekendwithCaroline.ButIwentthroughtheparkinglotfirstthingthismorning,andIdidn’tseehercarthere.”
“Idon’tmeantobeinsensitive,”theofficersays,“but…areyousureshe’snotseeingsomeoneelse?Andlyingtoyouaboutit?”Headdsgently,“Imean,ifsheliedtoyouaboutgoingoffwithherfriend…maybeshe’snotreallymissing.”
Robertsays,“Idon’tthinkshewoulddothat.Shewouldtellme.Shewouldn’tjustleavemehanging.”Heknowshesoundsstubborn.“Iwanttoreporthermissing,”heinsists.
“Werethereproblemsathome?Wasyourmarriageokay?”theofficerasks.
“Itwasfine.”
“Anykids?”
“No.”
“Allright.Letmetakedownyourparticulars,andadescription,andwe’llseewhatwecando,”theofficersaysreluctantly.“Buthonestly,itsoundslikesheleftofherownaccord.She’llprobablyturnup.Peopletakeoffallthetime.You’dbesurprised.”
Robertlooksattheofficercoldly.“Areyounotevengoingtolookforher?”
“CanIhaveyouraddress,please?”
ONE
SATURDAY,OCTOBER14
OliviaSharpesitsinherkitchendrinkingacupofcoffee,gazingblanklyouttheglassslidingdoorstothebackyard.It’smid-October,andthemapletreenearthebackfenceislookingsplendidinitsredsandorangesandyellows.Thegrassisstillgreen,buttherestofthegardenhasbeenpreparedforwinter;itwon’tbelongbeforethefirstfrost,shethinks.Butfornow,sheenjoystheyellowsunlightfilteringthroughherbackyardandslantingacrossherspotlesskitchen.Orshetriesto.It’shardtoenjoyanythingwhensheiscomingtoaslowboilinside.
Herson,Raleigh,stillisn’tup.Yes,it’sSaturday,andhe’sbeeninschoolallweek,butit’stwoo’clockintheafternoon,anditdriveshercrazythathe’sstillasleep.
Sheputsdownhercoffeeandtrudgesonceagainupthecarpetedstairstothesecondfloor.Shehesitatesoutsideherson’sbedroomdoor,remindsherselfnottoyell,andthenknockslightlyandopensit.Assheexpected,he’ssoundasleep.Hisblanketisstilloverhishead—hepulleditoverhisheadthelasttimeshecamein,ahalfhourago.Sheknowshehatesitwhenshetellshimtogetup,buthedoesn’tdoitonhisown,andwhatisshesupposedtodo,lethimsleepallday?Ontheweekendsshelikestolethimrelaxalittle,butforChrist’ssake,it’smidafternoon.
“Raleigh,getup.It’saftertwoo’clock.”Shehatestheedgeshehearsinhervoice,butsheexpendssomuchenergytryingtogetthisboyoutofbedeveryday,it’shardnottoresentit.
Hedoesn’tsomuchastwitch.Shestandstherelookingdownathim,feelingacomplicatedmixofloveandfrustration.He’sagoodboy.Asmartbutunmotivatedstudent.Completelylovable.He’sjustlazy—notonlywillhenotgetoutofbedonhisown,buthedoesn’tdohishomework,andhedoesn’thelpwithchoresaroundthehousewithoutendlessnagging.Hetellsherhehateshernagging.Well,shehatesit,too.Shetellshimthatifhedidwhatsheaskedthefirsttime,shewouldn’thavetorepeatherself,buthedoesn’tseemtogetit.Sheputsitdowntohisbeingsixteen.Sixteen-year-oldboysaremurder.Shehopesthatbythetimehe’seighteenornineteen,hisprefrontalcortexwillbemoredeveloped,andhewillhavebetterexecutivefunctionandstartbeingmoreresponsible.
“Raleigh!Comeon,getup.”Hestilldoesn’tmove,doesn’tacknowledgeherexistence,notevenwithagrunt.Sheseeshiscellphonelyingfaceuponhisbedsidetable.Ifhewon’tgetup,fine,she’llconfiscatehiscellphone.Sheimagineshishandflailingaround,reachingforitbeforeheeventakesthecoversoffhishead.Shesnatchesthephoneandleavestheroom,slammingthedoorbehindher.He’llbefurious,butsoisshe.
Shereturnstothekitchenandputshisphonedownonthecounter.Itpings.Atextmessagehaspoppedup.Shehasneversnoopedinherson’sphoneorcomputer.Shedoesn’tknowhispasswords.Andshecompletelytrustshim.Butthismessageisrightthereinfrontofher,andshelooksatit.
Didyoubreakinlastnight?
Shefreezes.Whatthehelldoesthatmean?
Anotherping.Getanythinggood?
Herstomachflips.
Textmewhenurup
Shepicksupthephoneandstaresatit,waitingforanothermessage,butnothingcomes.Shetriestoopenhisphone,but,ofcourse,it’spasswordprotected.
Hersonwasoutlastnight.Hesaidhe’dgonetoamovie.Withafriend.Hedidn’tsaywho.
Sheasksherselfwhatsheshoulddo.Shouldshewaitforhisfathertogetbackfromthehardwarestore?Orshouldsheconfronthersonfirst?Shefeelsterriblyuneasy.IsitpossibleRaleighcouldbeuptonogood?Shecan’tbelieveit.He’slazy,buthe’snotthekindofkidtogetintotrouble.He’sneverbeeninanytroublebefore.Hehasagoodhome,acomfortablelife,andtwoparentswholovehim.Hecan’tpossibly…
Ifthisiswhatitlookslike,hisfatherwillbefurious,too.Maybeshe’dbettertalktoRaleighfirst.
Sheclimbsthestairs,theearlierloveandfrustrationshovedabruptlyasidebyanevenmorecomplicatedmixofrageandfear.Shebargesintohisroomwithhisphoneinherfistandyanksthecoversoffhishead.Heopenshiseyesblearily;helooksangry,likeawakenedbear.Butshe’sangry,too.Sheholdshiscellphoneinfrontofhim.
“Whatwereyouuptolastnight,Raleigh?Anddon’tsayyouwereatthemovies,becauseI’mnotbuyingit.You’dbettertellmeeverythingbeforeyourfathergetshome.”Herheartispoundingwithanxiety.Whathashedone?
—
Raleighlooksupathismom.She’sstandingoverhimwithhiscellphoneinherhand.Whatthehellisshedoingwithhiscellphone?Whatissheblatheringonabout?He’sannoyed,buthe’sstillhalfasleep.Hedoesn’twakeupjustlikethat;it’sanadjustment.
“What?”hemanagestosay.He’spissedoffatherforbarginginherewhenhe’sasleep.She’salwaystryingtowakehimup.Shealwayswantseveryoneonherschedule.Everyoneknowshismom’sabitofacontrolfreak.Sheshouldlearntochill.Butnowshelooksreallymad.She’sglaringathiminawayhe’sneverseenbefore.Hesuddenlywonderswhattimeitis.Heturnstolookathisclockradio.It’stwofifteen.Bigdeal.Nobodydied.
“Whatthehellhaveyoubeenupto?”shedemands,holdinghisphoneoutlikeanaccusation.
Hisheartseemstoskipabeat,andheholdshisbreath.Whatdoessheknow?Hasshegottenintohisphone?Butthenheremembersthatshedoesn’tknowthepasscode,andhestartstobreatheagain.
“Ijusthappenedtobeglancingatyourphonewhenatextcamein,”hismomsays.
Raleighstrugglestositup,hismindgoingblank.Shit.Whatdidshesee?
“Havealook,”shesays,andtossesthephoneathim.
HethumbsthephoneandseesthedamningtextsfromMark.Hesitstherestaringatthem,wonderinghowtospinthis.He’safraidtolookhismotherintheface
“Raleigh,lookatme,”shesays.
Shealwayssaysthatwhenshe’smad.Slowlyhelooksupather.He’swideawakenow.
“Whatdothosetextsmean?”
“Whattexts?”hesaysstupidly,playingfortime.Butheknowshe’sbusted.Thetextsareprettyfuckingclear.HowcouldMarkbesostupid?Helooksbackdownatthephoneagain;it’seasierthanlookingathismother’sface.Didyoubreakinlastnight?Getanythinggood?
Hestartstopanic.Hisbraincan’tcomeupwithanythingfastenoughtosatisfyhismother.Allhecanthinkofisadesperate,“It’snotwhatitlookslike!”
“Oh,that’sgoodtohear,”hismomsaysinhermostsarcasticvoice.“Becauseitlookslikeyou’vebeenuptoabitofbreakingandentering!”
Heseesanopening.“It’snotlikethat.Iwasn’tstealing.”
Shegiveshimanenragedlookandsays,“You’dbettertellmeeverything,Raleigh.Nobullshit.”
Heknowshecan’tgetoutofthisbydenyingit.He’scaughtlikearatinatrap,andnowallhecandoisdamagecontrol.“Ididsneakintosomebody’shouse,butIwasn’tstealing.Itwasmorelike—justlookingaround,”hemutters.
“Youactuallybrokeintosomeone’shouselastnight?”hismothersays,aghast.“Ican’tbelievethis!Raleigh,whatwereyouthinking?”Shethrowsherhandsup.“Whyonearthwouldyouevendothat?”
Hesitsthereonhisbed,speechless,becausehedoesn’tknowhowtoexplain.Hedoesitbecauseit’sakick,athrill.Helikestogetintootherpeople’shousesandhackintotheircomputers.Hedoesn’tdaretellherthat.Sheshouldbegladhe’snotdoingdrugs.
“Whosehousewasit?”shedemandsnow.
Hismindseizes.Hecan’tanswerthat.Ifhetellsherwhosehousehewasinlastnight,she’llcompletelyloseit.Hecan’tbeartothinkofwhattheconsequencesofthatmightbe.
“Idon’tknow,”helies.
“Well,wherewasit?”
“Ican’tremember.Whatdifferencedoesitmake?Ididn’ttakeanything!Theywon’tevenknowIwasthere.”
Hismomleansherfaceintowardhimandsays,“Oh,they’llknowallright.”
Helooksatherinfear.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“You’regoingtogetdressed,andthenyou’regoingtoshowmethehouseyoubrokeinto,andthenyou’regoingtoknockonthedoorandapologize.”
“Ican’t,”hesaysdesperately.
“Youcan,andyouwill,”shesays.“Whetheryouwanttoornot.”
Hestartstosweat.“Mom,Ican’t.Pleasedon’tmakeme.”
Shelooksathimshrewdly.“Whatelsearen’tyoutellingme?”sheasks.
Butatthatmoment,hehearsthefrontdooropeningandhisdadwhistlingashedropshiskeysonthetableinthehall.Raleigh’sheartstartstopound,andhefeelsslightlysick.Hismotherhecanhandle,buthisdad—hecan’tbeartothinkofhowhisdad’sgoingtoreact.Hedidn’tanticipatethis;heneverthoughthe’dgetcaught.FuckingMark.
“Getup,now,”hismothercommands,rippingtherestofthecoversoffhim.“We’regoingtotalktoyourfather.”
Ashemakeshiswaydownthestairsinhispajamas,he’ssweating.Whentheyenterthekitchen,hisdadlooksupinsurprise.Hecanobviouslytellfromtheirexpressionsthatsomething’sup.
Thewhistlingstopsabruptly.“What’sgoingon?”hisdadasks.
“Maybewe’dbetterallsitdown,”hismothersays,pullingoutachairatthekitchentable.“Raleighhassomethingtotellyou,andyou’renotgoingtolikeit.”
Theyallsit.ThesoundofthechairsscrapingagainstthefloorripsatRaleigh’srawnerveslikenailsonachalkboard.
Hehastoconfess.Heknowsthat.Buthedoesn’thavetotellthemeverything.He’smoreawakenow,betterabletothink.“Dad,I’mreallysorry,andIknowitwaswrong,”hebegins.Hisvoiceistrembling,andhethinksit’sagoodstart.Buthisdad’sbrowhasdarkenedalready,andRaleigh’safraid.Hehesitates.
“Whatthehellhaveyoudone,Raleigh?”hisfatherasks.
Hestaresbackathisdad,butthewordsdon’tcome.Foramoment,hefeelscompletelyparalyzed.
“Hebrokeintosomebody’shouse,”hismothersaysfinally.
“What?”
There’snomistakingtheshockandfuryinhisfather’svoice.Raleighquicklyavertshiseyesandlooksatthefloor.Hesays,“Ididn’tbreakin.Isnuckin.”
“Whythehelldidyoudothat?”hisfatherdemands.
Raleighshrugshisshoulders,butdoesn’tanswer.He’sstillstaringatthefloor.
“When?”
Hismotherprodshimwithahandonhisshoulder.“Raleigh?”
Hefinallyraiseshisheadandlooksathisdad.“Lastnight.”
Hisfatherlooksbackathim,hismouthhangingopen.“Youmean,whilewewereherehavingfriendsoverfordinner,andyouweresupposedtobeatamovie,youwereactuallyoutsneakingintosomeoneelse’shouse?”Hisvoicehasgrowninvolumeuntil,bytheendofthesentence,hisfatherisshouting.Foramoment,there’ssilence.Theairvibrateswithtension.“Wereyoualone,orwereyouwithsomeoneelse?”
“Alone,”hemumbles.
“Sowecan’tevenconsoleourselveswiththeideathatsomeoneelseledyouintothiscompletelyunacceptable,criminal,behavior?”
Raleighwantstoputhishandsoverhisearstoblockouthisdad’sshouting,butheknowsthiswillonlyincensehisdadfurther.Heknowsitlooksworsethatheactedalone.
“Whosehousewasit?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Sowhathappened?”Hisdadglancesathismom,andthenbackathim.“Didyougetcaught?”
Raleighshakeshishead,andhismomsays,“No.Isawatextonhiscellphone.Raleigh,showyourdadthetexts.”
Raleighunlocksandhandsoverthephone,andhisdadlooksatthescreenindisbelief.“Jesus,Raleigh!Howcouldyou?Haveyoudonethisbefore?”
Thisisthethingabouthisfather—heknowswhatquestionstoask.Thingshismother,rattledbyshock,didn’tthinktoask.Raleighhasdoneitbefore,afewtimes.“Justoneothertime,”helies,avoidinghisfather’seyes.
“Soyou’vebrokenintotwohouses.”
Henods.
“Doesanyoneknow?”
Raleighshakeshishead.“Ofcoursenot.”
“Ofcoursenot,”hisdadrepeatssarcastically.Hisdad’ssarcasmisworsethanhismom’s.“Yourfriendknows.Who’she?”
“Mark.Fromschool.”
“Anyoneelse?”
Raleighshakeshisheadreluctantly.
“Isthereanywayyoumightgetcaught?Securitycameras?”
Raleighshakeshisheadagain,andlooksupathisdad.“Thereweren’tanysecuritycameras.Ichecked.”
“Jesus.Ican’tbelieveyou.Isthatsupposedtomakemefeelbetter?”
“Theydon’tevenknowIwasthere,”Raleighsaysdefensively.“Iwasreallycareful.ItoldMom—Inevertookanything.Ididn’tdoanyharm.”
“Thenwhatwereyoudoingthere?”hisdadasks.
“Idon’tknow.Justlookingaround,Iguess.”
“Justlookingaround,Iguess,”hisdadrepeats,anditmakesRaleighfeelaboutsixyearsold.“Whatwereyoulookingat?Ladies’underwear?”
“No!”Raleighshouts,flushinghotlywithembarrassment.He’snotsomekindofapervert.Hemutters,“Iwasmostlylookingintheircomputers.”
“DearGod,”hisdadshouts,“youwentintopeople’scomputers?”
Raleighnodsmiserably.
Hisdadslamsthetableandgetsup.Hestartspacingaroundthekitchen,glaringbackatRaleigh.“Don’tpeopleusepasswords?”
“SometimesIcangetpastthem,”hesays,hisvoicequavering.
“Andwhatdidyoudo,whenyouwerelookingaroundinpeople’sprivatecomputers?”
“Well…”anditallcomesoutinarush.Hefeelshismouthtwistashetriesnottocry.“AllIdidwaswritesomeprankemailsfrom—fromsomeone’semailaccount.”Andthen,uncharacteristically,heburstsintotears.
TWO
Oliviasizesupthesituation.Paulisangrierthanshe’severseenhim.Thatmakessense.Raleighhasneverdoneanythingremotelylikethisbefore.Sheknowsalargepartoftheangerisbecauseoffear.Aretheylosingcontroloftheirsixteen-year-oldson?Whydidhedothis?Hewantsfornothing.They’vebroughtRaleighuptoknowrightfromwrong.Sowhatisgoingon?
Shewatcheshim,snifflingmiserablyinhischair,hisfatherstaringathimsilentlyasifdecidingwhattodo,whattheappropriatepunishmentshouldbe.
What,sheasksherself,isthecivil,decentthingtodo?WhatwillhelpRaleighlearnfromthis?Whatwillassuageherownguilt?Shewadesincarefully.“IthinkRaleighshouldgotothesepeopleandapologize.”
Paulturnsonherangrily.“What?Youwanthimtoapologize?”
Forasplitsecondsheresentsthathehasturnedhisangeronher,butsheletsitgo.“Idon’tmeanthat’sall.Obviously,hewillhavetofaceconsequencesforhisbehavior.Veryseriousconsequences.Attheveryleastheshouldbegroundedifwecan’ttrusthim.Andweshouldtakehisphoneawayforawhile.Andrestricthisinternettimetohomeworkonly.”
Raleighlooksather,alarmed,asifthisisfartooharshapenalty.Hereallydoesn’tgetit,shethinks.Hedoesn’tunderstandtheenormityofwhathe’sdone.Shefeelsachillsettlearoundherheart.Howareyousupposedtoteachkidsanythingthesedays,withallthebadbehaviortheyseearoundthem,onthenews,allthetime,frompeopleinpositionsofauthority?Nooneseemstobehavewellorhaveanyappreciationforboundariesanymore.That’snothowshewasbroughtup.Shewastaughttosaysorry,andtomakeamends.
“Hecan’tapologize,”Paulsaysfirmly.
“Whynot?”sheasks.
“Hebrokeintopeople’shouses.Hewentthroughtheircomputers.Hebrokethelaw.Ifheapologizes,heopenshimselfuptocriminalcharges.Doyouwantthat?”
Herheartseizeswithfear.“Idon’tknow,”shesayscrossly.“Maybethat’swhathedeserves.”Butit’sbravado,really.She’sterrifiedatthethoughtofhersonfacingcriminalcharges,andclearlyherhusbandis,too.Sherealizessuddenlythatthey’lldoanythingtoprotecthim.
Paulsays,“Ithinkwe’dbettertalktoalawyer.Justincase.”
—
Thenextmorning,Sunday,Raleighissoundasleepwhenhismothercomesintohisroomandshakeshimbytheshoulder.
“You’regettingup,now,”shesays.
Andhedoes.He’sonhisverybestbehavior.Hewantshisphoneandinternetaccessback.Andhe’sterrifiedofgoingtothelawyer,whichhisdadisgoingtomakehimdo.Lastnightatthedinnertablehisfatherwassayingmaybeitwouldbebest,inthelongrun,ifRaleighweretofacechargesandtakethelegalconsequences.Hisdadwouldn’treallymakehimdothat.Hethinkshewasjusttryingtoscarehim.Itworked.Raleigh’sshittingbricks.
Oncehe’sdressedanddownstairs,hismomtellshim,“We’regoingtogetinthecar,andyou’regoingtoshowmethetwohousesyoubrokeinto.”
Helooksbackather,wary.“Why?”
“BecauseIsaidso,”shesays.
“Where’sDad?”heasksnervously.
“He’sgonegolfing.”
Theygetinhercar.Shehasn’tevenlethimhavebreakfastfirst.Hesitsinthepassengerseatbesideher,hisstomachgrowlingandhisheartthumping.Maybehisparentstalked,afterhewasinbed,anddecidedhehadtoapologizeafterall.
“Whichway?”shesays.
Hisbrainfreezes.Hecanfeelhimselfstartingtosweat.He’sonlygoingtoshowheracoupleofthehouseshe’sbrokenintotogetheroffhisback.Andhecertainlywon’ttellherthetruthaboutwherehewaslastnight.
He’stenseashismotherreversesoutofthedrivewayanddrivesdownSparrowStreet.Thetreesarebrightgoldandorangeandredandeverythinglookslikeitdidwhenhewaslittleandhisparentsrakedleavesintoabigpileonthelawnforhimtojumpin.Atthecorner,hedirectshertoturnleft,andthenleftagainontoFinchStreet,thelongresidentialstreetnextto,andparallelto,theirown.
HismomdrivesslowlyalongFinchuntilhepointsoutahouse.Number32,ahandsometwo-storyhousepaintedpalegraywithblueshuttersandaredfrontdoor.Shepullsovertothecurbandparks,staringatthehouseasifmemorizingit.It’sasunnydayandit’swarminthecar.Raleigh’sheartispoundinghardernowandsweatisformingonhisforeheadandbetweenhisshoulderblades.He’sforgottenallabouthishunger;now,hejustfeelssick.
“You’resureitwasthishouse?”sheasks.
Henods,shiftshiseyesawayfromhers.Shecontinuestostareatthehouse.There’sahorriblemomentwhenhethinksshe’sgoingtogetoutofthecar,butitpasses.Shejustsitsthere.Hebeginstofeelconspicuous.Whatifthepeoplecomeoutofthehouse?Isthatwhatshe’swaitingfor?
“Whendidyoubreakintothisone?”sheasks.
“Idon’tknow.Awhileago,”hemumbles.
Sheturnsawayfromhimandstudiesthehousesomemore.
“Whatarewedoinghere,Mom?”heasksfinally.
Shedoesn’tanswer.Shestartsthecaragainandhefeelshimselfgoweakwithrelief.
“Where’stheotherone?”sheasks.
Hedirectshertoturnleftagainattheendofthestreet,andleftagain,untiltheyarebackontheirownstreet.
Shelooksoverathim.“Seriously,youbrokeintoourneighbor’s?Wedidn’tneedtotakethecar,didwe?”
Hedoesn’tanswer.Silently,hepointsatNumber79,atwo-storywhitehousewithabaywindowinthefront,blackshutters,andadoublegarage.
Again,shepullsoverandstaresatthehouseuneasily.“Areyousureitwasthishouseyoubrokeintolastnight,Raleigh?”
Helooksatherfurtively,wonderingwhatshe’sgettingat.What’sspecialaboutthishouse?
Asifreadinghismind,shesays,“Hiswiferanawayfromhimrecently.”
That’snotmyfault,Raleighthinkssulkily,wishingthathe’dshownheradifferenthouse.
Hismomstartsthecaragainandpullsoutintothestreet.“Areyousureyoudidn’ttakeanything,Raleigh?Thatitwasjustaprank?”shesays,turningtolookathim.“Tellmethetruth.”
Hecanseehowworriedsheis,andhefeelsawfulformakingherfeelthatway.“Iswear,Mom.Ididn’ttakeanything.”Atleastthat’sthetruth.Hefeelsbadforwhathe’sputhisparentsthrough,especiallyhismom.
Yesterday,hepromisedhisparentshewouldneverdoitagain,andhemeansit.
—
Oliviadrivestheshortwayhomeinsilence,turningthingsoverinhermind.Thehousesonthesefamiliarstreetswerebuiltdecadesago.They’resetfarapartandwellbackfromtheroad,sotheyareonlydimlylitbythestreetlightsatnight;itwouldbeeasytobreakintothemwithoutbeingseen.She’dnevergivenathoughttothatbefore.Maybetheyshouldgetasecuritysystem.Sherecognizestheironyofit;she’sthinkingofgettingasecuritysystembecauseherownsonhasbeenbreakingintotheirneighbors’homes.
TomorrowisMonday.Paulwillcallalawfirmheknowsandmakeanappointmentforthemtoseesomeoneaboutthis.She’dspentagoodpartofthepreviousafternoonsearchingRaleigh’sroomashelookedon,miserable.Shehadn’tfoundanythingthatshouldn’tbethere.SheandPaulhaddiscusseditagaininbedlastnight.Shehardlysleptafterward
Parentingissostressful,shethinks,glancingsidelongathermoodysonslouchedintheseatbesideher.Youtrytodoyourbest,butreally,whatcontroldoyouhaveoverthemoncethey’renotlittleanymore?Youhavenoideawhat’sgoingoninsidetheirheads,orwhatthey’reupto.Whatifshe’dneverseenthattext?Howlongwouldithavegoneon—untilhewasarrestedandthecopsshowedupatthehouse?Hewasbreakingintoplaces,snoopingthroughpeople’slives,andthey’dknownnothingaboutit.Ifanyonehadaccusedhersonofsuchathing,shewouldneverhavebelievedit.That’showlittlesheknowshimthesedays.Butshesawthosetextsherself.Headmittedit.Shewondersuneasilyifhe’skeepinganyothersecrets.Sheparksthecarintheirdrivewayandsays,“Raleigh,isthereanythingelseyouwanttotellme?”
Heturnstoher,startled.“What?”
“Youheardme.IsthereanythingelseIshouldknow?”Shelooksathim,hesitates,andadds,“Idon’tnecessarilyhavetotellyourfather.”He’sobviouslysurprisedatthat,butshakeshishead.Itmakesherwonderifsheshouldhavesaidit.SheandPaularesupposedtorepresentaunifiedfront.Shesaysinaneutralvoice—whichtakesrealeffort—“Tellmethetruth.Areyoudoingdrugs?”
Heactuallysmiles.“No,Mom,I’mnotdoingdrugs.Thisisit,Iswear.AndIwon’tdoitagain.Youcanrelax.”
Butshecan’trelax.Becauseshe’shismother,andsheworriesthathisbreakingintopeople’shomes—notoutofgreed,nottosteal,butjustto“lookaround”—mightindicatethatthere’ssomethingwrongwithhim.Itisn’tnormal,isit?Andthoseemailshesentfromsomeone’semailaccountworryher.Hewouldn’ttellherwhattheysaid.Shehasn’treallypusheditbecauseshe’snotsureshewantstoknow.Howmessedupishe?Shouldheseesomeone?Someofthekidssheknowsareseeingtherapists,forallkindsofthings—anxiety,depression.Whenshewasgrowingup,kidsdidn’tseetherapists.Butit’sadifferenttime.
Whentheygetinside,sheretreatstotheofficeupstairsandclosesthedoor.SheknowsPaulwon’tbehomefromhisgolfgameforhours.Shesitsatthecomputerandtypesupaletter.Aletterofapology,whichshewillnotsign.Itisnoteasytowrite.Whenshe’ssatisfiedwithit,sheprintstwocopiesandputsthemintotwoplainwhiteenvelopes,sealsthem,andthengoesdownstairsandplacestheminthebottomofherpurse.Shewillhavetowaituntilafterdarktodeliverthem.Shewillgooutlatetorunanerrandatthecornerstore.Thenshe’llsliparoundanddelivertheletters.Shewon’ttellPaulandRaleighwhatshe’sdone;shealreadyknowstheywouldn’tapprove.Butitmakesherfeelbetter.
Afteramoment’sconsideration,shegoesbacktothecomputeranddeletesthedocument.
THREE
It’searlyinthemorningonMonday,October16;thelightintheskyhasbeengrowingsteadilystronger.Theairischilly.DetectiveWebbstandsperfectlystill,watchingthemistriseoffthelake,holdingapapercupofcoffeethathaslongsincegonecold.Thesurfaceofthelake,fartherout,isperfectlystill.Hehearsabirdcryinthedistance.Itremindshimofcampingasaboy.Itwouldbeapeacefulsceneifitweren’tforthecrewofdiversandthevariousvehicles,equipment,andpersonnelnearby.
TheareaoutsideofAylesfordisalovelyplaceforavacation.He’sbeenoutherebeforewithhiswife.Butit’sfirstthingonaMondaymorning,andhe’snotheretoenjoyhimself.
“Youstilldrinkingthat?”DetectiveMoenasks,lookingsidewaysathim.
She’shispartner;aheadshorterandadecadeyounger,latetwentiestohislatethirties,andsharpasatack.Helikesworkingwithher.Shehasshortbrownhairandperceptiveblueeyes.Helooksatherandshakeshishead,dumpsthecoldcoffeeoutontheground.
AlocalretiredmanbythenameofBryanRothhadbeenalonghereinhisrowboatatdawn,fishingforbass.Hethoughthesawsomethingbeneathhisboat,somethingthatlookedlikeacar,notfarfromshore.Hecalledthepolice.TheCountySheriff’sOfficeRegionalUnderwaterSearchandRecoveryTeamhadcomeout.Theycouldseetherewasacardownthere;nowtheyneedtofindoutwhatelsemightbeunderthewater.
Thedivershavejustgonedowntotakealook.Webbstandsandwatchesthewater,Moenbesidehim,waitingforthediverstosurface.Hewantstoknowifthere’sabodyinthecar.Orworse,morethanone.Oddsare,thereis.Inthemeantime,hethinksaboutthelogisticsofit.There’saroadbehindthem,alonelyroad.Asuicidespot,maybe?Thecarisn’tfarfromshore,butthewaterinthisparticularspotgetsdeepquickly.There’sastripofbeach,andthentheedgeofthelake.Heturnsandlooksbackagainattheroadbehindhim.Theroadcurveshere—ifsomeonewasdrivingtoofast,orwasdrunkorhigh,couldthecarhavemissedthecurveandgonedowntheslightinclineintothewater?There’snoguardrailtopreventit.
Hewondershowlongthecar’sbeenthere.It’sanout-of-the-wayspot.Acarthatwentintothewaterheremightstayunnoticedforalongtime.
Hisattentionshiftstothemanstandingattheedgeoftheroad.Theoldermanwavesanervoushello.
WebbandMoenwalkovertohim.
“Youtheonewhospottedit?”Webbasks.
Themannods.“Yes.I’mBryanRoth.”
“I’mDetectiveWebbandthisisDetectiveMoenfromAylesfordPolice,”hesays,showingthemanhisbadge.“Youfishalonghereregularly?”Webbasks.
Themanshakeshishead.“No,Idon’tgenerallycomedownhere.Neverfishedalongthisbitbefore.Iwasjustfloatingalonghere”—hepointsoutatthewaterwithafinger—“withmylineinthewater,andIfeltitsnag.Ibentovertohavealookandstartedpullingonit,andIsawacar.”
“It’sgoodthatyoucalleditin,”Moensays.
Themannods,laughsnervously.“Itreallyfreakedmeout.Youdon’texpecttoseeacarunderthewater.”Helooksatthemuneasily.“Doyouthinkthere’ssomeoneinit?”
“That’swhatwe’reheretofindout,”Webbsays.
Heturnsawayfromthemanandlooksbackatthelake.Atthatmomentadiverbreaksthroughthesurfaceandlookstowardtheshore.Heshakeshisheadfirmly,no.
Webbsays,“There’syouranswer.”
Butit’snottheanswerhewasexpecting.Ifthere’snobodyinthecar,howdidthecargetintothewater?Whowasdrivingit?Maybesomebodypusheditin.
Moen,besidehim,looksjustassurprised.
Couldbeallsortsofreasonsthere’snobodyinthatcar.Maybewhoeverwasdrivingmanagedtogetoutanddidn’treportitbecausethey’dbeendrinking.Maybethecarhadbeenstolen.They’llgetitoutofthewaterandgetthelicenseplateandthenthey’llhavesomewheretostart.
Moenstandsbesidehim,silentlygoingoverthepossibilities,justasheis.
“Thanksforyourhelp,”WebbsaystoRoth,andthenturnsabruptlyandwalkstowardthelake,Moenfallingintostepbesidehim.Themanstandsuncertainly,leftbehind.
Thediveriscominguptotheshorenow.Themarineofficersstandby;it’stheirjobtogetthecaroutofthewater.They’vedonethiscountlesstimes.Aseconddiverisstilldownthere,gettingthingsreadytoliftthevehicleout.
Thediverliftsuphismask.“It’safour-doorsedan.Allthewindowsarewideopen.”Hepausesandadds,“Mighthavebeensunkdeliberately.”
Webbbiteshislowerlip.“Anyideahowlongit’sbeeninthewater?”
“I’dguessacoupleofweeks,giveortake.”
“Okay.Thanks.Let’sbringherup,”hesays.
Theystepbackagainandlettheexpertsdotheirwork.WebbandMoenstandinsilenceandwatch.
Finallythere’saloudswooshingsoundandthecarbreaksthroughthewater.It’sraisedafewfeetabovethesurfacewhentheyseeitforthefirsttime.Waterstreamsfromthewindowsandoutthecracksinthedoors.Ithangstheresuspendedfromcablesintheairforaminute,resurrected.
Thecarswingsslowlyoverandontotheshore.Itlandsonthegroundwithabounceandthensettles,stillleakingfluids.Carefulabouthisshoes,Webbapproachesthevehicle.It’safairlynewToyotaCamry,andjustasthediversaid,allfourwindowsareopen.Webblooksinthefrontseatandseesawoman’spursepeekingoutfrombeneaththeseat.Helooksintothebackseatandseesanovernightcaseonthefloor.Thecarsmellsofstagnantlakewaterandrot.Hepullshisheadoutandwalksaroundtothebackofthevehicle.NewYorkplates.HeturnstoMoen.“Callitin,”hesays.Shegivesacurtnodandcallsintheplatenumberwhilethetwoofthemwalkaroundthevehicle.Finallythey’vecomefullcircleandstopatthebackofthecaragain.It’stimetoopenthetrunk.Webbhasabadfeeling.Heturnsandlooksbackatthemanwhofirstsawthecarinthewater.Hedoesn’tcomecloser.HelooksasapprehensiveasWebbfeels,butthedetectiveknowsbetterthantoshowit.
“Let’sgetthisopen,”hedirects.
Amemberoftheteamapproacheswithacrowbar.He’sobviouslydonethisbefore—thetrunkpopsopen.Theyalllookinside.
There’sawomanthere.She’slyingonherbackwithherlegsfoldeduptooneside,fullyclothed,injeansandasweater.She’swhite,probablylatetwenties,longbrownhair.Webbnotestheweddingringandthediamondengagementringonherfinger.Hecanseethatshehasbeensavagelybeaten.Herskinispaleandwaxyandheroneremainingeyeiswideopen.Shelooksupathimasifshe’saskingforhelp.Hecantellthatshewasbeautiful.
“Christ,”Webbsaysunderhisbreath.
FOUR
CarmineTorresrisesearlyMondaymorning.Sunlightisbeginningtofilterthroughthefrontwindowsandintotheentrywayasshemakesherwaydownthestairs,anticipatingherfirstcupofcoffee.She’shalfwaydownwhensheseesit.Awhiteenvelopelyingallbyitselfonthedarkhardwoodfloorjustinsidethefrontdoor.Howodd.Itwasn’ttherelastnightwhenshewentuptobed.Mustbejunkmail,shethinks,inspiteoftheNOJUNKMAILsignshehasdisplayedoutside.Butjunkmaildoesn’tusuallygetdeliveredlateatnight.
Shewalksovertotheenvelopeandpicksitup.There’snothingwrittenonit.Sheconsiderstossingitintotherecyclebinwithoutopeningit,butshe’scurious,andtearsitopencasuallyasshewalksintothekitchen.
Butassoonashereyesfallontheletterinside,shestopsandstandscompletelystill.Shereads:
Thisisaverydifficultlettertowrite.Ihopeyouwillnothateustoomuch.Thereisnoeasywaytosaythis,soIwilljustspellitout.Mysonbrokeintoyourhomerecentlywhileyouwereout.Yourswasnottheonlyhomehesnuckinto.Iknowthat’snotmuchcomfort.Heswearshedidn’tstealanything.I’vesearchedhisroomverythoroughlyandI’mprettysurehe’stellingthetruthaboutthat.Hesayshejustlookedaround.Hewasverycarefulanddidn’tbreakordamageanything.Youprobablydon’tevenknowhewasthere.ButIfeelIhavetoletyouknowthathesnoopedinyourcomputer—he’sverygoodwithcomputers—andadmitsthathewrotesomeprankemailsfromsomeone’saccount.Hewouldn’ttellmethecontentofthoseemails—Ithinkheistooembarrassed—butIfeelthatyoushouldknow.Iwouldhateforthemtocauseyouanytrouble.Iammortifiedbyhisbehavior.I’msorrythathecan’tapologizetoyouinperson.Ican’ttellyoumyname,orhisname,becausehisfatherisworriedthatitwillleaveoursonopentocriminalcharges.ButpleasebelievemewhenItellyouthatwearealldeeplysorryandashamedofhisbehavior.Teenageboyscanbeahandful.PleaseacceptthisapologyandIassureyouthatitwillneverhappenagain.Mysonhasfacedseriousconsequencesforhisactionsathome.Ijustwantedyoutoknowthatithappened,andthatwearedeeplysorry.
Carmineliftshereyesfromthepage,appalled.Someonebrokeintoherhouse?Whatanintroductiontotheneighborhood.She’sonlylivedhereforacoupleofmonths;she’sstillgettingusedtotheplace,tryingtomakefriends.
She’snothappyabouttheletter.Itmakesherfeelunsettled.It’sawfultothinkthatsomeonewasinsideherhousecreepingaround,goingthroughherthings,gettingintohercomputer,withoutherevenknowing.She’lllookaroundandmakesurenothing’smissing—she’snotgoingtotakethiswoman’swordforit.Andshe’dbettercheckhercomputerforanysentemailsthatshedidn’twriteherself.Themoreshethinksaboutitthemoreupsetshegets.Shefeelsinvaded.
Carminewandersintothekitchenandstartsmakingcoffee.Asupsetassheis,shecan’thelpfeelingsorryforthewomanwhowrotetheletter.Howawfulforher,shethinks.Butshe’dlovetoknowwhoitwas.
—
RobertPiercestopsatthebottomofhisstairs,staringattheplainwhiteenvelopeonthefloorinhisfronthall.Someonemusthavepusheditthroughtheslotwhilehewasupstairsinbedlastnight.
Hestepsforwardslowly,hisbarefeetmakingnosoundonthehardwoodfloor.Hereachesdownandpicksuptheenvelope,turningitover.There’snothingwrittenonitatall.
Heopenstheenvelopeandpullsoutthesinglesheetofpaper,thenreadstheletterindisbelief.It’sunsigned.Reachingtheendofit,helooksup,seeingnothing.Someonehasbeeninsidehishouse.
Sinkingdownontothebottomstair,hereadstheletteragain.Someteenager,messingabout.Hecan’tbelieveit.
Hesitsforalongtime,thinkinghemighthaveaproblem.
—
RaleighgoestoschoolonMondaymorning,relievedtogetoutofthehouse.
He’salsofeelingcompletelydisconnected—hehasn’tbeenonlineallweekend.Hefeelsalmostblindwithouthiscellphone.Hehasnowaytoreachanyone,tomakeplans,toknowwhat’sgoingon.Hefeelslikeabatwithoutradar.Orsonar.Orwhatever.HehastohopeherunsintoMarkinthehallorinthecafeteria,becausetheydon’thaveanyclassestogethertoday.
ButthenhefindsMarkwaitingforhimbyhislocker.OfcourseMarkwillhavefigureditout.
“Parentstakeyourphone?”Markasks,asRaleighopenshislocker.
“Yeah.”Hisangerathisfriend’sstupidityhadsubsidedasherecalledthathe’dprobablysentequallystupidtextstohim.Plus,heneedsafriendrightnow.
“Why?What’dyoudo?”
Raleighleansincloser.“Thosetextsyousent—mymomsawthem.Theyknow.”
Marklooksalarmed.“Shit!Sorry.”
Raleighisverysorrynowthatheever,inamomentofbravado,toldMarkwhathewasdoing.He’dbeenshowingoff.Butnowhewisheshe’dkepthismouthshut
Raleighglancesoverhisshouldertoseeifanyonecanhearthem.Helowershisvoice.“Nowthey’retakingmetoseealawyertodecidewhattodo.Myownparentsareconsideringturningmein!”
“Noway.Theywouldn’tdothat.They’reyourparents.”
“Yeah,well,they’reprettypissed.”Raleighshrugsoffhisbackpack.
“Seeyouafterschool?”Markasks,obviouslyworried.
“Sure.Meetmehereafterlastclass.”Hegrabshisbooks.“Ifuckinghatenothavingaphone.”
—
Oliviahasworktodo,butshecan’tfocus.Sheworksfromhomeasacopyeditorofeducationaltextbooks.Shehasenoughworktokeephermoderatelybusy,butnotoverlyso,sothatshecanmanagethehouseandfamily.It’sasatisfactory,butnotparticularlyfulfilling,arrangement.Sometimesshedaydreamsaboutdoingsomethingcompletelydifferent.Maybeshe’llbecomearealestateagent,orworkinagardeningshop.Shehasnoidea,butthethoughtofchangeisappealing.
Oliviahadbeentoodistractedtowork,waitingforPaultocallheraboutwhenthey’remeetingthelawyer.Andnowthatshe’slearnedthatitwillbetodayshecan’tthinkaboutanythingelse.Shehesitates,butthenpicksupherphoneandcallsGlendaNewell.
Glendapicksuponthesecondring.Sheworksfromhome,too,puttingtogetherfancygiftbasketsforalocalbusinessafewhoursaweek.She’susuallyupforcoffeeifOliviacalls.“DoyouwanttomeetattheBeanforcoffee?”Oliviaasks.Shecanhearthetensioninherownvoice,althoughshe’stryingtokeepitlight.“Icoulduseatalk.”
“Sure,I’dloveto,”Glendasays.“Everythingallright?”
Oliviahasn’tdecidedhowmuchshe’sgoingtotellGlenda.“Yup.Fifteenminutes?”
“Perfect.”
WhenOliviaarrivesatthelocalcoffeeshop,Glendaisalreadythere.TheBeanisacomfortableplace,withanold-fashionedcoffeebarandmismatchedtablesandchairsandwallscoveredinfunky,thrift-shopart.Notachain,andverypopularwiththelocals,inanareawheremanypeopleseemtoworkfromhome.Glendahasfoundatableattheback,wheretheycanhavesomeprivacy.OliviaordersadecafAmericanoatthecounterandjoinsGlendaatthetable.
“What’sup?”Glendaasks.“Youdon’tlookthatgreat.”
“Ihaven’tbeensleepingwellthelastcoupleofnights,”Oliviaadmits,lookingatGlenda.Shereallyneedstoconfideinsomeone.SheandGlendahavebeencloseforsixteenyears—theymetinamoms’groupwhenRaleighandGlenda’sson,Adam,wereinfants.Theirhusbandshavebecomefastfriendsaswell.Theysocializetogetherfrequently;itwasGlendaandherhusband,Keith,whohadbeenoverfordinneronFridaynightwhenRaleighwasoutgettingintotrouble.
ShecantellGlenda.Glendawillunderstand.Motherscanbeawfullycompetitivethesedays,butsheandGlendahaveneverbeenthatway.They’vealwaysbeenhonestandsupportivewitheachotheraboutthekids.OliviaknowsthatAdamhashadhisproblems.Twicenow,atsixteen,he’scomehomesodrunkthathe’sspentthenighthoveringoverthetoiletorcollapsedonthebathroomfloor.Glendahashadtostayawakewatchingoverhimtomakesurehedidn’tchokeonhisownvomit.Parentingishard;Oliviadoesn’tknowwhatshe’ddowithoutGlendatohelpherthroughit.AndsheknowsGlendaisgratefulforher,too.
“You’renotgoingtobelievethis,”Oliviasays,leaningforwardandspeakingquietly.
“What?”Glendaasks.
Oliviaglancesaroundtomakesuretheycan’tbeoverheardandsays,loweringhervoiceevenfurther,“Raleigh’sbeenbreakingintopeople’shouses.”
TheshockonGlenda’sfacesaysitall.SuddenlytearsarebrimminginOlivia’seyesandshe’safraidshe’sgoingtohaveafull-blownmeltdownrightthereinthecoffeeshop.GlendaleansinandputsacomfortinghandonhershoulderwhileOliviascrabblesforapapernapkinandholdsittohereyes.
ThegirlpicksthatmomenttobringOlivia’scoffeeover,setsitdown,andmovesswiftlyaway,pretendingnottonoticethatOliviaiscrying.
“Oh,Olivia,”Glendasays,herfaceshiftingfromshocktosympathy.“Whathappened?Didhegetcaughtbythepolice?”
Oliviashakesherheadandtriestorecoverhercomposure.“ItwasFridaynight,whenyouguyswereoverfordinner.”She’dthoughtaboutaskingRaleightostayhomeforthedinnerparty.He’dalreadymadeplanswithafriendtogoseeamovie—orsohe’dsaid.Shecouldhaveinsistedhestayhome.HeandAdamusedtobefriends,buthaddriftedapartthatspring,whenAdamstarteddrinking.Butpartofherdidn’treallywantRaleigharoundAdam.Shewasafraidhewouldbeabadinfluence;shedidn’twantRaleightostartdrinking.Ofcourse,shecouldn’ttellGlendathat.Insteadshe’dtoldGlendathatRaleighhadalreadymadeplansandGlendahadbeenfinewithit.Adamfoundsomethingelsetodo.Andnowitturnsoutthatherownsonhadfoundsomethingelsetodo,too.OliviatellsGlendathewholemortifyingstory.Exceptforthepartabouttheapologyletters;shekeepsthattoherself.
“WhywouldRaleighdosomethinglikethat?”Glendaasksingenuinebewilderment.“He’salwaysbeensuchagoodkid.”
“Idon’tknow,”Oliviaadmits.“Itseems—”Shecan’tcontinue.Shedoesn’twanttoputitintowords,tomakeherconcernsreal.
“Itseemswhat?”
“Odd.Whywouldhewanttosnooparoundpeople’shouseslikethat?It’sabnormal!Ishesomekindof—voyeur?DoyouthinkIshouldgethimsomehelp?”
Glendasitsbackandbitesherlip.“Idon’tthinkyoushouldgetcarriedawayhere.He’sateenager.They’restupid.Theydon’tthink.Theydowhateverseemslikeagoodideaatanygivenmoment.Kidsdothiskindofthingallthetime.”
“Dothey?”Oliviasaysanxiously.“Butdon’ttheyusuallystealsomething?Hedidn’ttakeanything.”
“Areyousure?Maybeallhetookwasabottleofbooze,ormaybehedranksomealcoholoutofabottleandthentoppeditupwithwater.Kidsdothatshit.Believeme,Iknow.”Herfacegoesgrim.
“Maybe,”Oliviasays,thinkingaboutit.Maybethatwasallitwas.Shehadn’tcheckedRaleigh’sbreathwhenhewassleeping.Shehadn’tknownanythingwaswronguntilthenextday.Maybesheshouldkeepaneyeontheirliquorcabinetathome.“Anyway,”shesays,“we’reseeingalawyerthisafternoon.We’llseewhathesays.We’remostlydoingittoscarehim.”
Glendanods.“Probablynotabadidea.”Theysiptheircoffees.ThenGlendachangesthesubject.“Areyoustillgoingtobookclubtonight?”sheasks.
“Yes.Ineedtogetout,”Oliviasays,lookingglum.“Don’ttellanybodyaboutthis,okay?It’sstrictlybetweenus.”
“Ofcourse,”Glendasays.“Andhonestly?It’sgreatthatyoucaughtitearly.Nipitinthebudnow.Getthelawyertoscarehimshitless.Aslongasheneverdoesitagain,you’regood.Noharmdone.”
—
GlendaNewellmakesherwaybackhomefromtheBean,hermindonwhatOliviahasjusttoldher.PoorOlivia—Raleighbreakingintohouses!Still,it’sacomfortthatotherfamilieshavetheirproblems,too.Itdoesmakeherfeeljustalittlebitbetteraboutherownsituation.
SheherselfisworriedsickaboutAdam—hisimpulsiveness,hisinabilitytoregulatehisbehavior.Shecanhardlysleepatnightforworryingaboutherson.Andshe’sworriedthathehastheaddictivegene.He’stakentodrinkingwithashockingenthusiasm.What’snext?Thethoughtofallthedrugsouttheremakesherpanic.Godonlyknowswhatthenextfewyearswillbring;thelastonehasbeenharrowingenough.Sometimesshedoesn’tknowifshewillsurviveit.
Keithseemstohavehisheadburiedinthesandthesedays.Eitherhedoesn’twanttofacethings,orhegenuinelyseesnothingwrongwithbingedrinkingatsixteen.ButthenKeithisn’taworrier.Sohandsome,withhisbluffself-confidenceandeasycharm—healwaysthinksthingswillturnoutjustfine.Hetellsherthatsheworriestoomuch.Maybehe’sright.Butshe’samother.It’sherjobtoworry.
FIVE
RobertPierceisleavingforworkwhenheopensthedoorandseesatall,dark-hairedmaninhislatethirtiesandashorter,mousy-hairedwomanabouttenyearsyounger.Botharewelldressed.Hisfirstthoughtisthattheyaresolicitingforsomething.
Thenthemanholdsuphisbadgeandsays,“Goodmorning.RobertPierce?”
“Yes.”
“I’mDetectiveWebbandthisisDetectiveMoen,fromAylesfordPolice.We’reheretotalktoyouaboutyourwife.”
He’sneverseenthesetwobefore.Whyaretheyherenow?Hehearshisheartsuddenlydrumminginhisears.“Haveyoufoundher?”heasks.Thewordscomeoutsoundingchoked.
“Maywecomein,Mr.Pierce?”
Henodsandstepsback,openingthedoorwide,andthenclosesitfirmlybehindthem.Robertleadsthemintothelivingroom.
“Maybeweshouldsitdown,”DetectiveWebbsuggests,whenRobertstandsuncertainlyinthemiddleofthelivingroomstaringatthem.
Allatonce,Robertfindsheneedstosit.Hecollapsesintoanarmchair;hecanfeeltheblooddrainingfromhishead.Hestaresatthedetectives,slightlydizzy.Themomenthascome.Thedetectivessitonthesofa,theirbacksstraight,thebaywindowbehindthem.
“Wefoundyourwife’scarthismorning.”
“Hercar,”Robertmanagestosay.“Where?”
“Itwasinalake,outnearCanning.”
“Whatdoyoumean,inalake?Wassheinanaccident?”Helooksbackandforthbetweenthem,hismouthdry.
“Itwassubmergedjustoffshore,inaboutfifteenfeetofwater.Herpurseandanovernightbagwereinthecar.”Headdsquietly,“Abodywasfoundinthetrunk.”
Robertslumpsbackagainsthischair,asifhe’shadthebreathknockedoutofhim.Hecanfeelthetwodetectiveswatchinghimcarefully.Helooksbackatthem,afraidtoask.“Isither?”
“Wethinkso.”
Robertfeelshimselfgopale.Hecan’tspeak.DetectiveWebbleansforwardandRobertnoticeshiseyesforthefirsttime—sharp,intelligenteyes.
“Iknowthisisashock.Butweneedyoutocomedowntoidentifythebody.”
Robertnods.Hegetsup,grabsajacket,andfollowsthemoutsidetothestreetandgetsintothebackoftheircar.
TheCountyMedicalExaminer’sOfficeisanew,lowbrickbuilding.Robertgetsoutofthecar,expectingtobeledintoamorgue.Heimaginesalong,cold,sterileroom,withshiny,paletilesandstainlesssteel,andharshlight,andthesmellofdeath.Hisheadbeginstospin,andheknowstheyarewatchinghim.Butinsteadofamorguetheyconducthimtoalarge,modernwaitingroomwithaglassviewingpanel.Hestandsinfrontoftheglassandwatchesasthesheetisturneddowntorevealthefaceofthebodyonthesteelgurney.
“Isthatyourwife?”Webbasks.
Heforceshimselftolook.“Yes,”hesays,thencloseshiseyes.
“I’msorry,”thedetectivesays.“Let’sgetyouhome.”
Silently,theyreturntothecar.Robertgazesoutthewindow,buthedoesn’tseethepassingstreets;whatheseesishiswife’sface,battered,bloated,andtingedwithgreen.Heknowswhat’sgoingtohappennext.Theyaregoingtoquestionhim.
Theyarriveathishouse.Thetwodetectivesgetoutofthecarandaccompanyhimtothedoor.
DetectiveWebbsays,“I’msorry,Iknowthisisadifficulttime,butwe’dliketocomeinandaskyouafewmorequestions,ifthat’sallrightwithyou.”
Robertnodsandletsthemin.Theyreturntothelivingroomthey’dbeeninjustashorttimebefore,takethesameseats.Heswallowsandsays,“Idon’tknowanythingmorethanIdidwhenshedisappearedacoupleofweeksago.ItoldthepoliceeverythingIcouldthen.Whathaveyoubeendoingallthistime?”Itcomesoutmoreconfrontationallythanitshouldhave.DetectiveWebblooksbackathimwithoutblinking.“Youweren’tevenlookingforher,”Robertsays.Hisvoiceisbitter.“That’stheimpressionIgot,anyway.”
“It’samurderinvestigationnow,”thedetectivesays,glancingathispartner.“Obviouslytherewillbeanautopsyandwe’llbelookingateverythingveryclosely.”Headds,“Weneedtogobacktothebeginning.”
Robertnodswearily.“Fine.”
“Howlongwereyouandyourwifemarried,Mr.Pierce?”
“Twoyears,lastJune.”Henoticesthattheotherdetective,Moen,istakingnotes.
“Werethereanyproblemsinyourmarriage?”
“No.Nothingoutoftheordinary.”
“Hadyourwifeeverbeenunfaithfultoyou?”
“No.”
“Hadyoueverbeenunfaithfultoher?”
“No.”
“Anyarguments,any…violenceorabuse?”
Hebristles.“Ofcoursenot.”
“Didyourwifehaveanyenemies?”
“No,notatall.”
“Anythingdifferentaboutherinthedaysorevenweeksbeforeshewentmissing?Didsheseempreoccupiedatall?Didshementionanyonebotheringher?”
Heshakeshishead.“No,notthatInoticed.Everythingwasfine.”
“Anyfinancialproblems?”
Heshakeshishead.“No.WewereplanningatriptoEurope.Workwasgoodforme.Shewasatemp,andshelikedthat,thefreedom.Didn’tlikebeingtieddowntothesamejobfifty-twoweeksayear.”
“Tellusaboutthatweekend,”thedetectivesays.
Robertlooksatbothdetectivesandsays,“She’dplannedtogoawaythatweekendwithafriendofhers,CarolineLu.TheyweregoingintoNewYorkCity.”Hepauses.“That’swhatshetoldme,anyway.”
“Didshedothiskindofthingoften,goawayfortheweekend?”
“Sometimes.Shelikedherlittleshoppingexpeditions.”
“Howwouldshemakehertravelarrangements?”
Heliftshishead.“Shemadeherownarrangements.Shebookedthingsonline,onherlaptop,putitonhercreditcard.”
“Youweren’tsuspiciouswhensheleft?”
“No,notatall.IknewCaroline.Ilikedher.They’vedonethissortofthingbefore.”Headds,“Idon’tenjoyshopping.”
“SotellusaboutFridaymorning,”Webbsays,“Septembertwenty-ninth.”
“She’dpackedherovernightcasethenightbefore.Iremembershewashummingasshewentaroundthebedroompackingherthings.Iwaslyingonthebed,watchingher.Sheseemed…happy.”Helooksearnestlyatthetwodetectives.“Wemadelovethatnight,everythingwasfine,”heassuresthem.
Butitwasn’tlikethat,heremembers,notatall.
“Thenextmorning,”Robertcontinues,“whenshewasleavingforwork,Ikissedhergood-bye,toldhertohavefun.Shewasgoingtoleavedirectlyfromwork,leavehercaratthestationandtakethetrainin.Itwasherlastdayofthattempassignment.”
“Wherewasthat?”thedetectiveasks.
“Itoldthepoliceallthisalready,”Robertcomplains.“Itwasanaccountingfirm.Theinformationmustbeinthefile.”Hefeelsaflashofirritation.
“Didyoutalktoheragainthatdayatall?”
“No.Imeantto,butIwasbusywithwork.WhenIgothome,Icalledhercell,butshedidn’tanswer.Ididn’tthinkanythingofitatthetime.Butshedidn’tpickupallweekend—itjustwenttovoicemail.We’renotaclingycouple,callingeachotherallthetime.Ithoughtshewasbusy,havingfun.Ididn’tthinkmuchofit.”
“Whendidyoustarttorealizesomethingwaswrong?”Webbasks.
“Whenshedidn’treturnSundaynightasexpected,Istartedtoworry.I’dleftmessagesonhercell,butshehadn’tcalledmeback.Icouldn’trememberwheretheywerestayingeither.That’swhenIcalledCaroline.Ithoughtherhusbandmightknowsomething,ifthey’dbeendelayed.ButCarolineansweredthephone.”Hepauses.“Andshetoldmethatshe’dneverhadplanswithAmandathatweekend,thatshehadn’tactuallytalkedtoAmandainawhile.”Herubsahandoverhisface.“IwenttothepolicestationonMondaymorningandreportedhermissing.”
“Whatkindofworkdoyoudo?”DetectiveMoenasks.Itstartleshimabit,andheturnshisattentiontoher.
“I’manattorney.”Headds,“I—Ishouldcalltheoffice.”
Thedetectiveignoresthat.“Canyouconfirmforuswhereyouwerethatweekend—fromFriday,thetwenty-ninthofSeptember,toMonday?”sheasks.
“What?”
“Canyouconfirm—”
“Yes,sure,”hesays.“IwasatworkalldayFriday,leftaboutfive.Iwentdirectlyhome.Itoldthepoliceallofthisbefore,whenIreportedhermissing.IstayedinonFridaynight.OnSaturday,Iwashome,caughtuponsomework;SundayIwentgolfingwithsomefriends.”Headds,“Itmustallbeinthefile.”
“Didyourwifehaveanyfamily,besidesyou?”DetectiveMoenasks.
“No.Shewasanonlychild,andherparentsarebothdead.”Hepauses.“MaybeIcanaskaquestion.”
“Sure,”DetectiveWebbsays.
“Doyouhaveanyideawhatmighthavehappened?Whomighthavedonethis?”
“Notyet,”thedetectivesays,“butwewon’tstopuntilwefindout.Isthereanythingelsethatyoucantellus?”
“NotthatIcanthinkof,”Robertsays,hisfaceacarefulblank.
“Okay,”Webbsays.Headds,asifit’sanafterthought,“We’dliketohaveateamcomeinandtakealookinsideyourhouse,ifthat’sallrightwithyou.”
Robertsays,hisvoicesharp,“Youignoremyconcernsfortwoweeks,nowyouwanttosearchmyhouse?Youcangetawarrant.”
“Fine.We’lldothat,”Webbsays.Robertstandsupandthetwodetectivesgetupandleave.
Oncehe’swatchedthemdriveaway,Robertlocksthefrontdoorandquicklymakeshiswayupstairstohisoffice.Hesitsinthechairatthedeskandpullsopenthebottomdrawer.There’sastackofmanilaenvelopesinside.Heknowsthatbeneaththoseenvelopesishiswife’sburnerphone,theonethecopsdon’tknowabout.Hesitsforamoment,staringattheenvelopes,afraid.Hethinksabouttheletterhegotthatmorning,downstairsinakitchendrawer.Somebodywasinhishouse.Someteenagerwashere,snoopingthroughhisdesk.Andhemusthaveseenthephone,becauseonedaywhenRoberthadopenedthedrawer,thephonehadbeensittingrightontopofthosemanilaenvelopes.Theshockofithadmadehimstartinhischair.Heknewhe’dputthephonebeneaththeenvelopes.Butnowheknows.Thatkidmusthaveseenthephone,movedit.Andnowthepolicearegoingtosearchhishouse.Hehastogetridofit.
Hehasasmallwindowoftimebeforetheycomebackwithawarrant.Buthowmuchtime?Hereachesbeneaththeenvelopesforthecellphone,suddenlyafraidthatitwon’tbethereatall.Buthecanfeelitssmoothsurfaceinhishandandhepullsitout.Hestaresdownatit,thisphonethathascausedhimsuchpain.
Heclosesthedrawerandshovesthephoneinhispocket.Helooksoutthewindow;thestreetbelowisempty.Whenthenewsbreaksthathiswife’sbodyhasbeenfound,therewillbereportersonhisdoorstep;he’llneverbeabletogetawaythen.Hemustactquickly.HechangesintojeansandaT-shirt,hurriesdownstairs,grabsajacketandhiskeysbythefrontdoor,andstopssuddenly,justshortofopeningthedoor.Whatifsomeoneseeshim?Andlaterthedetectivesfindoutthatherushedoutofthehouserightaftertheyleft?
Hestandsstillforaminute,thinking.They’llsearchthehouse.Hecan’thidethephoneinthehouse.Whatoptionsdoeshehave?Hewalkstothebackandlooksoutthedoorfromthekitchentothebackyard.It’saveryprivateyard.Maybehecanburythephoneinthebackflowergarden.Surelytheywon’tdigupthegarden.Theyalreadyhavethebody.
HespiesAmanda’sgardeningsetonthepatio,putsonhergardeninggloves,andgrabsatrowel.Hewalkstotheflowerbedsatthebackofthegarden.Helooksaround—theonlyhousethatcanseeintohisyardisBecky’s,andhedoesn’tseeher,watchingatthewindows,orfromthebackdoor.Hebendsdownandquicklydigsasmall,narrowhole,aboutteninchesdeep,underneathashrub.HewipesthecellphonedownwithhisT-shirt,justincase,thinkingthatiftheydofindit,hecantellthemshemusthaveputitthere—Amandadidallthegardening.Thenhepushesthephonedeepintotheholeandcoversitupagain.Youcan’teventelltheearthhadbeendisturbedwhenhe’sdone.Hereturnsthegardeningtoolstotheirplaceandgoesbackinside.
Problemsolved.
SIX
RaleighslouchesinEnglishclass.Theteacherisdroningonandon,butRaleighcanonlyfocusonthemesshe’sin.
Ithadstartedquiteinnocentlylastspring,sometimeinMay.He’dlefthisbackpackathisfriendZack’shouseafterschool.Ithadanassignmentinitthatwasduethenextday.RaleightextedZackthatheneededtocomegetit.Zacktextedthattheywerealloutandwouldn’tbebackuntillate.Frustrated,hecycledovertoZack’shouse.Hewasn’tevensurewhy.Heknewnobodywashome.Hedidn’thaveakey.WhenRaleighgotthere,hewentaroundthebackandlookedinthebasementwindow.Hisbackpackwasonthefloorbythecouchwherehe’dleftit,ignored,whileheandZackplayedvideogames.Justforsomethingtodo,hetriedthewindow.Tohissurprise,itopenedeasily.Hecheckedtheopening.Hewastallandskinny—heknewhecouldgetthroughitnoproblem—andhisbackpackwasrightfuckingthere.Raleighlookedaroundtoseeifanyonewaswatching,buttobehonest,hewasn’ttooworried;ifanyonesawhim,hecouldexplain.Andthenhewentinthroughthewindow.
That’swhenthingsgotalittlestrange.Becausehedidn’tjustgrabhisbackpack,heaveitoutthewindow,andclimboutafterit.Heknowsheshouldhave.Andnow,hewishesthathehad.Instead,hestoodinthebasementlisteningtothesilence.Thehousefeltdifferentwithoutanyoneelseinit—fullofpossibilities.Alittleshiverofexcitementranupanddownhisspine.Theemptyhousewashisforthemoment.Astrangefeelingcameoverhim,andheknewhewasn’tgoingtoturnaroundandgorightbackoutthewindow.
Hewentdirectlyupstairstoseeiftherewasanoffice—themostlikelyplacetofindacomputer.HepassedbyZack’sroomandglancedin.HesawZack’srecentchemistrytestflungdownonhisdesk,andthemarkwas10percentlowerthanhe’dclaimed.RaleighwonderedwhatelseZackhadliedabout.ThenhemadehiswaytotheofficeandsetabouttryingtohackintoZack’sdad’scomputer.Hedidn’tgetin,butthechallengeofitgavehimacuriousthrill.
WhenZackaskedhimaboutthebackpackthenextday,Raleighsheepishlyadmittedhe’dsnuckinthewindowtograbit—hehopedthatwasokay.Zackhadobviouslythoughtnothingofit.
Thenexttime,afewweekslater,Raleighwasmorenervous.Hecouldhardlybelievehewasthere,planningtodoitagain.Hestoodinthedarkinthebackyardofoneofhisclassmates,Ben.Heknewtheywereawayfortheweekend.Hedidn’tseeanyobvioussecuritysystem.
Hefoundabasementwindowunlockedonthesideofthehouse.Itwasstillthekindofneighborhoodwherelotsofpeopledidn’tnecessarilylockeverythinguptight,whethertheywerehomeornot.Raleighhadnotroublegettingin.Onceinside,inthedark,hisheartbeatbegantosettledown.Hecouldn’texactlyturnthelightson.Whatifthey’dtoldtheneighborstheyweregoingtobeaway,too?Butfortunately,themoonwasbrightthatnight,andafterhiseyesadjusted,hecouldfindhiswayaroundallright.Hetookcarenottowalkinfrontofthewindows—andthenwentupstairstothebedrooms.Hefoundalaptopatadeskinthemasterbedroom.Thistimehewasprepared.HeusedhisUSBbootstickandgotinquiteeasily,snoopedaroundthecomputer,andthenleftthehouse,goingoutthesamewayhegotin.
Ifhehadn’tgottensuchachargeoutofthehacking,hewouldn’thavekeptdoingit.Butafterthathouse,therehadbeenothers.Hebecameprettygoodatgettingintopeople’scomputers.Hesawtheirprivateinformation,buthenevertookanythingorchangedanything.Heneverdidanyharm.Heneverleftanysignthathe’dbeenthere.
IthadbeenamistaketotellMarkwhathewasdoing.IfonlyMarkhadn’tsentthatstupidtext—
RaleighisstartledbythesoundofhisnamebeingcalledoverthePAsystem.Alleyesturntohimautomatically,thenshiftaway.Hepacksuphisbooksandsaunterscasuallytothedoor.Buthe’spainfullyself-conscious.Hecanfeelhisfaceflushslightly.
Hemakeshiswaydownthreeflightsofstairstotheoffice,thesweatbloomingonhisskin.Henevergetscalleddowntotheoffice.He’safraidthatthishassomethingtodowiththebreakins.Arethepolicehere?Weretherecamerassomewhereandhemissedthem?Maybesomeonesawhimcomingoutofthehouseandrecognizedhim.Hefightstheurgetograbhisthingsfromhislockerandavoideverythingbyjustgoinghomeandhidinginhisbedroom.
Whenhegetstotheofficehe’ssweptwithreliefwhenheseeshismomtherewaitingforhim.Nopoliceinsight.
“Wehaveanappointment,”shesays.“Getyourthings.I’llwaitinthecaroutfront.”
Hisanxietyspikesagain.
Astheydrivedowntowntothelawyer’soffice,itispainfullysilentinthecar.Hisdadworksdowntowninthecentralbusinessdistrictandwillmeetthemthere.Raleighspendsthetimeworryingaboutwhatthelawyerwillsay.
Thelawofficeisintimidating.He’sneverbeeninonebefore.It’sonthetopfloorofanofficebuilding,allglassdoorsandsleekfurnishings.Onelookandheknowsthatthismustbecostinghisparentsalotofmoney.
Hisdadisalreadyinthereceptionareaandwillbarelymeethiseyes.Raleighsitsmiserably,waitingwithhisparents.They’reobviouslyembarrassedtobehere,pretendingtoreadcopiesofTheNewYorker.Raleighdoesn’tevenpickupamagazine;hejuststaresathisfeet,missinghisphone.
It’snotlongbeforethey’reushereddownaquiet,carpetedhallintoaspaciousofficewithanimpressiveviewoftheriver.Thelawyerbehindthelargedeskgetsupandshakeshandswitheachofthem.Raleighknowshishandsareclammywithnerves;thelawyer’shandsarecool.RaleightakesaninstantdisliketoEmilioGallo,aheavysetmanwhostaresathim,sizinghimup.
“So.Tellmewhatthisisallabout,Raleigh,”Gallosays.
Raleighglancesathismom;hedoesn’tdarelookathisdad.Hethoughthisparentswoulddoallthetalkingandthathewouldjustsithereandlooksorryanddowhateverhe’stold.Buthismomrefusestocatchhiseye.Sohetellsthelawyerthesamestoryhetoldhisparents,terrifiedthatGallowillbeabletoseethroughhim.Hedoesn’twantthelawyertoknowhowmanyhouseshe’sbrokeninto,ortheextentofhiscomputerexpertise,whathe’scapableofdoing.Allheactuallydidwashackinandlookaroundandgetout.That’sthetruth.Hecouldhavedonealotmore.
“Isee,”theattorneysayswhenhe’sfinished.Hesmoothshistiewithhisfingers.“Soyouhaven’tbeencaught.”
“No,”Raleighsays.
“That’sbreakingandenteringandtrespassing,”theattorneysays.“Andthecomputerstuffisevenworse.ThestateofNewYorktakesthesekindsofcrimesveryseriously.AreyouawareofNewYorkPenalCodeSection156?”
Raleighshakeshishead,terrified.
“Ididn’tthinkso.Letmeeducateyou.”HeleansforwardandpinsRaleighwithhiseyes.“Undersection156,‘unauthorizeduseofacomputer’—that’sacrime.That’swhenyougainaccesstooruseacomputerwithoutthepermissionoftherightfulowner.That’saClassAmisdemeanor.Peoplegetfinesandevenabitofjailtimeforthat.Itgoesupfromthere.Areyouabsolutelysureyouhaven’ttakenorcopiedanyone’sdata,ordeletedorchangedanythingontheircomputers?Becausethat’stampering,andyoucouldgotojailforuptofifteenyearsforthat.”
Raleighswallows.“No,Ijustlooked.That’sall.”
“Andsentthoseemails.That’sidentitytheft.”
“Identitytheft?”hisfathersayssharply.
“Hewroteemailsfromsomeoneelse’saccount,”thelawyerremindsthem,“pretendingtobethatperson.”
“Surelyaprankemaildoesn’tconstituteidentitytheft,”hisfathersays,lookingappalled.
“Well,youwouldn’twanttoriskit,wouldyou?Peopledon’ttakekindlytohavingtheirprivacyinvaded.”ThelawyerfocuseshissharpeyesonRaleigh,whofeelshimselfshrinkfurtherdownintohischair.“Andthere’salwaysthepossibilityofacivilsuit.ThisisAmerica,andpeopleareverylitigious.Andthatcangetveryexpensive.”
There’salong,horrifiedpause.Clearlyhisparentshadn’tthoughtofthat.Raleighcertainlyhadn’t.
Finally,hismothersays,“Ithoughtheshouldapologizetothesepeople,maybemakereparations,butmyhusbandwasagainstit.”
“No,yourhusbandisright,”Gallosays,lookingastonished.“Hedefinitelyshouldnotapologize.Thatwouldbetantamounttoconfessiontoacrime,orcrimes.”
Thenshesays,“Whatifhesentthemaletter,anonymously,toapologize?”
“Whythehellwouldhedothat?”hisdadsays.
Thelawyersays,shakinghishead,“I’msorry,that’salovelygesture,andI’mjustacynicalcriminallawyer,butthatwouldbeveryfoolish.Farbetterthatthesepeopledon’tknowthathewaseverthereatall.”
Raleighnoticeshismomflushabitattherebuke.
“Tellmemoreaboutthisotherboy,Mark,”Gallosays.“Who’she?”
“He’safriendatschool.”
“Howmuchdoesheknow?”
“JustthatIbrokeintoacoupleofhouses.AndthatIsnoopedinthecomputers.”
“Ishelikelytoratyouout?”
“Noway,”Raleighsaysfirmly.
“Howcanyoubesosure?”thelawyerasks.
Raleighsuddenlyisn’tsure.Buthesays,“Ijustknow.”
“Anythingonanysocialmediaweneedtoworryabout?”
Raleighreddensandshakeshishead.“I’mnotacompleteidiot.”
Thelawyersitsbackinhischairandlooksasifhedisagrees.ThenheglancesatbothofRaleigh’sparents.“Myadviceistosittightanddonothing.Ifnoone’scomeforwardandthepolicehaven’tknockedatyourdoor,consideryourselveslucky.Butletmeremindyou,youngman,”andhereheleansforwardandpinsRaleighagainwithhissharp,shrewdeyes,“luckalwaysrunsout.SoIstronglyadviseyoutoleaveoffyourlifeofcrimerightnow,becauseifyou’recaught,you’redefinitelylookingatjuvie.”
Raleighswallowsnervously,andonthatnote,theygetuptoleave.
—
Oliviadoesn’tsayawordonthewayhome.Herthoughtsareinturmoil.She’sfuriousatRaleigh,andfuriousatthesituation.Sheregrets,now,thosetwoanonymousletters.She’snotgoingtotellanyoneaboutthem,butnowshe’sworriedthattheymaycomebacktohaunthersomehow.Shehearsthelawyer’svoiceinhermind,saying,thatwouldbeveryfoolish.
Whydidn’tsheleavewellenoughalone?That’swhatcomesfromtryingtoliveethically,fromtryingtodowhat’srightinacrazy,cynicalworldthatdoesn’tgiveashitaboutdoingtherightthing.What’swrongwithapologizing?Insteaditseemstobeallaboutnotgettingcaught,aboutgettingawaywithit.Shedidn’tlikethatlawyermuch,butshe’safraidthatheknowswhathe’sdoing;she’ssonaivenexttohim.
Shecan’thelpworryingaboutwhatallthisisteachingtheirson.Hemightbescaredstraightatthethoughtofjail—andthat’sagoodthing,she’lltakeit.Althoughhe’sprobablynotasfrightenedofitassheis.Butshewishesheunderstoodwhywhathe’sdoneiswronginsteadofjustbeingafraidofwhatmighthappentohim.How,shefumes,areyousupposedtoteachakidrightandwrongwhensomanypeopleinpositionsofauthorityregularlybehavesobadly?WhatthehelliswrongwithAmericathesedays?
—
Carminehashadherlonelysupperofasinglechickenbreastandasalad,eatenatthekitchentable,thetelevisionresolutelyoff.Shehasstandards.Shemaintainstheroutineofcookinganeveningmealforherself,eventhoughsomedaysshewonderswhyshebothers.Shehascookbooksthatcelebratethejoysofcookingforone,butitdoesn’tfeeljoyfultoher.Shelovedcookingforherhusbandandkids.Butherhusbandisdeadandherkidshaveallmovedontotheirownbusylives.
Shehasestablishedanotherroutine—hereveningwalkaroundtheneighborhood.Routinesgivestructuretoemptydays.Thisnightlywalkisbothforexerciseandtosatisfyhernaturalcuriosityaboutherneighbors.IttakesherdownFinchandaroundtoSparrow,thenbacktoherownstreet.It’salongblockandaprettywalk.Shewillkeepitupaslongastheweatherallows,admiringthewell-kepthomes,glancinginthewarmlylitwindows.Tonightasshewalksalongshethinksaboutthebreakinandtheletter.Sofarshehasonlyspokentohernext-doorneighbor,ZoePutillo,aboutit.Zoeistheonlyoneshe’sbecomefriendlywithsofar.Carminehasn’tcompletelydecidedwhethertoletitgoortrytofindoutwhobrokeintoherhouse.Partofherfeelsanaturalsympathyforthemotherwhowrotetheletter.Butpartofherfeelsslightlyoutraged,andwantstodosomethingaboutit.
Assheturnsbackdownherownstreetshenearsahousethatisbrightlylit.Shecanseeacrossthefrontlawnandthroughthelargewindowsintothelivingroom,whereasmallgroupofwomenaregathered.Theyaretalkingandlaughinganimatedly,wineglassesinhand.JustthenCarminenoticesanotherwomanhurriedlyapproaching.Sheturnsupthedrivewayofthehouse,abookinherhand,andringsthebell.Carminehearsthemuffledsoundofvoicesbriefly,whilethedoorisopenandthenewcomerisadmitted,andthenthesoundisabruptlycutoffagain.
It’sabookclub,Carminerealizeswithapangoflonging,stoppingforamoment.Thelongingismixedwithatouchofresentment.Peoplehaven’tbeenparticularlyfriendlyhere.
SEVEN
Olivia,inarushtoleaveforbookclub,almostforgetsthebook,butgrabsitassheheadsoutthedoor.Sheusuallylooksforwardtobookclub,buttonightshesuspectsshe’stooupsetaboutRaleightoenjoyanything.Supperwasstrainedafterthevisittotheattorney.
ShewalkstoSuzanneHalpern’shouseonFinchStreet.Thebookclubstartedyearsago,acollectionofwomenfromtheneighborhoodwhoknoweachotherthroughschool,sports,andotherneighborhoodevents.Thereareseveralregularmembers.Theyalltaketurnshosting.
Suzannelovestohostbookclub:She’sabitofashow-off.Shealwaysmakesafuss,preparingelaboratesnacksandostentatiouslypairingthemwithjusttherightwines.Whenit’sOlivia’sturnsheusuallydefaultstoagood,solidredandanuninspiredwhitethatwillgowitheverything,andgrabsabunchofthingsfromCostco.Shedoesn’tparticularlylikehosting.Forher,bookclubisaboutgettingout.
GlendaisalreadytherewhenOliviaarrives.Thewomenstandaroundthelivingroomchatting,withtheirglassesofwineandtheirlittleplatesoffood,leavingtheirbooksattheirseats.Tonight’sbookisthenewTanaFrench.Ofcourse,theyneverstartwiththebook.Theycatchuponsmalltalkfirst,usuallyaboutthekids—theyallhavekids—whichiswhatthey’redoingwhenJeannette’sphonepings.OliviaseesJeannettegiveherphoneacasualglance—andthenJeannette’sfacefreezes.AtthesametimeOliviahearstwoorthreeotherpingsfromotherphonesandwonderswhat’sgoingon.
“Oh,myGod,”Jeannetteblurtsout.
“Whatisit?”Oliviaasks.
“RememberhowAmandaPiercewentmissingacoupleofweeksago?”Jeannettesays.
Ofcoursetheyremember,Oliviathinks.AmandaPiercehadleftherhusbandratherabruptlywithouttellinghim.Oliviadidn’tknowAmanda,exceptbysight.She’donlyactuallymetheronce,ataneighborhoodpartyheldatthelittleparkbetweenSparrowandFinchjustoverayearago,inSeptember,shortlyafterthePierceshadmovedin.AmandaPiercewasastrikingwoman,andallthehusbandshadwatchedher,practicallydrooling,stumblingoveroneanothertohandherthings—ketchupforherhotdog,anapkin,adrink,whilethewivestriednottolookpissedoff.Shelookedlikeamodel,oranactress—shewasthatperfect.Thatsexy.Thatconfident.Alwayswearingsmartclothesandfashionablesunglasses.Thehusband—shecan’trememberhisname—buthewasridiculouslygood-looking,too.Hehadthesamemovie-starquality,butwasmorereserved.Awatcher.TheylivedonOlivia’sstreet,butfartherdown.Theywerebothintheirlatetwenties,considerablyyoungerthanOliviaandherfriends,andhadnokids,sotheydidn’thavemuchreasontocrosspaths.
“Shedidn’treallygomissing,”Suzannesays.“Sheleftherhusband.”
“There’sanewsalert,”Jeannettesays.“Theyfoundhercar,inalakeupnearCanning.Herbodywasinthetrunk.”
There’sastunnedsilenceastheroomfillswithshock.
“Ican’tbelieveit,”Beckysays,lookingupfromherphone,herfacesuddenlypale.
OliviarecallswithajoltthatRaleighhadbeeninsidethePierces’house.
“PoorRobert,”Beckywhispers.BeckyHarrislivesnextdoortothePierces.“Hedidreporthermissing.Hetoldmethathimself.”
BeckyisagoodfriendofOlivia’s,andhadtoldherallaboutit.OliviahasasuddenpictureofBecky,whoisstillquiteattractive,butperhapsnotasattractiveasshethinks,talkingtothehandsome,abandonedhusbandoverthebackfence.
“Irememberhearingthat,”Glendasays,soundingshaken.“ButifIremembercorrectly,thestorywasthepolicedidn’ttakeitseriouslybecauseshe’dliedtohimaboutgoingawayfortheweekendwithafriend.Theyfiguredshelefthim,thatitwasn’taproperdisappearance.”
“Well,it’sobviouslyamurdernow,”Jeannettesays.
“Whatelsedoesitsay?”Oliviaasks.
“That’sit.Nodetails.”
“Doyouthinkherhusbanddidit?”Suzanneasksafteramoment,lookingaroundatallofthem.“Doyouthinkhemighthavekilledher?”
“Iwouldn’tbesurprised,”Jeannettesaysquietly.
Beckyturnsonhersuddenly.“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutit!”
There’sastrainedsilenceforamomentatBecky’soutburst.ThenSuzannesays,hervoicetingedwithsomethinglikeawe,“It’stoocreepy.”
“Thehusbandcouldbeperfectlyinnocent,”Zoesuggests.
“Butisn’titusuallythehusband?”Suzannesays.
“Ifhekilledher,”Beckysays,“thenwhywouldhetellthepolicetolookforher?”Beckyobviouslydoesn’twanttobelievethatthehandsome,lonelymannextdoormaybeamurderer.
“Well,”Oliviasays,“hewouldhavetoreporthermissing,wouldn’the?Hecouldn’tjustignoreit.Hehastoplaythepartoftheworriedhusband,evenifhekilledher.”
“God,you’remorbid!”saysGlenda.
“Thinkaboutit,though,”Oliviasaysthoughtfully.“Itcouldbetheperfectmurder.Hekillsher,reportshermissing,andtellsthepoliceshesaidshewasgoingoffwithafriendfortheweekendwhenshewasn’t.Thenwhenshedoesn’tturnup,thepolicewillthinkshejustlefthimandwon’tactuallylookthathard.It’sbrilliant,really.”Theyallstarebackather.Sheadds,“Especiallyifthey’dneverfoundhercarinthelake.He’dprobablyhavegottenawaywithmurder.”
“I’mnotsureIlikethewayyourmindworks,”Suzannesays.
BeckygivesOliviaanannoyedglanceandsays,“Fortherecord,Idon’tthinkherhusbanddidit.”
Suzannestandsupandstartsrefillingeveryone’swineglasses.Sheshuddersvisibly.“God,rememberhowgorgeousshewas?Rememberthepartylastyear?Thatwasthefirsttimeanyofusreallygotalookather.Shehadallthemenwrappedaroundherlittlefinger.”
“Iremember,”Beckysays.“Shewastoobusybeingfascinatingtohelpcleanup.”
“Maybeshehadastalkerorsomething,”Glendasays.“Awomanlikethat—”
“Shewassuchaflirt.Idon’tknowhowherhusbandputupwithit,”Zoesays.Zoehadbeenattheparty,too,Oliviaremembers,lookingaroundtheroom.They’dallbeenthere.
“Maybethatwastheproblem.Maybehewasjealous,andhekilledher,”Jeannettesays.
Theyallglanceatoneanother,uncomfortable.
Zoeabruptlychangesthesubject.“Haveanyofyouheardaboutthebreak-insandtheanonymousletters?”
OliviafeelsherstomachclenchanddeliberatelyavoidslookingatGlenda.Shit.Shereallynevershouldhavewrittenthoseletters.Shereachesforherwineglassonthecoffeetable.
“Whatbreak-ins?Whatanonymousletters?”Suzannesays.
“IhearditfromCarmineTorres,”Zoesays.“She’smynewnext-doorneighbor.Shetoldmeshegotananonymousletterthismorningfromsomeonesayingthathersonhadbrokenintoherhouseandthattheyweresorry.”Sheadds,“Itwasslippedthroughhermailslotovernight.”
“Seriously?”Jeannettesays.“Ihaven’theardanythingaboutthis.”
Zoenods.“SheknockedonmydoortoaskmeifI’dgottenone,too,butIhadn’t,”Zoesays.
“Wasanythingtaken?”Suzanneasks.
“Shedidn’tthinkso.Shesaidshe’dhadagoodlookaroundbutnothingseemedtobemissing.”
OliviadarestotakeaquicklookatGlendaandaflashofunderstandingpassesbetweenthem.She’llhavetotalktoherafterbookclub.Shehadn’ttoldGlendaabouttheletters.
“Whoelsegotbrokeninto?”Suzanneasks.“Ihaven’theardanything.”
“Idon’tknow,”Zoesays.“Thelettersaysthattherewereothers.Carmineshowedittome—Ireadit.”
Oliviafeelsslightlynauseated,andputsherglassofwinedown.Thisisnotwhatshemeanttohappen,notatall.She’donlywantedtoapologize.Shedidn’twantotherpeoplereadingtheletter!Shedidn’twantsomeonetryingtofindoutwhohadwrittenit!Shecertainlydidn’twantpeoplegossipingaboutit.Sheshouldhaveleftwellenoughalone.Howcouldshehavebeensostupid?Thelawyerwasright—allshe’ddonewasstirthingsup.
“Youshouldhaveseenthisletter!”Zoeexclaims.“Thepoorwomanwhowroteit.Apparentlythekidwentthroughpeople’scomputersandgetthis—heevensentprankemailsfromtheiremailaccounts!”
“No!”Suzannesays,aghast.
“Whatdidtheysay?”Jeannetteasks,appalledandentertainedinequalmeasure
“Idon’tknow,”Zoesays.“Carminesaysshedidn’tfindanyonhercomputer.Thatmusthavebeenatsomebodyelse’shouse.”
Glendasays,inano-nonsensevoice,“Soundslikesometeenagestupiditytome,andthemother’sdoingthedecentthing,apologizing.It’sthesortofthingthatcouldhappentoanyofuswithkids.Youknowwhatteenagersarelike.”
Olivianoticesafewrueful,sympatheticnodsfromsomeoftheotherwomen.ShefeelsintenselygratefultoGlendaatthatmomentbutiscarefulnottoshowit.
Suzannesays,“IguessIshouldbemorecarefulaboutlockingthedoorsandwindows.Idon’talwayscheckthematnight.”
“It’ssocreepytothinkofsomebodygoingthroughyourhouseandgettingintoyourcomputerswhenyou’renotthere,”Jeannettesaysinahushedvoice.“Andtothink—ifthiswomanCarminehadn’tgotthatletter,shewouldneverevenhaveknown.”
There’ssilenceastheyallseemtocontemplatethatforaminute.
“Maybesomeofushavebeenbrokeninto,”Zoesays.
“Butthenwewouldhavegottenaletter,”Suzannesays.
“Notnecessarily,”Zoesays.“Whatifthekidonlyadmittedtosomeofthehouses,didn’ttellhismotherthefullextentofwhathewasupto?That’swhatCarminethinks.Therecouldbelotsofhousesthiskid’sbrokeninto,andpeoplewouldn’tnecessarilyknow.Maybeweshouldallbeworried.”
Olivialooksaroundatthewomeninthecircle,allofwhomappeartobegenuinelyalarmedattheideaofhavingbeenbrokenintowithoutbeingawareofit.CouldRaleighhaveliedtoherabouthowoftenhe’ddonethis?Herstomachfeelsqueasyandshewantstogohome.
“Iguessweshouldtalkaboutthebook,”Suzannesaysatlast.
EIGHT
OliviafollowsGlendaoutthedoor.It’schillynow,andshe’sgladit’sdarkastheotherwomenslipaway.Glendawaitsforherandtheytalkquietlyattheendofthedriveway,pullingtheirjacketsclosed.
Oliviawaitsuntiltheothersareoutofearshotandsaysmiserably,“Thanksfornotsayinganything.”
“WhywouldIsayanything?”Glendareplies.“Yoursecretissafewithme.”Shesnorts.“AwfullysmugofZoe,ifyouaskme.She’sgottwogirls,shedoesn’thaveanyboys.Shehasnoidea.”Thensheasks,“Howdiditgowiththelawyer?”
TheyturndownthesidewalktowardGlenda’shouse.Oliviatellsheraboutthevisittothelawyer.Thensheaddsanxiously,“Ishouldn’thavewrittenthoseletters.”
“Youdidn’ttellmeaboutthat.”
“Iknow.”SheglancesatGlenda.“Ihaven’ttoldPaulorRaleigheither.Promisemeyouwon’ttell.IfPaulfindsout,he’llbefurious.Inevershouldhavesentthem.Noweveryone’sgoingtobetryingtofindoutwhowrotethem.”
“Howmanyarethere?”
“Justtwo.Raleighsaidheonlybrokeintotwohouses.Imadehimshowmewhichones.”
“Whosewastheotherhouse?”
Oliviahesitates.“ThePierces’.”
“Seriously?”
Olivianods.Shefeelssickaboutit.WhatifRobertPierceisamurderer?
“Doyoubelievehim?”Glendaasksafteramoment.
“Idid.Tobehonest,Idon’tknowanymore.MaybeZoe’sright,andhedidn’ttellmeaboutallofthem.IneverwouldhavethoughtRaleighcapableofsuchathing.”They’requietforamoment,walkingdownthesidewalkinthedark,OliviaimaginingSuzanne,Becky,Jeannette,andZoeallgettingontotheircomputersassoonastheycanandcheckingtheirsentmessageslookingforemailstheyhadn’twritten.AfterawhileGlendaasks,“DoyouthinkRobertPiercemurderedhiswife?”
Oliviaglancesatheruneasily.“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Idon’tknoweither.”
“Ididn’tevenknowher,”Oliviasays,“butshewasaneighbor—shewasoneofus.Itseemsawfullyclose.”
—
CarmineTorreshasdecidedtogodoor-to-dooronherstreet,tellingherneighborsthatshe’dbeenbrokenintoandshowingthemtheletter.Thismorning,she’dspokenagainbrieflytoZoenextdoor,whotoldherthatnooneinherbookclubthenightbeforehadheardanythingaboutit.Thenofcoursethey’dstartedtalkingaboutwhathadbeenonthenews:awomanfromthissupposedlyquietneighborhood—justonestreetover—hadbeenfoundbrutallymurdered.
CarminealsoplanstogoupanddownSparrowStreet,thestreetthemurderedwomanlivedon,andseewhatshecanlearnaboutthiswomaninthetrunk.Carminelovesagoodgossip.
Beforeshegoes,shewandersaroundthehouseuneasily,touchingthings,studyingthem,straighteningpictures.Shelooksinsidehermedicinecabinet.Hasanythingbeenmoved?Shecan’ttellforsure.Shefeelsabitcreepedoutnow,aloneinherownhouse,whichsheneverwasbefore.Shehatesbeingawidow;it’slonely.Andshehatestheideaofsomeone—evenifonlyateenageboy—rifflingthroughherthings.Readingwhat’sonhercomputer.Notthatthere’sanythingontherethatshouldn’tbe.Whatkindofkidwoulddosomethinglikethat?Theremustbesomethingwrongwithhim.
—
RaleighfindshimselfavoidingMarkatschoolonTuesdaymorning.Hedoesn’twanttotalktohimaboutthemeetingwiththelawyer.He’sdecidedthisisit—he’snotgoingtobreakintoanymorehouses.Ever.
—
WebbandMoenarebackatthemedicalexaminer’sofficefortheautopsyresultsonAmandaPierce.Thelargeroomisfreshlypainted,andlotsofnaturallightfloodsthespacefromthelargewindowsallalongtheupperhalfoftheroom.Thesmellisstillbad,though.WebbsucksononeofthemintsthatMoenhasbrought.Hisshoessqueakonthespic-and-spantiles.Alongthewallbeneaththewindowsisalongcounterwithsinksandsterilizedinstrumentsneatlylaidout.Weighscaleshangoverthecounter—theylookjustlikethescalesinthesupermarketwhereonemightweighapaperbagofmushrooms,Webbthinks.
JohnLafferty,aseniorforensicpathologist,says,“Causeofdeathisbluntforcetrauma.Shewasstruckintheheadrepeatedlywithanobject,mostlikelyahammer,bythelooksofit.”
Webbfocusesonthebodylyingonthesteeltable.Thesheethasbeenpeeledback.It’sagruesomesight.Thedecomposingbodyisbloatedandtheskinhasahideous,greenishcast.Shelooksmuchworsethanshedidthedaybefore.
“Sorryaboutthesmell,butbodiestendtodeterioraterapidlyoncetheycomeoutofthewater,”Laffertysays.
Undeterred,Webbmovesinclosertostudythecorpse.Theautopsyhasbeenconcluded,theorgansstudiedandweighed,andshehasbeensewnupagain.Herheadisapulpymess.Oneofhereyesismashedoutofherface.
“It’salmostimpossibletoestimatetimeofdeathunderthecircumstances,”thepathologistsays.“It’sverydifficulttodeterminetimeofdeathfrompostmortemchangesmorethanseventy-twohoursafterdeath,andthefactthatshe’sbeeninthewater—sorry.”
Webbnods.“Understood.”
“Noobviousevidenceofsexualassaultoranyotherinjuries,”thepathologistcontinues.“Shewasdefinitelydeadbeforeshewentintothewater.Nodefensivewounds,nothingunderhernails.Noobvioussignsofastruggle,eventhoughitappearsshewasstruckfromthefront.Perhapssheknewherkiller.Mostlikelythefirstblowcameasasurpriseandincapacitatedher.Shewashitseveraltimes,withgreatforce.Thefirstcoupleofblowsprobablykilledher.Therepeatedblowsindicateuncontrollablefury.”
“Soitwaspersonal.”
“Lookslikeit.”Headds,“Shewasahealthywoman—nosignsofanyoldfracturesthatmightindicateongoingdomesticabuse.”
“Okay,”Webbsays.“Anythingelse?”
“Shewaspregnant.Abouttenweeks.That’saboutit.”
“Thankyou,”Webbsays,andheandMoenheadout.“WeknowshewasaliveandatworkonFriday,Septembertwenty-ninth,”Webbsays.“Shemusthavebeenkilledsometimethatweekend.ShewasprobablydeadbythetimeherhusbandreportedhermissingonMonday.”
Theywalktothecar,bothoftheminhalingdeepbreathsoffreshair.Moensays,“Noteverymanishappytolearnhe’sgoingtobeafather.”
“Abitdrastic,isn’tit,murder?”Webbcounters.
Sheshrugs.“We’veonlygotRobertPierce’swordforitthatshetoldhimshewasgoingawaywithCaroline,”Moenpointsout.“Noone’scorroboratedit—shedidn’tmentiongoingawayfortheweekendtoanyoneshewasworkingwith.”
Webbnods.“Maybeshewasn’tgoinganywhere.Maybehemadethatup,afterhekilledher.Wehaven’tfoundanyrecordofherbookingahotel.”
“Hecouldhavekilledherandpackedherbagsandsunkhercarandhopedshewouldneverbefound.Sothatitlookedlikesheplannedtoleavehim.”
“We’dbettertalktoCarolineLu,”Webbsays.
—
Oliviaishavinganunproductiveweek.SheblamesRaleigh—andtheshockingnewsaboutAmandaPierce—forherinabilitytoconcentrate.It’searlyTuesdayafternoonandshe’saccomplishedalmostnothingyettoday.Sheturnsawayfromthefileopenonherscreen,getsup,andgoesdownstairsforafreshcupofcoffee.Thehouseisquiet—PaulisatworkandRaleighisatschool.Butshecan’tstopthinkingaboutthingsotherthanhercurrenteditingproject.She’sworriedaboutRaleigh.
WhatifRaleighisn’ttellinghereverything?Shedidn’tlikethewayhiseyesshiftedawayfromherswhensheaskedhim.Heseemedgenuinewhenhesaidhewasn’ttakingdrugs,butshestillfeelsthere’ssomethingheiskeepingfromher.
AndOliviacan’tputherfingeronwhy,butshecan’thelpfeelingthatPauliskeepingsomethingfromher,too.Thelastfewweekshe’sseemedtohavesomethingonhismind,somethinghe’snotsharingwithher.Whenshe’dbroachedhimaboutit,he’dbrushedheroffwithacommentaboutbeingoverloadedatwork.Ofcourse,nowhe’supsetaboutRaleigh,too.
Restlessly,shepicksupthedailynewspaper,theAylesfordRecord,andcarriesitovertotheeasychairinfrontofthesliding-glassdoorsthatlookoutontothebackyard.She’salreadyreadit,andfollowedthestoryonline.Butsheputshercoffeedownonthelittlesidetableandopensthepaperagain.Onpage3,there’sapictureandaheadline.MISSINGWOMANFOUNDDEAD.ThephotographshowsapictureofAmandaPierce;she’ssmilingandprettyinthephoto,withnohintofthetragedythatwillbefallher.Shelooksaslovelyasshedidattheneighborhoodparty,everyoneeatingoutofherhand.
Oliviastudiesthephotographclosely,recallingthediscussionatthebookclubthenightbefore.Sherereadsthearticle.Therearefewfacts.Theypulledherandhercaroutofalakeearlyyesterdaymorning.Itsaysonlythatherbodywasfoundinthetrunk.Oliviawondershowshedied.Theotherinformationisscant.Policearebeingtight-lipped,sayingonlythat“theinvestigationisongoing.”
Sheputsthepaperdown,decidestogoforawalk,andlacesuphershoes.Maybeawalkwillclearherheadandthenshecangetsomeworkdone.
It’sawful,Oliviathinks,leavingthehouse.Awomanwholivedontheirstreetwasmurdered.Shecan’tstopthinkingaboutit.
NINE
RobertPierceglancesoutatthestreetfrombehindoneoftheblindsinthemasterbedroom.There’saclusterofpeoplestandingoutsidestaringatthehouse,staringupathim,havingcaughtthemovementatthewindow.Hecanimaginewhatthey’resayingabouthim.
Heturnsawayfromthewindowandwatchestheforensicsteamcontinueitsmeticuloussearchofhisbedroom.Hewatchesandthinks.Theyhavenothingonhim.Theonlythingwasherunregistered,pay-as-you-gocellphone,andnowit’ssafelyburiedinthegarden.
Hethinksaboutthephone.IthadbecomeanissuebetweenAmandaandhim.Notonetheytalkedabout.Thatwasthethingaboutthem,somuchoftheirmarriagewentonbeneaththesurface.Theydidn’ttalkaboutthings.Theydidn’tfight.Insteadtheyplayedgames.
Heknewshemusthavehadaburnerphone.Heknewshekeptitwithher—probablyinherpurse—andhiditsomewherewhenshewasinthehouse.Becausehe’dbeenthroughherpurses,andhercar,andhe’dneverfoundit.Andthenonenightnotlongago,hesurprisedherbymakingherdinnerwhenshegothome.Somethingsimple—steakandsaladandredwine.Andalittlesomethinginherwineglasstoknockherout.
Andwhileshewassprawledacrosstheirbed,oblivious,he’dtornthehouseapartmethodically,muchthewaythiscrewisdoingrightnow.Andhefoundhersecrethidingplace.Theboxoftamponsinthebottomofthebathroomcupboard.Thebathroomwastheoneplaceinthehouseshecouldalwayscountonbeingalone.Nottoocreativeofher,really.Iftheylookinsideherboxoftamponsnow,ofcourse,theywon’tfindanythingbuttampons.
Howmuchdoeshereallyhavetoworryabout?
Whenshewokeupthenextmorningwithawallopingheadache,hechidedherfordrinkingtoomuch.Hepointedattheemptywinebottleleftonthekitchencounter—he’dpouredhalfofitdownthesink—andshenoddedandsmileduncertainly.Lateron,whenshewasdressedforwork,sheseemednervous,outofsorts.Sheapproachedhim,someunreadableexpressiononherface.Hewonderedifshewasgoingtoaskhim.Hewonderedifshehadtheguts.Hegazedbackatherblandly.“Areyouallright,honey?Youlookupset.”
He’dneverbeenviolentwithherbefore,butshelookedathimasifshewereasilkylittlebrownmousefacingasnake.
Theystaredatoneanother.He’dtakenhersecretphonefromitssecrethidingplace.Heknewitandsheknewit.Wouldshesayanything?Hedidn’tthinkshe’ddare.Hewaited.
Finallyshesaid,“No,I’mfine,”andturnedaway.
Hekeptaneyeonhertoseeifshewouldtrytodiscreetlysearchthehouseforhermissingphonebeforesheleftforwork,butshedidn’t.Itwasinhisbottomdeskdrawer,beneathsomeenvelopes.Easiertofindthanwhereshe’dhiddenit.Butheknewshewouldn’tdaregointohisdesk.Notwhilehewashome.Sohestayedhomeuntilsheleftforwork.
Thatwasthedayshedisappeared.
—
DetectiveWebbisverymuchawareofRobertPiercelurkingaroundthehouseduringtheirsearch.Didhekillhiswife?Andstuffherbodyinthetrunkandsinkhercarinthelake?He’snotcomingacrossparticularlywellasabereavedhusband.Heseemstwitchy.
Ifhekilledherhere,inthehouse,theywillfindsomething.Theyknowshewasbeatentodeathwithahammerorsomethingsimilar.Therewouldhavebeenalotofblood.Evenifasurfacelookscompletelyclean,iftherearetracesofblood,theywillfindthem.ButWebbdoesn’tthinkhekilledherhere.He’stoosmartforthat.
Theteammovesslowlyoverthehouse.Theydusteverywhereforfingerprints,lookindrawersandunderfurniture,searchingforanythingthatmightshedlightonAmandaPierce’sdeath.
Theytakeherlaptop.Hercellphonehadbeenfoundinherpurse;twoweeksinthewaterhadrenderedituseless,buthercellphonerecordswillbescrutinized.Webbwonderswhat,ifanything,AmandaPiercemighthavebeenhiding.Shetoldherhusbandthatshewasgoingawaywithafriend.Theyonlyhavehiswordforit.Butifwhathesaysistrue,thenAmandawaslyingtohimaboutCarolineLu.Ifso,whowasshemeeting?Hadherhusbandfoundoutthetruth?Hadhekilledherinajealousrage?Ormaybetherewassomeotherreasonhekilledher.Perhapshewaspsychologicallyabusive.Wasshetryingtoescapethemarriageandhefoundout?
TheirinterviewofCarolineLuhadyieldednothinguseful.Thetwowomenhadbeenfriendssincecollegebuthadseenlessofeachotherinrecentmonths;Carolinehadn’tknownifAmandahadalover,andshewasunawareofanypossiblemaritalproblems.She’dbeenshockedwhenRobertcalledsayingthatAmandahadtoldhimtheyweretogetherthatweekend.
Now,inthemasterbedroom,Robertlooksonsilently,coldlyobservant.AtechnicianapproachesWebbandsaysinalowvoice,“Fourdistinctsetsofprintsinthehouse.Downstairsinthelivingroom,thekitchen.Uphere,intheoffice—especiallythedeskanddeskdrawers,andinthebedroomonthelightswitch,theheadboard—alsointheensuitebath.”
That’sinteresting,Webbthinks,andglancesatMoen,whoraisesaneyebrowathim.HeturnstoRobertandsays,“Haveyouhadfriendsinlately?”
Heshakeshishead.
“Didyourwife?”
“No,notthatIknowof.”
“Acleaninglady?”
Robertshakeshishead.“No.”
“Anyideawhytherewouldbefourdifferentsetsofprintsinyourhouseratherthantwo—yoursandyourwife’s?”
“No.”
Oneofthesetwohadalover,Webbthinks,ormaybetheybothdid.MaybeAmandahadherloverovertothehousewhenherhusbandwasn’tthere.Thatwastakingarisk.Maybeitgotherkilled.Theywillcanvasstheneighborhood,askquestions.Seeifanyonehadevernoticedsomeoneelsegoinginoroutofthehouse.
Thesearchyieldsnothingelse.Maybeitwasn’taspontaneousthing,Webbthinks;maybeheplannedit,rightdowntothelieabouthertellinghimshewasgoingawayfortheweekend.WebblooksoveratRobert,standinginacorner,watchingeverything.TheyneedtoleanhardonRobertPierce.Webbknowsthatincaseswherethewifeismurdered,it’susuallythehusband.Buthe’snotonetoleaptoconclusions.Thingsarerarelysimple.
—
AsOliviawalksrapidlydownthestreet,sheseessomethinginfrontofthePiercehouse.There’sacrowdofpeoplestandingaround,gazingatthewhitehousewiththebaywindowandblackshutters.
Thehouseisunremarkable,likeanynumberofhousesonthestreet.Buttheusuallypeacefulsceneisquitedifferentnow.Therearepolicecarsparkedalongthestreet,andawhitepolicevan.Areporterisinterviewingoneoftheneighborsonthepavement.Oliviadoesn’twanttobeoneofthoseghoulishpeoplewhofeastonthepainofothers,butshecan’tdenyshe’scurious.Fromhere,shecan’tseeanythingofwhat’sgoingoninside,excepttheoccasionalfigurepassinginfrontofoneofthewindows.
Oliviamovesonquickly.Shethinksaboutthepeopleonthestreet,gossiping,speculating.Sheknowswhatthey’resaying.They’resayingthatheprobablykilledher.
OliviathinksaboutRobertPierce,insidehishouserightnowwiththepolice,peopleoutsidewatching.Hehasforfeitedhisrighttoprivacybecausehiswifehasbeenmurdered,andhemightnothavehadanythingtodowithit.
Shefindsherselfhoping,selfishly,thattherenewedinterestinAmandaPiercewillmakepeopleforgetallaboutthebreak-insandanonymousletters.
TEN
BeckyHarrislooksoutherdaughter’sbedroomwindowatthesideofthehouse,obscuredbythecurtain.Fromhereshecanseethestreetbelow,andthePiercehousenextdoor.ShespotsOliviaoutforawalk,makingherwaypastthelittlecrowdonthestreet.Beckytearsnervouslyattheskinaroundhernails,anoldhabitshe’dquityearsago,butthathasrecentlyresurfaced.SheturnsherattentionbacktothePiercehouse.
Shewonderswhatthey’vefound,ifanything.
Twopeoplecomeoutofthehouse.Amanandawoman,bothindarksuits.Sheremembersseeingthesametwopeopleyesterday,bringingRoberthome.Detectives,shethinks.Theymustbe.Theystandinfrontofthehouseforamomentspeakingtooneanother.Shewatchesastheman’seyessweepupanddownthestreet.Hispartnernodsinagreement,andtheystartoffdownthedriveway.
It’sobviousthey’regoingtostartquestioningtheneighbors.
—
Jeannetteobservesthedetectivesfrombehindthewindow.Sheknowstheywillbeatherhousesoon.Shetriestoignorehowanxiousshefeels.Shedoesn’twanttotalktothepolice.
Whentheknockfinallycomes,shejumpsalittle,eventhoughshehasbeenexpectingit.Shewalkstothefrontdoor.Thetwodetectivesloomonherfrontstep—beyondthemshehasaperfectviewofthePiercehouse,directlyacrossthestreet.Hereyesflitnervouslyawayfromthedetectives.
Themanshowshisbadge.“I’mDetectiveWebb,andthisisDetectiveMoen.We’reinvestigatingthemurderofAmandaPierce,wholivedacrossthestreetfromyou.We’dliketoaskyouafewquestions.”
“Okay,”shesays,alittlenervously.
“Yourname?”
“JeannetteBauroth.”
Webbasks,“HowwelldoyouknowRobertandAmandaPierce?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Notatall,really.Ionlyknowthemtoseethem,”shesays.“Theyjustmovedinalittleoverayearago.Theykepttothemselves,mostly.”
“Didyoueverseethemarguing,oroverhearthemarguing?”Sheshakesherhead.“EverseeanybruisesonAmandaPierce,ablackeye,perhaps?”
“No,nothinglikethat,”Jeannettesays.
“DidyouhappentonoticeRobertPiercecomingorgoingontheweekendofSeptembertwenty-ninth,theweekendhiswifedisappeared?”
Shedoesn’trememberseeingRobertatallthatweekend.“No.”
“Didyoueverseeanyoneelsecomingorgoingfromtheirhouse?”Moenasks.
Shehastoanswer.Shedoesn’twantto.Shebitesherlipnervouslyandsays,“Idon’twanttocauseanyoneanytrouble.”
“You’renotcausingtrouble,Mrs.Bauroth,”DetectiveWebbassuresher,hisvoicequietbutfirm.“You’recooperatinginapoliceinvestigation,andifyouknowsomething,youmustshareitwithus.”
Shesighsandsays,“Yes,Isawsomeone.Theirnext-doorneighbor,BeckyHarris.Isawhercomingouttheirfrontdoor,inthemiddleofthenight.I’dgottenuptohaveaglassofmilk—sometimesIhavetroublesleeping—andhappenedtolookoutmywindow.AndIsawher.”
“Whenwasthis?”Webbasks.
Shedoesn’twanttoanswer,butshereallyhasnochoice.“ItwasverylateSaturdaynight,theweekendthatAmandadisappeared.”Thedetectivessharealook
“Areyouabsolutelysureofthedate?”Webbasks.
“Yes,”shesaysmiserably.“I’mcertainofit.BecausebyTuesday,therewasarumorgoingaroundthatAmandahadn’tcomehomeandhe’dreportedhermissing.”Sheadds,“Becky’shusbandisawayonbusinessalot.Ithinkhewasawaythatweekend.Thekidsareoffatcollege.”
“Thankyou,”Webbsays.“Youhavebeenveryhelpful.”
Shelooksbackathim,feelingsickatheart.“Ineverwouldhavesaidanything,exceptyou’rethepolice.Youwon’ttellherwhereyouhearditfrom,willyou?We’reneighbors.”
Thedetectivenodsgood-byeatherasheturnstogo,butdoesn’tanswerherquestion.
Jeannetteretreatsinsidethehouse,closingthedoorwithanunhappyfrown.Shehadn’ttoldanyonewhatshesaw.IfBeckywantstocheatonherhusband,that’sherbusiness.Butthepolice,that’sdifferent.Youhavetotellthemthetruth.
SheremembersAmandaattheneighborhoodparty,herbigwideeyes,herperfectskin,thewaysheflippedherhairbackwhenshelaughed,mesmerizingallthemen.SheremembersRobert,too,justashandsome,butquietlywatchinghiswife.Hecouldhaveanywomanhewanted,ifhewanted.
SowhatdoesheseeinBeckyHarris?
—
Raleighwrencheshislockeropenafterhislastclass.Hejustwantstograbhisstuffandgohome.He’shadacrapday.Hescrewedupamathtest.Hesmiledatacutegirlandshelookedrightthroughhim,likehewasn’tthere.Allpartofhiscraplife.
“Hey,”Marksays,appearingsuddenlybehindhim.
“Hey,”Raleighsays,withoutenthusiasm.
Markleansincloserandsays,“Wherewereyouafterschoolyesterday?”
Raleighlooksoverhisshouldertomakesurenooneislistening.“Mymompickedmeup—Ihadtogoseethelawyer.”
“Thatwasfast,”Marksays,surprised.“So,whatdidhesay?”
Raleighanswersinalowvoice,“HesaidifIevergetcaughtI’llgotojuvie.”
“That’sit?”
“Prettymuch.”
Marksnorts.“Howmuchdidyourparentspayforthat?”
“Idon’tknow,andthisisn’tfunny,Mark.”Helookshimintheeyeandsays,“I’mdone.I’mnotgoingtodoitanymore.Itwasfunforawhile,butI’mnotgoingtojail.”
“Sure,Igetit,”Marksays.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“Nothing.”
“Igottago,”Raleighsays.
—
Whentheknockcomes,Beckyjumpsoutofherskin.She’sstandinginthekitchen,shoulderstensed,waitingforthem.
Sheopensthedoorandseesthetwodetectives.Fromthewindowtheylookedordinary.Upclosetheyaremuchmoreintimidating.Sheswallowsnervouslyastheyintroducethemselves.
“Yourname?”DetectiveWebbasks.
“BeckyHarris.”Thedetectivehasanalert,probinglookabouthim;itmakesherevenmorenervous.
Heasks,“DidyouknowAmandaPierce?”
Sheshakesherheadslowly,frowning.“Notreally.Imean,myhusbandandIhaddrinkswithherandherhusbandononeortwooccasions—justcasually.Wehadthemoveronce,whentheyfirstmovedin.Andtheyhadusover,afewweekslater.Butwedidn’tdoitagain.Wedidn’thavethatmuchincommon,otherthanthefactthatwe’reneighbors.”Thedetectivewaits,asifexpectingmore.Sheadds,“AndIbelieveAmandasometimesdidtempworkatmyhusband’soffice.Butwebarelyknowthem,really.It’sjustawfulwhathappenedtoAmanda.”
“Andyou’veneverspenttimewithRobertPierceotherthanonthosetwooccasions?”thedetectiveasks,lookingatherclosely.
Shehesitates.“IusedtoseeRobertoverthefencesometimes,inthesummer,sittinginthebackyard,reading,drinkingabeer.Sometimeswe’dchat,verycasual.Heseemslikeaniceman.”Shelooksbackatthetwodetectivesandsays,“Hewasdevastatedwhenhiswifewentmissing.”
“Soyou’vespokentohimsincehiswifedisappeared?”DetectiveWebbasks.
Sheshiftsuneasily.“Notreally.Just—acrossthebackfence.WhenAmandadidn’tcomehome,hetoldmethathe’dreportedhermissing,buthedidn’twanttotalk.Helookedawful.”
Thedetectivetiltshisheadather,asifconsideringsomething.Thenhesays,“So,youweren’tinhishouseuntilverylateatnightontheSaturdayoftheweekendhiswifedisappeared?”
Shefeelsherselfflushadeepred;theywillknowshe’slying.Butshemustdenyit.“I—No,Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Wheredidyougetthatidea?”DidRoberttellthem?
“Areyousure?”
“OfcourseI’msure,”shesayssharply.
“Okay,”thedetectivesays,obviouslynotconvinced.Hehandsherhiscard.“Butifyou’dliketoreconsideryourstory,youcancontactus.Thankyouforyourtime.”
—
RobertPiercewatchesfromthewindowasthedetectivesknockontheneighbors’doors,oneafteranother,andquestionthemontheirdoorsteps.HewatchestheminterviewBecky,nextdoor.She’sshakingherhead.Sheglancesovertowardhishouse.Doessheseehim,watchingfromthewindow?Heduckshisheadbackoutofsight.
—
Oliviahasmadeapennewithpestoandchickenforsupper.Pauliseatingquietly,histhoughtsclearlyelsewhere.They’dhadashort,strickenconversationaboutAmandaPiercewhenshegothomefrombookclubthenightbefore.Then,whenhegothomefromwork,hetoldherthatthenewsaboutAmandahadbeenallovertheoffice.ShewondersifRaleighhasheardaboutit,orifhe’ssimplyoblivious.Raleighiswolfinghismealdownwordlessly.He’sbeensullenandquietsincehegothomefromschool,obviouslysulking.Shefeelsaspurtofannoyance.Whyaretheyallsuchhardwork?Whyisituptohertoinquirehoweverybody’sdoing,tomakeconversationatthedinnertable?ShewishesPaulwouldmakeaneffort.Hedidn’tusetobelikethis—so…removed.AndRaleigh’srecentproblemshangoverthemalllikeadarkcloud.
“Howwasschooltoday,Raleigh?”sheasks.
“Allright,”hemumbles,hismouthfull,decliningtoelaborate.
“Howdidyourmathtestgo?”
“Idon’tknow.Fine,Iguess.”
Shesays,“ThepoliceweresearchingthePiercehousetoday.”Paulfrownsather.Raleighlooksup.Oliviaknowsthatteenageboysprettymuchliveinaself-absorbedbubble—Amandaisn’tonhisradar,eventhoughhe’dbrokenintoherhouse.Sheturnstohim.“Thewomanwholiveddownthestreetfromus,AmandaPierce—shewentmissingacoupleofweeksago.Everyonethoughtshe’dleftherhusband.”
“Yeah,so,”Raleighsays.
“Itturnsoutshewasmurdered.Theyfoundherbodyyesterday.”
Paulputshiscutlerydownandgoesratherstill.“Shouldwereallytalkaboutthisatthedinnertable?”hesays.
“Well,it’salloverthenews,”shesays.“They’resayingnowthatshewasbeatentodeath.”
“Wheredidtheyfindher?”Raleighasks.
“Theyhaven’tsaidexactly.Theyhaven’tsaidmuch,actually.SomewhereouttowardCanning,outintheCatskills,”Oliviasays.
“Didyouknowher?”hersonasks.
“No,”Oliviasays,glancingatherhusband.
“No,wedidn’tknowher,”Paulechoes.
Shelooksatherhusbandandnoticessomethingpassfleetinglyacrosshisface,butit’sgonesoquicklythatshe’snotsureshesawitatall.Shelooksaway.“It’stooclosetohome,”Oliviasays,“havingsomeoneonyourstreetmurdered.”
“Dotheyknowwhokilledher?”Raleighasksuneasily.
Oliviasays,“Ithinktheysuspectherhusbandhadsomethingtodowithit.Anyway,theyweresearchingthehousetoday.”Shepushesherpastaaroundherplateandglancesupatherson.Helooksdisturbed.Suddenlysherealizeswhatmightbebotheringhim.WhatiftheyfindRaleigh’sfingerprintsinthehouse?
ELEVEN
BeckyfeelsshakyasshewalksintothepolicestationdowntownonWednesday.Shegotthetelephonecallthismorning,justafternineo’clock.Evenbeforeshepickeditup,shejustknew.Shestaredatthephone,watchingitring,butfinallyanswered.
Itwasthatdetective,Webb.Sherecognizedhisvoicebeforehe’devenidentifiedhimself;she’dexpectedit.He’dfiguredinherdreamsthenightbefore,andnotinagoodway.He’daskedhertocomedowntothestation,atherearliestconvenience.Hemeantassoonaspossible.
“Why?Whatfor?”sheaskedcagily.
“Wehaveafewmorequestions,ifyoudon’tmind,”thedetectivehadsaid.
TheyknowshewasinRobert’shousethatnight.Robertmusthavetoldthem.They’dknownshewaslying.Herheartispumpingloudlyinherears.Ifthisgetsout,itwilldestroyhermarriage,herfamily.
Ofalltheshittyluck!Howwasshetoknow,whenshesleptwithherhandsomenext-doorneighbor—onlytwice,asitturnsout—thatitwouldallcomespillingoutbecausehiswifewouldbemurderedandhewouldbecomethecenterofapoliceinvestigation?Ofcoursetheyquestionedhim,puthimunderamicroscope—hewouldhavetotell.
She’dneverbeenunfaithfulbefore,inovertwentyyearsofmarriage.
Nowheresheis,climbingthestepstothepolicestation,hopingnoonewhoknowsherwillseeher.Andthenshethinks,whatdifferencedoesitmake,ifallofthisendsupinthenewspapersanyway?She’sabsolutelymortified;shehaschildren,nineteen-year-oldtwins—whatwilltheythinkofher?There’snowaytheywillpossiblyunderstand.
Theofficeratthefrontdeskaskshertowaitandpicksupaphone.Shesitsinaplasticchairtryingtoslowherbreathing.Maybeshecanpersuadethemnottousehername.Shewondersifshehasanyrightsatall.Shewondersifthey’regoingtochargeherwithanything.DetectiveWebbapproachesher.Shestandsuphurriedly.
“Thankyouforcomingin,”hesayscourteously.
Shecan’tevenanswer;hertongueisstuckinherthroat.Heleadshertoaninterviewroom,whereshefindsDetectiveMoenwaiting.She’sgratefulthatthere’sanotherwomanhere.Shedoesn’twanttobealonewithWebb.Hefrightensher.
“Please,haveaseat,”Moensays,andoffersherachair.
Beckysitsdownandthetwodetectivessitacrossfromher.
“Noneedtobenervous,”DetectiveWebbsays.“Answeringourquestionsispurelyvoluntaryandyoucanleaveatanytime,”hetellsher.
Butshehaseveryreasontobenervous,andheknowsit.
“Wouldyoulikesomewater?Acupofcoffee?”Moenoffers.
“No,I’mfine,”Beckysays,clearingherthroat.Shesitswithherhandsinherlap,beneaththetable,wheretheycan’tseeherpickingattheskinaroundhercuticles,waitingforherlifetocollapse.
“WereyouhavingasexualrelationshipwithRobertPierce?”Webbasksbluntly.
Shecan’thelpit;shestartscrying.She’ssobbingsohardshecan’tanswerthequestion.Moenpushestheboxoftissuesonthetabletowardher.Theylethercryitout.Finallyshesniffsloudly,wipeshereyes,andlooksupatthem.
Herepeatsthequestion.
“Yes.”
“Youdidn’tmentionthatwhenwetalkedtoyouyesterday,”Webbsays.“YoudeniedthatyouwereinhishouseonthenightofSeptemberthirtieth.”
SheglancesatMoen,wholooksatherwithwhatmightbesympathy.
“Ididn’twantanyonetoknow,”shesaysmiserably.“Ihaveahusband,kids.Thisisgoingtodestroymyfamily.”
Moenleansintowardherandsays,“Wedon’twanttodestroyyourfamily,Becky.Wejustneedtoknowthetruth.”
Shelooksatthetwodetectivesthroughswolleneyes.“Ididn’ttellyoubecauseIknowhedidn’thurthiswife.Hewouldn’thavehurtherandhecertainlywouldn’thavekilledher.Robertwouldn’thurtafly.”Shefidgetswiththetissueinherhands.“SoIdidn’tthinkyouhadtoknow.Ididn’tthinkitwasrelevantthatweslepttogether.Itonlyhappenedtwice.Icanunderstandthathehadtotellyou.Ijustwishhehadn’t.”
“Itwasn’tRobertwhotoldus,”DetectiveWebbsays.
Herheadshootsup.“What?”
“Hedenieshavinghadsexualrelationswithanyoneotherthanhiswifeduringhismarriage.”
Beckyfeelslikeshemightfaint.Whoelseknows?Andthensherealizesthatbecauseofher,Roberthasbeencaughtinalie.
“SomeonesawyoucomingoutofthePiercehouseinthemiddleofthenight,andputtwoandtwotogether.”
“Who?”shedemands.
“Idon’tthinkitmatterswho,atthispoint,”Moensays.
Sheputsherheadinherhandsandwhispers,“Oh,God.”
“Unfortunately,”DetectiveWebbsays,“thisisamurderinvestigation,andyou’recollateraldamage.Thebestthingyoucandoiscooperatewithusfully.”
Beckynodswearily.Shehasnochoice.ButshefeelslikesheisbetrayingRobert,whenhehadobviouslytriedtoprotecther.Shefeelswarmlytowardhimforit,whichmakeswhatshehastodonowallthemorepainful.
“TellusaboutyourrelationshipwithRobertPierce,”Moensays.
“There’snotthatmuchtotell,really,”Beckybeginswretchedly,lookingdownattheshreddedtissueinherlap.“Myhusbandisawayonbusinessalot.Mytwinsstartedcollegeoutoftownlastyearandaren’thomemuch.Iwaslonely,atlooseends.IusedtoseeRobertoutinhisyard.Hiswifewasawaysometimes.Westruckupafewconversations,likeItoldyou.Butitgrewfromthere.Itwasstupid,Iknow.He’smuchyoungerthanIam.”Sheflushes.“Icouldtellhewasattractedtome—hemadeitratherobvious—andIcouldn’tresist.Ithought—Ithoughtnoonewouldbehurt.Ithoughtnoonewouldeverknow.”
Webblistenstoher,hisexpressionneutral,butMoennodsathersympathetically.
Shecontinues.“TherewasaweekendinAugust—hesaidhiswifehadgoneawayfortheweekendwithafriend.Heinvitedmeover.Noonewashomeatmyhouse—Larrywastravelingforworkandmykidswereawayatfriends’places.Thatwasthefirsttime.”Shehesitates—shedoesn’twanttotellthemthenextpart.“ThesecondtimewasattheendofSeptember,theweekendshewentmissing.”
“Yes,”Webbsays,wantinghertocontinue.
Beckysaysunhappily,“Youhavenoideahowhardthishasbeen.AndIcouldn’ttalktoanyoneaboutit.”Shelooksbackatthetwodetectives.“Iknowhecouldn’thavedoneit.HetoldmeAmandawasawayfortheweekendwithherfriendCaroline,andthatshewouldn’tbebacktillSundaynight.IstayedtheretillverylateonSaturdaynight,andwenthomearoundtwointhemorning.”
“Howdoyouknowhecouldn’thavedoneit?”Webbasks.
“Trustme,there’snowayhekilledhiswife.”Sheshiftsuneasilyinherchair.“Wehadthisunspokenroutine—weonlytalkedoverthebackfence,wherenoonewouldseeus.Ididn’tseehimagainuntilthefollowingTuesday.HetoldmethenthatAmandahadn’tcomehome.Thathe’dreportedhermissingtothepolice.”Shelooksatthem,anguished.“Iwasafraidthatitmightcomeoutthen,thatwe’dbeentogetherthatweekend.”
“Andsincethen,haveyouspokentohim?”Webbasks.
Sheshakesherhead.“No.He’savoidedme.Henevergoesintothebackyardanymore.AndIguessIwantedtoavoidhim,too,aftereverything.Putitbehindme.”Sheadds,“I’msurehe’sworriedthatitwillmakehimlookbad,thathesleptwithme,andhiswife—beingmurdered.ButIcantellyou,he’sagoodman.Hewouldn’thurtawoman.He’sjustnotthetype.”
“Maybehewasdifferentwithyouthanhewaswithhiswife,”Webbsays.
“Idon’tthinkso,”shesaysstubbornly.
“We’dliketogetyourfingerprints,ifyoudon’tmind,”DetectiveMoensays
“Why?”Beckyasks,startled.Shewondersagainifshe’sgoingtobechargedwithsomething.
“WefoundsomeunidentifiedfingerprintsinthePierces’bedroomandensuitebathroom.Wethinktheymightbeyours.Ifnot,weneedtoknowwhoelsewasinthatbedroom.”
Shefeelsherselfstarttotremble.She’sneverbeenfingerprintedbefore.“Areyougoingtochargemewithanything?”shemanagestoask.
“No,”DetectiveWebbsays,“notatthistime.”
—
Beckyreturnsdirectlyhomefromthepolicestation.Sheparksthecarinthedrivewayandentersthehousethroughthefrontdoor.Thensherunsupstairsandthrowsherselfdownonherbed.
ThekidswillbehomeforThanksgiving.Whatwillshetellthem?Moreimmediately,whatisshegoingtosaytoherhusbandwhenhegetshome?Shouldshetellhimeverything,orsaynothingandhopethatitsomehownevercomesout?
SheturnsonhersideandthinksanxiouslyaboutRobert.Theycan’tpossiblythinkhekilledhiswife.It’simpossible.Shethinksofhishandsrunningupanddownherbody.Heactuallyseemedtoenjoyher—hercompany.Shethinksofhislean,hardchest,hishairfallingoverhisforehead,hissmilethatquirksupononeside.
Howcanshepersuadethepolicethattheyshouldbelookingelsewhere?Herproteststhismorningseemedtofallondeafears.Robertdidn’tkillhiswife.Iftheyunderstoodthatthewayshedid,theywouldn’tbelookingathimsoclosely,andtheywouldn’tbelookingather.Shewantstoprotectherself,toprotecthersecret.Andshe’dliketoprotecthim.
Shedoesn’twanttoadmitit,butshe’salittlebitinlovewithRobertPierce.
She’sprettysurethefingerprintsinthebedroomarehers.Whenyoufallheadlongintoafantasy,andbreakyourmarriagevowsandsleepwithanotherman,younever,everthinkthatyourfingerprintswillendupinamurderinvestigation.
ShewantstoprotectRobert.Soshehasn’ttoldthedetectiveseverything.
Shehasn’ttoldthemthatRoberttoldherthatnightthathesuspectedAmandawashavinganaffair.She’safraidifthepoliceknow,theywillthinkhehasamotive.
Andshehadn’ttoldRobert,whenshewaslyinginbedwithhim,thatsheknewwhoAmandamightbehavinganaffairwith.
Shewon’ttellthedetectiveswhatshesaw.Notunlessitbecomesabsolutelynecessary.BecausesheknowswhoAmanda’sloveris.Andthere’snowayhekilledhereither.
TWELVE
WhenDetectiveWebblooksatRobertPiercethatafternoon,heseesamanwhomightbeperfectlycapableofkillinghiswife.Pierceisverygood-looking,clever,alittleegotistical,abitprickly.Hemusthavebeenquitedifferentwithhisneighbor,BeckyHarris,Webbthinks.Weallwearmasks.Weallhavesomethingtohideatonepointoranother.HewantstoknowwhatRobertPiercemightbehiding.
Pierceisinthechairacrosstheinterviewtable,incompletecontrolofhimself.Hesitscomfortably,leaningbackinthechair.Buthiseyesaresharp,missingnothing.
“So,I’mtheobvioussuspect,isthatit?”Piercesays.
“You’renotasuspectatthistime,”Webbreplies.“Andyou’renotincustody—you’refreetogo,ifyoulike.”Piercestaysput.Webbstudieshimcarefullyandbegins.“Yousayyouarrivedhomerightafterworkaboutfiveo’clockFriday,thetwenty-ninth.Anybodyseeyou?”
“Idon’tknow.That’syourjob,isn’tit?Isn’tthatwhatyou’vebeenaskingtheneighbors?”
Unfortunatelyforthedetectives,thedoor-to-doorhadbeenfrustrating.WiththeexceptionofBeckyHarris,nooneseemedtoknowthePierces.Theykepttothemselves.NoonerememberedseeingRobertPiercecomingorgoingfromhishousethatweekend.Hehadahabitofkeepinghiscarinthegarage,withthedoorsclosed,soitwashardtosayifhewashome.ExceptforJeannetteBauroth,noonehadnoticedanyoneelsegoinginorouteither.Therewasnoonetovouchforhim,buthemaywellhavebeenhomeFridayandSaturday.Orhemightnothavebeen.Recordsshowthathiscellphonewasathome;thatdoesn’tnecessarilymeanhewas.“Whatdidyoudothen?”Webbasks.
“LikeItoldyoubefore,IwatchedsomeTV,wenttobedearly.I’musuallyzonkedbytheendoftheweek.”
“Alone?”
“Yes,alone.”
“WhataboutSaturday?”
“Isleptinlate.Hungaroundthehouse.Caughtuponsomework.Cleanedupabit.”
“Nobodycanaccountforyou?”
“No,Iguessnot.”
“Whataboutintheevening?”
Heshiftsinhischair,foldshisarmsacrosshischest,andlooksWebbrightintheeye.“Look,Iwasn’tcompletelyhonestwithyoubefore.Intheevening,Ihadawomanfriendin.Shespentmostofthenight.”
Webballowsalongpausebeforehesays,“Whowasthat?”
“Mynext-doorneighbor,BeckyHarris.Ibelieveyouspoketoheryesterday.Isawyou,onherdoorstep.”
“Wehavespokentoher.”
“Idon’tknowwhatshe’stoldyou.Ididn’ttellyoubeforebecauseIwastryingtoprotecther.Sheobviouslydoesn’twantanyoneknowingaboutit.She’smarried.Itwasaharmlessfling.I’mnotproudofit.Ishouldn’thavecheatedonmywife.ButIwaslonely,andshewasthere,so—”Heshrugs.“Itdidn’thappenagain.”
Webbstudieshimthroughnarrowedeyes.“Butithappenedbefore,didn’tit?”
Piercelooksathiminsurprise.“Soshetoldyou.Youalreadyknowallaboutit.”Headds,“Yeah,weslepttogetheroneothertime,inAugust.Nobiggie.Justlettingoffsteam,forbothofus.”
“Sowhydidyoulietous,Robert?”Moenasks.“Youtoldusyounevercheatedonyourwife.”
“Whydoyouthink?Itmakesmelooklikeabadhusband,andthat’swhatyouwant,isn’tit?AndmaybeIwas.Butitdoesn’tmeanIkilledmywife.”Heleansforwardandsays,“IwantyoutostopdickingaroundwithmeandfindoutwhokilledAmanda.Iwantyoutofindthebastardwhodidthis.”
Webbsays,“Oh,wewill.”
Moensays,“AndSunday?”
Piercesettlesbackintohischairagain.“SundayIwentgolfingwithsomefriendsallday.IhadnoideaAmandawouldn’tbecomingbackthatnight.Alltheirnamesandphonenumbersmustbeinthefile.They’llconfirmit.Wehaddinnerattheclubhouse,andthenIwenthometowaitforAmanda.”
“Anyideawhothosefingerprintsinyourhousebelongto?”
“IimaginesomeofthemareBecky’s.”
“Whatabouttheotherset?”
Heshrugs.“Noidea.”
“Haveyoubeenwithholdinganythingelsefromus,Pierce?”
HelooksbackatWebb,hiseyesinsolent.“Likewhat?”
“Yourwife.Wasshehavinganaffair?”
Piercechewshislip.“Idon’tknow.”
“Really?”Webbsaysconversationally.“Maybeshewashavinganaffairandyoufoundoutaboutit.Maybeyouknewitwasn’therfriendCarolinewhoshewasgoingawaywiththatweekend.Maybeyouknewandyoukilledher.”Robertdoesn’tevenblink.“Ormaybeyoujustmadethatup,thatshesaidshewasgoingawaywithCaroline.Maybeyouarrangedtomeetyourwifesomewhere,andshehadnoideawhatyouhadplannedforher.”
“No,”Robertsays,shakinghishead.“You’rewayoffbase.Ididn’tthinkAmandawashavinganaffairthen.TheideaneverevencrossedmyminduntilIspoketoCarolinethatSundayandrealizedthatAmandahadliedtome.”
Webbdoesn’tbelievehim.“Didyouknowyourwifewaspregnant?”
“Yes.Sheplannedtoterminateit.Wedidn’twantchildren.”Piercelooksatthemasifexpectingthemtohaveaproblemwiththat.“Arewedonehere?”hesays.
Pierceisrattled,butdoingagoodjoboftryingnottoshowit,Webbthinks.“Yes,don’tletuskeepyou,”hesays,andwatchesasPiercepushesthechairbackloudlyandwalksout.
“Hehasn’tgotasolidalibi,”Moensays,onceRobertPiercehasleft.“HecouldhavegoneanywherethatFridayandSaturday.Lefthiscellphoneathomesoitwouldn’tgivehimaway.”
Webbsays,“ThemoreIseehim,themoreIdon’tlikehim.Smugbastard.”
“Hedoesn’tseemtobeparticularlysadabouthiswife,”Moenobserves.
“No,”Webbagrees.“IfAmandawashavinganaffair,thenwhowasshehavinganaffairwith?”
“Ifweknewthat,we’dbegettingsomewhere,”Moenmutters.
THIRTEEN
OliviasearchedthroughthenewspaperandtheonlinenewsonWednesdayforanynewinformationonthemurderofAmandaPierce.It’soddhowwrappedupinitshe’sbecome,soquickly.Buttherewasnothingnew,andlittleinthewayofhardfacts.Itwasallsimplyarehashofwhathadbeensaidalready.Investigationsarecontinuing.
She’dtriedtotalktoPaulaboutitthenightbeforeinbed.“Whatdoyouthinkhappenedtoher?”sheasked.
“Idon’tknow,”Paulmumbled,tryingtoreadhisbook.
“Shemusthavebeenhavinganaffair,”Oliviasaid.“Whyelsewouldshelietoherhusbandaboutwhoshewaswith?”
“It’snoneofourbusiness,Olivia,”Paulsaid.
“Iknow,”shereplied,alittlesurprisedathistone.“Butaren’tyoucurious?”
“No,I’mnot,”hesaid.
Shedidn’tbelievehim.Andthenshe’dbroachedthesubjectoftakingRaleightoseesomeone.Shedidn’texpecthimtoliketheidea,butshewasunpreparedforhisreaction.
“Paul,”shesaid.“I’mworriedaboutRaleigh.”
“Iknow.”
“Ijust—Ithinkmaybeweshouldsendhimtoatherapist.”
Hereheputdownhisbookandglaredather.“Atherapist.”
“Yes.”
“Whythehellwouldwedothat?”
“Becausemaybe—maybeitwouldhelphimtotalktosomeone.”
“Olivia,hedoesnotneedatherapist.Heneedsagoodkickintheass.”
Sheglaredbackathim,annoyed.
ThenPauladded,“Don’tyouthinkyou’reoverreacting?”
“No,Idon’t.Thisisserious,Paul.”
“Serious,yes.Buthe’snotmentallyill,Olivia.”
“Youdon’thavetobementallyilltoseeatherapist,”shesaidinexasperation.Whydidhehavetobesobackwardaboutthesethings?
“It’sjustaphase.We’lldealwithit.Hedoesn’tneedatherapist.”
“Howdoyouknow?Whatmakesyoutheexpert?”
“I’mnotgoingtodiscussit,Olivia,”he’dsaidsharply,andturnedouthisbedsidetablelightandturnedonhissideawayfromhertogotosleep.
She’dlaininbedbesidehim,fuming,longafterhe’dbeguntosnore.
Now,asshedrinksanafternooncupofcoffee,sherecallsthatshe’dseenPaulreadingthearticleaboutAmandaPierceinthepaperlastnight.Heiscurious.Ofcourseheis.Hejustdoesn’twanttoadmitit.Paulalwayscouldbealittlesanctimonious.
—
ThepreliminaryforensicsonthecarandAmanda’sbelongingsrevealfrustratinglylittle.
“Sorrytodisappointyou,”SandraFisher,aforensicpathologistattheME’soffice,says,“butwedidn’tgetmuch.”
Webbnods;hehadn’texpectedmuch,withthecarhavingbeeninthewater,butyoualwayshope.
Shesays,“Wedidn’tfindanyblood,skin,orhairexceptforthevictim’s.NothingtogetaDNAprofilefrom.Andwehaven’tbeenabletogetanythingelse—noprints,nofibers.”
“Anythingfromthepurseorluggage?”Webbasks.They’vealreadylookedintohercellphonerecordsandtheyhaven’trevealedanything;certainlynosignofanymanontheside.
Sheshakesherhead.“Sorry.”
WebbnodsandglancesatMoen.WhoeverkilledAmandaandpushedthecarintothelakedidn’tleaveanytracebehind.
Fishersays,“Asyouknow,therewasnothingwherethecarwasfoundtoindicatethatthatwaswhereshewaskilled.Therewouldhavebeenalotofblood.Mostlikelyshewasmurderedsomewhereelseandthekillerdrovehercartothatspottosinkit.”
Webbsays,“Heprobablyknewthearea,knewthatwouldbeagoodspottogetridofacar.Deserted,noguardrail,adecentslope,andthewatergetsdeepquickly.”
Moennodsinagreement.“Hetookariskthatsomeonemightseehim,nomatterhowdesertedtheroad,”shesays.
“Findanythingelseinthecar?Anythingintheglovebox?”Webbasks.
“Theowner’smanualandtheservicerecord.Afirst-aidkit.Atissuepacket.Shewasverytidy.”Fishersnortsinapparentdisbelief.“Youshouldseetheshitinmycar.”
Webbswallowshisdisappointment.He’dbeenhopingforsomething.
“ThefingerprintsinthePiercebedroomareamatchforBeckyHarris,”Fishersays.“Butwedon’tknowwhotheothersetbelongsto.Notcomingupanywhere.Whoeveritwas,wasintheofficeandallthroughthedesk,too.”
—
RobertPiercehastakentheweekoffwork.It’sonlyWednesday.They’vetoldhimtotakewhatevertimeheneeds.Hehasnointerestinreturningtotheoffice.Hewondersifhisfellowattorneysinthesmall,five-lawyerfirmthinkhe’samurderer.Theyprobablydo.Hewandersaroundhishouseandthinksabouthisinterviewwiththedetectivesearlierthatafternoon,replayingitoverandoveragaininhismind.
HewonderswhatBeckyisdoing.Heknowsshe’shome.Hercarisinthedriveway.He’sbeenavoidingher.Heusedher,rathershamelessly.Itdoesn’tbotherhimthatmuch.Shewasawfullyeasytoseduce.Buthe’sworriedaboutwhatelseshemighttellthedetectives,nowthatthecat’soutofthebag.Shetoldthemthatthey’dslepttogether.DidshealsotellthemthathethoughtAmandawashavinganaffair?Willshe?Hewouldliketoknow.
Hefindshimselfinthekitchen,lookingoutthesliding-glassdoorstothepatio.It’samildafternoon,withatangoffallintheair.Hedecidestogrababeerandgooutsideforabit.Maybeshe’llcomeout,maybeshewon’t.
Robertsaunterstowardthebackoftheyard.Ifshe’swatchingfrominsidethehouse,shewillbeabletoseehimthere;shecan’tseehimonthepatiounlessshe’soutsideinherownbackyard.
Hehearstheunmistakablesoundbehindhimofthedoorslidingopennextdoor,andstops.Heknowsthatnoonefromthestreetcanseethemhere;theyhavealltheprivacytheyneed.HeturnsaroundandliftshiseyesoverthefenceatBecky’shouse.She’sstandingthere,inthedoorway,staringathim.Hewalksslowlybackalongthefencetowardher.
Shelooksawful.Herusuallysilkyblondhairislank,andshe’snotwearinganymakeup.Hewondershowheevercouldhavesleptwithher.Shelooksasifshe’sagedoverthelastcoupleofweeks.
Shestaysintheopendoor,watchinghim,herposturerigid.Hecan’treadherexpression.Perhapshehasmisreadherallalong.Foramoment,hefeelsastabofannoyanceather.Hesmiles.Andthenshegivesatentativesmileback,herfacedimples,andherememberswhyhebrieflyfoundherattractive.
“Becky,”hesays,inthatwayheknowsshelikes.Masculinebutpurring,seductive.
Shestepsslowlyoutofthedoorandtowardhimasifheisdrawinghertohimwithaninvisiblestring.It’sridiculouslyeasywithher.Italwayswas.
Hequirkshismouthupononeside,tiltshisheadather.“Comehere,”hesays,andshedoes.Shecomesrightuptohimatthefence,thewaysheusedto.
“Becky,”hesays,whenshe’sclose.There’snottwelveinchesseparatingtheirfaces.“I’vemissedyou.”Shecloseshereyes,asifshedoesn’twanttolookathim.Why?Doesshethinkhe’sakiller?Heseesatearstarttoformatthecornerofoneofhereyes.
“Areyouokay?”heaskssoftly.
Hereyesflutteropenandsheshakesherhead.“No,”shesays,hervoicesoundingchoked.
Hewaits.
“TheythinkyoukilledAmanda,”shesays,hervoiceawhisper.
Heknowsthat;hewantstoknowwhatshethinks.“Iknow.ButIdidn’tkillher,Becky.Youknowthat,don’tyou?”
“Ofcourse!Iknowyoudidn’tkillher!”She’smoreanimatednow,almostangry,onhisbehalf.“Youwouldn’tbecapableofit.Itoldthemthat.”Shefrowns.“Idon’tthinktheybelievedme,though.”
“Oh,well,youknow,they’recops,”hesays.“Theyalwaysthinkthehusbanddidit.”
“Theyknowaboutus,”shesays.
Thewayshesaysusmakeshimwanttocringe,buthe’scarefulnottoshowit.
“Iknow.”
“I’msorry.Ihadtotellthem.”
“It’sokay.Itoldthem,too.It’sokay,Becky.”
“Iwouldn’thavesaidanything,buttheyknewalready.”
“What?”
“Someonesawmecomingoutofyourhouseinthemiddleofthenight,theweekendAmandadisappeared.”
“Who?”Hisattentionisfocusedmoresharplyonhernow.Whowaswatchinghishouseinthemiddleofthenight?He’dsimplyassumedBeckyhadblurtedoutthefactthatthey’dslepttogethertothepolice.
“Idon’tknow,thedetectiveswouldn’ttellme.”Shelooksathim,herfaceblotchywithrecenttearsandlinedbyanxiety.“I’mafraiditwillgetout,”shesays,hervoicetrembling.“Ithinkmyfingerprintsareinyourbedroom.Theytookmyprintsatthepolicestation.Idon’tknowwhattotellmyhusband.”
Shelooksathimimploringly,asifhecansolvethisproblemforher.Hecan’thelpher.He’sbarelypayingattentiontoher;he’swonderingwhosawherleavinghisplacelateatnight.
“Whatifthepolicetalktohim?”Shelooksathimwithbig,weteyes.
That’syourproblem,hethinks.“Becky,whatdidyoutellthedetectives,exactly?”
“Justthatwehaddrinkssometimes,thatwetalkedoverthefence,thatweslepttogethertheonetimeinAugustwhenAmandawasaway,andagainthatSaturdaynighttheweekendshedisappeared.Andthattherewasnowayyoucouldhavehurther.”
Henodsreassuringly.“DidyoutellthemthatIsuspectedthatAmandawashavinganaffair?”
“No,ofcoursenot.I’mnotstupid.”
“Good.Don’ttellthemthat.Becauseit’snottrue.Idon’tknowwhyIsaidthat.”
Sheseemstakenaback.“Oh.”
Hewantstomakesuresheunderstands.“IneverthoughtAmandawasseeingsomeoneelse.NotuntiltheSundaynightwhenItalkedtoCaroline.You’vegotthat,right?You’llrememberthat?”Shemightevenbealittlefrightenedofhimnow.Good.
“Sure,”shesays.
Henods,doesn’tgiveherthequirkysmile.“Takecareofyourself,Becky.”
FOURTEEN
Oliviaisworkingintheupstairsofficethatafternoonwhenshehearsthedoorbellring.Shewondersifit’sthedetectives,broadeningtheirenquiries.Shehastensdownthestairstothefrontdoor.Butitisn’tthetwodetectivesstandingthere;it’sawomanshe’sneverseenbefore.She’solder,maybeclosetosixty,withaplumpfigure.Herwidefaceislined,herblondhairistidy,andshe’swearingapalelipstick.Oliviaisabouttopolitelysay,“No,thankyou,”andshutthedoor,annoyedabouttheintrusion,whenthewomansays,“I’mnottryingtosellanything,”andsmileswarmly.
Oliviahesitates.
“MynameisCarmine,”thewomansaysinafriendlytone.
Thenamesoundsfamiliar,butOliviacan’tplaceit.“Yes?”
“I’msorrytobotheryou,butIjustmovedinandmyhousewasbrokenintorecently.I’mgoingaroundtheneighborhoodtellingpeopletokeeptheireyesopen.”
Olivia’sheartinstantlybeginstopound.“That’sawful,”shesays,attemptingasuitablysympatheticexpression.“Didtheytakemuch?”
“No,hedidn’ttakeanything.”
“Oh,that’sgood,”Oliviasays.“Noharmdonethen.”Shewantstoslamthedoorinthewoman’sface,butshedoesn’tdareberudetoher.
“Iwouldn’tsaynoharmdone,”thewomananswers.“Thekidsnoopedthroughmyhouse.Andnotjustmine—apparentlyhebrokeintootherhousesaswell,andhackedintopeople’scomputers.”
“Oh,my,”Oliviasays,takenabackbythewoman’sabruptness.“Havetheycaughtwhodidit?”Shehopesherfaceandvoicearewhatthiswomanwouldexpectinthecircumstances.She’ssodistressedthatshecan’ttell.
“No.ButIgotananonymousletteraboutit.Apparentlyitwasateenageboy,andhismotherwrotethisletterofapology.ButIdon’tknowwhosheis.”
Sheholdsuptheletter.TheletterthatOliviawroteandprintedandstuckthroughthiswoman’smailslot.Hasshefigureditout?DoessheknowitwasRaleigh?Isthatwhyshe’sreallyhere?Toconfronther?Oliviadoesn’tknowhowtoreact,whattosay.Thiswomanwouldn’tevenbehereifOliviahadn’twrittenthatletter.Thewomanlooksather,studyinghercarefully.
“Areyouallright?”sheasks.
“Yes,I’mfine,”Oliviasays,flushing.“I’msorry,I’vebeenillrecently,”shelies,“andI’mstillnotcompletelywell.”
“Oh,thenI’msorrytobotheryouwiththis,”thewomansays,lookingatherclosely.
“Iwasrestingwhenyourangthedoorbell.”
“Sorry,”thewomansayssympathetically.Butshedoesn’tgoaway.Insteadshesays,“Iseeyou’vegotabasketballhoopinyourdriveway.”
Oliviaisrattledandjustwantsthisnosywomantogoaway.Shereallydoesfeelillandflushed,asifshemightfaint.Butshedoesn’twantittoseemasifthisconversationisupsettingher.Inherconfusion,shewonderswhythewomanismentioningthebasketballhoop.Andthensherealizes.
“Yes.”It’sallshecanthinkoftosay.
“Teenagers?”sheasks.
Olivialooksbackathernow,hereyesmeetingtheotherwoman’s.Andit’slikethereisanunspokencommunicationbetweenthem—thewomanisaskingherifitwashersonwhobrokeintoherhouseandwhethersheistheonewhowrotetheletter.Thebloodyawfulnerveofthiswoman,standingonherdoorstep!“Yes.Therearelotsofteenagersaroundhere.”
“Teenagerscanbesodifficult,”thewomansays.
“Doyouhavechildren?”Oliviaasks.
Thewomannods.“Three.Allgrownupnowandmovedaway.Oneofthemwasarealhandful.”
Oliviahesitates,onthebrinkofinvitingthewomaninside,butthensheremembersPaul,andthelawyer,andmostofallRaleigh.Shecan’tadmitanythingtothiswoman.Oliviamustholdherground.
“Ihaveone,aboy,”Oliviasays,rallying.“I’vebeenverylucky.I’veneverhadanyproblemswithhim,”shelies,“atleastnotsofar.I’mveryproudofhim.”
“You’reveryfortunate,”thewomansaysalittlecoldly.
Thiswomanmustknow—orsuspectbynow—thatit’shersonwhobrokeintoherhouse,andthatshe’sthemortifiedwomanwhowrotetheletter.Oliviafeelssicktoherstomachandwantsurgentlytobedonewiththisconversation.“Yes,Iknow,”Oliviasays.“Ireallymustgo.Good-bye.”Sheclosesthedoorandhurriesupstairs,wheresherunstothebathroomandthrowsupherlunchintothetoiletbowl.Tearscometohereyes,astheyalwaysdowhenshethrowsup.Butassheremainshoveringoverthebowl,thetearscomeinearnest.Shehasreallymessedthingsup.Shefeelsfearandangerinequalmeasure.Thiswomanisontoher.Shehastobe.WhatwillhappentoRaleighnow?Thatwomancan’tproveanything,canshe?ButOliviadoesn’twantPaulorRaleigh—especiallynotPaul—knowingthatshesentthoseletters.Soshecan’ttellthemaboutthatwoman’svisittotheirhouse,obviously,either.
Oliviaslowlygetstoherfeetandrinseshermouthoutatthesink.Shelooksatherselfinthemirror—shelooksterrible.Unabletodealwiththisonherown,shecallsGlendaandaskshertocomeover.Glendaarrivesaboutfifteenminuteslater,hershortauburnhairwindblownandherfacelinedwithconcern.
“What’sthematter?”sheasks,asshestepsinside.
Oliviaknowswhatshelookslike.Shelookslikeshejustthrewup.Shelooksdistraught.Butifthere’sanyoneshecantrustwiththis,it’sGlenda.ShecantellGlenda,butnotherownhusband.Whatdoesthatsayabouthermarriage?Oliviathinksfleetingly.Butthere’snothingreallywrongwithhermarriage,shetellsherself;thisisaspecialcircumstance.Shenormallydoesn’tkeepanythingfromPaul,andhedoesn’tkeepanythingfromher—it’sjustthisonething—thatshenowwishesshehadneverdone.Butshealsodoesn’twantPaultofindout.Shewondersifsheshouldsimplytellhim,ornot.That’swhatGlenda’sfor—emotionalsupport,andtoadviseheronwhattodonext.
“Glenda,”shebegins,“somethingterriblehashappened.”
Glenda’sfacefalls,asifshethinkssomeonehasdied.“Whatisit?”
Olivialeadsherintothekitchenandthenturnsandfacesher.“Ididsuchastupidthing,withthoseletters,”shesays.
“Oh,”Glendasays,inobviousrelief.“Ithoughtthere’dbeenanaccidentorsomething.”
“No,”Oliviasays.
“Don’tworrysomuchabouttheletters,”Glendasays.“It’llblowover.Nobody’sgoingtofindoutitwasRaleigh.”
“Ithinksomeonealreadyhas.”
TheysitdownandOliviatellsheraboutCarmine.“ShemustbetheonewholivesnextdoortoZoe,”Oliviasays.“RememberZoetalkingaboutitatbookclub?”
Glendabitesherlip,thinking.“Shedidn’tactuallyaccuseyouofwritingtheletter,didshe?”Glendaasks.
“Notinsomanywords,”Oliviaadmits.“ButIcouldtellwhatshewasthinkingfromthewayshewaslookingatme.”ShelooksatGlendainmisery.“IwishIcouldhidemyfeelingsbetter,butyouknowwhatI’mlike.ShecouldtellIwasupset,andwhywouldIbe,unlessitwasmysonwhobrokeintoherhouse?”Shepropsherelbowsonthekitchentableandholdsherheadinherhands.Shethinksabouthowitallstarted,justafewdaysago,herandPaulgrillingRaleighaboutitinthisverykitchen.“IfIhadn’twrittenthosedamnletters,shewouldneverevenhaveknownhewasthere.Paulisgoingtobefuriousatme.”
“It’snotreallyyourfault,”Glendasays,tryingtosootheher.“Youdidn’tdoanythingwrong.Raleigh’stheonewhobrokein.Youactedoutofasenseofdecency.Youweretryingtodotherightthing.”
“Anditblewupinmyface,”Oliviarepliesbitterly.
“Paulwillunderstand.”
“No,hewon’t.AndRaleighwon’teither.”
“ButyouputthoselettersthroughtheslotsonSundaynight.Youdidn’tseethelawyertillMonday.It’snotasifyousentthelettersafterthelawyersaidnotto.”
“No.ButIknewPauldidn’tliketheidea.AndIprobablyshouldhaveconfessedtoitrightthen,inthelawyer’soffice,butIdidn’t.Atleastthiswouldallbeoutintheopen,andIcouldgobacktothelawyerandaskhimwhattodo.”
“Youcanstillaskthelawyerwhattodo.Butyou’llhavetocomecleanwithPaulfirst.You’llhavetotellhim.”
“Iknow,”Oliviasaysmiserably.“Whatamess.AndI’msoworriedaboutRaleigh.Whydidhedoit?Whywouldhewanttosnooparoundotherpeople’shouses?”
Glendashakesherheadhelplessly.“Idon’tknow.”
“IsuggestedtoPaullastnightthatmaybeweshouldsendRaleightoatherapist.HetoldmeIwasoverreacting,thatitwasjustaphase.He’snotinfavorofit—infact,hewasquiteadamantaboutit.”Itwasthefirstrealargumentthey’dhadinyears.Thesecondonewillbetonight,whenshetellshimabouttheletters.
“That’stheworstthingaboutbeingaparent,”Glendasays,“notknowingifyou’redoingtherightthing,whetheryoushouldstepinorstepback.Ourparentsjustignoredus.Maybethatwasbetter.”
“Iknow,”Oliviasighs.
Glendagivesheranuneasyglanceandthenlooksaway.“IworryaboutAdam,allthetime.Eversincehestarteddrinking.It’snotlikeKeithandIareproblemdrinkers.”
“It’sthekidshehangsoutwith,”Oliviaventures.
“Hedidn’tusetohangoutwiththosekids.Heusedtobemoresportyandacademic.Nowhisgradesareslippingandhe’smissingpractice.Andhe’sbecomesomoodyandinsolent.Frankly,he’sawfultobearound.”
OliviacanhearthestraininGlenda’svoice.Theyallsoundstrainedthesedayswhenthey’retalkingabouttheirkids.Itdidn’tusetobethisway.Theyusedtositaroundthewadingpool,chattingandlaughing,sereneintheexpectationsthattheirkidswouldbebrightandbeautifulanduntroubled.Parentsalwaysseemtohaveoverlyoptimisticvisionsoftheirkids’talentsandfutureswhenthey’retoddlers,Oliviathinks—maybethat’showtheymanagetokeepgoing.
FinallyGlendagetsuptoleave.“Notthewaywethoughtitwouldbe,isit?”
—
Glendawalkshomethoughtfully.Everyonewarnsyouthattheteenyearswillbetough,butshewasn’texpectinganythinglikewhatshe’sdealingwith.Shethinksaboutherownproblems.Herson…Whatwillbecomeofhim?Shefindsherselfbrushingawaysuddentears.Whatwillbecomeofallofthem?
Shethinksbacktothenightbefore.Ayearago,Adamwouldhavebeenoutatsomekindofsportspracticeorgame.SheandKeithmighthavelingeredoversupper,hadanotherglassofwine,andtalked.That’ssomethingtheydon’tdoanymore.Shedoesn’tbuywineveryoftenatallanymore,becauseshedoesn’twantAdamtoseethemdrinking.Isthatwhyshestoppedbuyingit,orwassheafraidthatAdammightsneaksomeofithimself?Probablyboth.
SheandKeithdon’ttalkmuchanymore.Athome,thingsarestrained.Oddly,sheandKeithonlyseemlikethemselveswhenthey’reoutofthehouse,withotherpeople.ShethinksbacktothepreviousFridaynightwhensheandKeithhadgonetotheSharpes’fordinner.Maybethey’doverdonethedrinkingabitthemselvesthatnight—lettingthemselvesofftheleashbecauseAdamwasn’ttheretoseethem,andthey’donlyhadtowalktothenextstreettogethome.
OliviaandPaulhadbeeningoodspirits.Theyhadn’tknownthenthattheirsonwasoutbreakingintohouses.Oliviahadmadeanexcellentroast,andGlendahaddrunkherwineandwatchedherstillveryhandsomehusbandlaughingwithPaul,thetwoofthemrememberingsomeofthefunnythingsthathadhappenedovertheyears.Ithadbeenagreatevening,likeoldtimes.Ifonlytheycouldturnbacktheclock.
FIFTEEN
OliviawaitsuntilsupperiscleanedupandRaleighisinhisroom,pluggedintohislaptopwithhisheadphoneson,ostensiblydoinghomework.Paulisinthelivingroom,glancingthroughthenewspaper.
Shestandsquietlyforamoment,watchinghim.Shehastotellhim.
Shesitsdownnearhimonthesofa.Paullooksupfromthepaper.“Weneedtotalk,”Oliviasaysquietly.
Instantlyalookofconcerncrosseshisface.Shedoesn’tusuallystartwiththiskindofopening.Itsoundsominous.Itisominous.
“What’swrong?”heasks,alsowithaloweredvoice.
“There’ssomethingIhavetotellyou,andyou’renotgoingtolikeit.”Nowhelooksalarmed.Hewaits,hiseyesfocusedonher,alert.Shesays,“Idon’twantRaleightohearthisuntilwedecidewhatwe’regoingtotellhim.”
“ForChrist’ssake,Olivia,whatisit?You’rescaringme.”
Shetakesadeepbreathandsays,“Lastweekend,beforewesawthelawyer,IwrotelettersofapologytothepeoplethatliveinthehousesRaleighbrokeinto.”
Helooksbackather,incredulous.“Butyoudidn’tsendthem,”hesaysemphatically.
Shechewstheinsideofhercheek.“Idid.Iputidenticalanonymouslettersthroughtheirmailslots.”
Hestaresbackatherwithhismouthopen,inobviousdisbelief.Thenhesputters,“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“ItookRaleighoutinthecar,whenyouwereoutgolfinglastSunday,andmadehimshowmethetwohouseshesnuckinto.”
“Andyoudidn’ttellme?”hehissesather,clearlyfurious.
“No.”
“Whynot?”
“BecauseIknewyouwouldn’tlikeit.”
“OfcourseIdon’tlikeit!”Hisvoiceisrising.“IalreadytoldyouthatIthoughtanapologywasabadidea!Andthelawyeragreedwithme.”
“Iknow.AndI’msorry.Ididitbeforewesawthelawyer.”She’sbeginningtocry.“Ithoughtitwouldn’tdoanyharm,andIthoughtsomesortofapologyshouldbemade.TherewasnothingintheletterthatwouldleadbacktoRaleigh.”
Helooksatherincoldfury.“Idon’tlikethatyouwentbehindmyback.”
“Iknow,”shesays,almostascoldly.“AndI’msorry,butwhyshouldyougettomakeallthedecisions?Idon’tlikeitwhenyoutellmewhatIcanandcannotdo.”Shefeelsfuriouswithhimsuddenly.Whyshouldhegettodecideeverything?Eventhough,thistime,hewasabsolutelyright.She’sstillsmartingbecauseheoverruledherthenightbeforeonthequestionofhavingRaleighseeatherapist.Shetakesadeepbreathandexhales.“Imadeamistake.Youwereright.Ishouldn’thavedoneit.Ifeelawfulaboutgoingbehindyourback.AndIfeltterribleaboutnottellingyou.We’veneverkeptsecretsfromeachotherbefore.We’vealwaysbeenhonestwitheachother.”
Heturnsawayfromher.“Let’sjusthopethisdoesn’tjumpupandbiteusintheass,”hesays.“Howcouldyoudothiswithouttalkingtome?That’snotlikeyou.”
Becauseyougavemenochoice,Oliviawantstosay,butsheremainssilent.Amomentpasses,butthetensionbetweenthemdoesn’tdissipate.
“Sowhyareyoutellingmethisnow?”Paulaskstestily,turningbacktoheragain.
“Because…theremaybeaproblem.”
“Whatproblem?”Hisvoiceistense.
Oliviasteelsherselftotellhimthenextbit.“Awomancameheretoday.HernameisCarminesomething.ShelivesnextdoortoZoe,frombookclub.”Oliviapauses,butthenforcesherselftogoon.“Raleighbrokeintoherhouse.She’sbeengoingaroundtheneighborhood,tellingpeopleaboutthebreak-in,andshowingthemtheletter.”
“Youdidn’ttellherthetruth,didyou?”Paulglowersather.
“No,ofcoursenot!”
“Well,that’ssomething,”Paulsnorts.
“Butshemayhaveguessed.”
“How?”
“YouknowwhatI’mlike!”Oliviaexclaims.“Ican’thideanything!Igotreallynervous.SheaskedmeifIwasokay.ShecouldtellIwasupset.ThenshestartedaskingifIhadteenagersinthehouse.I’mworriedthatshemayhavefigureditout.”
There’salong,painedsilence.Oliviacan’tevenlookatherhusband.Shestaresmiserablyatthefloorinstead.
“Jesus,”Paulmutters.“Ican’tbelievethis.”Afteramoment,heasks,“Whatwasshelike?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Isshethetypetopursuethisandpresscharges?Isshelikelytocomeafterhim?”
“I—Idon’tknow.Maybe.Imean,whywasshegoingaroundknockingondoorsinthefirstplace?”Oliviahearsasoundandlooksup;Paullooksup,too.SheseesRaleighstandinginthelivingroomdoorway,lookingtense.
“Figuredwhatout?”Raleighasks.“What’sgoingon?”
Helooksanxiouslyatbothofthem.SheglancesatPaul.Theyhavetotellhim.
Raleighasks,“Whyareyoucrying,Mom?What’shappened?”
Olivialooksatherhusband,gaugingthesituation;he’salreadyangryather.Theyhavenochoice.SheturnsbacktoRaleigh.ShehatesthethoughtofRaleighhearingabouttheletters,thathemightbefoundout.He’llblameher.Hewon’ttakeresponsibilityforhispartinit,he’lljustblameherfortheletters.Shepullsherselftogether.Thisiswhathappenswhenyouinterfere,shethinksbleakly.
Raleighslouchesintoanarmchair,facingthemonthesofa,hisexpressionalarmed.“AmIgoingtobearrested?”
“No,”Oliviasays.
“Wehopenot,”Paulclarifies,andOliviaseesthequickflashoffearinRaleigh’seyes.
“Ididn’ttakeanything,”Raleighsaysquickly.“I’mnevergoingtodoitagain.Iswear.”
“That’swhatwehoped,”Paulsays.“Butyourmotherhere,againstmyexpresswishes,slippedapologylettersthroughthemailslotsofthehousesyoubrokeinto.”
Raleighturnstoherindisbeliefandobviousfear.“Whywouldyoudothat?Thelawyersaid—”
“Iknowwhatthelawyersaid,”Oliviabreaksin.“Ididitbeforewesawthelawyer.Ithoughtsomeoneshouldapologizetothesepeopleandletthemknowthattheircomputershadbeenhacked.Istillthinkitwasthemorallyrightthingtodo.”Hervoicehasbecomedefensive.“Andtheletterswereanonymous—therewasnothinginthemthatcouldleadtoyou,Raleigh.”
“Exceptthatoneofthepeoplewhosehouseyoubrokeintocameknockingonourfrontdoortoday,”Paulsays.“Andyourmothergotnervousandmayhavemadethewomansuspicious.”
Raleighlookslikehe’sabouttobesick.
“Soit’snotnecessarilyoveryet,”Paulsays.
Oliviaforcesherselftosayit.“TheotherhousethatRaleighbrokeintowasthePierces’.”
Paullooksbackandforthbetweenthetwoofthem,hisfaceshowingdisbelief.“Andyou’rejusttellingmethisnow?”
“Ididn’tthinkitmattered,”Oliviasayslamely.
“Youdidn’tthink—JesusChrist!Thepolicehavebeenalloverthathouse!”
“Iknow,”Oliviasays.
“Idon’tsupposeyouworegloves,Raleigh?”Paulsays,turningtohisson.
Raleighshakeshishead,lookingfrightened,andsays,“I’mnotacriminal.”
“Oh,Christ,”Paulsays.
“Thepolicedon’thaveRaleigh’sprintsonfile,”Oliviasays,hervoicetense.“Theycan’tconnectRaleightothebreak-ins.”Surelytheycan’tproveanythingagainstRaleigh?
“Whatifthiswomangoestothepoliceandaccuseshim?”Paulasks.“Whatiftheytakehisprints?They’llknowhewasinbothofthosedamnhouses!”
Oliviasendsadesperate,pleadinglookforforgivenessatherson,butheturnsandfleesupstairs,beforeheburstsintotearsagain.
—
Raleighreturnstohisbedroomandslamsthedoorbehindhim.Hethrowshimselfdownonhisbedandputshisheadphonesonandturnshismusicuploud.Hewantstoblotthescenedownstairsfromhismind,buthecan’t.Hekeepsthinkingaboutit.Howcouldhismotherhavebeensostupid?He’dwantedtoyellather,buthedidn’tdare.Andhisdad—hisdadisstillfuriousathim,hecantell.Andnowhisdadisfuriousathismom,too.
Raleigh’sangryateveryone,butheknowsdeepdownthatit’smostlyhisownfault.
Heliesonhisbed,heartpounding,wonderingifhe’sgoingtobearrested.Hewillhavetoseethathorriblelawyeragain.Hefeelsbadathowmuchmoneythismightcosthisparents.Hewillmakeituptothem.He’llbeabetterson.He’llstartdoingchores,workharderinschool.
Raleighissickwithfear.Everytimesomeoneknocksatthedoor,he’sgoingtothinkit’sthepolice,comingforhim.
—
Beckyrattlesaroundinheremptyhouse,whichisfartoobigforjustoneperson.It’sWednesdaynight.Herhusbandhasbeenawayonbusinessallweek,ontheWestCoast,althoughtheyhavebeenintouchbyphone.He’llbehometomorrowevening.She’sproudofherhusband,Larry,andgratefulthathe’sbeensuccessful—shedoesn’tneedtowork—butsometimesit’slonely.Withthelonghoursandtravel,hemissedsomuchofthekidsgrowingup.Shedidn’treallyminditwhenthekidswerehere,butsincethetwinswentofftocollege,she’smissedhim.Workingfromhomewasn’therfirstchoice;she’dratherbeoutofthehouse.Butshewantedtogetbackintobookkeeping,andtheonlyworkshecouldfindwasfreelance.Nowshe’smadesuchamessofthingsthatshewondersifsheshouldjustfindafull-timejobatashopsomewhere.Somethingthatwillgetheroutofthehouse.Sheneedstokeepherselfbusy.Becauseshe’dbeenthinkingfartoomuchaboutRobertPierce,alonenextdoor,andwhattheywereliketogether.
Shethinksuneasilyabouthimnow.Hedidsuspecthiswifewashavinganaffair.Itmakesheruncomfortable,whathesaidtoher,tellingherwhattodo.He’slying,andhewantshertolie,too.He’sclearlyafraidofthepolice.Shecanunderstandthat.Hedoesn’twanthertellingthedetectivesthatheknewhiswifewascheating.Well,shewon’ttellthem.Hedoesn’thavetoworryabouther.
Nowsherememberssomethingelse—anightinthesummer.ItwasbeforeBeckysleptwithRobertthefirsttime,butshewasalreadyhopelesslyattractedtohim,devotingfartoomuchofhertimetothinkingabouthim.
Beckydidn’tmeantospyonthem.Butitwasahotnight,andshehadtheupstairswindowsopenandsheheardmusiccomingfromtheirbackyard.Someslowjazzpiecefilteringacrossthesweetsummerair,somethingromantic.Shelookedoutawindow,takingcarenottobeseen.RobertandAmandawereonthebacklawn,wrappedineachother’sarms.Shefeltanimmediatestabofjealousy.Oh,tobeyoungandinloveagain—dancinginthemoonlight!Beckycouldn’tseetheirfaces,butafterwatchingthemforaminute,sherealizedsomethingwaswrong.Somethingaboutthewaytheywereholdingeachother.Amandawasn’trelaxingintoherhusband;sheseemedtobemovingstifflyastheydanced,asifshewereunwilling,almostasifshewerebeingforced.
Afteramoment,BeckysawAmanda’sshouldersconvulsing.Shewassobbing,herfaceburiedinherhusband’schest.
NowBeckywondersagainaboutwhatshesaw.She’dromanticizedRobert,sheknowsthat.Whathadbeengoingonthatnightinthedark?
Robertcouldn’thavekilledAmanda,Beckytellsherselfagain,staringintothedark.Surelyshewouldknowifsomeoneshe’dhadsexwithwasakiller?Surelyshewouldbeabletotell?
SIXTEEN
CarmineislingeringonherfrontwalkonThursdaymorningwhensheseesZoecomeoutofthehouseandheadforhercar.
“Hey,Zoe!”shecalls,andmakesherwayovertohernext-doorneighbor’sdriveway.
“Hi,Carmine,”Zoecalls.“Howareyou?”
“Good.”Shereachesthedriveway.“Haveyouheardanythingmoreaboutthatwomanwhowaskilled?”
Zoeshakesherhead.“It’stooawful.Tohavesomebodymurderedwholivedsoclose.”Herexpressionissolemn.Sheadds,“I’msurethepolicewillfindoutwhodidit.”Shepauseswithherhandonthedoorofthecar.“Anyluckfindingoutwhobrokeintoyourhouse?”
“Ithinkso,”Carminesays.“DoyouknowtheSharpes?OnSparrow?Theyhaveateenageboy,right?”
“Yes,Raleigh.”Zoefrownsandnarrowshereyes,catchinghermeaning.“Youcan’tthinkit’shim.”
“Whynot?”
“Well,whywouldyou?He’sOliviaandPaul’sboy.Hewouldneverdosomethinglikethat.IknowOlivia.She’sinmybookclub.”
Carmineremainsquiet,watchingZoe.
“Whydoyouthinkit’shim?”Zoeasksfinally.
“Iwentbythereyesterdayafternoon,”Carminesays.“Thewayshereacted,I’dswearsheknewexactlywhatIwastalkingabout.Shelookedverynervous,andguilty.I’dbetahundreddollarsshewrotethatletter.”
Zoebristles.“Idon’tthinkso.”Shepauses.“Weweretalkingaboutitatbookclub,andIdidn’tnoticeanything.”
“Maybeyoucouldtalktoher?”Carminesuggests.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Findoutifitwasherson,andifshewrotetheletter?”Carminesays.
“I’mnotgoingtoaskherthat!”
“Okay,”Carminesays,turningaway.
“Wait!”Zoecalls.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Idon’tknowyet,”Carminesaysandheadsbackinside.
—
WebbandMoenstandonBeckyHarris’sfrontstepandringthebell.Theybothfeelthatsheisstillholdingsomethingback,thatsheknowsmorethanshe’stelling.
Hercarissittinginthedriveway.Thedayisovercastandthreatensrain.Webbringsthebellagain,flashinganimpatientlookatMoen.
Finallythedooropens.Beckylookslikeshehasn’tsleptmuch.Herhairispulledbackintoaponytailasifshedidn’twanttobotherwithit.She’swearingyogapantsandashapelesssweater.
“Whatdoyouwant?”sheasks.
“Maywecomein?”Webbaskspolitely.
“Whatfor?”
“Wehaveafewmorequestions.”
Shesighsandopensthedoorreluctantly.
Webbwondersaboutherchangeofmood.Thedaybeforeshehadbeenweepyandterrifiedofexposure,buttodaysheseemsresigned.She’shadalong,probablysleeplessnighttothinkaboutit.Perhapsshe’srealizingthatit’sinevitablethatherindiscretionswillcomeout.Sheleadsthemintothelivingroom.Shedoesn’taskthemtositdownorofferthemanything;it’sclearshedoesn’twantthemhere.Hecan’tblameher.She’sbeensleepingwithherneighbor,nowthechiefsuspectinamurderinvestigation.
Thetwodetectivessitdownonthesofa;Beckyfinallyslumpsdowninanarmchairangledacrossfromthem.
“Weappreciatethatthisisn’teasyforyou,”Webbbegins.Beckywatcheshimuneasily,hereyesdartingtoMoenasifforsupport,andthenbacktohim.“Butwethinkthere’smorethatyoucantellus.”
“Itoldyoueverythingalready,”Beckysays.“Idon’tknowanythingaboutAmanda’smurder.”Sheshiftsrestlesslyinherchair.“ItoldyouIdon’tthinkhedidit.Someoneelsemusthavedoneit.”
“It’sjustthatwefeelyou’rekeepingsomethingfromus,Becky,”Webbsays.“There’ssomethingyou’renottellingus.”Shelooksbackathimwithastony,almostangryexpression,butherhandsarefidgetinginherlap.Henotesthattheskinaroundthecuticlesispickedraw.
“Ispoketohimyesterdayafternoon,overthefence,”shesaysfinally.Hewaitspatiently.Shelooksdownatherlap.“Hewasoutside,inthebackyard.Isawhim,andopenedthebackdoor.Hecalledmeover.”
Sheseemstothinkforamoment,asifdecidingwhattosay.Webbalreadydoesn’ttrustthetruthtocomeoutofBecky’smouth,butsomeeditedversionofit
“HeaskedmeifIthoughthe’dkilledAmanda.Itoldhimofcoursenot.Hetoldmehedidn’tkillher,andIsaidIbelievedhim.Itoldhimthatyouknewaboutus.ThatIwasworriedaboutmyfingerprintsinhisbedroom,andthatmyhusbandwouldfindout—thatitmightruinmymarriage,destroymyfamily.”Hereyesarestartingtofillup.Sheputsherhandsuptoherface,covershermouth.Webbfindshimselfstaringatherraggedcuticles.
“Didhesayanythingelse?”heprods,whenshehasn’tspokenforawhile.
Sheshakesherhead.“NotthatIremember.”Shesnifflesandthenlooksupatthem.“Myhusband’scominghometonight.Thisisallgoingtocomeout,isn’tit?”
Webbsays,“Thetruthhasawayofcomingout.”
Shelooksathimbitterly.“Thenifitdoes,Ihopeallofitdoes.IhopeyoufindtherealkillerandleaveRobertalone.BecauseIdon’tthinkhedidit.”Shepausesasifshe’sgatheringherself.Somethinginherfacehaschanged,asifshehascometosomekindofdecision.“There’ssomethingelseIhavetotellyou.”
Webbleansforward,elbowsonknees,andlooksatherintently.“What’sthat?”
“IknowAmandawasseeingsomeoneelse.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”Webbasks,feelingaprickleofexcitement.
“Isawthemtogether,andIknew.Ididn’twanttotellyou,becauseIknowhim,andIknowhecouldn’thavekilledAmandaeither.Iknewyou’djustgoafterhimlikeyou’vegoneafterRobert,whenshewasprobablymurderedbysomenutcasesomewhere,notkilledbyherhusband,orthemanshewasseeing,whomayhavebeenunfaithful,butwouldn’thurtafly.”
“Becky,whodidyouseeAmandawith?”
Shesighsheavily,regretfully.“ItwasPaulSharpe.Hiswife,Olivia,isafriendofmine.Theylivedownthestreet,”shesaysmiserably,“atNumberEighteen.”
“Telluswhatyousaw,Becky,”DetectiveWebburges.
—
Beckyissickatwhatshe’sabouttodo,butfeelsshehasnochoice.Likethedetectivesays,thetruthwillcomeouteventually.She’stellingthetruthnow,nomore,noless.“IsawPaulandAmandatogetheronenight,ashorttimebeforeAmandadisappeared.Itwasraining,andtheyweresittinginAmanda’scar.Itwasaboutnineo’clockatnight,andIwasleavingthemovietheaterdowntown.Theywereinaparkinglot.There’sabaracrossfromtheparkinglot.Iwonderedifthey’dbeeninthebartogether.”
“And…”
Shethinksback,tryingtoremembereverydetail.“Theywereinthefrontseat—shewasinthedriver’sseat.TherewasalightintheparkinglotshiningonthemsoIcouldseethemquiteclearly.Iwassoshockedatseeingthemtogether,Istoppedinmytracksandstaredforaminute,buttheyweresointentononeanotherthattheydidn’tnoticeme.”
“You’reabsolutelysureitwasthem?”
“I’mcertain.Theirfaceswereclosetogetheratfirst.Ithoughttheymightkiss.Butthen,afteraminute,theyseemedtobearguing.”
“Goon.”
“Hewassayingsomethingtoher,asifhewereangry,andshelaughedathimandpulledawayandhegrabbedherarm.”
“Soyouthinktheywereseeingeachother?”Webbasks.
Shenods.“That’swhatitlookedlike.Theyseemed…intimate.Whyelsewouldtheybetheretogether?”Shelooksdownatherlap.“IfeltawfulforOlivia.She’sagoodfriendofmine.Amandaalwaysstruckmeasaflirt,butIneverwouldhaveguessedthatPaulwouldcheatonOlivia.”
“Canyoubemorespecificaboutthedate?”
Shecloseshereyesforamoment,tryingtoremember.Finallysheopensthemandsays,“ItwasaWednesday—itmusthavebeenSeptembertwentieth.”ShewatchesMoenjotitdown.
“Didyouseethemtogetheranyothertime?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellusthisearlier?”DetectiveWebbasks.
“I’msorry,”shesays.“ButIdon’tthinkPauliscapableofharminganybody.AndOlivia’safriend.Ihatetodothistoher.”
“DidyouevermentionthistoRobertPierce?”
“No,absolutelynot.”
“Yousureaboutthat?”Webbpresses.
“Yes,I’msure.”
“DoyouhappentoknowwherePaulSharpeworks?”Moenasks.
“Yes.FanshawPharmaceuticals—thesamecompanyasmyhusband.OnWaterStreet,downtown.”ShewatchesMoenwriteitdown.
“Isthereanythingelseyou’reholdingback?”Webbasks;shehearsthesarcasminhisvoice.
Shelooksrightathimandsays,“No,that’sit.”
—
WeneedtotalktoPaulSharpe,”WebbsaystoMoen,overthehoodofthecar.Shenods.Helooksathiswatch.“Let’sgo.”
ThedrivebacktodowntownAylesforddoesn’ttakelong—ameretenminutes.It’sasmallcity,withnewerbuildingsbuttingupagainstoldinthedowntowncenter.FanshawPharmaceuticalsisinabrickbuilding,notfarfromtheAylesfordBridge.
WebbandMoenenterthebuildingandaretoldthatPaulSharpe’sofficeisonthefifthfloor.There,theyaregreetedbyareceptionistwhoseperfecteyebrowsriseeversoslightlywhentheyshowtheirbadges.
“We’dliketospeakwithPaulSharpe,”Webbsays.
“I’llgethimforyou,”shesays.
WebbspendsthetimestaringsightlesslyattheexpensivelyblanddécorandthinkingaboutAmandaPierce.Theydon’twaitlong.Amaninanavysuitentersthereceptionarea.He’stall,wellbuilt,withveryshortsalt-and-pepperhair,probablyclosetofifty.He’skepthimselffit,andhewalkstowardthemwiththeeaseofsomeonewhostaysinshape.Hecastshiseyesoverthetwoofthem.Helookswary,Webbthinks.Heopenshisbadge,introduceshimselfandMoen,andsays,“Istheresomewherewecantalkprivately?”
“Sure,letmefindameetingroom.”Sharpeleansoverthelargereceptiondeskandspeakstothereceptionist.
“Youcanhaveconferenceroomthree,it’sempty,”shetellshiminadiscreetvoice.
“Comewithme,”Sharpesays,andtheyfollowhimdownacarpetedhallwaytoaglass-walledmeetingroom.Theystepinside.There’salongtableandchairs,andwindowsthatlookontotheriverandthebridge.Thewaterisdarkandchoppytoday.Ithasstartedtorainnow,andit’scomingdownheavily.Sharpeclosesthedoorbehindthemandturnstofacethem.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”heasks,gesturingtothemtotakeaseat.
Webbsays,“We’reinvestigatingthemurderofAmandaPierce.”
Sharpenods,hisfaceacarefulblank.“Yes,I’veheardaboutit,ofcourse.Shelivedonourstreet,andworkedhereoccasionally.It’saterriblething.”Heshakeshisheadregretfully,frowning.“HowcanIhelp?”
“DidyouknowAmandaPierce?”
Heshakeshisheadagainslowly.“No.Imean,”heamendsquickly,“shetempedheresometimes,butit’sabigcompany;sheneverworkedformedirectly.Iknewhertoseeher,butIdon’tthinkIeverspoketoher.”
“Isthatright,”Webbsays,andwaits.Sharpeflushesslightly,looksuncertain.Webbsays,“Areyousureyouneverspoketoher?”
Sharpelooksdownatthetable,arrangeshisfaceasifhe’sconcentrating,tryingtoremembersomething.Finallyhesays,“IthinkIdidsortofmeetheronce,nowthatyoumentionit.Funny,I’dforgottenit.”Helooksupatthem.“Iwasoutfordrinksonenightafterwork,withsomefriends,and…Ithinkshemighthavejoinedusforadrink,butIdidn’tspeaktoher.Shewasn’tsittingnearmeanditwasloud,youknow.”
Webbnods.“Whenwasthis?”
Sharpelooksdownandadoptshisconcentratingfaceagain.Webbisn’tbuyingit.ButhewaitstoseewhatSharpecomesupwith.
“Itwasn’tthatlongbeforeshedisappeared.Ican’trememberwhenexactly.”
“Youcan’tnarrowitdownmorethanthat?Eventhoughshedisappearedsometimeshortlyafterward?”
Theotherman’seyesflash,aslighthintoftemper.“Idon’trememberthedate,itwasunremarkableatthetime.ButitwasshortlybeforeIheardshedisappeared.”
“Whatbarwasit?”
“Rogue’s,onMillStreet.Sometimeswegotherefordrinksafterwork—notoften.”
“Who’swe?”Webbasks.
“Well,itdepends.Itchangesweektoweek.Justpeoplefromtheoffice,whoever’supforit,youknow.”
“Canyourememberwhowastherethatnight,whenshejoinedyouforadrink?”
Sharpedoesthesamethingagain—looksdown,furrowshisbrowforamoment.He’sapooractor,andapoorliar.“I’msorry,I’mnotexactlysure.Butme,HollyJacobs,ManeetPrashad,BrianDecarry,LarryHarris,MikeReilly.That’sthebestIcando.”
Moenisbusilywritingthenamesdown.
“Andwhydidshejoinyou?Didsheknowsomeone?”
Heshakeshisheadagain.“Youknow,I’mnotsure.Probablyshewastempingherethatdayandcamealong.”
Webbnods.ThenheleansinalittleclosertoPaulSharpeandfixeshimwithhiseyes.“Youknow,I’mhavingahardtimebelievingyou.”
“What?”Helooksworriednow.“Why?”
“Why?”Webbsays.“Becausewehaveawitnesswhosawyoutalking—intimately—withAmanda.Justthetwoofyou,inthefrontseatofhercar,downtown,ataroundnineo’clockatnight.Notlongbeforeshedisappeared.Wednesday,Septembertwentieth,tobeexact.”
Sharpe’sfacedrainsofcolor.Hisfacadehasbeguntocrumble.Heswallows.“It’snotlikethat.”
“Notlikewhat?”
“Iwasn’tinvolvedwithAmanda,ifthat’swhatyou’rethinking.”Heexhalesdeeply,slumpsalittleinhischair.“Ididn’twanttosayanything.MaybeIshouldhave,but—”Herunshishandoverhisface,andsuddenlythepretenseseemstofallaway.“Look,Ididn’treallyknowAmanda.Ionlyspoketoherthatonetime,inhercar.Itwastowarnheroff.Shewashavinganaffairwithsomeonehere,someoneIworkwith.Itoldhertostayawayfromhim.Ithoughtshewastrouble.Ididn’twanttoseehislifefallapart.Maybeitwasn’tmyplace.IwishnowIhadn’tdoneit.Ishouldhavemindedmyownbusiness.”Headds,“Thenightwehaddrinksatthebar—thatwasthenightIspoketoAmanda,inhercar.ButIdon’trememberthedate.”
Webbsitsbackinhischairandconsidersthemaninfrontofhim.“Soyouweren’thavinganaffairwithAmandayourself.”
“God,no.”
“Sharpe’snamehadn’tcomeuponhercellphonerecords.
“Doyouhaveaburnerphone?”Moenasks.
“No.”
“WherewereyoutheweekendstartingFridayafternoon,Septembertwenty-ninth,tillthefollowingMondaymorning?”Webbasks.
Sharpelooksathim,appalled.“Youcan’thonestlythinkIhadanythingtodowithAmandaPierce—withwhathappenedtoher,”hesays,hisgray-blueeyesalarmed.
Webbsays,“Youwereseenarguingwithhershortlybeforeshedisappeared.We’rejusteliminatingpossibilities.Ifyoucantelluswhereyouwerethatweekend,we’regood.”
“Okay,”Sharpesays,nodding.Heappearstothink.“TheonlythingthatstandsoutisthatonSundaywehadmywife’sparentsoverforbrunch.Theystayedtillmidafternoon.Ihelpedmywifeprepareitandcleanupafterward.Otherthanthat,itwasjustaregularweekendathome,Ithink.WeusuallystayinonFridayandSaturdaynight.WatchsomethingonNetflix.Iimaginethat’swhatwedid.”
“Okay,”Webbsays.“TellusaboutthisaffairAmandawashaving.”
Sharpesighsreluctantly,butbeginstotalk.“TherewasalwaystalkaboutAmanda.Shewasagorgeouswoman.Shecouldbeabitofaflirt.Thegossipwasthatshecheatedonherhusband,thatshesometimesgotinvolvedwithmenatwork.Thatwasthestory,anyway—sexintheelevators,thatsortofthing.Alotofitwasprobablybullshit,butshehadabitofareputation.Askaround.”
“Wewill,”Webbassureshim.
“Whenshedisappeared,Ithoughtshe’dleftherhusband.Therewasnobighueandcrythen,eventhoughherhusbandapparentlyreportedhermissing.Ithoughtmaybeshe’drunawaywithanotherguy.”Sharpehesitatesandadds,“LikeIsaid,therewasalotoftalkabouther.Ididn’tknowifitwastrueornot—butthenIsawitformyself.”Hepauses.
“Sowhoisthispersonyouworkwithwhoyouthoughtwashavinganaffairwithher?”Webbasks.
Sharpesighsheavily.“Hewouldn’thavehurther,ifthat’swhatyou’rethinking.”
“Aname?”
Sharpesaysitreluctantly.“LarryHarris.HelivesnextdoortoAmandaandRobertPierce.”
WebbshootsaglanceatMoen,seeshereyeswiden.
Whatinterestingnews,Webbthinks.Itneverceasestoamazehimwhattheydigupinthecourseofacriminalinvestigation—thesecretspeoplekeep.Ortryto.“You’dbettertellusexactlywhatyousaw.”
SEVENTEEN
OliviacomestothedoorwhenPaularriveshome.Hetosseshiskeysinthebowlonthesidetableinthehallandtakesoffhiscoat.It’sslickwithrain.Oliviaisalwaysaffectedbytheweather,hermoodattunedtoitschanges.Sunnydaysmakehercheerful.Dark,damp,drearydayslikethisonealwaysgetherdown.
LastnightsheandPaulhadlaininbednotspeakingforthebetterpartofanhour,untilPaulhadfinallystartedsnoring.Oliviagotupandwentdownstairsandpacedthecarpetedlivingroomforhours,worryingaboutRaleigh—andaboutCarminecomingafterhim.ShefrettedaboutPaul’sreluctancetosendRaleightoatherapist.
ShethinksPaulisstillangryather.Hesaidhe’dforgivenheraboutthelettersandthattheyneededtomoveonanddealwithwhateverhappened,butitdoesn’tfeelthatway.
ShenoticesnowthatPaulhasn’tspokentoher.“Thatgood,huh,”shesayslightly,buthebarelylooksather.
“I’mgoingtochange,”hesays,finallygivingheranabsentsmile.
Sheseesthathistrousersaredrenched.“Doyouwantsomethingtowarmyouup?”
“Scotchwouldbenice.I’msoaked.”
Shepoursherhusbandadrinkandchecksondinner.Paulcomesbackdownstairstothelivingroomandpicksupthenewspaper.Shebringshimhisscotch.
“Anythinginterestinghappentoday?”sheasks.
“No,”Paulsays,notlookingather.“Nothingoutoftheordinary.”Shehandshimhisdrinkandhetakesasip.Afteramomentheturnstoherandasks,“Haveyouheardanythingmorefromthatwoman?”
HemeansCarmine,she’ssure.
“No,”Oliviasays.Sheaddsfretfully,“Iwishthiswouldalljustgoaway.”Butshedoesn’tbelievethatwillhappen.Instead,shefeelsasifCarmineislyinginwaitforher.
—
Larryhasonlybeenhomeforanhour.Hissuitcaseisstillstandingatthebottomofthestairs.Beckyhasmadehisfavoritemeal,lasagnaandgarlicbread.Andpie.They’rejustfinishingupthepie.They’dtalkedaboutAmanda’smurderonthephonewhilehewasaway,andinmoredetailastheyate.Ithasclearlyshockedhim.She’stoldhimnothingaboutherowninvolvementintheinvestigation.Sheknowsshewillhavetoexplain,andshedreadsit.Buthejustgothome,andshe’swaitingfortherightmoment.
Whenthedoorbellrings,shejumpsuptoanswerthedoor.Sheseesthedetectivesdrippingonherdoorstep,andlooksatthemindisbelief.“Hejustgothome,”shesays.
“I’mafraidthiscan’twait,”Webbsays.“Maywecomein?”
“We’reeatingdinner,”sheprotests.
“Whoisit?”Larrycallsfromthekitchen,andheappearsbehindher,wipinghismouthwithanapkin.Hecomesupbesideher.“Who’sthis?”heasks.
Sheknowsthere’snothingshecando.Shesayswearily,“They’rethedetectivesIwastellingyouabout.They’reinvestigatingAmanda’smurder.”
Herhusbandsays,“Comein.”Webbbrushespasther,followedbyMoen.“CanItakeyourcoats?”Larryoffers.
Beckywatchesherhusbandashehangsupthedetectives’wetcoats.Herheartispoundinginherchestandhermouthfeelsdry.Larrywillneverforgiveher.
Beckyturnsonacoupleoflampsandtheyallsitdowninthelivingroom.Thenightoutsideisdarkandtherainbeatsagainstthefrontwindow.
“Idon’tknowhowmuchyourwifehastoldyou—”DetectiveWebbbegins,withasidelongglanceatBecky.
Thebastard.“Ihaven’ttoldhimmuchofanything,”Beckysays.“Itoldyouhejustgothome.”Larryflashesheranervouslook.Suddenlyshejustwantstogetitoverwith.Shecan’tstandwaitingfortheaxtofallonherneck.“Larry,there’ssomethingIhavetotellyou,”shesays.Shefeelsalmostshortofbreath.“Iwouldhavetoldyouanyway,”sheswallows,“Iswear,Iwouldhave—”
“Toldmewhat?”Larrysays.Helooksuneasy.
Sheblurtsitout,lookingdownatthefloor.“IsleptwithRobertPierce.Whenyouwereaway.Theyfoundoutwhentheywereinvestigatinghimabouthiswife.”Shefinallybringshereyesuptolookatherhusband.He’ssittingperfectlystill,andhasgonequitepale.“I’msorry.”
Larrylookscompletelyshocked.Ofcoursehe’sshocked.Hewouldneverexpectthisofher.Shecloseshereyes.
“Howcouldyou?”hesays.
“I’msorry,”sherepeatsmiserably,openinghereyes.
Larrylookspointedlyatthetwopolicedetectivesandsays,“Maybeyou’dbetterleave.”
“I’mafraidwehavesomequestionsbeforewego,”Webbsays.
Beckyturnsbitter,resentfuleyesonthedetectiveandwaits.Shedoesn’twanttohelpthem.
“WetalkedtoPaulSharpe,”hesays.
Beckyrememberswhatshetoldthesesamedetectivesthatmorning.ShethinksuneasilyofOlivia.
“Paul?”Larryinterjectsinsurprise.
ItoccurstohersuddenlythatmaybeLarryknewaboutPaulandAmanda.Beckysays,“PaulwasseeingAmanda.”
“Wedon’tknowthat,”Webbsaysmildly.
Sheturnsonhim.“Didhedenyit?”
“Yes,hedid.”
Beckysnorts.Sheknowswhatshesaw.
“Headmittedspeakingtoherthatnight,inhercar,”thedetectivesays.“Buthesaidhewaswarningheroff.Hebelievedshewashavinganaffairwithacolleagueatwork,andhewastellinghertobackoff.”Webbislookingatherhusbandashesaysthis.
“Alikelystory,”Beckysayssarcastically,expectingherhusbandtobackherup.
ButLarrysaysnothingatall.
Webbcontinues.“Infact,hetoldusthathebelievedAmandawashavinganaffairwithyourhusband—isn’tthatright,Larry?”
Beckylooksatherhusband,stunned.
NowLarryisshakinghishead,slowly,backandforth,frowning.“No.Iwasn’thavinganaffairwithher.Ican’tbelievePaultoldyouthat.”
Becky’smindisspinning.They’reallwatchingLarry.
“It’snottrue,”Larryprotests.“Iwasn’tsleepingwithAmanda.”Helooksattherestofthemdefiantly.
“Whywouldhetellusthatifitwasn’ttrue?”Webbasks.
Larryglancesatthemallnervously.“Thefactis,PaulthoughtIwashavinganaffairwithAmanda.Hespoketomeaboutit.Ideniedit,becauseitwasn’ttrue.Ithoughthebelievedme.Ican’tbelievehespoketoAmandaaboutit.”
“WhywouldhethinkyouwerehavinganaffairwithAmanda?Evenafteryoudeniedit?”Webbasks.“Anyidea?”
Beckycatchessomethingsarcasticinthedetective’stone.
“YouhavetounderstandwhatAmandawaslike,”Larrybegins,soundingdefensive.“Shewasveryattractive.Shesometimesworkedatourofficeasatemp.Shecouldbe—inappropriate.Shewasinmyofficeoneday,andshewasbehavingimproperly,andPaulsawit.”
“You’regoingtohavetospellitoutforus,Mr.Harris,”Webbsays,andstaresatLarryuntilhesquirms.
Larryadmitsreluctantly,hisfacecoloringwithembarrassment,“Shewasperformingoralsex.”
“Onyou.”
“Yes.”
Beckystaresatherhusband,speechless.
“Paulsawit,”Larryexplains.“Hedrewtheobvious—butentirelyincorrect—conclusion.HeconfrontedmeandItoldhimIwasn’tseeingher.Hedidn’tbelieveme.Ididn’tthinkhe’dgosofarastowarnheroff.Imean,that’sjustridiculous.Therewasnothinggoingon—itwasjustthatonetime.That’sjustwhatshewaslike.”
Beckywondersifherhusbandistellingthetruth.Sherealizesthatshehasnoidea.Suddenlyshedoesn’tfeelsocontrite,soashamed.Maybeherhusbandhadhishandinthecookiejar,too.Shewatchesthetwodetectives,tryingtogetareadonwhatthey’rethinking.Shecan’ttell.
“Yes,”Webbsays,“Sharpetoldusaboutthat.Indetail.”
Beckywatchesherhusband’sfaceflush.
“That’sallitwas,Iswear,thatoneincident.Iwasn’tseeingAmanda.Iknewherfromhertempingattheofficeandtheylivenextdoor,butwedidn’thavemuchtodowiththem.Ithinkwehaddrinkswiththemonceortwice.”Headds,“Idon’tknowwhathappenedtoher.”
“WherewereyoutheweekendthatAmandadisappeared?”Webbasks.
“Youcan’tbeserious,”Larryprotests.
Webbjustlooksathimandwaits.
Beckyisstaringinalarmatherhusband.Heglancesather.“Iwasawaythatweekend,andwhenIgotback,Iheardthatshewasgoneandthatherhusbandhadreportedhermissing,butitwasgenerallybelievedthatshe’dpackedabagandlefthim.”Headds,“IwasataconferencefromFridayafternoontoSundayafternoon.”Helooksupatthem.“Iwasn’tevenhere.”
“Wherewastheconferenceheld?”Webbasks.
“AttheDeerfieldsResort.”
“Andwhere’sthat,exactly?”
“It’sacoupleofhoursfromhere.IntheCatskills.”
“Youdon’tsay,”Webbsays.
EIGHTEEN
Oliviacantellthatsomethingisbotheringherhusband.Hewasrestlessthenightbefore,tossingandturningthroughthenight.Whensheaskedhimifsomethingwaswrong,hedeniedit.Perhapsheissimplyworried,likesheis,aboutRaleigh.Waitingforthecopstoshowupattheirdoor.
She’supstairsinherofficethenextmorningwhenthedoorbellrings.Shefreezes.She’safraidthatit’sthatwoman,Carmine,backagain.Shehurriestothefrontwindowintheupstairsbedroomandlooksout,butshecan’tseewhoisatthedoor.Thedoorbellringsagain.Shewaits.Thedoorbellringsathirdtime.Whoeveritisisn’tgoingaway.
Finallyshesteelshernervesandgoesdownstairs.She’sdeterminedtoputabravefaceonthingsandcompletelydenyanythingCarminesays.She’sangryenoughthatshethinksshecandoit.
SheopensthedoorandiscompletelysurprisedtoseeherfriendBeckystandingonherdoorstep.She’dlastseenBeckyatbookclub,onMondaynight.Nowit’sFridaymorning,andthere’ssomethingaboutBecky’swaryexpressionthatputsOliviaonguard.Andshelookslikeamess.Herhairisneglected,andshe’snotwearingherusuallipstick.
“Becky,”Oliviasays.Andthen,“Issomethingwrong?”
Beckynodsandsays,“CanIcomein?”
“Ofcourse,”Oliviasays.“Comehavecoffeewithme.”
Theymaketheirwayautomaticallytothekitchen.Oliviapourstwocupsofcoffeefromthecarafe.“Whatisit?Something’sobviouslyupsetyou.”
Beckysitsdownatthekitchentable.“Thisisreallyawkward,”shesays.
Oliviasetsthecoffeemugsonthetableandsitsdown.ShewondersifCarminehasbeentalkingtoBecky.Shesteelsherselfagain.“Whatisit?”
“It’sabouttheinvestigation,aboutAmanda.”
Oliviarecalibrates.NotRaleigh,then.Shefeelsasenseofrelief,atleastforherself,butshefeelsconcernedforthewomansittingacrossfromher.WhyisBeckyhere?
“Thepolicecamebacktotalktomeyesterday,”Beckysays.
“Okay,”Oliviasays,takingasipofcoffee.
“Oh,God,Idon’tknowhowtotellyouthis.”
“Justtellme,Becky.”Oliviacanfeelheranxietyclimbing.
Beckygripshercoffeecupwithbothhands.ShefinallylooksOliviaintheeyeandsays,“IsawPaulwithAmanda,beforeshedisappeared.”
Oliviaisstunned.Whatevershewasexpecting,itwasn’tthis.“What?”
“IsawPaulwithAmandainhercaronenight,shortlybeforeshedisappeared.They—itlookedliketheywerefighting.”
Oliviasays,“Pauldidn’tknowAmanda.”
“IknowwhatIsaw,”Beckysayscarefully.
“Youmustbemistaken,”Oliviasayscoldly.Hewouldhavetoldher.Wouldn’the?
Beckysayswoodenly,“I’mnotmistaken.Paul’sadmittedit.Tothedetectives.”
Oliviafeelsherinsidesturn.She’ssuddenlylight-headed.Paulhasspokentothedetectives?“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasks.“Whendidhetalktothem?”Shefeelslikeshe’sstandingontheedgeofacliff,andallBeckyhastodoisgiveheragentlepush.
Beckyshiftsuneasilyinherchair.“Yesterday.Theywenttohisoffice.Theytalkedtohimthere.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?Whywouldtheygoseehim?”She’stryingtomakesenseofwhatBeckyissaying.
“BecausewhentheyquestionedmeaboutAmandaIhadtotellthemthatI’dseenPaulwithAmandainhercar.”Sheadds,“Ididn’twanttotellthem.”
“Heneversaidanythingtomeaboutthedetectives,”Oliviawhispers,inshock
“I’msorry,”Beckysays,andsitsquietly,asifwaitingforOliviatoputittogether.
“YouthinkPaulmighthavebeenseeingAmanda?”Oliviaasksindisbelief,sittingperfectlystill.“That’simpossible.”ButshethinksofPaul,tossingandturningalllastnight.Apparentlyhe’dspokentothedetectivesearlierthatday.Whatelsehashekeptfromher?Shecanfeelherselfstartingtotremble.Adarknesspassesbeforehereyes,likeashade,andshegripstheedgeofthetable.WasPaulcheatingonher?She’sneversuspectedhimofbeingunfaithful.Ever.Butnowanotherrealizationhitsher:IfPaulwashavinganaffairwithAmanda,hewillbeasuspectinhermurder.Sheremembershimreadingthearticleinthenewspaper,hisfeignedlackofinterestinthecase.Herstomachchurns.
Beckysays,“Headmittedtobeinginthecarwithher,buthedeniedhavinganaffairwithher.”
OliviastaresatBecky.Shehastoknowwhatthehellisgoingon.“Howdoyouknow?WhywasheinthecarwithAmanda?Idon’tunderstand.”
Beckysayscarefully,“HetoldthedetectivesthathethoughtshewashavinganaffairwithLarry,andhewastellinghertostayawayfromhim,butI’msorry,that’sjustnottrue.”
“YourLarry?”
Beckynods.
Oliviaisastonished.“WhyareyousosureLarrywasn’thavinganaffairwithher?Andyou’resuggestingthatPaulwas?”Oliviaprotests.
Beckyleansclosertowardheroverthekitchentable.“Idon’tknowifPaulwashavinganaffairwithAmanda,butIsawthemtogether,andIhadtotellthedetectives.”
Oliviasays,“WhywouldPaulsaythataboutLarry,ifitwasn’ttrue?”
Beckysitsbackinherchairandfoldsherarmsacrossherchest.“YourememberwhatAmandawaslike.Rememberheratthatparty?Oozingsexappeal,baskinginallthemaleattention.Apparentlyitwasworseattheoffice.AndPaulcaughtherbehavinginappropriatelywithmyhusbandonce.Buthesaysitmeantnothing.”
“Behavinginappropriatelyhow,exactly?”
“Idon’tknowthedetails,”Beckysays,avertinghereyes.
“Ican’tbelievethatPaulwasseeingAmanda,”Oliviasays.
“Well,Idon’tbelieveLarrywaseither.”Shereachesforhercoffeecup.“Maybeit’salljustamisunderstanding.PerhapsPaulmisinterpretedthesituationandoverreacted.”
“So—what,nowthedetectivesareinvestigatingPaulandLarry?”Oliviaasksindisbelief.Beckynodsuneasily.“Andwhatdotheythink?”
“Idon’tknow.Theyneversaywhattheythink.ButtheyspoketoPaulyesterday,andcametoourhouselastnightafterLarrygothome,andaccusedLarryofhavinganaffairwithAmanda.Hedeniedit.”Beckyturnsherfaceawayandlooksbleak.“Wehadthemostawfulargumentafter.”
PartofOliviawantstocomfortBecky,butanotherpartofherhatesBeckyforbringingallthisintoherhouseanddumpingitinherlap.ShethinksabouttheargumentsheandPaulwillhavethatevening.Shedoesn’tbelievethatPaulwassleepingwithAmanda.Buthe’sobviouslynottellinghereverythingeither.IfhethoughtLarrywashavinganaffairwithAmanda,whydidn’thetellher?Whydidn’thetellherthepolicehadcometohisofficeyesterday?
“Ithoughtyoushouldknowwhatwasgoingon,”Beckysays,“incasePauldidn’ttellyou.”
Oliviarecoils,asiffromaslap.DoesBeckyexpecthertothankher?
NowBeckyisstaringdownatthekitchentable.“There’ssomethingelse.Iprobablyshouldn’ttellyouthis,butit’sprobablynotgoingtostaysecretforlong.AndIneedtotalktosomebodyandIdon’twantyoutothinkI’vebeenlyingtoyou.”
Beckyseemssodistraughtnow,thatOliviafeelsasuddentwingeofsympathyforher.Butwhatshefeelsmostisasenseofforeboding.Whatmorecantherepossiblybe?“What?”
“It’saboutRobertPierce.”
Oliviasitsback.Shecouldtell,evenatbookclub,thatBeckyhadabitofathingforhim.He’sveryattractive,andlivesrightnextdoortoher.Larryisawayalot.Herchildrengotoschooloutoftown.“Whatabouthim?”
“Isleptwithhim,whenLarrywasaway,”Beckyconfesses,lookingupather.“Twice.”
Oliviajuststares,shockedintosilence.
“Imusthavebeenoutofmymind,”Beckyadmits.“Buttherewasthischemistrybetweenus.Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme.I—Ijustcouldn’tresisthim.”
“MyGod,Becky.Heprobablykilledhiswife.”
“Hedidn’t.I’msurehedidn’t.”
“Howcanyoubesosure?”Oliviasays,aghast.“IfpeoplewereawareofwhatAmandawaslike—ifPaulthoughtshewassleepingwithLarry,evenifitwasn’ttrue—thenherhusbandmusthavehadsomeideawhatshewaslike.Hemighthavebeenjealous.Angry.”Sheaddsfirmly,“He’sprobablytheonewhokilledher.”
Beckysays,shakingherhead,“Idon’tthinkhedidit.Idon’tthinkhecouldkillher.Ithinkitwassomeoneelse.”
“Who,then?”
“Idon’tknow.Somestranger—someonewedon’tknow.PaulandLarryhadnothingtodowithit.”
“Ofcoursetheydidn’t,”Oliviasays.“Istillthinkitwasherhusband.”
—
RobertPiercelookscoldlyacrosstheinterviewtableatthetwodetectiveswhohavebecomesuchanuisancetohim.WhenDetectiveWebbcalledhimathomeashortwhileago,askinghimifhe’dbewillingtocomedowntothestationtoanswerafewmorequestions,heconsideredhispositioncarefullybeforeheanswered.Hesuspectedthatifherefused,theywouldsimplyarriveathisdoorandplacehimunderarrest.Sohereheis.
Heknowstheysuspecthimofmurder,eveniftheywon’tsayso.Hemustconvincethemotherwise.
“AmIunderarrest?”heasks.
“No,”DetectiveWebbsays,“youknowyou’renot.”
“Thenwhydoesitfeelthatway?”
“Youcanleaveatanytime,”Webbsays.
Robertdoesn’tmove.
Webbleansbackinhischairandasks,“Didyouknowyourwifewashavinganaffair?”
Roberteyeshimwarily.“No.Itoldyouthat.”
“Wereyouawarethatyourwifehadareputationforflirting,for—cheating?”
Robertfeelshisfacedarkenbutremainscalm.“No,Icertainlywasn’tawareofit.Butshewasaveryattractive,veryconfidentwoman.Peoplewilltalk.”
“Yes,theydotalk.”DetectiveWebbleansforwardandsays,“WespoketoanumberofpeoplewhoworkedwhereAmandawasatemp.Someoftheplacesshetempedregularly.OneofthosewasFanshawPharmaceuticals.”
“Yes,shelikedworkingthere.”
“Peopletheresaidshehadareputation,”thedetectivesays.
Robertstaresbackathim,refusingtorisetothebait.
“Areputationforhavingsexinelevators,forinstance,”Moensays.
Heglaresathersilently.
“Infact,”Webbsays,“wethinkweknowwhowashavinganaffairwithyourwife.”
Robertremainssilentforafewsecondsandthenshrugsandsays,“It’spossible.Itoldyou.Idon’tknowwhattothinksinceIfoundoutsheliedtomeaboutgoingawaywithCaroline.Maybeshewashavinganaffair.”Heleansforwardnowhimself.“Butifshewas,Ididn’tknowaboutit.”
“Youabsolutelysureaboutthat?”Webbsays.
“Yes.ItrustedAmanda,”Piercesays,leaningbackagaininhischair.
“Andyetyoucheatedonherwithyourneighbor,”Moenbreaksin.
Hefixesahardlookonher.Hefindsherannoying,pickingawayathim.“Thatwasamomentofstupidity.Beckycameontome.Ishouldn’thavedoneit.JustbecauseIdidsomethingwrong,itdoesn’tmeanmywifedid.”
“Doesn’tit?”Moenasks,archinganeyebrow.
Hedoesn’tlikeher.Hedoesn’tlikeeitheroneofthem.Heconsidersgettingupandleaving.Heknowshe’swithinhisrightstodoso—he’sherevoluntarily.
Moencontinuestogoadhim.“Youhaven’taskedwhowashavinganaffairwithyourwife.”
“MaybebecauseIdon’twanttoknow,”Robertsaysbluntly.
“Ormaybeit’sbecauseyouknowalready?”Webbsuggests.
Robertgivesthedetectiveahostilelook.“Whywouldyousaythat?”
“Wethinkshewassleepingwithyourneighbor,LarryHarris.”
Heissuddenlyfurious,buttriestotampdownhisanger.“Ididn’tknow.”
“Sure,youdidn’t,”Webbsayspleasantly.“That’snotwhyyousleptwithBeckyHarris,isit,togetbackatyourwife’slover?Youwouldn’tdothat,wouldyou?Justlikeyouwouldn’tkillyourwife.”
NINETEEN
GlendawaitsintheBeanforOlivia.She’slate.Glendaglancesatherwatchagainandwonderswhat’skeepingher.It’snotlikeOliviatobelateforanything.
Finallyshearrives,flustered,andapproaches.Glendahasdeliberatelychosenatablewheretheycan’tbeoverheard.Lookslikemaybethat’sagoodthing.
Oliviasitsdown.She’sobviouslyupset.“What’swrong?”Glendaasks.
“Youhavetopromisemeyouwon’ttellanyonewhatI’mabouttotellyou,”Oliviasaysnervously.“NotevenKeith.”
Glendasitsupstraighter.“Ofcourse.Ipromise.Idon’ttellKeithalotofstuffwetalkaboutanyway.Whatisit?”
Olivialowershervoiceandsays,“BeckyHarrisseemstothinkPaulmighthavebeenhavinganaffairwithAmanda.”
Glendafeelsashockrunalongherspine.ShestaresatOliviaindismay.“Whywouldshethinkthat?”
AsOliviaexplains,Glendatriestoprocesseverythingshe’shearingaboutOlivia’searlierconversationwithBecky.Butit’shardtosquarewiththemanshe’sknownforyears.“Paulwouldn’tcheatonyou,”Glendasays.“Isimplydon’tbelieveit.”
“Meneither,”Oliviasays,hervoicefraughtwithemotion.“Butwhyisn’tPaultellingmethesethings?Whydidn’thetellmehespoketoAmanda?Whydidn’thetellmehethoughtLarrywashavinganaffairwithher?Whydidn’thetellmehewasquestionedbythepolice?”
GlendahearsthegrowinghysteriainOlivia’svoice.“Idon’tknow,”shesaysuneasily.
“Ithoughtwehadasolidmarriage.We’rehonestwitheachother.Ican’tbelievehe’sbeenkeepingthesethingsfromme.”
“IfPaultoldthepolicehethoughtLarrywassleepingwithAmanda,andhewaswarningheroff,Ibelievehim,”Glendasaysfirmly.“Ithinkit’smuchmorelikelythatLarrywascheatingonBeckythanthatPaulwascheatingonyou,don’tyou?”
Olivianods;sheseemsrelievedtohearsomeoneelsesayit.“Actually,Iprobablyshouldn’teventellyouthis,but…”
“What?”
“BeckyconfessedtomethatshesleptwithRobertPierce.BeforeAmandadisappeared.”
NowGlendaistrulyshocked;shecertainlywasn’texpectingthis.Finallyshesays,“Well,well.Thereyougo.Thereareobviouslyproblemsinthatmarriage.”Thensheleansanxiouslyoverthetable.“Listen,Olivia.Youdon’twantthepolicetothinkPaulmighthavebeenseeingAmanda.Thenhemightbeasuspectinhermurder.Youdon’twantthat.Youdon’twantthemsnoopingintoyourlife.”
“It’stoolate,”Oliviasaysmiserably.“IthinkPaulisalreadyasuspect.IthinkBeckyalreadytoldthemhersuspicionsaboutPaulandAmanda.”
Glendasaysquickly,“Well,youhavetomakesurethattheydropthatidea,fast.Tellthemhewaswithyouallweekend.”
“Heprobablywaswithmeallweekend!”
“So,that’sokaythen.”
Oliviasays,clearlytense,“Ihavetotalktohimtonightwhenhegetshome.I’llaskhimwhyhedidn’ttellmeaboutanyofthis.AndI’llaskhimstraightoutifhetoldthepolicethetruth.”
Glendanods.“Letmeknowwhathesays.”NowshenoticesOlivialookingathermoreclosely,asifnoticingforthefirsttimehowtiredsheis.Glendaknowstherearedarkcirclesunderhereyes—she’dstudiedherselfinthemirrorthismorning.
“Howarethingswithyou?”Oliviaasks.
“Notgood,”Glendaadmits.“Adamseemstohatehisfather.”
“Why?”Oliviaasks.
“Idon’tknow,”Glendasays,lookingaway.“Theyclashconstantly.Isupposeit’snormalforteenageboystoclashwiththeirfathers.Theyhavetoseparatethemselves,standontheirown.”Shepauses.“Mindyou,hedoesn’tseemtolikememuchbetterthesedays.”
Aftertheypart,Glendawalkshome,thinkingmoreaboutwhatOliviahastoldher.SurelyPaulwouldn’tcheatonOlivia.She’sknownthemforsixteenyears.Butshe’suneasy.SherememberswhatAmandawaslike,theonetimesheeverreallysawher,atthepartylastyear.
Itwasawarm,sunnydayinSeptember.Amandawaswearingashortyellowsundress,showingoffhersleek,tannedlegs.Hertoenailswereperfectlypaintedandshewaswearinghigh-heeledsandals.GlendaandOliviahadstoppedwearingshortsundressesalongtimeago.Nowtheyworecapripantsandflatsandalsandtalkedaboutgettingtheveinsintheirlegsfixed.ButAmandawasyoungandbeautifulandhadneverhadchildren,soherlegswereperfect,liketherestofher.Glendaremembershowshekeptleaningforward,casuallyshowingoffabitofperkybreastandlacybraeverytimeshespoketoKeith,orPaul,orLarry,oranyoftheothermenwhohadbeenthere.Hadshepaidparticularattentiontoanyofthementhatday?Shedidn’tthinkso.Butthey’dallmadefoolsofthemselves.Amandahadflirtedwitheachofthem,holdingcourtlikeaSouthernbelle,whileherownhusbandsatbackandsaidlittle,drinkingbeerandwatchingherindulgently.Amandawouldoccasionallyturntoherquiet,handsomehusbandandclasphishandinhers,silentlyacknowledgingthatshebelongedtohim.Atthetime,Glendathoughthe’dseemedproudofher.Butnowshewonders—isthathowitwas?Orwasheannoyedwithher,withtheattentionshewasattracting,andtheattentionshewaspayingtoeveryonebuthim?Washeangryandjealous,andhidingit?Didheworrythatshemightbeunfaithful?
Everymarriagehasitssecrets.Glendawonderswhattheirswere.
—
WhenPaularriveshomefromwork,Oliviaiswaitingforhim.Raleigh’sgoneoutforbasketballpractice.Itwillgivethemachancetotalk.
Shehearshimcomeinthefrontdoorandmovesfromthekitchentothehalltoconfronthim.Sheimmediatelynoticeshowwornouthelooks.Infact,helookslikehell.Shedoesn’thavemuchsympathy.“Weneedtotalk,”shesays.Hervoiceistight.
“CanItakeoffmycoatfirst?”hesnaps.Hereadsherfaceandsays,“Where’sRaleigh?”
“Raleigh’satpractice.He’llbehomelater.”Hewalkspastherandintothekitchen.Shefollowshimandwatchesashereachesintothecupboardforthebottleofscotch.Oliviasays,unabletokeeptheangeroutofhervoice,“Iknowyou’vebeentalkingtothepolice.”
“Sotheycameandtalkedtoyou,didthey?”hesays,withanedgetohisvoice.“WhyamInotsurprised?”Hepourshimselfadrinkandturnstolookather,leaningagainstthekitchencounter.
“No,theydidn’tcomehere.Beckytoldme.”
“Ah,Becky,”hesaysbitterly,andtakesadeepgulp.
“Whatthehellisgoingon,Paul?”Oliviaasksdesperately.
“I’lltellyouwhat’sgoingon,ifyou’resureyouwanttoknow.”Hetakesanothersipofhisdrink.“LarryHarrishadsomethinggoingonwithAmandaPierceforages.Ifinallyconfrontedhimaboutitbuthedeniedit.SoItoldAmandatobackoff.Thenshedisappeared.Ididn’tmentionittothepoliceatthetime,becauseIhonestlydidn’tthinkitwasrelevant.Andnobodyasked.Everybodythoughtshe’djustleftherhusband.Butnow…apparentlyBeckysawmetalkingtoAmandaandstuckhernoseinandtoldthepolice.SoIhadtotellthemeverything.”Hesnorts.“I’llbetshe’ssorrysheevermentionedit.”HeliftshisheadandlookstiredlyatOlivia.“Nowthey’realloverme.Askingmeforanalibi.”Heliftshisglasshighandtossesbacktherestofhisscotch.
“Askingyouforanalibi,”Oliviaechoes.
“Oh,Iimaginethey’reaskingLarry,too,”Paulsays.
Shehastoask.“Tellmethetruth,”Oliviasays.Shecanfeelhervoicecatching.“WereyouhavinganaffairwithAmandaornot?”
Helooksatherandsomethinginhisdemeanorchanges.Thebristlingangerfallsaway.“Hellno,Olivia.Iwasn’tsleepingwithher,Iswear.I’venevercheatedonyou.Iwouldn’t.Youknowthat.”
“Thenwhydidn’tyoutellmeaboutthis?Whyallthesecrets?Youspoketothepoliceyesterdayandyoudidn’teventellme!”
Hehangshishead.“I’msorry.”
Shewaits.
Hesays,“Ididn’ttellyouatthetimeaboutLarry,becauseIwantedtokeepitjustbetweenhimandme.IknowyouandBeckyarefriends.Ididn’twanttoputyouinthatposition,ofknowingandwonderingwhetheryoushouldtellher.IthoughtifItoldAmandatobackoff,she’dstopcarryingonwithLarry.Ididn’tthinktheirflingwasimportanttoher.”
“HowdoyouknowshewasseeingLarry?”
“I’dsuspecteditforweeks,butthenIcaughthergivinghimablowjobinhisoffice.”
Oliviaisshocked.ShewondersifBeckyknowsthedetails.
Paulcontinues.“Itoldthedetectiveseverything.Itwasn’tsomuchthatIwasworriedaboutLarry’smarriage—it’snotreallymybusiness.ButIwasworriedthathewasgettingcareless—andthatsomebodyotherthanmewouldseethemattheofficeandhe’dlosehisjob.Ididn’twantthattohappen.”
Oliviacanfeelthetightnessinhershouldersslowlystartingtorelax.“Butwhydidn’tyoutellmeyesterday,afteryou’dspokentothepolice?Whydidyoukeepthatfromme?”
Heshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow.Ijustdidn’tknowwhattodo.Ishouldhavetoldyou.I’mtellingyounow.”Hesighsandaddsuneasily,“TheyaskedmeifIhadanalibifortheweekendAmandawentmissing.”
“Whatdidyoutellthem?”Oliviaasks.
“Itoldthemthetruth.ThatIwashomeallweekend.ItoldthemthatweprobablystayedinandwatchedsomethingonNetflix.That’swhatweusuallydo.WhenwasthelasttimewewentoutonaFridayorSaturdaynight?”
Shethinksbacktothatweekend.Thenshesays,“No,youwenttoyouraunt’sthatFriday,remember?”
Hefreezes.“Shit.You’reright.Iforgot.”
“Youcalledmefromtheofficeandsaidyouthoughtyou’dbettergoseeher.”
“Yes,”Paulsays.“Fuck.”
Sheremembersthatevening.Paulhadgonetohisaunt’sandshe’dstayedhomeandwatchedamoviebyherself.“You’dbettertellthem,”Oliviasaysanxiously.
Henods.“Iwill.They’reprobablygoingtowanttoaskyou,too.”
“Askme?”
“AboutwhereIwasthatweekend.”
“Whydoesitmatterwhereyouwere?”Oliviasays,frustratedwiththesituation.“Youweren’tinvolvedwithAmanda.Larrywas.”
Paulsnorts.“Idon’tthinkthepoliceknowwhotobelieve.”Afteramoment,hesays,“Canwecalliteven?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youknow—youdidn’ttellmeaboutthoseletters….”
She’dforgottenallabouttheletters;they’vebeenpushedfromhermindbyeverythingelsethathasbeengoingon.Sheapproacheshim,putsherhandsonhischest.“Yes.”Shecansmellthescotchonhisbreath.
“WhendidyousayRaleighwasgettinghomeagain?”hesays,wrappinghisarmsaroundherandgivingherakiss.
“Notforawhileyet,”Oliviasays.“Whydon’tyoupourmeadrink?”Ashepoursherone,Oliviasays,“Youdon’tthinkLarrycouldhavehadanythingtodowith—”
“No,ofcoursenot,”Paulsays.
TWENTY
BeckywandersrestlesslyaroundthehouseFridayevening,waitingforLarrytogethomefromwork.Thewaytheyleftthingsthenightbefore,hewon’tbeinagoodmoodwhenhegetshome.Hesaidhe’dprobablybelate;healwayshasalottocatchuponafterabusinesstrip.
Lastnightshesleptintheguestroom.She’snotsurehowthetwoofthemaregoingtomoveforward.Maybetheywon’t.Maybetheirmarriageisoverandallthatremainsistofindsomewaytotellthekidsandfigureouthowtodividethespoils.InspiteofherstaunchdenialtoOlivia,shespendsalotoftimewonderingifLarry’sinsistencethatnothingofconsequencehadhappenedbetweenhimandAmandacouldpossiblybetrue.
—
It’sbeenalongday—alongweeksincethey’dfoundAmandaPierce’sbody—andWebbisfeelingit.Hiseyesareburningandhislimbsaretired.He’sfrustratedwiththelackofprogressonthecase.Butapicturehasbeguntoemerge.They’dspokentoothersatFanshawPharmaceuticals,whenthey’dfinishedwithPaulSharpe,andhadformedaclearerideaofwhoAmandaPiercereallywas.Webbwonderedhowmuchofthetalkaboutherwastrue.ButLarryhasadmittedtotheincidentinhisoffice.Sosomeofitistrue,atleast.
Now,MoenisdrivingthembackfromtheDeerfieldsResortwhereLarryhadattendedaconferencetheweekendthatAmandawasmurdered.Webbstaresoutthewindowatthedarkeningscenery,reflectingonwhatthey’velearned.
LarryHarriswascertainlyattheconferencefromFridaynightuntilSundayafternoon.Lotsofpeopleonstaffconfirmedthat.Hecheckedinat3:00P.M.onFriday.Butafterthat,there’sagap.Thebarstaffandwaitstaffrememberhim,butnoneofthemcanrememberwithanycertaintyseeinghimatthereceptionbefore9:00P.M.Theyagreedthathewasoneofthelasttoleavetheeventandmakehiswayuptohisroomattheendofthenight,ataround11:00.Therehadbeennosit-downmeal,wheresomeonemighthaverememberedhim;justdrinksandminglingintheballroom.Hecouldhavearrivedlatetothereception,givinghimseveralhourstomeet—andperhapskill—AmandaPierce.Mostdamningofall,hercarhadbeendumpedinalakenotfarfromtheresort.
Therestoftheweekendseemsaccountedfor.Hewasregisteredinvarioussessionsandhewasseeninthosesessionsthroughouttheweekend.ButthereisthetantalizinggaponFriday.
Webbpointshisfinger.“Turnhere.”
Moenturnsoffthehighwayandgoesdownagravelroad.It’salmostdarkalready.It’sbeenamiserable,wetday,butit’swarmandcozyinthecar.
They’rereturningtothescenewhereAmanda’sbodywasrecovered.He’sbeentimingitsincetheylefttheresort.Moenisdrivingabittoofastforthegravelroad.“Slowdown.Wecanestimateforspeedlater,”WebbtellsMoen.Sheletsuponthegas.
Thewayisdarkandwinding.Thecar’sheadlightssweeparoundthebendsintheroad;treesriseoneachside.Someofthetreesarealmostbarealready;theweatherhasturned,anditseemsmuchlongerthanafewdayssincetheywereouthere,liftingtheleakingcaroutofthecoldlake.
“Areyousureyou’llbeabletorecognizethespotinthedark?”Moenasks,drivingmoreslowlynow.“I’mnotsureIcould.I’macitygirl.”
“Ihopeso,”Webbsays,lookingintentlyatthedarklandscapebeyondthewindshield.“We’regettingclose,Ithink.Slowdown.”
Sheslowsthecararoundacurveandhesays,“Here.Ithinkthisisit.Pullover.”
Herecognizesthecurveintheroad,theslopedowntothebeach,theedgeofthelake.Moenpullsthecaroverandstops.Sheturnsofftheengine.Webblooksathiswatch,glowinginthedark.“Twentyminutes.”
Moenlooksathim,nodding.“Notimeatall.”
Foramomenttheysitinthedark,thentheygetoutofthewarmcarintothechillofthenight.Webbstandsbythecardoor,gettinghisbearings,rememberingthepreviousMondaymorningwhenthey’dmadetheirgruesomediscovery.
“Where’sthemurderweapon?”Webbasks.Hewalksdowntotheedgeofthewaterandlooksoutoverthelake.Asliverofmoonemergessharpandbrightfrombehinddarkclouds.Hetriestoimaginewhatwentonhere.Whoputthewindowsdown?Whoeveritwasworegloves,becausetherewerenoprintsonthewindowbuttons,otherthanAmanda’s.Whostuffedherbodyintothetrunkandguidedthecardowntheslopeandintothewater?
Webbthinksthekillerisquitelikelysomeonetheyhavealreadymet.HeturnstoMoen;hereyesareglintinginthedark.“Whoeverkilledherwasprobablycountingonhercar—andherbody—neverbeingfoundatall,”Webbsuggests.Helooksoutagainacrossthedarklake.“Everyonethoughtshe’dleftherhusband.Andit’sveryhardtoconvictwithoutabody.”HeglancesagainatMoen.“Somebodymustbesquirming.Forsomebody,thishasn’tgoneaccordingtoplan.”
—
Beckyhearsthedoordownstairsopenshortlyafter9:00P.M.She’supstairsinbed,andcocksherhead,listening.She’dgrowntiredofwaitingforLarryandhadeatenandgoneupwithabook.Nowshelistenstohimwanderingarounddownstairs.Afterafewminutes,sheputsthebookaside,pullsonherrobe,andleavesthebedroom.
Shestopsatthetopofthestairswhensheseesherhusbandstandingatthebottom,lookingupather.Theireyesmeet,butneitherofthemspeaksforamoment
Thenshesays,“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Shedoesn’tthinkhe’sbeenattheofficethislate.
Hedoesn’tanswerher.FinallyLarrysays,“Weneedtotalk.”
Shemakesherwayslowlydownthestairs.
Hesaysabruptly,“Ineedadrink.”Heslouchesovertothebarcartinthelivingroomandpourshimselfastiffshotofbourbon.
“Youmightaswellpourmeone,too,”Beckysays.
Shewalksovertohimandhehandsheraglass.Theyeachtakeasip.Allthethingshemightsayareswirlingaroundinherhead.
ShewondershowLarrymusthavefeltwhenAmandadisappeared—andthenwhenherbodywasdiscovered.WasheworriedthatthepolicewouldfindoutabouthimandAmanda?Thewayshe’dworriedthattheywouldfindoutaboutherandRobert?
Hegivesheraconciliatorylook.“IhadnothingtodowithwhathappenedtoAmanda.Andyouknowit.”
“DoI?”shesays.
Hestaresather,clearlyshocked.“Youcan’thonestlythink—”Hecontinuestostareather,asifunabletofindwords.
“Idon’tknowwhattothink,”shesayscoldly.“AndifIdon’tquitebelieveyou,howdoyouthinkthepolicearegoingtoseeit?”Asshestandstherelookingathim,thismanshe’sbeenmarriedtofortwenty-threeyears,sheallowsherselfforthefirsttimetoactuallyconsiderwhetherLarrymighthavekilledAmandaPierce.Itgivesherachill.
“Youcan’tbeserious!”Thenhelaughs—ashort,tightlaugh.“Oh,Igetit.You’realreadyindivorcenegotiations,isthatit?Youfeelyouhavesomeleverageovermeandyouwanttouseittoyouradvantage.”
Shehadn’treallythoughtofitthatway,butnowthathe’smentionedit,sheseesthepossibilities.Shedoesn’treallybelievethatheharmedAmanda,butitwouldn’thurtforhimtothinkshedoes.Shegaveuphercareer.Shespentherbestyearskeepinghouseandraisingchildrenforthisman,whilehewasoutmakingagoodliving.Sheshouldgetwhat’scomingtoher.Shedoesn’twanttogetshafted.
“Youabsolutebitch,”hesays.
Shejumpsabitathistone.It’ssounlikehim.Thenshesays,inamildvoice,“I’mnotgoingtomakethingsdifficultforyou,Larry,aslongasyouplayfairwithme.”
“Isthatso,”hesays.Hecomescloserandstaresdownather;shecanfeelhisbreathinherface,smelltheliquor.“IhadnothingtodowithAmanda’s…disappearance.”
It’slikehecan’tsayit.Hecan’tsaydeath.Shestandsherground.“Butwereyouseeingher?”Beckyasks.“Tellmethetruth.Itwasn’tjustthatonetimeinyouroffice,wasit?”Sheknowshim.Sheknowshewouldwantmore.Hecanbegreedy.
Heslumpsdownontothesofaandlookswearyallofasudden.Hisshoulderssag.“Yes,”headmits.“Wewereseeingeachother,forafewweeks.ItstartedinJuly.”Hedownstherestofhisdrinkinonelonggulp.
Shefeelsherentirebodygocold.“Where?”
“WewenttoahotelonthehighwayoutsideofAylesford.”
Shestaresathimindisbelief,swellingwithincoherentrage.“Youidiot,”shewhispers.“They’llfindout.”
“No,theywon’t,”hesaysstubbornly,glancingupather,andthenshiftinghiseyesawayagainattheincredulousfuryheseesthere.
“Ofcoursetheywill!They’llgoaroundtoallthehotelsandmotelswithphotosofthetwoofyouandaskthestaff!”Howcanhethinktheywon’tfindout?Shefeelssickwithfearnow,anditmakesherrealizethatshedoescare.Peoplegetarrestedforthingstheydidn’tdoallthetime.Shecaresenoughnottowanttoseeherhusbanddraggedthroughamurderinvestigation.Shecan’tletthathappentoherandthekids.ShewatchedTheStaircaseonNetflix;shesawwhatthatdidtothatfamily.It’snotgoingtohappentohers.Shethinksrapidly.“Maybeyoushouldhavetoldthepolicewhentheywerehere.It’sgoingtobeworsewhentheyfindoutandyoudidn’ttellthem.”
“Iwasafraidtotellthem!Icouldn’tthink.Thishasallbeensuchashock.”Hetakesadeepbreath.“Maybetheywon’tfindout,”hesays.Helooksupather,infectedbyheralarm.“Ihadnothingtodowithwhathappenedtoher.Ididn’tthinkourcasualmeetingsmeantanything.Ithoughtshe’dlefthim.”
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Beckysays,forcingherselftocalmdown.ShecanseethatLarryisstartingtogotopieces;shemustremaincalm.Shehastothink.“Youcouldn’thavedoneit—youhaveasolidalibi.”Shesitsdownonthesofabesidehim.“Youwereatthatconference.”She’dhadabadmomentwhenthedetectiveswerehere,andshe’drealizedthattheconferenceLarryhadattendedwasn’tthatfarfromwhereAmanda’sbodyhadbeendiscovered.Buthe’dtoldthedetectivesthathe’dbeenattheresortfromFridayafternoonon,andithadreassuredher.Therewouldbepeopletherewhocouldconfirmthat,surely.Butnowsheseesaterriblepallorcomeoverhimandfeelsthebottomdropoutofherstomach.“Whatisit,Larry?Whataren’tyoutellingme?”
“Ididn’tkillher,Iswear.”Butthere’spanicinhiseyes.
Sherecoilsalittle.“Larry,you’rescaringme.”
“Hercarwasfoundneartheresort,”hesaysnervously.
Howheavoidsit,shethinks.Hercar,notherbody.Likehecan’tfaceit.Shebrushesthetroublingthoughtaside.“Butitdoesn’tmatter,”sheinsists.“Notifyouwereattheresortthewholetime.”Butnowitcrosseshermind—whatifhesnuckoutforanhourortwo?Whatifhe’darrangedtomeether?Wouldhehavebeenabletokillherthen?Couldhehave?Shefeelsfrightenedattherealizationthatshedoesn’tknow.
“Butwhatifpeopledon’trememberseeingme?”hesays,shiftinghisgazearoundtheroom.Hedoesn’tseemtowanttolookherintheeye.
“Larry,whatareyousaying?”
Hefinallylooksatherinfear,imploringly,asifshecansomehowhelphim.Butshe’safraidshecan’thelphim.
“Larry,”shesaysanxiously,“didyouleavetheresort?”
“No.”
“Sowhat’stheproblem?”
“IcheckedinonFridayandwentuptomyroom.Ididn’tfeellikeseeinganybody.I—I’dhadanargumentwithAmandathedaybefore—shesaidshedidn’twanttoseemeanymore—andIwasupset,andexhausted.SoIstayedinmyroomanddidsomeworkandthen—Ifellasleep.Ididn’twakeuptillalmostnine.Imissedmostoftheopeningreception.”
Shelooksathimindisbeliefandrage.Longsecondstickby,theroomutterlystillbutforthepoundingofherheart.Thenshesays,“Areyoutellingmethetruth?”
“Yes,Iswear.”
“EvenI’mhavingahardtimebelievingthat,”shesays.Sherealizeshehasnoalibiatall.“WheredidyouhavetheargumentwithAmanda?”sheasks,thegorgerisinginherthroat.“Didanyonesee?”
“Itwasoverthephone.”
“Whatphone?”
Helooksawayfurtively.“Weusedburnerphones.”
Shecan’tbelieveit—herhusband,thefatherofherchildren,withaburnerphone.Sheasksfuriously,“Whathappenedtothephone?”
“Ithrewitfromthebridgeintotheriver.”
“Whichbridge?When?Fuck!Theymighthavecameras,youknow.”
Helooksupather,ghastlypalenow.“TheSkyway.OnSunday,onmywayhomefromtheresort.She’dbrokenitoff—IfiguredIdidn’tneedthephoneanymore.”
“Youstupidsonofabitch,”shehisses,andwalksaway.
TWENTY-ONE
RobertPiercesitsaloneinhisdarkenedlivingroom,sippingslowlyfromaglassofwhiskey.He’sthinkingaboutDetectiveWebb—andhissidekick,DetectiveMoen—andwhattheymightthink.Whattheymighthave.Theycan’thaveanythingonhim.They’refishing.
Theywillcertainlybelookingathisnext-doorneighbor,LarryHarris,whowassleepingwithAmanda.Robertdoesn’tunderstandwhatAmandasawinhim,butshe’dalwaysbeenattractedtooldermen.Oh,heknew.He’snotstupid.He’dknownaboutLarryforsometime.
ThenhegotintoAmanda’ssecretphone.Itwasn’tthathard—hejustGoogledhowtounlockAndroidlockscreenwithoutpassword.Andoncehedid,howenlighteningitturnedouttobe.Hercalls,hertexts,thosetwosecretnumbers.Hecalledoneofthemandamananswered.Assoonasheheardtheman’svoice,herecognizedit.Becauseafterall,itwaswhohewasexpectingittobe.“Larry,”Robertsaid.
“Whoisthis?”Larryasked,clearlystartled.
“It’sherhusband,Robert.”
Larryhadhungupthephoneinahurry.
Therewasn’tanyanswerattheothernumber.Itwasthisothernumberthatconcernedhimmore.Thenumberthatshesentthosetextsto,theonessharingintimate,privatedetailsoftheirlifetogether,theonessayingthatherhusbandwasapsychopath.Thosetextsenragedhim.Shemusthavebeenabletowarnhimthatherhusbandhadherphone.
Andtherewereotherthingsonthatphone,too,thatshehadn’tsenttoanyone,thatmadehimangriestofall.Andevenafraid.
HethinksaboutBecky.BynowshemustknowaboutLarryandAmanda,ifthosedetectivesareanygoodatall.HesuspectsthatBecky’shalfinlovewithhim.Hehopesshekeepshermouthshut.Itwouldn’tdoforthepolicetothinkhehadamotivetokillhiswife.IfLarryHarristellsthemaboutthatphonecall,Robertwillsimplydenyit.There’snoproof.NoproofatallthatRobertevermadethatphonecall.
NoproofthatRobertknewaboutheraffair.Heraffairs.AslongasAmanda’sburnerphoneisneverfound.Itmustneverbefound.
Hethinksbacktowhentheyfirstmovedhere.ThatinsufferablepartythatAmandainsistedongoingto.Sittingtherewatchingher,solovely,sounwittinglycruel.Hewondersnowifshe’dmadeherselectionsthatday,whichonesshewasgoingtoscrew.They’donlybeenmarriedayear.Howlittleheknewherthen,herproclivities—herchildish,inexplicableneedtoseduceoldermen.Andhowlittlesheknewhimthen—thedark,coldcenterofhissoul.Butthey’dgottentoknoweachotherbetter.
HeknowsthatBeckyandLarryarebothhome.Therearelightsondownstairsnextdoor,eventhoughit’sverylate.Howhe’dlovetobeaflyonthatwall.
—
Raleighwaitsuntileveryoneinthehouseisasleep.Hepullsonhisjeans,aT-shirt,andhisdarkhoodie,andcarefullyopenshisbedroomdoor.Heknowshisdad’saheavysleeper;it’shismotherhe’sworriedabout.Buthestandsstilloutsidehisbedroominthehallandhecanheareachofthemsnoringtheirseparate,distinctsnores.Relieved,hecreepsdownthestairs,carefulnottomakeasound.
Hepullsonhissneakersinthekitchen.Hedoesn’tturnonanylights.He’susedtooperatinginthedark.Quietly,heslipsoutthekitchendoortothegarage,wherehekeepshisbike.Heputsonhishelmet,flingshislegoverthebike,andassoonasheleavesthegarage,startspedaling,fast,awayfromthehouse.
Heknowsit’sbad,hackingintopeople’scomputers.Hestartedhackingforthechallenge.Howcanheexplainthattosomeonewhodoesn’tfeelit?Hisparentswouldn’tgetit,butanyfellowhackerwouldknowexactlywhyhedoesit.Itfeelsgreat—hackingintosomeoneelse’ssystemmakeshimfeelpowerful,likehehascontroloversomething.Hedoesn’tfeellikehehasmuchcontroloverhisownlife.Hepromisedhisparents—andhimself—thathewouldstop.Andhewill.Therisksaretoogreat.Thisishislasttime.Hewouldn’tbedoingitatallifhedidn’tknowforsurethattheownerswereaway.Andthistime,he’sgotapairoflatexglovesstuffedinhisjeanspocket—hetookthemfromthepackagehismomkeepsinhercupboardofcleaningsupplies.He’snotgoingtotakeanystupidrisks,andhe’snotgoingtoleaveanyprintsbehind.
Raleighstudiesthehouse.It’sadarknight,andthemooniscoveredbycloud.Thelightisonatthefrontofthehouse,andthere’salightonupstairs—probablyontimers.Heknowsthisbecausetheyhaveacat.Andthelocalpetsitter,whohasasignonhercar,hasbeenstoppingbyandgoingintothishouseforthelastfewdays.Raleigh’sseenhereverymorningonhiswaytoschool.Howstupidcanpeoplebe?Hiringapetsitterwithasignonherfriggin’car?It’slikeadvertisingthatyou’reoutoftown,forfuck’ssake.
He’dtriedtotalkhimselfoutofit.Buthejustcouldn’tresist.Hewantstobreakintoahousewherehedoesn’thavetoworryabouttheownerscominghomeafteradinnerout.Hewantstorelaxandtakehistime—digalittledeeper,tryacoupleofdifferentthingsbeforeheretires.
Raleighcreepsaroundthebackofthehouse.Nooneiswatching.Hestudiesthedoorsandwindowscarefully.Noobvioussignofsecurity.Butthedoorsandwindowsaresecurelylocked.He’sbeenwatchingvideosonYouTube,justincase.It’snotashardtobreakintoahouseasatypicalhomeownermightthink.Hereachesintohisjeanspocketandpullsouthisbankmachinecard.Heslidesitalongtheedgeofthedoorwherethelockisandstartstofiddlewiththecatch.TheguysonYouTubedothisinacoupleofseconds,butittakesRaleighalmostafullminutebeforethecatchgiveswaywithasatisfyingclick.Andjustintime—he’ssweatingbuckets,afraidsomeonemightseehim.
Heslipsinsidethedoorandclosesitquietlybehindhim,hisheartthumping.Heputshiscardbackintohispocketandtakesouthisphone.Heturnstheflashlighton.Thedooropensdirectlyintothekitchen.Hekickssomething—adish—andsendsitclatteringacrossthefloor.Shit.Hepointsthelightdown.There’skibbleeverywhere.Hesquatsdown,sweepsitintoapile,andpicksitupwithhisglovedhands.Nowthere’sablack-and-whitecatbrushingagainsthisshins.Hestopstopatitforaminute.
Hedoesn’twastetimedownstairs.Thecomputersarealmostalwaysupstairs,inthebedroomsortheoffice.
Thehouseisobviouslyoccupiedbyacouplewithababy—there’samasterbedroom,ababy’sroom,andanofficeattheback.Heslipsintotheofficeattheendofthehallandsetsaboutgettingintothecomputer.WithaUSBbootstickandafewkeystrokeshe’screatedabackdoorandbypassedthepasswords.Afterhehasaquicklookaround,he’sgoingtotrysomethingnew—he’sgoingtousethiscompromisedcomputertotrytogetintoitsowner’semployer’snetwork,ifhe’semployedanywherehalfwayinteresting.Raleigh’sfeelingrelaxed—thecomputerisatthebackofthehouse,theblindsaredrawn,nobodycanseein—hecanstayhereallnightifhewantsto.He’sengrossedinwhathe’sdoingwhenhehearsasound.Cardoorsslamming.Hefreezes.Hehearsvoicesoutside.Fuck.Theycan’tbehome.Raleighpanics.Helooksoutthewindow.There’snowayoutthere.Norooftoclimboutonto.He’snotjumpingoutasecond-storywindow.
Whilehedithers,thevoicesgetlouder.Nowhehearsakeyinthefrontdoor.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.He’supoutofthechairnowandstandingfrozeninfearnearthetopofthestairs.Canhegetdownthestairsandoutthebackdoorfastenough?Butthefrontdoorisopeningnow,andaswitchisflickedon,floodingthefronthallwaywithlight.He’ssoscrewed.There’snowayout.
Heseesthecatenterthehall,brushagainstthelegofthehalltable,andmewatherowners,buthecan’tseethem.
“YoutakethebabyupandputherdownandI’llbringinthegear,”hehearsaman’svoicesay.Theystillhavenoideathatthere’sastrangerupstairsintheirhouse.
Raleighducksbackintotheofficeattheendofthehall,barelydaringtobreathe.Thecomputerisstillon,butitfacesawayfromthedoorandit’snotmakingasound.Theroomisdark.Maybetheywon’tnotice.Maybehecanhideinhereuntiltheygotobed.Hefeelsabeadofsweattrickledownhisback.Hehearsawomancomeheavilyupthestairs,cooingtothebaby.Raleighwillsittostartcrying,butthebabystaysquiet.Thefloorboardscreakasthewomanentersthebaby’sroominthemiddleofthehall.Thehusbandisstilloutsidewiththecar.Raleighhearsthetrunkslam.Doesherunforitnow?Orwait?It’sthelongestcoupleofsecondsofRaleigh’slife.
Hepanics.Hefleesdownthestairsasfastashecan,notevenbotheringtobequiet.Hemakesittothebottomofthestairsbeforethemanisatthefrontdoor.Hehearsthewoman’sstartledcrybehindhim.He’shalfwaytothekitchenbeforethefrontdooropens.Hescramblesforthedoorinthekitchen,makinghiswayinthedark,andkicksthecatdishagain,sendingitscattering.Hehearsthemanbehindhiminthefronthall—“Whatthefuck?”—andhearshimabruptlydropwhateverhe’scarryingandcomeafterhim.Raleighdoesn’tlookback.
He’soutthedoorandrunningasfastashecan.Herunsrightacrossthebackyard,hopsthefencewithouteventhinkingaboutit,boostedonadrenaline.Hedoesn’tstopuntilhe’sfarawayandhislungsarebursting.
Hehidesbehindabushinaparkuntilhisheartstopspoundingandhegetshisbreathback.Hestillhastogobackandretrievehisbikebeforehegoeshome—atleasthe’dhadthesensenottoleaveitnearthehouse.There’snowaytheywon’tcallthepolice.They’llseethatthecomputerison,andseewhathe’sdone.
—
Carminecan’tsleep.She’striedreadingbutnothingholdsherinterest.It’shumancompanyshewants.Shemissesherhusband.Heusedtoreadinbedbesideher;nowhe’sgone.
She’sdownstairsinthekitchenmakingsomehotchocolatewhenshehearssomethingoutside,inthestreet.Shouting.Shefreezes,listening.Shehearsbanging,moreshouting.Shemovesquicklytothefrontdoorbutdoesn’tturnonthelight.Whenshelooksout,sheseesalean,darkfigure,weavingonthesidewalkattheendofherdriveway.Heappearstobealone.He’sgotsomethinginhishand,astickofsomekind.Shecreepsforward,andasshegetsclosersheseesthatit’sjustaboy.Ateenager,probablydrunk,onaFridaynight.He’sstandingstillnow,swaying,asifhecan’trememberwhathewasdoing,andhe’sgotwhatlookslikeabrokenhockeystickinhishand.Shethinkshe’sbeensmashingherrecyclingbin.
“Hey!”Carminesays,stridingdownthedrivewaytowardhiminherpinkbathrobe.Theboylooksbackather,asifdumbfoundedatthesightofher.“Whatareyoudoing?”shesayscrossly.She’snotafraidofhim,he’sjustaboy.She’sonlyafewfeetawayfromhimnowandcanseehimclearly.Shecanalsosmelltheboozeonhim.Somethingabouthimremindsherofherownson,Luke.Heseemstobetryingtofocus,buthisfaceisslack.Hedoesn’tsayanything,buthedoesn’truneither.Probablybecauseifhetriedtohe’dfallflatonhisface
“You’renotoldenoughtodrink,areyou,”shesays,themotherinherspeaking.
Hewavesherawaylikehe’sswattingaflyandstumblesondownthestreet,dragginghisbrokenhockeystick.
Concerned,shewatcheshimstumbledownthesidewalk,untilheturnsintoahousefartherdownthestreet.Sheseeslightsgooninthehouse.Atleasthemadeithome,shethinks.Hisownparentscandealwithhim.
—
Thenextmorning,Saturday,GlendacallsOliviaandinviteshertogoforawalk.Shewantstoknowwhathappenedlastnight,whenOliviaconfrontedPaul.
Glendaputsonajacketandherwalkingshoes.It’sacold,crispday,butatleastthesunisshiningagainafteryesterday’sdrearyrain.Sheclosesthedoorbehindher,andbeginstowalktowardOlivia’shouse.Hermindisfull.Ifonlyshecouldsolveeverybody’sproblems.Ifonlyallthis—stress—wouldgoaway.
Lastnighttheirson,Adam,hadcomehomedrunk,again.They’dgivenhimacurfew,buthe’dignoredit.They’dgroundedhim,andhe’dsnuckoutofthehouse.Now,theydon’tknowwhattodo.
“Maybewejustlethimsowhiswildoats,”Keithhadsaidthismorning.“Whenhe’stiredofbarfinginthemorning,he’llstraightenout.”
She’dglaredathimangrily,withherarmsfoldedacrossherchest.Hehadn’tstayedawakeallnightkeepinganeyeontheirsontomakesurehedidn’tchoketodeath.Keithsleptjustfine.Nothingseemstobotherhim;it’slikehe’scoatedwithTeflon.
Sometimesshewishesshecouldmakeherhusbandunderstandallthethingsshedoes,allthethingsshe’sdonefortheirfamily.Hedoesn’tappreciateherenough.Heneverwill.He’soblivious.
Andshe’dhadtocleanupthemessinthebathroom.
“Makehimdoit,”Keithhadsaidunhelpfully,pouringhimselfacupofcoffee.
She’dglancedinatAdammoaninginbed,realizedthatwasn’tgoingtohappen,anddiditherself.Nowallshewantsistogetoutofthehouse,awayfromherhusbandandhersonandthesmellofbarfandtalktosomeonereasonable.Someonewhounderstands.
SheseesOliviaapproachingheronthesidewalkandwaves.Soontheyareface-to-face,andfallintosteptogether.“Let’sheadforthepark,”Glendasuggests.Ontheway,shetellsOliviaaboutthelatestproblemwithAdam.Astheywalktogetheralongtheedgeofthepond,Glendasays,“Sorrytovent.So,whathappenedlastnight?DidyoutalktoPaul?”SheturnstolookatOliviaandnoticesthatsheseemsmuchlesstensethanshehadthedaybefore.
Olivianods.“Idid.”Sheletsoutabigexhaleandstops,lookingoutoverthewatertowardthetreesbeyond.“Hewasn’tseeingAmanda.HecaughthergivingLarryablowjobintheofficeandwarnedheroffsothatLarrywouldn’tlosehisjob.”
“Wow,”Glendasays.
Oliviaturnstoherandlaughssuddenly.“It’scrazy,isn’tit?”
Glendashakesherhead.“Thethingspeopledo.”
“Idon’tthinkPaulandIhaveanythingtoworryabout.ButBecky—Iwouldn’twanttobeinhershoes.”Olivia’sexpressionsobers.“IfanyonewashavinganaffairwithAmanda,it’smostlikelytobeLarry,don’tyouthink?”
Glendafeelsherselfrelaxing.Thewalkoutside,airingherowncomplaints,andhearingOlivia’snewshavealldoneGlendagood.Shedoesn’tknowwhatshe’ddoifshedidn’thaveOliviatotalkto.Glendasays,“Idon’timaginethatmarriageisgoingtolastmuchlonger.”Theystandsidebyside,watchingtheswans.FinallyGlendaasks,hervoicehesitant,“DoyouthinkLarrycouldhavekilledAmanda?”
“No,”Oliviasays,shakingherhead.“Noway.Pauldoesn’tthinksoeither.Mymoney’sonRobertPierce.”
TWENTY-TWO
OlivialeavesGlendaatthecornerandheadsbackhome,headlowered.Glendaseemsverydistressedlately.She’sobviouslyworriedsickaboutAdam.OliviaknowsKeithisn’taveryproactiveparent,orevenaparticularlysupportiveone.HeseemstobeleavingalltheparentingtoGlenda,andit’saheavyweighttobear.OliviaisgratefulthatPaulisn’tlikethat.Theymakedecisionstogetherandtheyusuallyseethingsthesameway—exceptforsendingRaleighfortherapy,ofcourse.Andtheapologyletters.
Assheapproachesherownhouse,sheseesasedanparkedoutinfront.Hereyesgotoherfrontdoorandsheseestwopeoplestandingthere,theirbackstothestreet.Herheartbeginstobeatfaster.
ShehurriesupthedrivewayasPaulopensthedoor.Sheseesthestartledlookonhisface.Thenhiseyesmeethers,anditseemstogroundhim.
Themanonthefrontstepturnsaroundandseesher.“Goodmorning,”hesays,assheapproaches.Heshowsherhisbadge.“I’mDetectiveWebb,thisisDetectiveMoen.SorrytobotheryouonSaturday,butmaywecomein?Wewon’tbelong.”
Olivianods.“I’mOlivia,”shesays.
“Comein,”Paulsays,andpullsthedooropenwide.
“Iwasjustoutforawalk,”Oliviasays,takingtheircoats.“CanIgetyouanything?Coffee?”
“No,thankyou,”Webbsays,followingherhusbandintothelivingroom,Moenbehindhim.
DetectiveMoensmilesbackather.Shehasakindface,Oliviathinks.She’smorelikablethanherpartner,whoseemsratherabrupt.Maybethat’swhytheyworktogether,Oliviathinks.SheandPaulsitsidebysideratherstifflyonthesofa.
DetectiveWebbturnstoher.“Asyouprobablyknow,”hesays,glancingatherhusband,“we’reinvestigatingthemurderofAmandaPierce.”
Oliviatellsherselftorelax.Theyhavenothingtohide.It’sgoodthatthedetectivesarehere—theycanimmediatelyclarifywherePaulwasonthatFridaynight.
“Yes,Iknow,”Oliviasays.
“We’vealreadyspokentoyourhusbandandhe’sbeenverycooperative,”thedetectivesays.
Olivianods.Shestillfeelsslightlynervous,butwhowouldn’tbenervoushavingpolicedetectivesintheirlivingroom?
“IunderstandthathewashomewithyoutheeveningofFriday,Septembertwenty-ninth?”Webbsays.
PaulfacesDetectiveWebb.“Actually,Iwasmistakenbefore.Icompletelyforgot.Ihaveanelderlyaunt—myauntMargaret,wholivesaloneandgetsquitelonely.Shecallsmealot,askingmetovisit.Shecalledmethatday,particularlyagitated,andaskedmetocomeseeher,andIdid.Iwentrightafterwork.IcalledOliviafirst,totellher.”Heglancesather.
Olivianods.“That’sright,”shesays.
WebbstudiesherforamomentandthenturnsbacktoPaul.“Wheredoesyourauntlive?”heasks.
OliviaseesMoenpullouthernotebook,flipoverapage.
“She’sinBerwick.”
“Isee,”Webbsays.
Oliviafeelsuneasy.Sheknowswhatthecopisthinking.ThesmalltownwherePaul’sauntlivesisinthedirectionofCanning,outwhereAmanda’sbodywasfound.ButPauldidn’thaveanythingtodowithAmanda.Whathesaysistrue—quiteoftenMargaretcallsandbegshimtovisit.It’sapain,really.Mostlyhedoesn’t,butsometimeshe’llmakethetrekoutthere.He’snotespeciallyclosetoher,butthere’snootherfamilytovisitherandhefeelsguilty.SheremembersthatFriday.HetoldherthatMargaretwasbeingverydemanding,thathehadn’tbeentoseeherinalongtime,andthathefelthecouldn’tsayno.
Thedetectivesays,“Yousayshelivesalone?”
“That’sright,”Paulanswers.“She’sonalistforassistedliving,buthernamehasn’tcomeupyet.Sofornow,shehaspeoplecomeinandhelpher.”
“WasthereanyonetherewithherwhenyouvisitedherthatFridayevening?”Webbasks.“Anyonewhocanvouchforyou?”
“Well,no.Itwasevening.They’dgonehome.”
“Butifwemakeavisittoyouraunt,she’llconfirmthatyouweretherethatnight?”
NowPaullooksuncomfortable.Heshiftsalittleinhischair.“Well,Idon’tknow,”hesays.“Yousee,hermemoryisgoing.She’sgotquitebaddementia,too—soshe’sliabletogetabitmixedup.Shewon’trememberavisitfromthreeweeksago.”
“Isee.”
“Whatnumberdidshecallyouat?”DetectiveMoenasks.
“Shecalledmycell,whileIwasatwork,”Paulsays.“Shecallsmequitealot,actually.Prettymucheveryday.”
“Soifweweretocheckyourcellphonerecords,itwouldshowthatshe’dcalledyouthatday?”Moenasks.
Paulnodsemphatically.“Yes,ofcourse.”
“Andifweweretocheckyourwhereaboutsbythelocationofyourcellphonethatnight,itwouldshowyouwereatyouraunt’s,”Webbsays.
NowPaullookslesssureofhimself.Heopenshismouthtospeakbutsaysnothing.
“Isthereaproblem?”Webbasks.
Oliviawatchesallthisunfoldinfrontofher,herheartpickingupspeed.
“I—Idon’tknow,”Paulsays.“Ihadmycellphonewithme,butitwasverylowonbatteryandIdidn’thaveachargerwithme,soIjustturneditoff.”
“Isee,”Webbsays.
PaulglancesnervouslyatOlivia.Itdoesn’tlooklikethedetectivebelieveshim.
“Whattimedidyougethome,Mr.Sharpe?”Webbasks.
“I’mnotsure,”Paulsays,lookingatOlivia.“Aroundeleven?”
Oliviashrugs.“Ihonestlydon’tremember.Iwenttobedearly—Iwasalreadyasleepwhenyoucamein.”ShesuddenlyrealizesthatPaulwon’tactuallybeabletoprovewherehewasthatnight.Shestudiesthedetectives,butshecan’ttellwhatthey’rethinking.Shetellsherselfshehasnoreasontobeworried.Butshedoesn’tlikethewaytheyarelookingatherhusband.Shefeelsabitnauseated.
Shewonders,sickeningly,ifhe’sgotanythingtohide.
“Andtherestoftheweekend?”Webbasks,lookingatOlivia.
“Hewashome,withme.Definitely.”
“CouldIhaveyouraunt’saddress?”thedetectiveasksPaul.
—
RobertPierceisathomeSaturdaymorning,enjoyingacupofcoffee,whenhehearshisdoorbellring.Hegoesstill.Hedecidesnottoanswerit;maybewhoeveritiswillgoaway.
Butthedoorbellringsagain,insistently.Hethumpshiscoffeedown,annoyed,andwalkstothefrontdoor.Hedoesn’twanttotalktoanyone.
Heopensthedoorandseesapleasant-lookingolderwomansmilingathim.“Whatdoyouwant?”hesayscurtly.
“I’msorrytobotheryou,”thewomansays.Helooksbackcoldlyather—doesshehonestlynotknowthathiswifehasbeenmurdered?—butsheblithelycarrieson.“Myname’sCarmine.I’maneighborofyours.IliveatThirty-twoFinch,onestreetover.”Shepointsoverhershoulder.
Hebeginstoclosethedoor.
“Iwasbrokenintorecently,”shesayshastily,“andI’mtryingtofindoutifanyoneelsewasaswell.”
Hestops.Herememberstheletter,theunexplainedfingerprintsinhishouse.HethinksaboutAmanda’sphone,howhe’dfounditontopoftheenvelopesinhisdrawerwhenhewassosurehe’dputitbeneaththem.Hewantstohearwhatthiswomanhastosay,buthedoesn’twanttoletherknowthathewasbrokeninto,too.Hehasalreadydestroyedtheletter.Whatifthepolicefindout?Whatiftheyfindoutwhoitwas,andaskhimwhathesawinRobert’shouse?Heshakeshishead,frowns.“No.Nobodybrokeinhere,”helies.
“Well,that’sgood,Iguess,”shesays.Shesighsratherdramatically.“Somebodybrokeintomyhouse,andI’mgoingtofindoutwho.”Sheholdsupapieceofpaper.“Igotthisletter.”
“MayI?”heasks.
Shehandsittohim.Hequicklyrealizesit’sexactlythesameastheletterhereceived.“Whendidyougetthis?”heasks.
“IfounditlastMondaymorning.Itwaspushedinmydoorslot.”
Helooksupandhandsitbacktoher.“Howunusual,”hesays.Hecan’tthinkofanythingelsetosay.
Shesnorts.“Youcouldsaythat.Idon’tknowhowunusualitisforkidstobreakintohouses,butit’sprettyunusualforthemomtowriteananonymousapologyletter.”Sheadds,“Ican’tfindanyoneelsewhogottheletter.Butitclearlysaystherewereothers.AndIbetthiskidhasbrokenintomorehomesthanjusttheoneshismotherknowsabout.”Shesighsagain,heavily.“IsupposeIshouldjustletitgo.Nothingwastakenandthekid’sparentshaveobviouslydealtwithit.”
“Justsomedumbteenager,”Robertsays,carefulnottoshowhowuneasyhefeels.
Sheleansinconspiratoriallyandsays,“Actually…I’mprettysureI’vefiguredoutwhoitis.AndfromwhatIhear,he’sgotsomeprettygoodtechskills.”
“Really?Who?”Robertaskscasually.Buthe’sthinking,Whatifthekidlookedinsidethephone?
“IfIfindoutforcertain,I’llletyouknow.Hesnoopsintomylife,I’mgoingtosnoopintohis.AndthenI’mgoingtotellhimwhatIthinkofhim.”
Robertnods.“Haveyougonetothepolice?”
“No,notyet.Idoubtthey’dtakeitseriously.”
“Probablynot,”Robertagrees.
“Well,keepyourdoorsandwindowslocked,”shesays,turningaway.
Robertclosesthedoorandbeginstopacethelivingroom.Fuck.Thisfuckingteenager.WhatifthekidlookedinAmanda’sphone,andsawwhatwasonit?HewritesdownCarmine’snameandaddressbeforeheforgetsthem.Andifhethinksheneedstodosomethingaboutthiskid,hewill.
—
Raleighlooksoninsurpriseatthesceneinfrontofhim.He’sneverseenthesetwoofficial-lookingpeoplesittinginhislivingroombefore.Whataretheydoinghere?Adrenalineshootsthroughhisbody.Thismustbeabouthim—aboutlastnight.
“Raleigh!”hismomsays,obviouslystartled.“Whatareyoudoingup?”
He’dgottenupearlyonpurpose—it’snotevennoon—allpartoftryingtogetbackonhergoodsidesohecangethisphoneback.Butrightnow,shedoesn’tseemveryhappyaboutit.
“We’refinishedhereanyway,”theunfamiliarmansays,flashingadismissiveglanceatRaleigh.
Nothingtodowithhim,then.ThereliefalmostmakesRaleigh’skneesbuckle.
Raleighrealizeshe’sinhispajamas,andeverybodyelseintheroomisfullydressed.Well,hedidn’tknowanybodywashere.Heslinksbackintothekitchen,relievedandembarrassed,whilehisparentsshowthevisitorstothedoor,somehowawarethathe’sstumbledintosomethingthathe’snotreallysupposedtoknowabout.Hepourshimselfabowlofcerealandwaits.
Hehearsthefrontdoorclose.Hismomanddaddon’tcomeintothekitchenimmediately.They’reobviouslydiscussingwhattosaytohim.Finallytheyjoinhim,andhismombusiesherselftidyingup.There’sanuncomfortablesilence;nobodysaysanythingforaminuteandRaleighwondersifthey’rejustgoingtosaynothingatall.Screwthat.“Whatwasthatallabout?”heasks.
Hismomlooksanxiouslyathim,andflashesaglanceathisdad.
“It’scomplicated,”hisfathersayswithasigh,sittingdownatthekitchentable.
Raleighwaits,hisbodytense.Awaveofanxietycomesoverhim.
Hisdadsays,“ThosewerethepolicedetectivesinvestigatingthemurderofAmandaPierce,thewomandownthestreet.”Hestopsthere,asifhedoesn’tknowwhatonearthtosaynext.
Raleighcanfeelhisheartthumping.Helooksathisfather,thenathismother.She’ssilent,wary.Heturnshisattentionbacktohisdad.He’sneverseenhimatalossforwordsbefore.“Whyweretheytalkingtoyou?”Raleighasks.He’snotstupid.Hewantstoknowwhat’sgoingon.
“It’sjustroutine,”hisdadsays.“They’retalkingtolotsofpeoplewhoknewAmandaPierce.”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tknowher,”Raleighsays.
“Ididn’t,notreally.Shewasatempattheofficesometimes,soIknewher,butnotverywell.Sheneverworkedinmydepartment.”
Raleighlooksatbothofhisparents;hesensesthere’smorethey’renottellinghim.
“Look,Raleigh,there’ssomethingyoushouldknow,”hisdadsayscarefully.
Suddenlyhedoesn’twanttohearit.Hewantstobeachildagainandrunfromtheroomwithhishandsoverhisearsandrefusetolistentowhathisdadhastosay.Buthecan’t.He’snotalittlekidanymore.Hisfathergiveshimaman-to-manlookacrossthekitchentableandsays,“IsawAmandacarryingonwithsomeoneattheoffice.Itwasimproper.Iwarnedbothofthemtostopit.SomeoneelsesawmearguingwithAmandaaboutitandputtwoandtwotogetherandgotfive.I’vetoldthedetectivesthetruth.Iwasn’tinvolvedwithherinanyway.Weweren’thavinga—relationship.Idon’tknowwhokilledher.Wecanleavethatuptothepolicetofigureout.Okay?”Headds,“There’snothingtoworryabout.”
Raleighstaresathisdad,disturbedbywhathe’sjustheard.He’sprettysurehisdad’stellingthetruth.Hecan’tthinkofasingletimehisdadhaseverliedtohimbefore.Hesneaksaglanceathismom,butshe’swatchinghisfather,andthere’sanxietywrittenalloverherface.Shedoesn’tlooklikeshethinksthere’snothingtoworryabout.Hewondersifhecantrusthisdad.
Raleighnods,frowns.“Okay.”
Hismomsays,lookingdirectlyathim,“Idon’tthinkthisissomethinganyoneelseneedstoknow.”
Raleighnodsandsayshotly,“I’mnotgoingtosayanything.”Thenheretreatsbackupstairstohisroom.
—
Afterdrivinginsilenceforawhile,WebbturnstoMoenandsays,“Heturnedhisphoneoff.”
Moennods.“Right.”
Webbsays,“We’llgethisphonerecords,butIbetwe’llfindacallfromhisauntthatday—ifshecallshimeverydayanyway.Shelivesoutthatway.Shelivesaloneandhasabadmemory,she’sconfused.Whatifhewasrelyingonallofthat,forhiswifeatleast,andwentoutthatnightandmet—andkilled—Amanda?Wecan’ttracewherehewasifhisphonewasturnedoff.”
“It’spossible,”Moenagrees.“Butwehaven’tactuallyestablishedthathewasseeingher.”
“Butit’spossible.BeckyHarristhoughthewasseeingher.”
Moennodsandsays,“Hiswifelookedworried.Whatisshesoworriedaboutifhejustwenttovisithisaunt?”
“Weshouldgethimdowntothestation,”Webbsays.“Seeifwecangetanythingelseoutofhim.”
TWENTY-THREE
Whenthedetectivesreturntothestation,there’snews.
“We’vegotsomething,”ayoungofficersays,approachingthem.He’soneoftheuniformedcopssentouttocanvassthecityanditssurroundingarea.“WefoundahotelwhereoneoftheclerksrecognizedAmanda’spicture.Shecamethereoccasionallywiththesameman.Andthenwelookedatthesecuritycamerafootage.”
“And?”Webbasks,feelinganuptickofexcitement.
“Youhavetoseethis,”theofficersays,andleadsthemtoacomputer.
Theylookdownatthescreen.
Thequalityisquitegood.WebbseesAmandafirst,flickingherhairoverhershoulder.Thenthemanwithhercomesintotheframe.Heretrieveshiscreditcardatthedeskandthenturns,hisfacecaughtsquarelybythecamera.LarryHarris.
“Well,well,”Webbsays.HeglancesatMoen.“Seehowthey’recomingalongwiththesecuritycamerasattheresort—weneedtoknowifLarryHarris’scareverleft.”
—
Raleighisnolongergrounded.Hismomcouldn’tstandhimmopingaroundthehousewithouthisphoneandtheinternettokeephimbusy,soatleasthe’sallowedtoleavethehouseagain,notjustforschoolandpractice.Heheadsoutonhisbike,cyclingaroundtheneighborhood,tryingtoworkoffsomeofhisstress.Withouttheinternet,there’snotmuchtodoathome.Andhehadtoescapethetensioninthehouse.Hecyclesdowntheresidentialstreets,pastsomeofthehouseshe’ssnuckinto.
Healmostgotcaughtlastnight.That’sit—hehastostop.Itisn’tworththeriskanymore.Breakingandentering.Messingwithpeople’scomputers.Eventhoughhe’snotactuallystealinganyone’saccountinfo,ordistributingmalwareorpornoranything—he’snottampering—whathe’sdoingisstillacrime.Thecopswon’tcarethathe’sjustdoingthisstuffforfun.
HeridesslowlypastthePierceplace,glancingatitashegoesby.Heremembersbeinginsidethathouse,howcleanitwas,howorderly.Maybebecausetherewereobviouslynokidslivingthere.Whilehewasonthecomputer,he’dglancedthroughthedeskdrawersandfoundacellphoneatthebottomofoneofthem.Itlookedlikeacheap,pay-as-you-gophone.Maybeitwasanoldone,oraspare.He’dturnediton—ithadacharge—butitdidn’treallyinteresthim,soheturnedifoffagainandtosseditbackinthedrawerandsoonleft.
Later,whenhe’dlearnedthatthewomaninthathousehadbeenmurdered,itgavehimachill.Thepolicemusthavefoundthephonewhentheysearchedthehouse.Hisoneworrynowisthathisfingerprintsarealloverthatphone,andinthathouse.Hepicksupspeed,thinkinguneasilyaboutthewoman,Carmine,andtheletters.
Raleigh’sstartingtounderstandthateveryonehassecrets—he’sseenwhatsomepeoplekeepontheircomputers;nothingreallysurpriseshimanymore.Raleighhassecrets,andhisparentsobviouslyhavetheirs,too.Perhapsheshouldbesnoopinginhisownhouse.
—
It’sSaturdayafternoonandthetensioninthehouseisdrivingOliviamad.Paulisupstairsintheoffice.Raleighhasgoneofftohisroom.OliviatriestotalkherselfoutofgoingovertoconfrontBecky.She’sworriedaboutwhatexactlyBeckymighthavesaidtothedetectivesaboutPaul.DoessheknowmorethansheadmittedtoOlivia?Didshemakethingsuptotaketheattentionoffherownhusband?HasBeckybeencompletelyhonestwithher?Intheend,shecan’tstopherself.Shegrabsajacketandleavesthehousewithouttellinganyonewhereshe’sgoing.
Onthewalkover,shehasacrisisofconfidenceandhalfhopesthatBeckyisnotin.ButOliviakeepsgoing,eventhoughitmakeshersickthatshe’sleftherownhouseandisgoingtoseeBeckytotrytofindoutinformationaboutherownhusband.Shefeelslatelythateverythingshetookforgranted—hergoodson,herfaithfulhusband—hastobereevaluated.
AsshewalkspastthePierceresidence,shestareshardatthehouse.Theblindsarealldrawn,givingthehousethelookofablankstare.ShewondersifRobertPierceisinthere,behindtheblinds.Suddenlyshehateshim,andAmanda,too,forcomingintotheirquietneighborhoodandrockingittothefoundations.Heprobablykilledhiswife,shethinksbitterly,andtheyareallsufferingforit.
AsshewalksupthedrivewayandtothefrontdooroftheHarris’splace—acutehousewithdormerwindows—shehasabadmomentwhensherealizesthatLarrymightbehome.Hewon’tbeattheofficeontheweekend.Shedoesn’twanttoseehim.
Sheringsthedoorbellandwaitsnervously.Finallyshehearsfootstepsandthedooropens.It’sBecky.She’sobviouslynotexpectingvisitors;she’swearingyogapantsandalongT-shirtthatlookslikeshemighthavesleptin.
“Hey,”Oliviasays.Beckydoesn’tsayanything.“CanIcomein?”
Beckyseemstobeconsideringit,thenpullsthedoorwide.Oliviaentersthehouse,hernervesflaring.“IsLarryhere?”sheasks.
“Didyouwanttotalktohim?”Beckyasksinsurprise.
“No,”Oliviasays.“Ijustwanttoknowifwe’realone.”
“He’snothere.”
Olivianods,sitsdownatthekitchentable.Beckydoesn’toffertomakecoffee.Shejuststandsthere,herarmsfoldedinfrontofher.
“Weneedtotalk,”Oliviabegins.Beckyjuststaresatherandwaits.“Ineedtoknowifyou’vetoldmeeverything.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“YouimpliedPaulmightbehavinganaffairwithAmanda.Yousawhiminhercar.”
Beckynods.“That’strue,Iswear.”
“Isthereanythingelsethatyouknow,orsaw,thatyou’renottellingme?Isthereanythingelseyoutoldthepolice?Ineedtoknow,”shesays.
Beckytakesadeepbreathandexhales.“Olivia,we’vebeenfriendsforalongtime.I’vealwaysbeenhonestwithyou.That’sallIsaw.Justthatnight,thetwooftheminthecar,arguing.Iassumedtheywerehavinganaffair,becausewhyelsewouldtheybethere,atthattimeofnight?Andyouknowwhata—asirenshewas.MaybeIwaswrong.That’sallIknow.Andthat’sallItoldthedetectives.”
Oliviaexhalesloudly,putsherhandsoverhereyes,feelsherselftearingup.Shenods.
“Youwantcoffee?”Beckyasks.
Oliviasniffsandlooksupandnodsagain,suddenlyunabletospeak.She’ssogladthattheyaren’tgoingtobeenemies.AsBeckypreparesthecoffee,Oliviawipeshereyeswithherhandsandasks,“Haveyouheardanythingmoreabouttheinvestigation?Doyouknowwhat’sgoingon?”Shedoesn’twanttoaskdirectlyaboutLarry.ShewaitstoseeifBeckywillconfideinher.
Beckyfinisheswiththecoffeemachineandturnsaroundandleansagainstthecounter.Sheshakesherhead.“No,Idon’tknowanything.They’renotsayingmuch,arethey?There’snothinginthenewseither.”
“Ihopetheyfigureitoutsoon,”Oliviasays.“Andthatthiswillallbeover.”
Beckypoursthecoffeeandcarriesthemugstothekitchentableandsitsdown.“Olivia,I’mnottryingtoconvincethedetectivestherewassomethinggoingonbetweenPaulandAmanda.ItoldthemwhatIsaw.It’suptothedetectivestofindoutthetruth.I’mnotouttodestroyyourlifetoprotectmyown.Iwouldn’tdothat.”
Olivialooksathergratefully.
“WhyareyousoworriedaboutPaul?”Beckyasks.
Oliviaflushesslightlyandsays,“Theywereoveratthehousethismorning,thosetwodetectives.”
“Really?”
Olivianods.“TheywantedtoknowifPaulhadanalibi.”
Beckystaresbackather.“Anddoeshe?”
“No,notreally,”Oliviaadmits.“Hewasvisitinghiselderlyaunt—andthere’snowayshe’llrememberitandbeabletovouchforhim.”Oliviaaddsnervously,“She’sgotdementia.”Shedoesn’tmentionthatPaul’scellphonewasturnedoffthatFridaynight.
“Lookslikewe’rekindofinthesameboat,”Beckysays.“Larrydoesn’thavemuchofanalibieither.”Olivialooksather,expectingmore.“HewasataconferenceattheDeerfieldsResortthatweekend.”Shehesitatesandthensays,“Youknowwherethatis?”Olivianods.“ButthatFridayhewentuptohisroomanddidsomeworkandthenfellasleepandmissedmostofthereception.Sohedoesn’thaveanyonetovouchforhimeither.”
—
RobertPiercepacesrestlesslyaroundthehouseaseveningclosesin.
HethinksaboutLarryHarris,nextdoor.DoeshemissAmandathewayRobertdoes?Hefeelsacold,hardhatredforLarryHarris.HewondershowLarryfeltwhenhefoundoutthathiswifehadbeensleepingwithhisnext-doorneighbor.Robertalreadyknowshowthatfeels.HewondershowLarryfeelsnow,withthepolicesnoopingaround,askingquestions.Robertknowswhatthatfeelslike,too.
Robertthinks,too,abouttheothermanthatAmandawasseeing.Havethepolicefoundoutabouthimyet?
Andhethinksaboutthiskidwhobrokeintohishouse.WorriesaboutwhetherCarminewill,infact,gotothepoliceaboutit.
—
Nextdoor,BeckyhasthelocalTVnewsoninthekitchenwhileshepreparessupper.ShehearsthenameAmandaPierceandrealizesthathershouldersarehuncheduparoundherneck;she’sholdingherentirebodysotightlythatitaches.Shetakesadeepbreathandconsciouslylowershershoulders.Thiscan’tgoon.ShemutestheTV.
Shehaschangedoverthelastfewdays.Shethinksofherselfaweekago,howsillyshewas—withhergirlishfantasiesabouthernext-doorneighbor.She’snotsillyanymore.Amandaisdead,viciouslymurdered,andasfarasshecansee,thetwomostlikelysuspectsareRobertPierceandherownhusband,Larry.
Theinfatuationshe’dhadforRobertPiercehasfallenawaysincehe’dgrowncoldtoher,andsincesherealizedshemighthavebeenused—thatRobertmightonlyhavesleptwithhertogetbackatLarry.Hadheknown?Andifso,how?HadAmandatoldhim?Hadshetauntedhimwithit?OrhadhefollowedherandseenherwithLarry?WasRoberteverattractedtoheratall?
NowwhenshethinksaboutRobert,shedoesn’tthinkofhissexysmileatheroverthefence,orofhowhewasinbedwithher.Instead,sheremembershowhespoketoherthatlasttime,overthefence—howsmoothlyhetoldherthathehadn’tsuspectedAmandawashavinganaffair.Buthewaslying,andtheybothknowit.HeknewAmandawashavinganaffair.Andshethinksthecraftybastardknewexactlywhomshewashavinganaffairwith.Hejustwantedtobesureshewouldn’ttellthepolice.Maybesheshould.
Shehastoomuchtoloseifherhusbandishauledthroughthecriminaljusticesystem.Shehasherchildrentothinkof.Shecan’tletthisdestroythemall.
—
Saturdaynight,theusualstrife.Glendarattlesaroundthehouse,feelinglikeshe’sjumpingoutofherskin.She’dtriedtogetAdamtostayhome,andnotgoouttonight.She’sworriedhe’lldrinktoomuchagain,dosomethingimpulsive,somethingthey’llallregret.
She’denlistedKeith’shelp,buthe’dbeenjustasineffectiveasshewas.Adamdoesn’tlistentoeitheroneofthemanymore.Keithavoidsher,andshewandersaroundthesilenthouse,waitinganxiouslyforAdamtocomehome.
—
OnSundaymorning,WebbandMoenareatthestationwhenoneoftheofficersapproachesWebbandsays,“Sir,there’saBeckyHarrisheretoseeyou.Shesaysit’simportant.”
TheyescortBeckyHarrisintoaninterviewroom.Webbnotesthechangeinher;thefirsttimeshecametothestationshewasnervousandtearful,afraidthathermaritalindiscretionswouldbecomeknown.Nowshelooksmorecomposed,morewary.Likeshehasfarmoretolose.Orlikeshehassomethingtobargainwith.
“CanIgetyouanything?”Moenasks.
Beckyshakesherhead.“No,thankyou.”
“Whatbringsyouin?”Webbsays,astheyallsitdown.
Shelooksbrieflyuncomfortable,butshemeetshiseyesandsays,“There’ssomethingIdidn’ttellyou,before.”
“What’sthat?”heasks,rememberingalltheotherthingsshedidn’ttellthem,before.ThatsheandRobertPiercewerelovers.Thatshe’dseenAmandaarguingwithPaulSharpe.Whatwillitbetoday?
“It’saboutRobertPierce.”SheflickshereyesnervouslybetweenhimandMoen.
“Goon.”
“Thatnightweweretogether,ontheSaturdaytheweekendthatAmandadisappeared—hetoldmethathethoughthiswifewashavinganaffair.”
“Whyshouldwebelieveyou?”Webbasks.She’sobviouslystartledbyhistone.Whathadshebeenexpecting,withhertrackrecord?
“BecauseI’mtellingthetruth!”shesays.
“Yousaidyouweretellingthetruthbefore,too,”Webbpointsout,“whenyoutoldusheneversaidanythingtoyouaboutsuspectinghiswife.What’schanged?”Perhaps,Webbthinks,herhusbandhasconfessedtothehotelvisitswithhislovelyneighbor.
Shegiveshimanannoyedlookandtakesadeepbreath.“Hetoldmenottotellyou.Hewasratherintimidatingaboutit.”
“Isee.”
“Hemademepromisenottotell.Itwas—morelikeathreat.”Sheleansforward.“Soyousee,hedidthinkshewascheating.Hehadamotive.”
“Ithoughtyousaidhewouldn’tbecapableofkillinghiswife,thathewasn’tthetype?”Moensays.
“Thatwasbeforehethreatenedme,”Beckysays,sittingbackandglancingatMoen.“Isawanothersideofhim.Hewas—different.Hescaredme.”
“Anythingelse?”Webbsays.
ShelooksbackandforthbetweenhimandMoenandsays,“Areyoueveninterestedinhimasasuspect?”
“We’reinterestedinlotsofpeople,”Webbsays,“includingyourhusband.”
“That’sridiculous,”Beckysays,bristling.
“Notreally,”Webbsays.“Yousee,wehavesecurityfootageofyourhusbandtakingaroomatahotelwithAmandaPierce,onmultipleoccasions.”
—
Beckystumblesoutofthepolicestation.Foraminute,shecan’trememberwheresheparkedhercar.Finally,shefindsitwiththehelpofherkeychainfob.Shegetsinsidethecar,outofthewind,andlocksherdoor.Shestaresoutthewindshield,seeingnothing,breathingrapidly.
ThepolicehavevideoofherhusbandwithAmandaPierceatthehotel.Sheknewthiswouldhappen,assoonashetoldher.Thepolicearen’tidiots.Butthatstupidbastardshemarriedis.
Shehastofindoutthetruth.Shehastoknow,onewayoranother,whathappenedtoAmanda.Andthenshewillfigureoutwhattodo.
Shestiflesasobinthefrontseatofhercar.Howdidshegethere?She’sjustanaveragewoman,married,withtwoalmost-grownkids,livinginthesuburbs.It’sunbelievablethatshe’scaughtupinthis—nightmare.AwomanshebarelyknewhasbeenmurderedbyeitherherownhusbandorBecky’shusband.IfitwasRobert,shenolongercares.No—shehopeshe’scaughtandconvicted,thebastard.Ifitwasherhusband,Larry—shecan’teventhinkaboutthatrightnow.
TWENTY-FOUR
EarlySundayafternoonCarminefindsherselfgoingforanotherwalkaroundtheneighborhood.She’sspentthelastweektalkingtoeveryoneshecanaboutthebreak-in.Inthegrocerystore.Atheryogaclass.She’sfrustratedthatnobodyelseadmitstohavingbeenbrokeninto.Itbothersherthatsheappearstobetheonlyone.Maybeitwasalie,thattherewereothers.Maybeitwasjusther.Maybeshehasbeentargeted,theobjectofsomekindofprank.Ifso,itmakesitmorepersonal.Isit,shewonders,becauseshe’snewhere?Anoutsider?She’smoredeterminedthanevertoturnthetablesonthisteenagecreep.
She’sprettysurethatOliviaSharpeisthewomanwhowrotetheletter.Butshe’snotgoingtoapproachheragain—atleast,notfornow.She’sgoingtotalktoherson,Raleigh.She’sbeenaskingaroundabouthim.Byallaccounts,he’sanicekid.Awhizwithcomputers.Heevenhadalittlebusinesslastsummerofferingtofixpeople’scomputers.Shewondersifhedidanysnoopingthen
Sheknocksonthedoorof50Finchandasullen-lookingteenageboyanswers.Sherecognizeshimimmediatelyasthedrunkenboyattheendofherdrivewaytheothernight.Shecantellbyhiswaryexpressionthatherecognizesher,too.Butshe’snotgoingtomentionit.He’sgotdarkhairandeyesandhedefinitelyremindsherofLukeatthatage.Sheaskshimiftheirhousehasbeenbrokenintorecently,buthejustlooksatherasifshe’sgrowntwoheads.Soinsteadsheaskshimifheknowsofanylocalboysaroundhisagewhomightbegoodwithcomputers;she’shavingproblemswithhers.Sureenough,hesuggestsRaleighSharpe.
Atthatmomentawomanarrivesatthedoorwipingherhandsonadishtowel.Shehasshortauburnhairandfrecklesandapleasantexpression.“Hello,canIhelpyou?”sheasks,astheboyslinksbackinside.
“Hi,mynameisCarmine.”Sheholdsherhandout.“I’mnewtotheneighborhood.I’matNumberThirty-two.”
Thewomangivesherasmile,shakesherhandandsays,“I’mGlenda.”
“Mykidsareallgrown,”Carminesays,tryingtomakeconversation.“Nice-lookingboyyouhave.”She’snotgoingtosaywhereshe’smethersonbefore.“Doyouhaveotherkids?”sheasks.
“No,justAdam,”thewomansays.Shedoesn’tseemtowanttotalk.Sheprobablywantstogetbacktoherdishes.
“IwasbrokenintorecentlyandI’vebeengoingaroundtalkingtopeople,tellingthemtobeontheirguard.TherewasnoonehomeherelasttimeIknocked.”
“Well,wehaven’tbeenbrokeninto,”thewomansaysratherabruptly,herpleasantexpressiondisappearing.
Luckyyou,Carminethinks.“That’sgood,”shesays,hidingherdisappointment.“Awfulaboutthatmurder,”Carminesays,thinkingthiswillgetthewomantalking.Sheleansinconspiratorially.“Peopleseemtothinkthatherhusbanddidit.”Sheadds,“Doyouknowhim?”
“No,Idon’t.”
“Iactuallyknockedonhisdoor,justtofindoutifhe’sbeenbrokeninto.Ididn’thavethenervetosayanythingabouthiswife.Buthehasn’t.”
“Well,it’snicemeetingyou,”thewomannamedGlendasaysandshutsthedoorfirmly.
—
Thephonerings,shatteringthequiet.Oliviajumps.Shegrabsthephoneinthekitchen,hopingit’sGlenda.“Hello,”shesays.
“Mrs.Sharpe?”
Sherecognizesthevoice.It’sDetectiveWebb.Herheartimmediatelystartstopound.“Yes?”shesays.
“Isyourhusbandthere?”
Wordlessly,shehandsthephonetoPaul,whoisstandinginthekitchenwatchingher.Hetakesthephonefromher.
“What?Now?”Paulsays.Then,“Fine.”
Oliviafeelsasickeningjoltofadrenaline.
Paulhangsupthephoneandturnstoher.“Theywantmetocomedowntothepolicestation.Toanswersomemorequestions.”
Shetastestheacidinherthroat.“Why?”
“Theydidn’tsay.”
Shewatcheshimputonhisjacketandleavethehouse.Hedoesn’taskhertocomewithhim,andshedoesn’tsuggestit.
Oncehe’sgone,Oliviagivesintoheranxiety,pacingrestlesslyaroundthehouse,unabletoquiethermind.WhydothepolicewanttotalktoPaulagain?
“Mom,what’swrong?”
SheturnsandseesRaleighwatchingherwithconcern.Sheimagineshowwretchedshemustlook,caughtoff-guard.Shesmilesathim.“It’snothing,honey,”shelies.Shemakesasuddendecision.“Ijusthavetogooutforabit.”
“Whereareyougoing?”
“Ihavetovisitafriendwho’sgoingthroughahardtime.”
“Oh,”Raleighsays,asifnotquitesatisfied.Hemovesovertotherefrigeratorandopensthedoor.“Areyoufeelingokay?”heasks.“Whenwillyoubeback?”
“I’mfine.I’mnotsureexactlywhenI’llbeback,”Oliviasays,“butdefinitelyintimeforsupper.”
—
Raleighisupinhisbedroomwhenthephonerings.Hewonderswho’scalling.Bothhisparentsareout.Maybeit’soneofhisfriends,reducedtolookingupthefamily’slandlinenumberbecausehestilldoesn’thavehisphone.
Hemakesitdownstairstothekitchenintimetosnatchthephoneoffthehook.“Hello?”hesays.
“Hi.”It’sawoman’svoice.“MayIspeaktoRaleighSharpe?”
“Speaking,”hesays,suspicious.
“I’mhavingsomeproblemswithmycomputerandaneighbortoldmethatyoumightbeabletohelp.Youfixcomputers,don’tyou?”
“Yeah,sure,”Raleighsays,thinkingfast.Hedidn’thavemanyclientslastsummer,afterhedistributedhisflyers;hecertainlydidn’texpectanybodytocallnow.Buthe’shappytoearnsomesparecashandhe’sgottimeonhishands.“What’stheproblem?”
“Well,Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Canyoucomehavealookatit?”
“Sure.Now?”
“Ifyoucan,thatwouldbegreat.”
“What’syouraddress?”
“It’salaptop.Ithoughtwecouldmeetinacoffeeshop.DoyouknowtheBean?”
“Yeah,sure.”Hewouldn’tnormallybecaughtdeadinthere,buthecanmakeanexception.
“Seeyouthereinfifteenminutes?”
“Okay,”Raleighsays.
“I’llbewearingaredjacketandI’llhavemylaptopwithme,obviously,”shesays.
Raleighhadn’teventhoughttoaskhowhe’drecognizeher.Butshe’llbewatchingforhim,andteenageboysdon’treallyhangoutinthosekindsofcoffeeshopswherehismomandherfriendsgo.
Nowthathe’smadetheappointment,he’salittlenervous.He’snotreallyusedtohiringouthisservices,buthe’sdoneacoupleofsmalljobsbefore.He’sneversurewhattocharge.Butitshouldbeeasyenough.Sometimesallthesehousewivesneedtolearntodoisturnthecomputeroff,waittenseconds,andturnitonagain.
Hegrabshisjacketandheadsforthecoffeeshop.
—
WebbregardsPaulSharpe,sittingacrossfromhimattheinterviewtable.Sharpeisperfectlystill.Hedoesn’tpickupthewaterfromthetable;maybehedoesn’twantthemtoseehishandsshaking.“Thanksforcomingin,”Webbsays.“You’reherevoluntarily,youcanleaveatanytime.”
“Sure.”
Webbdoesn’twasteanytime.HetiltshisheadatSharpedoubtfully.“Youknow,I’mnotbuyingit.”
“Notbuyingwhat?”Sharpesays.Hefoldshisarmsacrosshischestdefensively
“Thatyouwereatyouraunt’sthatFridaynight.”
“Well,that’swhereIwas,”Sharpesaysstubbornly,“whetheryoubelieveitornot.”
“Wewenttoseeyouraunt,”Webbsays.Heletsamomentgoby.“Shewasn’tabletoconfirmthatyouweretherethatnight.”
“Nosurprisethere.Itoldyoushedidn’thaveaclue,”Sharpesays.“Shehasdementia.”
“Yousayyougothomequitelate.Lateenoughthatyourwifewasalreadyasleep.Doyouusuallyspendsuchalongtimewithyourelderlyaunt?”
“Whatisthis?AmIasuspect?”Paulasks.
“We’djustliketoclarifyafewthings.”Herephrasesthequestion.“Howlongdoyouusuallyspendwithyouraunt?”
Sharpeexhales.“It’safairlylongdrive,andIdon’tgoveryoften,sowhenIdoItendtostayafewhours.She’salwaysaskingmetodothingsforher,fixthisandthat.Itusuallytakesawhile.”
“It’sjustthat—I’mafraiditputsyouintheareawhereAmanda’scarwasfound,”Webbsays,“ataroundthetimesheisbelievedtohavebeenmurdered.Andbecauseyourcellphonewasturnedoff,wedon’tknowwhereyouwere.”
“ItoldyouwhyIturneditoff.Mybatterywasdead.IhadnothingtodowithAmandaPierce.”
“Youwereseeninhercar,arguingwithher,justdaysbeforeshedisappeared.”
“YouknowwhyIwasspeakingtoher,”Sharpesays.“Itoldyouthetruth.I’mnottheonewhowashavinganaffairwithAmandaPierce.”Heseemsrattled.
“Doyouknowthatarea?”Webbasks.“Wherehercarwasfound?”
“Isupposeso.”Hehesitatesandthenadds,“Wehaveacabinoutthere,onasmalllake.”
Webbraiseshiseyebrows.“Youdo?”
“Yes,”Sharpesays.
“Where,exactly?”
“It’satTwelveGoucherRoad,Springhill.”
Moenwritesitdown.
“Howlonghaveyouhadthiscabin?”Webbasks.
Sharpeshakeshishead,asiftoshowhimhowridiculoushethinksthislineofquestioningis.“Weboughtitwhenwewerefirstmarried,abouttwentyyearsago.”
“Doyougoouttheremuch?”Webbasksconversationally.
“Yes,wegoontheweekends,ingoodweather.It’snotwinterized.”
“Whenwasthelasttimeyouwereoutthere?”
“MywifeandIwentoutacoupleofweekendsago,Octoberseventhandeighth,tostartclosingitup.”
“Doyoumindifwehavealookatit?”
Sharpeseemstofreeze.
“Doyoumindifwetakealook?”Webbrepeats.Asthesilencelengthens,hesays,“Wecanalwaysgetawarrant.”
Sharpeconsiders,lookingbackathimstonily.Finallyhesays,“Goahead.I’vegotnothingtohide.”
WhenPaulSharpehasleft,evenunhappierthanwhenhecamein,WebbturnstoMoen;sheraisesbotheyebrowsathim.
“Lotsofpeopleprobablyhavecabinsoutthatway,”Moensays.
“I’msuretheydo,”Webbagrees,“butIwanttogetalookatthisone.”
Moennods.
Webbsays,“Hehassquatforanalibi.Maybehe’darrangedtomeetherathiscabin.Thefamilywasn’tgoingupthatweekend.Hehadthestoryforhiswife—theauntcalledhim,beggingforavisit.Ifit’strue,whydidhegothistime?Heusuallydidn’t.Whydidheturnoffhisphone?”Headds,“Andthatcabinisn’tveryfarfromwhereshewasfound.Heknowsthearea.Hewouldknowwheretodumpthecar.”
“Hewould,”Moenagrees.
Webbconsiders.“Inthemeantime,let’sgetLarryHarrisinhereandconfronthimwiththissurveillancefootage.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Oliviagripsthesteeringwheeltightlyasshedrivesoverthebridge,outofthecity.She’sgoingtovisitherhusband’sauntMargaret.Sheknowswhereshelives.Andshehasn’tseenherinalongtime.
—
RaleighsauntersuptothedooroftheBean,tryingtolooklikeatechieonthewaytoseeaclient.Buthefeelslikeateenagermeetingsomebodyelse’smother.Hedoesn’tfeelconfidentatall.He’sonlysixteen.Heremindshimselfthathecanprobablyfixhercomputerandgetoutoftherewithinfifteenminutes.Thenhecantellhismomandshe’llbehappythathedidsomethingusefulandmaybehecanbroachthesubjectofgettinghisphoneback.
Hestepsinsideandimmediatelyseesanolder,blondwomaninaredjacketwavingathim.Ugh.Embarrassing.Hequicklywalksoverandsitsdownacrossfromher.Hetakesinthelaptop—it’saDellInspiron,prettybasic.
“Hi,Raleigh,”shesays.“It’snicetomeetyou.”
Henodsawkwardlyandsays,“Hi.”
“I’mMrs.Torres,”shesays.
Lookingathermoreclosely,hecanseethatshe’solderthanhismom.“What’swrongwithit?”heasks,gesturingatthelaptop.
“Ican’tgetittoconnecttotheinternetanymore.”Sheflicksherhandatthemachineinfrustration.
Hepullsthelaptopclosertohimandlooksatit.Hequicklyseesthatitisinairplanemode.Hehitsthekeywiththelittleairplaneonit.Theinternetconnectstothewi-fiofthecoffeeshopautomatically.“Youhaditonairplanemode,”hesays,stiflingasmirk.Jesus,Raleighthinks,it’sliketakingcandyfromababy.
“Oh,mygoodness,isthatallitwas?”thewomansays.
“That’sthat,then,”Raleighsays,feelingbothrelievedanddisappointedtherewasn’tmorewrongwiththelaptop.Hecanhardlyexpecttobepaidforthat.
“Hangonaminute,Raleigh,”shesays.
Henotesasuddenchangeinhertoneofvoiceandismomentarilyconfused.She’sholdingatwentyinherhand,butshe’snotofferingittohim.Nowsheleanscloser.Hersmileisstillthere,butit’schanged,it’snotgenuine.Shelowershervoiceandsays,“Youbrokeintomyhouse.”
Raleigh’sfacefeelshot.Hismouthhasgonedry.Itcan’tbethewomanwiththebaby.Thiswomanistooold.Hedoesn’tknowwhattodo.Alongmomentpassesandthenherealizesthathemustdenyit.“What?”Hisvoiceisadrycroak.Heclearshisthroat.“No,Ididn’t.Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Butheknowshe’snotconvincing.Helooksguiltyashell.Becauseheisguiltyashell.
“Yes,youdid.Yousnuckinandsnoopedaroundmyhouse,andinmycomputer,andIdon’tlikeit.”
“WhywouldIdothat?Whydoyouthinkitwasme?Ineverbrokeintoyourstupidhouse,”hesays,likeaterrifiedchild.Heisaterrifiedchild.
“Ihavenoidea.Youtellme.Whatwereyoulookingfor,exactly?”
Heshakeshishead.“Itwasn’tme.Idon’tdothatkindofstuff.”
“Youcandenyitallyouwant,butI’montoyou,Raleigh.”
Hehastoknowhowbigaproblemhe’sgothere.“Maybesomebodybrokeintoyourhouse,lady.Butwhatmakesyouthinkitwasme?”Raleighsputters,tryingtokeephisvoicelow.
“BecauseIknowyourmotherwrotethoseletters.”
“Whatletters?”He’sthinkingfast.
“Thelettersofapologyyourmomwroteaboutyoubreakingintoourhouses.Igotoneofthem.SoIknowitwasyou.”
Raleighfeelsagrowingterror.Shemustbetheonewhospoketohismom.Hisfingerprintsarealloverherhouse.Andhe’sjusthandledherlaptop.Fuck.Withasudden,desperatebravado,heleansoverthetabletowardherandspeaksveryclearly.“Iwasneverinyourhouse.Ever.Youcan’tproveit.Sobackoffandstayoutofmyway.”Hecan’tbelievehejustspokethatwaytoanadult.Hestandsup.“I’mgoing.”
Shecallsoutafterhim,“Thisisn’tover!”
Hecanfeelotherpeople’sstartledeyesonhimashestridesoutofthecoffeeshop,hisfaceburning.
—
It’saboutanhour’sdrivetoAuntMargaret’splace,worseintraffic.Butit’sSundayafternoon,andthetrafficislight.Asshedrives,Oliviathinksabouthowpointlessthistripprobablyis.Margaretwon’trememberifPaulvisitedherthatnight.Shealmostturnsaroundandgoesbackhome.
ButsomethingkeepsherdrivingforwardalongthehighwayandintotheCatskills,andsoonshearrivesinBerwick.Margaret’shouseisasmallbungalow,notastidyasitusedtobe,butMargaretcan’tdomuchanymore.Oliviaparksintheemptydriveway—Margarethadgivenuphercaracoupleofyearsearlier—noticesthefadingpaint,andknocksfirmlyonthefrontdoor.Shewondersifanyoneelsewillbethere.
Foralongtime,nothinghappens.Sheringsthedoorbellandknocksagain.ShehasaterriblevisionofMargaretperhapslyingonthefloorwithabrokenhip,unabletogettothedoor.Shefeelsasuddenshamethatshe’stakensolittleinterestinPaul’saunt’swell-being,sobusywithherownlife.Howoftendopeoplecometohelpher?Doessheevenhaveanalarmtouseifshefallsdown?
Finallythedooropens,andMargaretstandsthereblinkingatherinthesunlight.“Olivia,”shesays,inaweak,waveringvoice.Herfacebreaksintoaslow,surprisedsmile.“I…wasn’t…expecting…you…”shesays,outofbreathaftertheeffortofgettingtothedoor.
Itmustbeagoodday,Oliviathinks.Sheknowsthedementiacomesandgoes,thatsomedaysherheadisclearerthanothers.“Ithoughtyoumightlikeanicevisit,”Oliviasays,enteringthehouse.“Paulwantedtocome,buthecouldn’ttoday,”shesays.
Theoldwomantottersintothelivingroomandsinksslowlyintoherrockingchair.ShehastheTVonlow,withcaptionsrunningalongbeneath.Shereacheslaboriouslyfortheremoteandturnsitoff.Nowthatshe’shere,Oliviaisengulfedwithsadness.Thatlifecomesdowntothis.Thisloneliness,thiswaiting—forsuppertime,foravisitor,fordeath.Oliviasitsdownonthesofa,turnedtowardMargaret.Theairisstuffyandshelongstoopenthewindows,butthinksMargaretprobablywouldn’tlikethedraft.“CanImakeyousometea?”sheasks.
“Thatwould…be…lovely…”theoldwomananswers.
Oliviamakesherwayintothekitchenandfumblesaroundlookingfortheteathings.Itdoesn’ttakelong.Thekettleisonthestove,theteabagsareonthecounter,andshefindsthemugsinthefirstcupboardsheopens.There’sacartonofmilkintherefrigerator.Shesniffsit,anditseemsokay.Infact,thefridgeseemsrelativelywellstocked.
Whenit’sready,shetakestheteaouttothefrontroom.“Tellmewhoyouhavecomingintohelpyou,”Oliviasays.ShelistenspatientlywhileMargarettellsheraboutherarrangements,andhowshehopesshegetsintoassistedlivingsoon.
“Iimagineyouliketohavevisitors,”Oliviasays.
“Ihaveafew,”Margaretsays.Shenamessomefriendswhocomeregularly,iftheycan.
“AndPaulcomestoseeyou,sometimes,”Oliviasays,feelingatwingeofguiltaboutwhatshe’sdoing.
“Notveryoften,”Margaretsaysdarkly,thefirsthintofherpetulantside.“Icallhimbuthenevercomes.”
“I’msurehecomesasoftenashecan,”Oliviasoothes.
“Thepolicecame.”
“Didthey?”Oliviaasks,alert.“Whatdidtheywant?”
“Idon’tremember.”Sheslurpshertea.“Youshouldcomemore,”Margaretsays.“You’regoodcompany.”
“Youprobablydon’trememberthelasttimePaulwashere,”Oliviasays.
“No,”shesays.“Mymemoryisn’tverygood,youknow.”
Olivia’sheartsinks.
Margaretsaysslowly,“That’swhyIkeepadiary.Iwriteinitalittleeveryday,tokeepmymindsharp.Thedoctorsaiditwouldbegoodforme.”Shepointsataleatherjournal,peekingoutfromunderneaththenewspaperonthecoffeetable.“Iwriteinitalittlebiteveryday,theweather,whocametovisit.”
Oliviafeelsherheartbegintobeatpainfully.“Whatagoodidea.Whendidyoustarttodothat?”
“Awhileago.”
“CanIhavealook?”Oliviaasks.ShemustseewhatshewroteforSeptember29.Margaretnods,andOlivialeafsthroughthepages,hopingtofindtherelevantdate.Butthediaryisamess.It’smostlyblank,wordsscrawledinashakyhandinthemiddleofthepage,somerandomdates,butnothingmakesanysense.Barelyacoherentsentenceanywhere
“Couldyougetussomemoretea,Ruby,dear?”theoldwomanasks.
TWENTY-SIX
WebbdecidesthatLarryHarrisdoesn’tlookasconfidentincasualclothes.WhenWebbsawhimlast,hewasstillinasuit,hisjacketoff,histieloosened—anexecutivebackfromabusinesstrip.Todayhe’swearingjeansandanoldsweater,andhedoesn’tseemtohavethesamepresenceorauthority.Ormaybeit’sthathe’sjustnotcomfortablebeingbroughtinforquestioningtothepolicestation.Thatusuallyflusterspeople.Especiallyiftheyhavesomethingtohide.
Larryisstaringatthetableintheinterviewroom.Hehasbeenreadhisrights.Fornowhehasdeclinedtoexercisehisrighttoanattorney.
“Larry,weknowyouwereseeingAmandaPierce.”
Hecloseshiseyes.
“Didyourwifetellyou?Whatwehave?”
Henods.Webbwaitsforhimtoopenhiseyes.Finallyhedoes.HelooksatWebbandsays,“Isawherforafewweeks.Wemetsometimesatthathotel.Idon’tknowwhatshetoldherhusband.”Heflushes.“Itwaswrong,Iknow.Ishouldn’thavedoneit.I’mnotproudofit.”
“Wehavethedatesonthesurveillancevideo,”Webbsays.“YousawherattheParadiseHotelstartinginJuly.YouwerewithherthereontheTuesdaybeforeshedisappeared,Septembertwenty-sixth.NoonesawherafterthefollowingFriday.So…whathappenedinthathotelroomthatnight,Larry?Didshetellyouitwasover?”
Heshakeshisheadfirmly.“No,itwasthesameasusual.Weweregettingalongfine.”Hesitsbackinhischair,seemstodeliberatelyassumeamoreopenposition.“Look,it’snotlikewewereinlove.Iwasn’tplanningonleavingmywifeforheroranything.Shewasn’tputtingpressureonme.Itwasjust—physical.Forbothofus.”
“Butnowshe’sdead,”Webbsays.
“Ididn’thaveanythingtodowiththat,”Larrysayssharply.“JustbecauseIsleptwithherdoesn’tmeanIkilledher.”
“WhenwasthelasttimeyousawAmanda?”Webbasks.
“Thatnight,atthehotel.Shewasn’ttempingatourofficesthatweek.Shewasatsomeaccountingfirm,shetoldme.”
“Whenwasthelasttimeyouspoketoher?”Webbasks.Larryhesitatesbriefly,asifconsideringalie.“ThatwasthelasttimeIspoketoher,”hesays.
Webbdoesn’tbelievehim.Hedecidestoletitgo,fornow.“HowdidyoucommunicatewithAmanda?Didyoucallherathome?”Webbasks.Heknowshe’sneedlinghim.
“No,ofcoursenot,”Larrysays,shiftinguneasilyinthehardchair.
“Sohowdidyoucommunicate?”
“Phone,”Larryanswerssullenly.
“Whatphonewouldthatbe?”Webbasks.
“Ihadaseparatephone,forher.”
“Isee,”saysWebb.“Thiswouldbeanunregistered,pay-as-you-go,burnerphone?”Larrynodsreluctantly.“AnddidAmandahaveasecond,unregisteredphoneaswell?”
Henodsagain.“Yes.”
WebbglancesquicklyatMoen.Theyhaven’tfoundherburnerphone.Theyfoundherregularcellphoneinherpurse,inthecar.Butnoburnerphonehasturnedup.Theyneedtofindthatphone.HefocusesinonLarryagain.“Doyouhaveanyideawhereitmightbe?”
“No.”
“Andwhereisyourburnerphonenow?”
“Idon’thaveitanymore.”
“Whynot?”
“AfterAmanda…disappeared,Ididn’tneeditanymore.AndIdidn’twantmywifetofindit.”
“Howdidyougetridofit?”Larrytakessolongtoanswer,thatWebbrepeatsthequestion.“Howdidyougetridofit?”
“Ididn’tkillher,”Larryinsistssuddenly.
“Whatdidyoudowiththeburnerphone?”
“IthrewitintotheHudson,”hesaysnervously.“Iwentforawalkalongtheriveronenightandtosseditin.”
“Andwhenwasthat?”
“Itwasaboutaweekaftershe’dleft.Imean—everybodythoughtshe’dtakenoffonherhusband.”
Webbstifleshisfrustration.He’llneverfindthatphone,orAmanda’sphoneeither.Hisbetisthatshehaditwithherwhenshewasmurdered,andherkillergotridofit.Sameasthemurderweapon.Heshiftsgears.“Whycan’twefindanybodywhosawyouattheresortonFridayafternoon?Afteryoucheckedin,nobodysawyouuntilaroundnineo’clock.”
Larryexhalesheavily,looksfromWebbtoMoenandbackagain.“Iworkedinmyroomallafternoon,andthenfellasleep.Imissedmostofthereception.”
“Andwe’resupposedtobelievethat?”Webbasks.
“It’strue!”Larrysays,almostviolently.“Whydon’tyoucheckwiththeresort?Ineverleftmyroom,Iswear.Theymusthavecamerasontheparkinglot.Theycantellyouthatmycarneverleft.”
“Wheredidyouparkyourcar?”WebbalreadyknowsLarrydidn’tparkintheindoorparkinglotattheresort;he’shadpeoplewatchallthetapes.
“Intheoutdoorlot,totherightofthehotel.”
“Right.We’vechecked,andtherearenocamerasthere,apparently.Onlyintheindoorparkingarea.”Headds,“AsI’msureyouknow.”
Larrylooksfrightenednow.“Ididn’t,”heprotests.“HowwouldIknowthat?”
Webbsaysquickly,“DidyouknowthatAmandawaspregnant?”
Heshakeshishead,frowning,offbalance.“No,Ididn’tknow,honest.Ialwaysusedacondom.Sheinsistedonit.Shedidn’twanttogetpregnant.”Hesaysangrily,“Whydon’tyouarrestherhusband?Ifanyonekilledher,itwashim.Shetoldmeoncethatifheeverfoundoutthatshewascheatingonhim,hewouldkillher.”Headds,regretfully,“Ididn’tbelieveheratthetime.Ishouldhave.”
WebblookscarefullyatLarryandtriestotellifhe’slying.WebbthinksRobertPierceiscapableofmurder,buthewondersifLarryismakingthisup.
“RobertPierceisacoldsonofabitch,”Larrysays.“Amandatoldmeabouthim,howhetreatedher.Shetoldmethatshewouldleavehimsomeday,sowhenshedisappeared,Ithoughtthat’swhatshe’ddone.Ifanyonekilledher,itwasherhusband.”
Webbstareshimdown.“There’ssomethingelse,”Larrysaysfinally.“RobertPierce—heknewaboutmeandAmanda.Andheknewshehadaburnerphone.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”Webbasks,alert.
“BecauseIgotacallfromherburnerphone,anditwasRobertontheotherend.Hesaid,‘Hi,Larry,it’sherhusband,Robert.’Ihungup.”
“Whenwasthat?”Webbasks.
“Itwasthedayshedisappeared.Friday,Septembertwenty-ninth.Aroundteninthemorning.”
WebbmeetsMoen’seyes.
TWENTY-SEVEN
BeckyHarrisstaresouttheglassdoorstothebackyard.She’dwantedtoaccompanyLarrytothepolicestationwhenthedetectivescametobringhiminforquestioning,butheinsistedthatshestayhere.Shecouldtellhewasworried.
They’rebothplentyworried.
Whenshe’dreturnedfromthepolicestationandtoldLarryaboutthevideosurveillanceofhimattheParadiseHotel,he’dlookedsopanickedthatshedidn’tevenbothertosay,WhatdidItellyou,youidiot?Insteadshesaid,“They’regoingtobringyouinforquestioning.”She’dhadtosteelherselftostopherbodytrembling.“Larry,”shesaid,“tellmethetruth.Didyoukillher?”
Helookedbackather,anexpressionofshockonhisexhaustedface.“Howcanyoueventhink—”
“HowcanIthinkit?”shestormedathim.“Theevidence,Larry!It’spilingupagainstyou.Youwerehavinganaffairwithher—it’sontape.Youwereintheareanearthelakewhereherbodywasfoundandcan’taccountforyourwhereabouts.Godhelpyouiftheyfindoutyouarguedwithherthedaybeforeshewentmissing.AndthenyougoandthrowyourphoneofftheSkywayearlySundayeveningonthewaybackfromtheresort,beforeanyoneevenknewshewasmissing.Idon’tknow,Larry,butyoulookguiltyashell!”
“Ididn’tknowshewasdeadwhenItossedthephone,”heprotested.Hegrabbedherarmsandsaid,“Becky,Ihadnothingtodowiththis.Youhavetobelieveme.Iknowhowbaditlooks.ButIdidn’thurther.ItmusthavebeenRobert.Heknewshewascheatingonhim.Hefoundherburnerphone.Hecalledmefromit,andIanswered.HealreadyknewaboutmeandAmanda.Hesaid‘Hi,Larry’beforeIevenopenedmymouth.Hemusthavekilledher.”
SoRobertdidknow.Shenoddedslowly.“Hemusthave,”sheagreed.Sheforcedherselftotakedeepbreaths.Whenshelookedatherhusband,shecouldn’tbelieve,eveninthefaceofallthecircumstantialevidence,thathecouldactuallyhavekilledsomeone.Thathecouldhavebeatenawomantodeath.
“Whenyoutalktothepolice,youhavetotellthemallthat,”shesaidatlast.“Buttellthemyouthrewthephoneintotheriversomeplacefromtheshore,incasetherearecamerasonthebridge.Theycouldcheckthemandseewhenyoudidit.Tellthemitwasafewdaysaftershedisappeared,notthesameweekend.”
Henoddedbackather,obviouslyterrified,relyingonhernowtohelphim.Shewasthinkingmoreclearlythanhewas.
“Andwhateveryoudo,don’ttellthemyouhadanargumentwithAmandathedaybeforeshewentmissing,”shesaid,“andthatshe’dbrokenitoffwithyou.”
Thenthedetectiveshadcometotakehimdowntothestationforquestioningandshe’dworkedherselfintothisfrenzyofdoubtandfear.
Shedoesn’tthinkLarryiscapableofplanningacold-bloodedmurder.Ifhewas,hewouldn’tbeinthismess.Butamomentofuncontrolledanger?CouldhehavestruckAmandainarage,notmeaningtokillher?
She’safraidthatmightbeexactlywhathappenedandthatLarryislyingtoherstillandfrightenedforhislife.
Hermindstraysuneasilytoanincidentthathappenedacoupleofyearsago.TheirdaughterKristiewasbeingharassedbyateenageboywhomsherefusedtodate.Hekeptbotheringheratschool,andthenhemadethemistakeofcomingaroundthehouse,callinghernames.LarryhadchargedoutofthehouseandrammedtheboyupagainstthewallsofastithadmadeBecky’sheadspin.Shestillremembersthefearandshockontheboy’sface.AndhowLarrylooked,hislefthandgraspingtheboy’sshirtbythecollar,hisrighthanddrawnbackasifhewereabouttopunchthekidhardintheface.Kristiewascryingbehindherinsidethehouse.Butsomethingstoppedhim.Heshovedtheboydownthedrivewayandtoldhimtoleavehisdaughteralone.Beckyhadworriedthatthekidmightpresscharges,buttheyneverheardfromhimagain.Now,sheforcesherselftothrusttheincidentfromhermind,returningtothepresent.
Robertisthecold-bloodedtype.Shethinksnowthathemightbequitecapable—smartenough,calculatingenough—toplanamurderandcarryitout.Andifhedid,she’sprettysurehewouldknowhowtodoitsothathenevergotcaught.
ShehastoknowwhokilledAmanda—wasitRobertorherhusband?
Impulsively,sheleavesherownhouse,crossesthelawn,andknocksonRobert’sfrontdoor.Asshewaits,shelooksnervouslyoverhershoulder,wonderingifanyoftheneighborsarewatchingher.Sheknowshe’shome.She’dseenhimpassinginfrontofthewindowsearlier,andhiscarisinthedriveway.
She’sabouttoturnaway,defeated,butthenthedooropens.Hestandstherelookingather.Hismouthdoesn’tquirkupinthatcharmingsmileofhis.They’redonewithallthat.
“CanIcomein?”sheasks.
“Whatfor?”
“Ineedtotalktoyou.”
Heseemstoconsideritforamoment—what’sinitforhim?—butsheseescuriositygetthebetterofhim.Hestepsbackandpullsthedooropen.It’sonlywhenheclosesitbehindherthatsherealizesthatmaybeshe’sbeenstupid.She’salittleafraidofhim.Shedoesn’treallythinkhe’sgoingtoharmher—hewouldn’tdare,underthecircumstances.Butwhatdoessheexpecttolearn?It’snotlikehe’sgoingtotellherthetruth.Allatonceshe’stongue-tied;shedoesn’tknowhowtostart.
“Whatdidyouwanttotalkabout?”hesays,foldinghisarmsacrosshischest,lookingdownather.He’smuchtallerthansheis.They’restillstandinginthefronthall.
“Larry’satthepolicestation,”shesays.“TheyseemtothinkthathemighthavekilledAmanda.”She’striedtosayitbluntly,buthervoicehasaquiverinit.
“Becausehewashavinganaffairwithher,”Robertsaysmatter-of-factly.
Shestaresbackathim,nodsslowly.“That’swhyyousleptwithme,isn’tit?YouknewLarrywassleepingwithAmandaallalong,soyousleptwithme.”
“Yes,”hesays.Hesmiles.
Heseemstobeenjoyinghimself.Howcouldshehavebeensoseducedbyhim?There’snosignofthatwarmthandboyishnessthatcharmedheranymore.Butitdoesn’tmatter.She’soverthatnow.
Hedoesn’tseemtocarethatsheknows.Ifhekilledhiswife,hemustbeverysurenowofnotgettingcaught.“Larry’sgoingtotellthepolice,”shesays,“thatyouknewaboutthem.Hetoldmeabouttheburnerphone,thatyoucalledhimonit.”
“I’mnotworried,”Robertsays.“Hehasnoproof.It’shisword—andyours—againstmine.”
Shelooksupathim;heseemstotoweroverhernow.Shefeelssmall;hecouldsnapherneckwithhishandsifhewantedto.“Larrydidn’tkillher,”shesays.
“Youcan’tpossiblyknowthat,”hesays.“Infact,Ithinkyou’reworriedthathedidkillher.”
“Ithinkitwasyou,”shewhispers,goadedintosayingit.
“Youcanthinkwhatyoulike,”Robertsays,“andtellthepolicewhateveryouwant,buttheyknowyou’dsayanythingtoprotectyourhusband.”
“Doyouhaveanalibi?”sheasksdesperately.
“Notreally,”headmits.
“Youkilledher,”Beckysayswildly,asifrepeatingitwillmakeittrue.
Robertleansinclosetoher,sohisfaceisjustinchesfromhers.“Well,itwasprobablyoneofus,”hesaysicily,“andyoudon’tknowwhichone.Iguessyouhaveaproblem,don’tyou?”
Beckystaresbackathimforamomentinhorrorandthensweepspasthim,yanksopenthedoor,andfleesbacktoherownhouse.
TWENTY-EIGHT
WhenOliviareturnshomefromherdrivetoMargaret’s,she’sexhausted.Thehouseisquiet.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Paulasks.He’ssittinginthelivingroom,adrinkinhishand.
Shelooksbackathimwarily,ignoringhisquestion.“Where’sRaleigh?”
“He’sinhisroom.”
“Whatdidthepolicewant,Paul?”Oliviaasksnervously.
Shesitsdownbesidehimwhilehetellsherwhathappenedatthepolicestation.
“Whydotheywanttoseethecabin?”sheasksindisbelief.
“Idon’tknow.”
“Well,theymusthavesaidsomething,givensomereason.”Shefeelsheranxietyskyrocket.
Whenheanswers,hesoundsirritated.“LikeIsaid,theyaskedmeifIwasfamiliarwiththeareawhereherbodywasfound,andIhadtotellthemaboutourcabin.HowwoulditlookifIdidn’t,andtheyfoundoutafterward?”Helooksathersteadily.“Ihavenothingtohide,Olivia.”Hecertainlydoesn’tsoundparanoid.Hesoundslikehethinksthisisaninconvenience,anintrusion,nothingmore.
“No,ofcoursenot,”shesays.
“TheysaidifIdidn’tgiveconsent,theywouldgetawarrant.”Paulcrosseshisarmsinfrontofhimashetellsher,“Itwaslikeathreat.Ishouldhavesaidno,onprinciple.Letthemgettheirfuckingwarrant.”
“Wehavenothingtohide,Paul,”Oliviasaysuneasily.“Weshouldjustletthemgoahead.Theywon’tfindanything,andthenthey’llleaveusalone.”
Heglaresather.“YouknowhowIfeelaboutthissortofthing.It’sanoutrage,itreallyis.”
Sheslumpstiredly.Shehasnoenergyleft.Shedoesn’twanthimtobedifficultaboutthis.“Butyoutoldthemyes,didn’tyou?”sheasks.Ifhemakesafussaboutthis,shemightreallyhavecauseforalarm—shemightthinkhe’sactuallyhidingsomething.Andthey’llgetthewarrantanyway.
“Yes,”Paulsaysatlast.“There’snothingtofind.It’snotlikewe’rehidinganything.Butit’sridiculous,andawasteofresources.It’snotagoodthingthatpolicecanasktosearchyourhome,knowingthatthey’lljustgetawarrantanyway;it’sintimidation.It’sanerosionofprivacy.”
“Iknowhowyoulikeyourprivacy,”Oliviasays,ahintofacidinhervoice.
Heturnsonher.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“ItjustmeansIdon’tseewhyyouhavetobedifficultaboutthis!Iwantthistoend,Paul.”
“I’mnotbeingdifficult,”Paulsaystersely.“They’remeetingmeouttheretomorrowmorning.I’mtakingthedayoffwork.”
Shefeelsherbodysag.Shejustwantstobedonewiththis.Andshe’snotgoingtotellPaulabouthervisittohisauntMargaret.
—
Raleighcanhearraisedvoicesonthefloorbelow;itsoundslikehisparentsarearguing,butthevoicesquicklyrecede.Hecouldn’tmakeoutwhattheyweresaying.It’snotlikehisparentstoargue,butlately,thehousehasbeentense.Heblamessomeofitonhimself.Heknowshisparentsarefightingpartlybecauseofwhathe’sdone.Hedoesn’tdaretellthemaboutwhathappenedthisafternoonatthecoffeeshop—howthathorriblewomantrackedhimdown,trickedhim,andaccusedhim.Ittookhimagestostopshakingafterward.
Ifhetoldhisparents,hismotherwouldprobablyhaveabreakdown.Butwhatifthatwomanshowsupatthehouseandconfrontshismotheragain,andtellsheraboutthemeetinginthecoffeeshop?Whatifshedecidestogotothepolice?Hefeelstrapped,andhedoesn’tknowwhattodo.Theonlypeoplehewouldfeelcomfortablegoingtoforhelporadviceforanythingarehisparents,andhecan’tgotothemwiththis.Notnow.Notwitheverythingelsethey’redealingwith.
Andtheyallcontinuetopretendthateverythingisjustfine.
—
Beckyboltsinsideherhouseandlocksthedoorbehindher.Nowthatshe’sawayfromhim,shebeginstoshake.OnlyapsychopathwouldtoywithherthewayRobertjustdid.Itwasprobablyoneofusandyoudon’tknowwhichone.Iguessyouhaveaproblem,don’tyou?Whatkindofpersonwouldsaysomethinglikethat?Whenit’shisownwifewho’sdead?He’ssick.
Sherealizes,withahideousfeeling,thatRobertwantsLarrytobechargedwiththemurderofhiswife.Afterall,Larrywastheonesleepingwithher.Perhapshe’ssetthewholethingupsomehow.Hedoesn’tmissAmandaatall.Heputonagoodshowofgriefinthebeginning,buthe’snotbotheringtopretendforheranymore.He’sletherseewhohereallyis.He’sdroppedthemask.Shepacesthelivingroomanxiously,pickingrelentlesslyathercuticles.
Shehearsakeyinthelock.Larrycomesinandlooksather.
“Whydoyouhavethedoorlocked?”heasks,hisfacegray.
Helooksshattered.Shedoesn’tanswer.Instead,shesays,“Well?”Shedoesn’tevenwaitforhimtotakehisjacketoff.
“Itoldthemwhatyousaid.”
“Didtheybelieveyou?”
“Ithinkso.”
“Youthinkso?”Shecan’tkeeptheedgeofhysteriaoutofhervoice.
“Christ,Idon’tknow!”healmostshoutsbackather.“Idon’tknowwhattheythink!”Helowershisvoiceagain.“ButBecky,there’sanotherproblem.”
“Whatproblem?”Howmuchworsecanitget?
Hetellsher,haltingly.“Attheresort,Iparkedintheoutdoorparkinglot,nottheindoorlot.Apparentlythere’snocameraontheoutdoorparkinglot—soIcan’tproveIneverleft.”
Shestaresathimforalongmoment.
“Buttheycan’tproveIdideither,”hesays.
“Maybeit’stimewegotyoualawyer,”shesaysdully.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”hesays.“Don’tyoubelieveme?”
“Yes,”shesaysautomatically,eventhoughshedoesn’tknowifshebelieveshimornot.
Hestridesintothelivingroomtothebarcart.“Ineedadrink.”
“IwentovertoseeRobertPiercewhileyouwereout,”Beckysays,hervoiceahoarsewhisper,asshewatcheshimpourhimselfastiffwhiskey.
Hewhirlsaroundtolookather,thebottleinhishand.“What?Whatthehelldidyoudothatfor?Heprobablymurderedhiswife!”
She’sstaringintospace.Nowthatit’sover,shecanhardlybelieveshedidit.Shemusthavebeenoutofhermind.“ItoldhimthatthepolicethinkyoumighthavekilledAmanda.”
“Jesus,Becky!That’sinsane!Whatdidyoutellhimthatfor?”
Shefocusesonhimnow;heseemstohavegoneashadepaler.“Iwantedtoseewhathe’dsay.”
“And?”
“Hesaiditwasprobablyeitheryouorhimwhokilledher.”
Larrylookshorrified.“Becky—he’sdangerous.Promisemeyouwon’tgonearhimanymore.Promise.”
Shenods.Shedoesn’twanttogonearRobertPierceeveragain.
—
DetectiveWebbdrivesacrosstheAylesfordBridgespanningtheHudson,andturnsnorthonthehighway,Moenbesidehiminthepassengerseat.It’searlyMondaymorning,exactlyaweeksincetheyfoundAmandaPierce’sabandonedcar,herviolentlybeatenbodyshovedintothetrunk.
It’sacold,crispday,butthesunisout,andit’sapleasantdrive.Atfirsttheriverisontheirright.Soontheyturnwest,deeperintotheCatskills,inthedirectionofthesmalltownofSpringhill.Thewildernessstretchesoutallaroundthemastheroadcurvesandwindsthroughthemountains.Eventuallytheyturnoffthehighwayandtakeaseriesofsmaller,windingroads.ThedrivetotheSharpes’cabintakesthemrightpastthespotwhereAmanda’sbodywasfound.PaulSharpemustknowthisstretchofroadwell.
Atlasttheyturndownagravelroadandfinallystopataclassicwoodcabinthatlooksweathered,nestledinamongthetrees.
Webbseesacarparkedinfront.PaulSharpeishereaheadofthem.Nosurprisethere.
Theyclimboutofthecar.Theairisfresherhere,andsmellsofearth,wetleaves,andpineneedles.Breezesrustlethroughtheremainingleavesonthetreesoverhead.Theycanseeasmalllakefartherdown,adockjuttingoutintothewater.
ThedoortothecabinopensandPaulSharpestepsout,lookingwary.Hiswife,Olivia,isrightbehindhim.
—
Oliviadecidedtocomealongbecauseshecouldn’tstandthethoughtofstayinghomeandworryingaboutwhatwasgoingonouthere.
Oliviahadtossedinbedthenightbefore,unabletosleep,thinkingaboutthecabin.Itwasn’tthesame,nowthatRaleighwassixteen.Hestillenjoyedthecabin,lovedthelake,buthedidn’tlookforwardtoitwithgleefulexcitementthewayhehadwhenhewaslittle.BySundayafternoonhewasusuallymissinghisfriendsandhiswi-fi,sotheytendedtogobackearlierthanwhenhewasalittleboy,whensheandPaulpracticallyhadtodraghimintothecartogohome.
Shehadn’tnoticedanythingdifferentaboutthecabintwoweekendsagowhenthey’dcomeuptostartclosingitupforthewinter.IthadbeenColumbusDayweekend,theweekendafterAmandahaddisappeared,theweekendbeforethey’dhadtheNewellsoverfordinnerandOliviahadfoundoutthatRaleighwasbreakingintohouses.Everythinghadbeenjustasitwasthelasttimetheywereatthecabin.Shedoesn’tunderstandwhatthehellthedetectiveswant.
She’salwayslovedtheirlittlecabininthewoods.It’snotfancy—justonelargeroomthat’spartkitchen,partlivingroom,withaviewdowntothelakealongtheback,andtwobedroomsandasmallbathroomontheothersideofthelivingarea.Thefloorislinoleum,thewallsarewoodpaneled,thefurnitureismismatchedbutcomfortable,andtheappliancesareoutdated,butthat’sallpartofitscharm.Shehopesthatthisdoesn’tspoilitforthem.Theydidn’ttellRaleighwhatwashappeningtoday.He’dgonetoschoolearlyforbasketballpractice,leavingbeforetheydid.Itwillbeoversoonenough,andhewillneverhavetoknowthatthepolicewereevenhere.
Shestepsoutofthecabinbehindherhusbandandissurprisedtoseethatit’sjustWebbandMoen.Shewasexpectinganentireteam.Itmakesherrelaxalittlebit.“Goodmorning,”shesays.SheknowsthatPaulwillbebrusquewiththem;that’sthewayheis.Shemusttrytosmooththingsover.“CanIofferyousomecoffee?”
“Thatwouldbegreat,thankyou,”Webbsays,smilinghisquicksmile.
“Yes,thatwouldbelovely,”Moensays,warmly.“Beautifulspotyou’vegothere.”
TheyallgoinsideandOliviaturnsawayandbusiesherselfwiththeold,serviceablecoffeemaker.Shetakesdownfourblueenamelcups.Theseold,chippedcupscomforther,remindherofrelaxed,happiertimes.Morningcoffeeonthedeck,withthemistrisingoffthewater;hotcocoaforRaleighwhenhewaslittle,wrappedinared-and-blackplaidblanketagainstthechill.Sheglancesoverhershoulderandseesthedetectiveseachpullingonbluelatexgloves,andjustlikethat,allherhappyfeelingsabruptlydisappear.
TWENTY-NINE
Shebringsthecoffeeovertothedetectives;theyacceptitgratefully.Oliviafindsthesightofthoselatexglovesholdinghercupsunsettling.Thedetectivesbegintogoabouttheirwork.OliviaandPaulsitsilentlyatthekitchentable,tryingtopretendthattheydon’tmind,thatthey’renotwatchingthetwocops’everymove.
Whenthedetectivesleavethemainroomofthecabinandgointothebedrooms,Paulgetsupandfollows,takinghiscoffeewithhim.Oliviagetsup,too.Thedetectivesopendrawers,lookundermattresses.Theyputeverythingbackthewaytheyfoundit.Shehasnoideawhattheyexpecttofind.Theyreturntothekitchenandgothroughitmethodically,silently.Thelongeritgoeson,themoreanxiousOliviabecomes.ShewatchesasWebbstudiesthenavycurtainscarefully.Silently,hewavesMoenover.Togethertheylookatthecurtains,bothsides,withtheaidofaflashlight.Webb’sfaceseemstoturngrim.
Finally,WebbturnstoOlivia’shusbandandsays,“Doyouhaveanytools?”
“Tools?”Paulrepeats.
Oliviawondersiftheywanttotakesomethingapart.She’snotgoingtoallowthat,andshe’ssurePaulwon’teither.Iftheywanttostarttearingupthefloorboardstheywillhavetogetadamnwarrant.
Paulmustbethinkingalongthesamelinessheis,becausehesays,“Whatfor?”
“Wheredoyoukeepthem?”Webbasks,avoidingthequestion.
Withoutanswering,Paulleadsthemoutsidetoasmallshed,notfarfromthecabin.It’sfulloffirewood,plasticlawnchairs,alawnmower,andotheraccumulatedjunk.OliviapeersaroundPaulasheopensthedoortotheshed,andpoints.Webbpullsouthisflashlightandflicksiton,playingthelightovertheinterioroftheshed.There’sahatchetleaningupagainstthewall.Thelightlandsonabatteredredmetaltoolbox.Thedetectivestepsinsideandsquatsdownandopensit.Heusesanindexfingertosearchinsidethetoolbox,hisblueglovesstarkandcleanagainstthedustyinterior.Oliviawonderswhatthehellhe’slookingfor.ShecanseethetensioninPaul’sshoulders.
“Doyouhaveahammer?”Webbasks.
“Yes,”Paulsays,“itshouldbethere.”Hebendsdowntolookinsidethetoolbox.
“Itdoesn’tappeartobeherenow,”Webbsays,andturnshisattentiontoPaul.“Whenwasthelasttimeyousawit?”
“Ihavenoidea,”Paulsays.“Idon’tremember.”Thetwomenstareateachotherforalongmoment.
Oliviafeelsherstomachdrop.She’sbeentellingherselfthatthedetectivesareonafool’serrand,thattheywon’tfindanything,andthenthey’llleavethemalone.Butthereitisagain,thedoubtnigglingatthebackofhermind—Dothedetectivesknowsomethingthatshedoesn’t?
WebblooksupatMoenandsays,“Ithinkweneedtogetthecrimeteamouthere.”
“You’regoingtoneedawarrantforthat,”Paulsaysangrily.
Oliviastaresatherhusband,herheartpounding.
“Icandothat,”Webbsays,“withaphonecall.AndIcanhaveaforensicunitoutherewithinacoupleofhours.”
—
WebbwatchesPaulSharpe,standingbytheshedinthesunlightfilteringthroughthetrees,hishandsdownbyhissides.
“What’sgoingon?”hiswifeblurtsoutsuddenly,herfaceashen.“PaulhadnothingtodowithAmandaPierce!Whyaren’tyouafterherhusband—he’sprobablytheonewhokilledher!”
“Olivia,you’renothelping,”Sharpesays.“They’veobviouslymadeuptheirminds.Letthemsearch.There’snothingtofind.”
Whiletheywaitforthecrimesceneteamtoarrive,WebbandMoenexploretheareaoutsidethecabin,whiletheSharpesstandbymutelyandwatch.Finallytheyallturnasacoupleofpolicecarsandawhitecrimescenevanpulluptothecabin.
Webbknowsthatifthiscabinisacrimescene,ithasalreadybeencompromised.Buttheymustsearchitregardless.Webbpointsoutthesuspiciousstainsonthekitchencurtains—thestainsthatlooklikeblood—tothetechnicians.Ifitisblood,theywillbeabletogetDNAfromthestains.WebbandMoenwatchsilentlywhilethetechniciansclosealltheblindsandcurtainstodarkentheroom.Atechbeginstosprayluminolinthekitchen.Thekitchenfloorlightsupnearthebackwindowsandshowsapathfromtheretothesinkontheoppositesideoftheroom.
Thetechgivesthedetectivesameaningfulglance.
“What’sthat?”Paulasks.
“Thelit-upareasshowthepresenceofblood,”Webbsays,“evenwhenithasbeencleanedupandisinvisibletotheeye.”Helooksatthecouplestandingattheedgeofthekitchen.Webbdoesn’tknowwholooksworse.OliviaSharpelookslikeshe’sabouttofaint.PaulSharpeisstandingcompletelystill,staringatthefloor,hisfaceslackwithincomprehensionandshock.
Thetechthenspraystheareaaroundthesinkanditlightsup,too.Butastheyproceed,thebiggestareawherebloodhasbeenscrubbedclean—atleasttothehumaneye—isatthebackofthekitchenonthefloorinfrontofthewindowsthatfacethelake.Thereisevidenceofwiped-upbloodspatteronthewallsandeventheceilingaswell.Theluminescencefadesafterafewmoments,buttheyhaveallseenit.
Withthehelpofthechemical,ithasbecomeobviousthatAmandaPierce—orsomebody—wasattackedinthekitchennearthebackwindows,andthatsomething—probablyaweapon—wascarriedfromwheretheattackoccurredtothekitchensink.Theevidenceofbloodspatterarcingonthenearbywallsandceilingindicatesthatshewasstruckviolentlyandrepeatedlywithsomethinghard.Themissinghammer.
WebbstepsforwardandsaystoPaulSharpe,“YouareunderarrestforthemurderofAmandaPierce.Youhavetherighttoremainsilent.Anythingyousaycanandwillbeusedagainstyouinacourtoflaw.Youhavetherighttospeaktoanattorney,andtohaveanattorneypresentduringanyquestioning.Ifyoucannotaffordalawyer,onewillbeprovidedforyouatgovernmentexpense.Doyouunderstandtheserights?”
OliviaSharpeslidestothefloorbeforeanyonecancatchher.
THIRTY
Oliviaissodisorientedthatshecanbarelyfunction.Shehardlyremembersthedrivebacktothecity.Herhusbandwentinthepolicecar—handcuffed—onhiswaytothepolicestation.Shefollowedinthebackofthedetectives’car,hermindnumb,Webbdriving,whileMoendrovetheSharpes’carbacktothestationandtheforensicteamwasleftbehindtofinishprocessingthescene.
Nowshe’ssittingatthestation,waitingforsomeonetocomeoutandtellherwhat’shappening,andwhatwillhappennext.Shecouldn’tbringherselftomeetPaul’seyeswhenhewasarrested.Shekeepsseeingthelit-upareaswherethebloodhadbeenintheircabin.Shehastofightdownthebilethat’srisinginherthroat.Thatstainhadbeenthere,butinvisible,sinceAmandawasmurdered.Oliviahadstoodonitacoupleofweekendsago,thelasttimetheywereatthecabin,lookingoutatthewaterinthemorning,holdinghercoffee,thinkingthateverythingwasrightwiththeworld.Thelastnormalweekend.TheweekendbeforeshefoundoutRaleighhadbeenbreakingintoplaces.TheweekendbeforeAmanda’sbodyhadbeenfound.Butnothinghadbeenrightatall.Thesethingshadalreadyhappened,andshehadsimplybeenunawareofthem.Itseemslikealifetimeago.She’sappalledatherownmonumentalignorance.She’dhadnoideathatamurderhadtakenplacewhereshestood.Shecan’tgetitoutofhermind,can’tstopseeingit,thelit-uppatternonthefloor,theevidenceofbloodspatteronthewallandallthewayuptotheceiling.Shethinksabouttheirmissinghammer—heavyandfamiliar,itsoldwoodenhandlewithlayersofwhitepaintonit.DidAmandaknowshewasgoingtodie?Shemusthavescreamed.Outthere,noonewouldhaveheardher.Oliviaimaginesthehammercomingdownonthewomanwhosefacesheknowsonlycasually,andfromthatonephotographtheykeepshowingonline.WhenOliviacloseshereyes,sheseesthetrailleadingfromwhereshewasmurderedtothekitchensink.Hersink,whereshewashedthedishestwoweekendsago,whilePaulstoodbesideheranddried,makingidlechatter,knowing
SheremembersPaul’sface,paleaschalk,astheytookhimaway,andhesaidtoher,“Ididn’tdothis,Olivia!Youmustbelieveme!”
Shewantsto.Buthowcanshebelievehim?
WhatwillshetellRaleigh?
Suddenlysheneedsatoilet,butthere’snotime—shethrowsupalloverherownlap,thechair,thefloor.
—
DetectiveWebbpausesoutsidethedooroftheinterviewroom.Moenisalreadyinthere,withPaulSharpe.Webbistired,andtakesamomenttopreparehimselfmentally.Thenheopensthedoor.
Sharpeisslumpedinthechair,hiscuffedhandsonthetableinfrontofhim.Helooksterrible.Hiseyesarewatery,asifhe’stryingnottocry.
Whathadheexpected?Webbthinks.Whydotheyalwaysthinktheycangetawaywithit?HerememberswhatSharpewaslikeatthebeginning.HedeniedknowingAmandaPierce.Thenheadmittedtobeinginthecarwithher,butonlyaftertheytoldhimthathe’dbeenseen.ThestoryaboutLarryHarris—ithadhadtheringoftruthbecauseitwastrue;they’dsubsequentlyconfirmedthatLarryhadbeenseeingAmanda.Butwhyhadhebeen“warningheroff”Larry,asheclaimed?Maybeitwasn’tbecausehewastryingtoprotectafriend;maybehewasjealous.MaybehewasinvolvedwithAmandahimself.He’darguedwithherthatnight,alittlemorethanaweekbeforeshewentmissing.WhathappenedthatFridaynight?Theycouldn’tconfirmhe’dbeenathisaunt’s.Hecouldhavebeenatthecabin.HecouldhavemetAmandathere,killedherwiththemissinghammer,thrownthemurderweaponinthelake.Hecouldhavedrivenhercartothatspotattheneighboringlakeandsunkitandwalkedbacktohisowncaratthecabin.Thewalkwouldhavetakenalittleoveranhour.Hecouldhavedoneit.Theydon’tknowwhattimehegothomethatnight.
WebbsitsdownacrossfromSharpeandlooksathimforamoment.“You’reinalotoftrouble,”hesays.Sharperaiseshiseyestohimandgiveshimalookofpurefear.
“Iwantalawyer,”Sharpesays.“I’mnottalkingtoyouwithoutalawyerpresent.”
“Fine,”Webbsays,standingupagain.Hehadn’texpectedanythingelse.
—
Glendahearstheping,glancesdown,andseesthetextonhercellphone.I’matthepolicestation.Pleasecome.It’sfromOlivia.
WhatisOliviadoingatthepolicestation?Glendadoesn’ttellAdam,justhomefromschool,whereshe’sgoing,justthatshe’sgoingtoseeOlivia.
Sheparksthecarandrushesupthestepsintothepolicestation.SheasksforOlivia,andisdirectedtoasmallwaitingarea.ThesmellofvomitassailsherandsheseesimmediatelythatOliviahasbeensick,butsomeonehastriedtocleanherup.
“Olivia,Christ,what’sthematter?What’shappened?”
Oliviastartstotellher,crying,andGlendagetsthegistofit,feelsherbodygrowingcolderandcolderasshepiecesthingstogetherfromOlivia’ssobbingaccount.Theworstpossiblenews.She’sstunned.Paul,arrestedforthemurderofAmandaPierce.Evidenceofbloodfoundinthecabin.OliviahasherfaceburiedinGlenda’sshoulder;Glendaisgratefulthatforthemoment,atleast,Oliviacan’tseeherhorrifiedexpression.Glendamustpullherselftogether;Olivianeedsher.
Finally,shepushesOliviaawaygently,sothatshecanlookather.“Olivia,”shesays.“I’mgoingtohelpyougetthroughthis.”Olivialooksbackatherasifsheistheonlythingkeepinghertogether.“Okay?”
Olivianodsdumbly.
“YouneedtogetPaulalawyer.Thebestonewecanfind.”
Olivianodsagain,almostdistractedly,andwhispers,“WhatamIgoingtotellRaleigh?”
Idon’tknow,Glendathinks.Theycan’thideitfromhim.Shesays,“We’llfigureitout.We’lltellhimtogether.Comeon,let’sgetyouhome.”
“Wait,”Oliviasays.
“What?”
Olivialooksatherdesperatelyandlowershervoicetoawhisper.“DoItellRaleighthathedidn’tdoit?”
Glendadoesn’tknowhowtoanswer.Finallyshesays,“WhatdidPaulsay?”
Oliviaavertshereyes.“Hesaidhedidn’tdoit.”
“Thenthat’swhatyoutellRaleigh,”Glendasays.
ShebundlesOliviaintohercaranddrivesherhome.Paul’scarcanstaythereovernight—she’llcomebackforitinthemorning.ThesightofthefamiliarhouseastheypullupmakesGlenda’sheartsink.She’sdreadingwhat’stocome.ButshewillstickbyOlivia,nomatterwhat.Nomatterhowuglyitgets.That’swhatfriendsarefor.
—
Raleighmustwonderwhereshe’sbeenallday,Oliviathinksdully.She’dtextedhimsomehowfromthestation,sayingshe’dbehomesoon.Oliviadoesn’tknowwheretofindthecouragetotellhim.Howdoyoutellyoursonthathisfatherhasbeenarrestedformurder?
Shewantstobelieveit’sallaterriblemistake.Thepolicemakemistakesallthetime.Butthensheremembersthebloodstains.Shecan’tforgetthem.
Whensheopensthedoor,shehearsRaleigh’sstepshurryingdownthestairstogreether.HisfacefallswhenheseesherandGlenda;hecantellsomething’swrong.
“Mom,wherehaveyoubeen?”heasks.
Oliviawantstoprotecthim.Butshecan’tprotecthimfromthis.Everyonewillknow.Shecan’tkeepitfromhim.Herson’slifeisgoingtoberippedapartinthenextfewminutes.Youtrysohardtodoeverythingright,butthen—
Suddenlysheissotiredthatshecanhardlystand.
“Let’ssitdown,”Glendasays,andleadsOliviaintoherownlivingroom,guidingherbytheelbowuntilsheslumpsdownonthesofa.
“What’swrong?”Raleighdemands,inahollowvoice.“Where’sDad?”
“Yourfatherisatthepolicestation,”Oliviasaysfinally,tryingtokeepherfacefromcrumbling.
Helooksbackatherwithblankincomprehension.Butthenheseemstogetit;shecanseeitinhisface,thedawningdread.
“He’sbeenarrested,”shesays.
“What?”Raleighasks.“Forwhat?”
“ForthemurderofAmandaPierce,”Oliviasays,hervoicebreaking.
There’sastunnedsilence.
“That’scrazy!”Raleighprotestsafteramoment.“Why?Whydidtheyarresthim?”
Thisissohard.Shehastotellhim.“Theysearchedourcabintoday.Andtheyfound—evidence.”
“Whatevidence?”Raleighdemands,hisfacecontortedwithemotion.“Daddidn’tkillher!Hedidn’treallyknowher,right?Hejustsawsomething,hewascoveringforsomebody,that’sall.That’swhathesaid.”
Ithurtshertolookatherson,strugglingwiththis.Itfeelssobrutal,whatshemusttellhimnow.“Theyfoundsomebloodstainsinthecabin.They’regoingtodosometestsandseeifit’sAmandaPierce’sblood.”Hervoiceisaroughwhisper.
“Howcantheyarresthimiftheydon’tevenknowitwasherblood?”Raleighsaysdesperately.“Theymusthavesomethingelse.”
“Ourhammerismissing.”There’sanotherlongsilence.FinallyOliviasays,“Yourfatherhastoldthemhedidn’tdoit.”
“Ofcoursehedidn’tdoit!”TherearetearsinRaleigh’seyes.
Shesays,herbodylimp,“Thepolicewantallofus—KeithandAdam,too—togiveourfingerprintstomorrow,becausewe’veallbeenatthecabin.Theywanttoseeifthereareanyotherprintstherethattheycan’taccountfor.”
—
Olivialiesinbed,rigid,eyeswideopenandstaringsightlesslyattheceiling,thinkingofherhusbandinacell.Glendaisinthenextroom,stayingoverforsupport.She’dmadeOliviahaveabath,thrownhersoiledandsmellyclothesinthewashingmachine,andmadeeveryonesoupandtoastthatmostlywentuneaten
Oliviaglancesatthedigitalclockonherbedsidetable.It’s3:31A.M.Hermindhasbeengoingaroundincircles,anendlessloopofhorroranddisbelief.Paulcallingfromworkthatday,sayinghewasgoingtoseehisaunt.Hadhebeenlying?Herthinkingnothingofit,watchingamovieonherownthatnight—choosingsomethingsheknewhewasn’tinterestedinseeing.Himcreepinginlate,aftershewasalreadyasleep—shehasnoideawhattimehecamehome.Thisiswhattrustdoes.Youdon’tnoticethesethings,youdon’tquestionthem,becauseyouthinkyouhavenoreasonto.Nowshewishesshe’dbeenlesstrusting;shewishesshe’dpaidattention.
Whatwashewearingwhenhecamehome?Shehasnoidea,becauseshewasasleep.Washestillinhisofficeclothes?Shecertainlydidn’tnoticeanythinglikebloodstainsonhisclothesthenextday—shewouldhavenoticedthat,andremembered,nomatterhowtrustingshe’dbeen.IfhekilledAmanda,hemusthavegottenridofhisclothessomehow.
Shegetsup,turnsonthebedsidetablelamp,andstartssearchingthroughhiscloset,clawingthroughhischestofdrawers.Allhissuitsseemtobeaccountedfor.ButPaulhasalotofclothes,especiallyoldjeansandT-shirts.Shecan’tthinkofanythingthatisn’tthere.Hekeepsclothesatthecabin,too.Somethingmightbemissing,andshewouldn’tnecessarilyknow.
HemusthavebeenseeingAmanda.Sherememberswatchingallthemenfawningoverheratthepartyinthepark.Someoftheneighborshadgotapermittobarbecue.They’dallchippedintwentybucksperfamilyforhotdogsandhamburgersandsodaandbeer,andmostofthemhadbroughtasaladorsomekindofdish.Therewasabouncycastlefortheyoungerkidsandsomeballoons,butmostoftheteenagersdidn’tbothershowingup.Oliviawastidyinguptheketchupandmustarddispensers,occasionallythrowingaglanceatthesemicircleofpeopletalkingandlaughinginthewhiteplasticchairsthathadbeenroundedupfortheoccasion.Shewatchedthenewwoman,Amandasomething,whohadrecentlymovedinontheirstreet.Shewasabsolutelygorgeousandcompletelyawareofit.Whywasshebotheringtoflirtwiththeirmucholderhusbands?Shehadahot-lookinghusbandsittingrightbesideher.
Noneofthewomenlikedher.
GlendahadcomeupandstoodbesideOlivia,followinghergaze,watchinginapparentdisbeliefasAmandaletherhand—withherlong,rednails—restonKeith’sforearm.“Whothehelldoesshethinksheis?”Glendasaid.
ThenBeckycameupontheothersideofOlivia,andthethreeofthemstoodwatchingtheirhusbands,clearlyinthralltothisnewwoman.
Theyshouldallhavebeenmoreontheirguard,Oliviathinks,comingbacktothepresent.PerhapsBecky’sinstinctswererightafterall,andPaulandAmandahadbecomelovers.Didtheymeetatthecabinthatnight?DidPaulbeathertodeathwiththeirhammer?Andthenstuffherbodyinhertrunkandsinkhercar?Andthenscrubeverythingcleanandcomehomeandbehaveasifnothinghadhappened?Whatotherexplanationcantherebe?
Oliviagetsoutofbedandpadsdownthehallquietly,pastthespareroom,carefulnottowakeGlenda,whoshecanhearsnoringlightlythroughthepartlyopendoor.Shereachesherson’sroomandquietlypusheshisdoorajar.Shewatcheshimsleep,completelyunawareofher.Forthemomentatleast,he’speaceful.
Shemovescloserandlooksdownathim.Hisyoungfaceisangular,andconstantlychangingthesedays.He’sgrowingsomewhiskers.It’safacesheadores.Shewoulddoanythingtoprotecthim.Shewantstositdownonhisbedbesidehimandstrokehishair,thewaysheusedtowhenhewaslittle.ButRaleighdoesn’twanthismotherstrokinghishairanymore,notlikewhenhewasveryyoung.Hedoesn’twantherhugsandkissesanymore;he’salmostgrownup.Andhekeepsthingsfromher—heneverdidthatwhenhewaslittle.Hetoldhereverything.Butnowhehassecrets.Raleighiskeepingthingsfromher.Likehisfather.Theybothhavesecrets.
She’stheonlyoneinthehousewhohasnothingtohide.
THIRTY-ONE
BeckyHarrisstandsstaringdownatthemorningnewspaperinherhands.TheheadlinescreamsinlargeprintARRESTINAMANDAPIERCEMURDER.Herfirstthoughtis,They’vearrestedRobert.Shefeelsanintenserelief.Andthen,asshereads,Ohno
Shecan’tbelieveit.ShethinksofOlivia.Shecanimaginewhatshe’sgoingthroughbecauseBecky’sbeenimaginingherselfgoingthroughtheverysamething
Shetakesthepaperthroughtothekitchen.She’saloneinthehouse;Larryhasalreadygonetowork.
Theevidence—asmuchasthearticlereveals—soundsdamning.BloodfoundintheSharpes’cabin,nowthoughttobethesceneofthemurder.Amissinghammer,thepossiblemurderweapon,yettoberecovered.Andthecarwithherbodyinitfoundnotfarfromthere,onaroutefamiliartoPaulSharpe.Stunnedandincredulous,BeckythinksbacktothattimeshesawPaulwithAmandainhercar.Wassheright?Weretheyloversafterall?WashejealousoftheaffairshewashavingwithLarry?Maybethat’swhyhetoldhertobreakitoffwithLarry,ratherthananyaltruisticconcernaboutLarrygettingintotroubleatwork.
Shehadn’tthoughtPaulwascapableofhurtinganyone.Butshehadn’tthoughtLarrywaseither.Sheimagineshowitmusthavebeen.Theyarguedathiscabinandhestruckher.Maybethehammerwaslyingcloseby,andheactedimpulsively.Hewasprobablyhorrifiedatwhathe’ddone,probablyregretteditimmediately.Butthen—hecovereditup.Heputherbodyinthetrunkandsankit.Whatmustlifehavebeenlikeforhimsinceithappened?Especiallysincethebodywasfound.Itmusthavebeenalivinghell.
Therewillbeatrial.LarrywillhavetotestifyabouthisaffairwithAmanda—hissordidmeetingswithherinthatawfulhotel.Thethoughtofallofthisoutintheopensickensher.Howhorribleitwillbeforherandthekids.
ButitwillbefarworseforOliviaandRaleigh.
Sherereadsthenewspaperarticle.ThingslookverybadforPaul.Butatleastsheknowsnowthatherownhusband,despiteallhisfailings,didn’tkillAmandaPierce.Shereallyhadn’tbeensure.
—
CarmineTorresisshockedbywhatshereadsinthenewspaperTuesdaymorning.They’vearrestedPaulSharpeforthemurderofAmandaPierce.
Shethinksofthepoorwomanshespoketoatthedoor—PaulSharpe’swife—andhowillshelookedthatday.Maybesheknew.Maybeitwasn’tonlyhersonshe’dbeenworriedabout.
—
PaulSharpehaslawyeredup,butWebbstillhopestogetsomewherewithhimwhentheyquestionhimthismorning,withhislawyerbyhisside.Hislawyerhadn’tbeenavailablethenightbefore,butnowthatPaulSharpehashadanightinacelltothinkabouthissituation,maybehewillbemorecooperative.
Asheenterstheroom,heseesSharpesitting,nolongercuffed,besidehisattorney.Helooksasifhehasn’tsleptatall.Hehastobescaredshitless.Good.Maybehe’sreadytotalk.
SittingnexttoSharpeisEmilioGallo,awell-knowncriminallawyerfromarespectedfirm.Webbhasdealtwithhimbefore.He’sgood.Expensive.Gallowillstopatnothingtohelpaclient,aslongasit’slegal.Hisdark,nicelytailoredsuit,pressedshirt,andsmartsilktiecontraststarklywiththerumpledjeansandwrinkledshirtofhisclient.SharpeistiredandscruffyandWebbcansmellthesweatandfearcomingoffhim.Galloiswellrestedandwellgroomed,smellingfaintlyofexpensiveaftershave.
WebbandMoensitdown.Thetapeisturnedon.“Pleasestateyournameforthetape,”Webbdirects.
“PaulSharpe,”hesays,hisvoiceshaky.
“AlsopresentareEmilioGallo,attorneyforPaulSharpe,DetectiveWebb,andDetectiveMoenofAylesfordPolice,”Webbbegins.Hedoesn’tmincewords.“Yourclientisgoingtobefacingamurdercharge,”hesays,lookingdirectlyatGallo.
“Goodluckwiththat,”Gallosaysmildly.“Myclientdidn’tdoit.”
WebbturnshisgazeonPaulSharpe.HewaitsuntilSharpefinallylooksupathim.“Iwanttohearitfromhim.”
Sharpesays,“Ididn’tdoit.”
“Theevidenceagainstyouisprettycompelling,”Webbsays.
“It’sallcircumstantial,”theattorneycounters.“Amissinghammer?Bloodonthefloor?Youhaven’tevenconfirmedthatit’sthedeadwoman’sblood.”
“Whenwedo,perhapsyou’llseethingsdifferently,”Webbsays.
“Idon’tthinkso,”Galloreplies.“Anyonecouldhavebeeninthatcabin,anyonecouldhavefoundthehammerintheshedandusedit.Youhavenothingagainstmyclientexceptthathewasn’thomethatnight.Andhehasaperfectlyreasonableexplanationforwherehewas.”
“Thathecan’tprove,”Webbsays.“Hewasseenarguingwiththevictimbeforeshedisappeared.”
“Andhehasaperfectlygoodexplanationforthat,too,”theattorneysayssmoothly.
“Maybewedon’tbelievehim.”
“Itdoesn’tmatterwhatyoubelieve,”Gallosays.“Whatmattersiswhatwillholdupincourt.”Nowtheattorneyleansalittlecloserandsays,“Ithinkwebothknowyou’llhaveatoughtimegettingaconviction.Thereareotherratherobvioussuspectsinthiscase—thehusband,whomayhaveknownabouthiswife’sinfidelity,andherlover.Iunderstandtherewasalover?Myclientdenieshavinganykindofrelationshipwiththevictim.Lotsofreasonabledoubt,ifyouaskme.You’llnevergetthistostick.”
Webbsitsbackinhischair,liftshischinatPaulSharpe,andsays,“Shewasmurderedinhiscabin.”
“Andanyonecouldhavekilledherthere.”Theattorneystandsup,indicatingthattheinterviewisover.“Youeitherhavetochargemyclientorlethimgo.”Webbturnsthetapeoff.
“Wecanholdhimabitlonger,”Webbsays.
AfterSharpehasbeentakenbacktohiscellandhisattorneyhasleft,MoensaystoWebb,“WithGallorepresentinghim,he’snevergoingtobreakdownandconfess.”
“Sowehavetobuildacase,”Webbsays.“Wehaveworktodo.”
—
Olivialooksbackatherhusband.He’ssittingacrossfromherinasmallroomatthepolicestation.Thereisaguardnearby.Shestaresathiminhismessy,slept-inclothes.Heisbarelyrecognizableasherhusband.Ishe,orishesomeoneelsealtogether?Shedoesn’ttrustherownjudgment,herownsensesanymore.
“Gallothinkshemightbeabletogetmeoutofhere,”Paulsays.
Shecan’tspeak.
“Olivia—saysomething,”Pauldemands.Heisdistraught.Hiseyesarebloodshot,andhealreadysmells—ofthecells,offear,anddesperation.Shecan’tstopstaringathim.Helookssodifferent.Healreadylooksmorelikeaprisonerthanhelookslikeherhusbandofaweekago,goingofftoworkinanironedshirt,agoodsuit.Theworldhasgonealltilted,andshecan’tfindherbalance.
“Whatdidhesay?”sheasksfinally.
“Hesaidthatthey’llhavetroublegettingaconviction.”
Helooksbothdesperateandhopefulatthesametime.Adrowningmanreachingforaliferaft.Doessheextendherarmandhelphim,ordoesshepushhimaway?“Whydidhesaythat?”sheasks.Shefeelsandsoundslikeanautomaton.Surelyhe’swrong,she’sthinking.Whywouldhetellhisclientsuchanobviouslie?Somewhereinthebackofhermindshe’salsothinkingthatthisisgoingtocostthemafortune.Probablyeverythingtheyhave.Ifhedidit,maybeitwouldbebetterforeveryoneifhejustadmitteditandpleadedguilty,shethinks.
“WeknowIdidn’tkillher,”Paulsays.“Whichmeanssomebodyelsemusthave.”
Shelooksathim,wantingtobelievehim.Shewouldratherhebewronglyaccused,toknowinherheartthatheisinnocent,andstandbyhimandfighttoothandnailtogetthissortedout.Butshe’snotsure.Sheneedsconvincing.Shewantstobeconvinced.Shewantstobelievehim.
“WhatdidGallosay,exactly?”sheasks,daringtohopehehassomegoodnews.
“Hesaidthereareother,bettersuspects—herhusband.Larry,whoprobablywashavinganaffairwithher.Theyneedtoproveitbeyondareasonabledoubt,andthere’splentyofroomforreasonabledoubt.”
Shewashopingforsomethingmoreconclusive.Somethingthatwouldexonerateherhusband,clearhimonceandforall.Shedoesn’twanthimtosimplygetawaywithit.Ifhedidit—ifhewassleepingwiththiswoman,andkilledherinarage,andcovereditup—shewantshimtogotoprisonfortherestofhislife.Shewillneverforgivehim.Ifhedidit,shedoesn’teverwanttoseehimagain.
“Gallosaidanybodycouldhaveusedourcabin,”Paulsays.“Takenourhammer,andkilledherandcleaneditallup,andwewouldneverevenknow.”
“Butthecabinwaslocked,”shesays.
“Someonecouldhavebrokenin.Orfoundthehiddenkey.”Helowershisvoicenowtoawhisperandanotherlookcomesoverhisface,apleadinglook.“Wecouldsaywe’dhadbreak-insbefore,butsincenothingwasevertakenwedidn’tbothertoreportit.”
Shewhispersback,“Thatwouldbealie.”
“Justasmallone,”hesaysveryquietly.“Ididn’tdoit,Olivia.Andmylifeisontheline.”
Shelooksbackathim,herdreadgrowing,andstartsshakingherhead.“No,wecan’tdothat.Raleighwouldknowitwasalie.”
Heslumpsinhischairandlooksdownatthetable,suddenlydefeated.“Yeah,you’reright.Forgetit.”Finallyhelooksup,completelyexhausted,andsaysbleakly,“HowisRaleighdoing?”
“Notgood.Notgoodatall.”
Hehasn’taskedabouther.
—
RobertPierceisbidinghistimeinhiskitchen.Whenhepickedhisnewspaperupoffhisfrontstepthatmorning,therewasalreadyacrowdofreportersonthestreetinfrontofhishouse.Theysawhimandstartedtosurgetowardhim,buthequicklysteppedinsidethehouseandslammedthedoor.HelookeddownatthefrontpageoftheAylesfordRecord
Asheread,aslowsmilecameoverhisface.They’dmadeanarrest.Anditwasn’thim.
Thenewshasputhiminaverygoodmood.Maybehewillbeabletorelaxnow.Maybehewillbeabletoreturntowork.It’sbeenwearing,thepolicealwaysathisdoor,alwayslookingathimasifit’sjustamatteroftimeuntilhescrewsup.ButnowtheyhavearrestedPaulSharpe.Allattentionwillbeonhim.Robertcanstartlivinghislifeagain,putallthisbehindhim.
Helooksoutthewindowandseesthatthereportersarestilloutthere.Heknowstheywillwaitalldayuntiltheygetastatementfromhim.He’ssomethingofacelebrity.Hegoesuptohisbedroomanddressescarefully.Anicepairofpantsandadressshirt.Hecombshishair,admireshimselfinthemirror.Andthenhegoesdownstairsandopensthefrontdoorandstepsout.
Thecamerasflashrepeatedly;hekeepshisexpressionsuitablyserious.Abereavedhusband,gratefulatlastthathiswife’skillerhasbeenarrested.
THIRTY-TWO
AnofficerstickshisheadinWebb’sofficedoorandsays,“TheSharpesandtheNewellswereallfingerprintedthismorning,sir.Andsomethingveryinterestinghasturnedup.”
Webblooksdownatthereport.WhatthehellwasPaulSharpe’ssondoinginAmandaPierce’shouse?
—
Oliviasitsonherbedandlooksatherselfinthedressermirror.She’sashen.Thedetectiveshavecalledandwanttoseeheragain.TheyhaveaskedhertobringRaleigh,too.
Raleighisinhisroom,havingstayedhomefromschool.GlendaisstickingbyOliviaandRaleigh—showingpeoplethatshesupportsthem.OliviafeelsbetterhavingGlendahere.SheremembershowpeoplehadstoodandwatchedoutsideofRobertPierce’shouse,notthatlongago,thinkingthatRobertPiercehadmurderedhiswife.Andnowtherearepeopleoutsideofherhouse,thinkingthatPaulisakiller.
WhensheandRaleigharrivebackatthestation,sheisdirectedintoaninterviewroom,whileRaleighisaskedtowaitoutside.WebbandMoenaretherewaitingforher.She’scaughttheminthemiddleofaconversation,whichtheyabruptlybreakoff.
“Mrs.Sharpe,”Webbsays.“Thankyouforcomingin.Justsoyouknow,thisinterviewispurelyvoluntary;youarefreetoleaveatanytime.”
DetectiveMoenbringsherwaterandlooksatherasifinsympathy.Mencanbesuchshits.
Olivia’smouthisdry.Sheswallows.There’sabsolutelynothingshecantellthem,onewayortheother.Shedoesn’tknowanything.Nothingthathappensinthisinterviewwillchangeanything.Shemustjustgetthroughit.
Webbsays,“LabresultsconfirmthatthebloodfoundinyourcabinisAmandaPierce’s.”
Herheadswimsatthenews,butshealreadyexpectedit.Whoelse’sbloodcoulditbe?Hewaitsforhertosaysomething.
“Idon’tknowanythingaboutit.”
“Youmusthavegivenitsomethought,”Webbchidesher.
“Ithinksomeoneelsemusthavekilledherinourcabin.”
“Whodoyouthinkthatmightbe?”
“Idon’tknow.”Shepausesandsays,“Herhusband,possibly.”
“Whatwouldherhusbandbedoinginyourcabin?”
“Idon’tknow.”Oliviawantstocry,butrefusesto.Shecan’texplainit.Shecan’texplainanyofit.Whywon’ttheyjustleaveheralone?Theyknowthey’vegothim.Whytortureherlikethis?Shecan’thelpthem.Can’ttheyseethatshe’ssufferingenough?
“Isthereanyonewedon’tknowaboutwhomayhavehadaccesstothecabin?”Webbasks.
“No.”
“DidtheHarrisesevervisit?”
“No,never.”
“Didyouevertellthemwhereitwas,exactly?”
“No.”
“Anyoneelse?”
“No.”
“Okay,thankyou.That’sitfornow.We’dliketospeaktoyourson.Youcanstayifyoulike.”
TheybringRaleighin.Helooksanxiousandveryyoung.Hesitsdownbesideherandshetriestogivehimareassuringlook.Shewantstoputherarmaroundhisshouldersandgivehimasqueeze,butshesuspectshewouldn’tlikeit.
“Raleigh,I’mDetectiveWebb,andthisisDetectiveMoen.We’dliketoaskyousomequestions,ifthat’sallright.”
Raleighlooksathimuncomfortably.“Okay.”
“Yousee,Raleigh,wefoundyourfingerprintsinthePiercehouse.Canyouexplainthat?”
Oliviafreezesatthissecondblow.Hersonshootsheralookofalarm.Noonesaysanythingforalongmoment.
Finally,Raleighasks,“DoIneedalawyer?”
“Idon’tknow,doyou?”Webbsays.
“Iwantalawyer,”Raleighsays,hisvoicebreaking.
“We’llgetyouone,”Webbsays,risingoutofhischair.“Stayput.”
—
Raleighhasconferredprivatelywithhislawyer—ayoungmannamedDaleAbbot—andhismother,andtheyhavedecidedonacourseofaction.Raleighispetrified.Theinterviewresumes,WebbandMoenononesideofthetable,Raleigh,hisattorney,andhismotherontheotherside.
“So,Raleigh,”Webbsays,“areyougoingtotelluswhatyourfingerprintsaredoinginthePiercehouse?”
Raleighglancesathislawyer,whonodsathim,andsays,“Isnuckintotheirhouse.”
“Whenwasthat?”
“ItwouldhavebeenearlyOctober.Idon’tknowexactly.”
“BeforeAmandaPierce’sbodywasdiscovered?”
“Yes.”
“Howdidyougetin?”
“Throughabasementwindow.Itwasn’tlocked.”
“Andwhydidyoudothat?”
“Just—forfun.”Raleigh’sgoingtotrynottoadmittothehacking.It’sallaboutdamagecontrolnow.
“Isee.”Webbsitsbackinhischair,glancesattheattorney.“That’sbreakingandentering,Raleigh.”
Henods.
“Didyoutakeanything?”
Raleighshakeshishead.“No.”
“Whatwereyoudoingthere?”
“Just—snooping.”
Webbnodsthoughtfully.“Snooping.Didyouseeanythinginteresting?”
Raleighglancesathim.“Notreally.”
“Didyouseeacellphoneanywhere?”Webbasks.
Raleighnods.“Yeah.Inabottomdrawerofthedesk.Oneofthosepay-as-you-gokind.Youmusthavefounditwhenyousearchedthehouse.”
“No,wedidn’t.”
“Ididn’ttakeit,Iswear!”
“Didyoulookinsidethephone,Raleigh?”
“No,Iwasn’tthatinterested.”
“It’sokayifyoulookedinsidethephone,Raleigh.”
“Ididn’t.”
“Okay.”Webbsitsbackagain,asifdisappointed.Thenhesays,“DidyoukillAmandaPierce?”
Raleighrecoilsinshock.“No!Ijustwentintheirhouse,lookedaround,andleft.”
Webbstaresbackathim.Finallyhesays,“I’mafraidwe’llhavetochargeyouwithbreakingandentering.”
Raleighsitsbackinhischair.It’sarelief,really.Hecan’tbelievehowmuchofareliefitis.Itfeelssogoodthathesuddenlyblurtsout,“Ibrokeintoanotherhouse,too.Thirty-twoFinchStreet.”Hedoesn’twanttohavetoworryaboutCarmineanymore.He’lladmittothosetwo.Theycan’tprovehewasinthelasthousehehit—thepolicemustknowaboutthatonealready,buthewaswearinggloves.He’snotgoingtoadmittoanymorethanhehasto.
—
Glendamakessomethingcomfortingforsupper.Macandcheese.Butthethreeofthemsimplypickattheirfood.GlendawatchesOliviaandRaleighwithconcern.Shehasnoappetiteeither.They’rebothsittingquietlyattheirplaces,facesdrawn,eachlostintheirownprivatehell.Neitherofthemhassaidanythingaboutwhathappeneddownatthepolicestation,andalthoughGlenda’sdyingtoknow,shedoesn’twanttoask.
Raleighsays,“Mom,maybeyoushouldgoliedown.”
“Goodidea,”Glendaagrees.Olivialookslikeshe’sabouttocollapse.“Whydon’tyougoliedowninthelivingroom?I’llcleanup.”
ShetucksablanketaroundOliviaonthesofaandglancesoutthewindowtothestreet.Everyonehasgoneaway.Sheimaginestheywillbebacktomorrow.Murderisalwaysbignews.
WhydidRobertandAmandaPierceeverhavetomovehere?shethinksbitterly.
Oliviafallsasleeponthesofa.Finally,aroundnineo’clock,Glendadecidestogo.Shecan’tstayattheSharpes’forever;Adamneedsherathome.Sheleavesanotethatshe’llbebackinthemorning,andwalkshomeinthedark,herfootstepsechoinghollowlyonthepavement.
Whenshearrivesathome,Adamtellsherthatthey’reoutofmilkandbread.“Fine,”shesays,noteventakingoffhercoat.“Whydon’tyoucomewithmetothestorethen?”
Heputsonhisjacketandheadsoutwithher.
“Howaretheydoing?”Adamasks,obviouslyworried.
“They’regoingtobeokay.Everything’sgoingtobeallright,”Glendasays.Shedoesn’tknowwhatelsetosay.Theywalktherestofthewayinsilence.
Thebellonthedoorchimesastheyentertheconveniencestore.Glendaiscompletelydrainedandjustwantstopickupherthingsandgohome.Assheturnsawayfromtherefrigeratorwithhermilk,Adamtrailingbehindher,shespotsCarmineintheaisleinfrontofher.Shit.Shedefinitelydoesn’twanttotalktoher.She’sabusybody,andGlendaisinnomoodforit.Sheresentsthewayshe’sbeenstickinghernoseineverywhereaboutthebreakins,houndingOlivia.Shewishesshe’dleaveRaleighalone.Andshecertainlydoesn’twanttotalkaboutPaulbeingarrested—Carminewillbealloverthat.Glendaconsidersputtingthemilkdownquietlyonthefloorandmakingaquickexit.Toolate—atthatmoment,Carmineturnsherheadandseesthem.Asmileofrecognitionlightsherface.Shit.
“Glenda,isn’tit?”Carmineasks,approachingher.
“Yes,”Glendasays,makingherwaybrisklytothefrontofthestorewherethebreadis,avoidinghereye.ButCarminefollowsher.She’sreallynotgreatatreadingsocialcues,Glendathinks.
“Hi,Adam,”Carmineadds.
GlendanoticesthathersonistryingtoavoidCarmine,too.
“Youknow,youremindmeofmyownsonabit,”CarminesaystoAdam.“Samedarkhairandeyes.”
Adamlooksasifhewisheshecoulddisappear,andGlendawantstotellCarminetogetlost.
“MyLukewasabitofahandful.Heusedtogetuptoallkindsoftrouble.Drinking,takingmycarwithoutpermission.”
Glendastaresather.
ButCarminefocuseshereyesonAdamandsays,“DidyoutellyourmomthatIsawyoutheothernight?”
Glendasays,“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Oh,nothing.Nevermind,”Carminesays,asiffinallygettingthehint.“Haveagoodnight.”Andshewandersofftoanotheraisle.
Glendamakesherpurchases,eagertogetawayfromCarmine.
—
Lateatnight,OliviapadsdownthecarpetedhalltolookinonRaleigh.Shesilentlypushesopenthedoor.Shestandsthereforamomentinthedark,studyingthebed.Then,alarmed,sheflicksthelightswitchon.Hersonisn’tthere.
Herheartspeedsupandsheturnsawayfromhisbedroomandcreepsdownstairs.Thekitchen,livingroom,anddenaredark.He’snotthereeither,sittingalone,broodinginthedark—sheturnsonthelightstobesure.Shereturnstothekitchenandopensthedoortotheadjoininggarage.Raleigh’sbikeiswhereitshouldbe,hishelmethangingfromthehandlebar.
Shereturnsupstairsandquietlymakesherwaytotheonlyroomshehasn’tchecked—theofficeattheendofthehall.Theroomiscompletelydark,exceptfortheslightglowcomingfromthecomputer.It’sherhusband’scomputer,andRaleighisengrossedinitscontents.
“Raleigh,whatareyoudoing?”shesays.
THIRTY-THREE
Webbarrivesveryearlyatthestationthenextmorning,afterapoornight’ssleep.Hegrabsacoffeeandheadstohisoffice,thenhesitsbackinhischair,gazingatthewallopposite,hismindbusy.
Theycan’tholdPaulSharpeincustodymuchlongerbeforetheprosecutorhastochargehimorlethimgo.It’sAmandaPierce’sbloodinhiscabin.Hishammerismissing.Sharpewasseenarguingwiththevictimshortlybeforeshedisappeared,buthisstorythathewaswarningherawayfromLarryHarrishasacertainplausibility—theyknowLarrywasseeingher.
OliviaSharpesaidthatLarryHarrishadneverbeentothecabin.Isitpossibleshewaswrong?CouldHarrishavearrangedtomeetAmandaattheSharpes’cabinthatweekend,whilehewasattheconference?Maybehekilledher.Heparkedintheoutsidelotattheresortandhadhisstoryreadythathewasworkingandfellasleep.Nooneseemedtocarethathemissedmostofthereception—untilhebecameinvolvedinamurderinvestigation.TheonlythingthatwentwrongisthattheyfoundAmanda’scarwithherbodyinthetrunk.She’dmadethatconvenientfibtoherhusband,soitwouldlooklikeAmandahadarrangedherowndisappearance.PaulSharpewastheonlyonewhoknewabouttheaffair,andhewouldn’tsayanything,especiallyifhehadn’tknownthey’dbeenathiscabin.
Possibly.ButPaulSharpemighthavesaidsomething.Whenshedisappeared,staffatthehotelmighthavecomeforwardaboutseeingthemtogether,andthenHarriswouldhavebeenunderamicroscope.Butstill,withnohardevidence—andespeciallynobody—itwouldlookasifanunhappy,unfaithfulwifehadrunfromherlife.
OrmaybeRobertPierceisthekiller.Piercehasbeenlyingtothem.AccordingtoHarris,PiercehadaccesstoAmanda’sburnerphoneandknewabouttheiraffair.AndRaleighSharpesawtheburnerphoneinPierce’sdeskafterAmandahaddisappeared.Butitwasn’ttherewhentheysearchedthehouse.Piercemusthavegottenridofit.Maybehe’dbeenwatchingher.Heseemedthetype.Maybeheknewwhereshewasgoingthatnight,droveuptothecabin,sawherwithherlover—LarryHarris?PaulSharpe?—waitedforhertobealone,andbashedherheadin.Piercedoesn’thaveanalibieither.
He’lltalktotheprosecutor.They’llletPaulSharpegofornow,andseehoweverybodyreacts.Webbhastime.Timetogetundereverybody’sskin.There’snostatuteoflimitationsonmurder.
—
OliviaisstartledbythekitchenphoneringingearlyWednesdaymorning.It’sDetectiveWebb,tellingherthattheyarereleasingherhusbandwithoutcharge.Shehangsupandstandsperfectlystill.Herdrivetothepolicestationpassesinablur.Shefeelsnumb.
Oliviasitsinthewaitingareaatthestation,watchingforPaultoappear.Tornbetweenreliefanddread,shewantstoputthemomentoff.Butit’scome;shehearsfootstepsandstandsup.ThensheseesPaul.Shewalksupandhugshim,likeshe’sdoneathousandtimesbefore,butthistimeisdifferent.She’snotsureabouthim.Shecanfeelboththeirheartsbeating.Afteramoment,shepullsaway.
Helooksatherwarily.
“Let’sgetyouhome,”shesays,andturnsawaysohecan’tseethedoubtinhereyes.
She’salreadytextedGlendawiththenews,tellinghernottocomeby.
—
Raleighwaitsanxiouslyforhismomtoreturnhomewithhisdad.She’dtoldhimshewasgoingtopickhimup.Raleigh’snotgoingtoschoolagaintoday.
Hisfatherisinnocent,hetellshimself.They’relettinghimgo.ButRaleigh’sreliefistingedwithuneasiness.Hecantellthathismotherhasherdoubts.Raleighhasdoubts,too.He’snotsureofanythinganymore.Hehadn’tfoundanythingilluminatingonhisdad’scomputer.ButRaleighalsoknowssomethingthattheydon’t.Andhe’sgoingtohavetotellthem.
Whenhisparentsarrivehome,it’sawkward.Hismomsmilesathimasifeverythingisfine,buthecantellfromherdrawnfacethatthingsarefarfromfine.Hisfatherlooksawfulandsmellslikehecoulduseashower.Raleighcanfeelthetensionemanatingfrombothofhisparents.
Theyallendupinthekitchenandhismomsays,“I’vetoldyourfatherthatyou’rebeingcharged.”
“It’llbeokay,son,”hisdadsays,pullinghimintoahug.
Raleighnods,swallows.Butit’snothimselfthathe’sworriedaboutrightnow,it’shisdad.Raleighhastoconfesstohisparents,andhe’sdreadingit.Raleighmusttellthemthetruth.
Beginningisdifficult.“There’ssomethingIhavetotellyou,”Raleighsays.Hecanseeatoncefromtheclosedlookthatcomesoverhismother’stroubledfacethatshedoesn’twanttohearit.She’sgotenoughtodealwith.Hehatestohurthermorethanhealreadyhas.Buthemustsaythis.Hecan’tseemtogetthewordsout.
“Whatisit,Raleigh?”hisfathersaystiredly.He’sbeenhumbled,obviously,byhisownrecenthistory.He’snotonhishighhorsenow,Raleighthinks.
“Iliedtoyou,”hesays.“Iliedtobothofyou.Aboutthebreakins.”
Hismotherlooksmoreanxiousthanever;hisfatherlooksdeeplyweary.
“Itoldyou—andthelawyer—thatIonlybrokeintotwohouses,butitwasmore.”Hewatcheshisdad’sbrowdarken.“Itwasmorelikenineorten,”heconfesses.
Hisdadlooksathimsharply;hismotherlookshorrified.
“There’ssomethingelseIneedtotellyou,”Raleighsaysuncomfortably.“Ididn’twantyoutoknow,but—IbrokeintotheNewells’.”
“What?When?”hisfatherasks.
Raleighswallows.“Itwasthenighttheywereoverherehavingdinner—IknewthatAdamwouldbeoutthatnight,too.”
Hismomgasps.“Youbrokeintoourdearestfriends’housewhiletheywereoverherehavingdinnerwithus?”Shelooksutterlybetrayed.“Howcouldyou?Why?”
Raleighfeelshimselfcoloring.Hegivesahelplessshrug.“Iwashacking.Iwasseriousaboutit….It’saskill,andittakespractice.SoIsnuckintopeople’shouseswhentheyweren’thomeandhackedintotheircomputers.”Herisksanotherglanceathisparents.They’restaringathimindisbelief.“Iwasgettingreallygood,”hesays,“butI’mnotdoingitanymore.”They’restillstaringathim,appalled.There’sapregnantsilence.“Iknewyouwouldn’tapprove.ButIneverdidanyharm.It’snotlikeIeverstoleanydata,orsharedit,orputanythingonanyone’scomputers,ortoldanybodywhatIfound,”Raleighprotests.“Inevertriedtoblackmailanybodyoranything,”heoffersinhisowndefense.
“Blackmail!”hismotherrepeats,herhandatherthroat.
“Mom,relax,Ineverdidanythinglikethat!Itwasmorejust—gettingexperience.”
“Experience—isthatwhatyoucallit,”hisdadsays.
Raleighdoesn’tlikehistone.It’stheolddadtone,anditpisseshimoff.
“Yeah,well,maybeyoushouldlistentomeforachange,”Raleighsayssharply
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”hismomasks.
“Iknowthings,aboutyourdearestfriends,”Raleighsays.
—
Oliviafeelsherheartfreeze.Shestaresatherson,notsosureshewantstohearwhathehastosay.Shefeelsdizzy,shocked.WhatsecretscouldGlendaandKeithhave?Sheglancesatherhusband,buthe’swatchingRaleighintently,asifhe’sstruckanerve.
“Whatareyougettingat,Raleigh?”Paulsays.
“Isawthings,ontheircomputer,”Raleighsays.
“Wegatheredthat,”Paulsaysinatightvoice.“Whatdidyousee?”
“Keithisaprick,”Raleighsayswithenergy.
“Don’ttalkthatway,”Oliviasayssharply.
“Whynot?It’strue!Youshouldseewhatwasonhiscomputer!Isawhisemails—he’sbeencheatingonGlenda,seeingsomeoneelsebehindherback.Icouldn’ttellyoubecausethey’reyourfriends.”
Oliviafeelssickened;shecan’tspeak.
“Whenwasthis?”Paulasks.
“Itoldyou—itwasthatnighttheywereherefordinner,thenightbeforemomsawthetextsonmyphoneandfoundoutwhatIwasdoing,”Raleighsaysmiserably.
Oliviatriestofocus.KeithischeatingonGlenda,andGlendahasnoidea.OliviaiscertainthatGlendadoesn’tknow.Nowwhatdoesshedo?Doesshetellher?Orleaveherinignorance?OliviaglancesatherhusbandandrememberswhenBeckycameovertotellherhersuspicionsaboutPaul.Sherealizes,herheartsinking,thatshe’sgoingtohavetotellGlenda.
“Areyousureaboutthis?”Paulasks.
“OfcourseI’msure.Isawitwithmyowneyes.Therewasnowaytomisinterpretwhathewrote.Ievensentsomeemailsbacktohisgirlfriendfromhisaccount,andtheyweren’tverynice.”
Oliviawatchesherson,feelsherjawdropopen.
Raleighsays,“Soatleastnowheprobablyknowsthatsomebodywasinhiscomputerandknowswhathe’sdoing.”Hesnorts.“Ihopehe’sbeenlosingsleepoverit.MaybehethinksitwasAdam.WhydoyouthinkAdamdrinkssomuch?Hedrinkstoforgetthathisdadissuchanasshole.”
“Raleigh,”Paulbegins,lookingunnerved.“Youcan’tjustmesswithpeople’sliveslikethat.”
“He’sanasshole.Serveshimright.”
OliviawondersifGlendaevertoldKeiththatRaleighwasbreakingintohouses,eventhoughshepromisedshewouldn’t.OliviasometimesletsthingssliptoPaulthatshesaidshewouldn’tshare.
“Theemailswerehidden,”Raleighcontinues.“Youwouldn’tknowtheywerethereunlessyouwerelooking,likeIwas.”
“Howdidyoufindthem?”Paulasks.
“It’seasyifyouknowwhatyou’redoing.Icangetintoapowered-offcomputerinaboutthreeminutes—IjustuseaUSBflashdrivetobootupthecomputer—mostcomputersallowyoutobootfromaliveUSBandthatwayyoucangetaroundtheinternalsecurity.Thenwithafewcommands,IcancreateabackdoorandI’min.OnceIwasinKeith’scomputer,Icouldtellhewastryingtohidesomethingbecausehewasdeletinghisbrowserhistory.Buthedidn’tdeletethecookies,soIwasabletogettheusernameandpasswordforhishiddenemailaccount.AndthenIcouldgetintohisaccountandseehisemailsandpretendtobehimandsendwhateverIwanted.”
Oliviadoesn’tknowwhethertobehorrifiedorimpressed.“Doyouknowwhothewomanwas?”sheasks.
“No.Itwassomesillynameontheemailaccount.Somethingmadeup.”
“Jesus,Raleigh.Youshouldn’thavedonethat,”Paulsays.
Raleighlooksathisfatherasifchallenginghimsomehowandsays,“Doyouthinkhecouldhavebeenseeingthewomanwhowasmurdered?”
Oliviawatchesthetwoofthem,stunnedintospeechlessness.
“No,ofcoursenot!”Paulsays.“That’s…ridiculous.”
“Heknowsourcabin,”Raleighsays.
“AreyousuggestingthatKeithmurderedher?”Paulsays,clearlyhorrifiedattheidea.“Keithcan’tpossiblybeinvolvedwiththis.Hecan’tbeamurderer.He’smybestfriend.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Beckyjumpswhenthedooropensandherhusbandwalksin.He’dbeentooupsettogointotheofficethismorning,andthenthedetectiveshadcalledhimtocomedowntoanswermorequestions.Shecanseethatheisshaken.Buthe’shomefromthepolicestation.Hehasn’tbeenarrested.
“Whathappened?”sheasks.
“TheyaskedmeifI’deverbeentotheSharpes’cabin.”Larrysinks,clearlyexhausted,ontothesofainthelivingroom.“They’restillactingliketheythinkIkilledher.Whydotheythinkthat,Becky?Ihadanaffairwithher,butIswearIdidn’tkillher.”Helooksupather,worried.
Shesitsdownbesidehim.Then,“It’sjustusnow,Larry.You’veneverbeentothatcabin,haveyou?”
“No!Absolutelynot.Iswear,Idon’tknowwhereitis.”
Buthe’sliedtoherbefore.HecouldhaveknownabouttheSharpes’cabinsomehow.
It’sbeenonthenewsthismorning,online,thatPaulSharpehasbeenreleasedwithoutcharge.Shecan’tbetheonlyonewhofindsthatodd.Buttheyobviouslydon’tthinkhedidit.Theymustthinksomeoneelsekilledherinhiscabin.AndtheymustthinkitwaseitherRobertPierceorherhusband,Larry.
Backtosquareone.Whichofthemdidit?Shedoesn’tknow.
—
RobertPiercecan’tbelieveit.Yesterdayhewasintheclear—gaveapressconferenceandcelebratedalonewithafewbeers;todayhelearnsthatPaulSharpehasbeenreleasedwithoutcharge.Hereadsaboutitinthenews,andthenthosedamndetectivesshowuponhisdoorsteparoundlunchtime.
“Mr.Pierce,”Webbsaid.“We’dliketohaveanotherlittlechatwithyou.”
“Aboutwhat?”Robertsaidsuspiciously.
“Aboutyourwife.”
“Ithoughtyoucaughttheguy,”Robertsaid.“Quickwork,bytheway.Whatdoyouwantwithme?”
“Well,yousee,wehadtoreleasehim.Notenoughevidence.”
“You’rekidding,right?”Robertsaid,hisheartpoundingharder.“Mywife’sbloodonthefloorofhiscabinisn’tenoughforyou?”
“Oddlyenough,no,”Webbreplied.“We’dlikeyoutocomedowntothestation.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Andsohereheis,backinthisclaustrophobicroom,butthistimehehasbeenreadhisrights,andtheinterviewisbeingtaped.ThedetectiveshaveletSharpego.Theywillbeafterhimnow,thehusband.Theyalwaysthinkit’sthehusband.
“Wethinkyouknewyourwifewasseeingsomeoneelse,”Webbbegins.
Robertsaysnothing.
“Weknowshehadaburnerphone.Wehaven’tbeenabletofindit,butweknowshehadone.”
Robertremainswarilysilent.
“Doyouknowwhereitis?”Webbpresses.
Still,hesaysnothing.
“Weknowshehadone,”Webbcontinues,“becauseLarryHarristoldus.”
Robertisn’tgoingtorisetothebait.
Webbgetsrightinhisfaceandsays,“Weknowyouhadherburnerphone,becauseHarristoldusthatyoucalledhimfromit.OnthemorningofFriday,Septembertwenty-ninth,thedayyourwifedisappeared.”
Robertshrugs.“That’snottrue.You’veonlygothiswordforit.Hewasscrewingher—he’dsayanything.”
“Wedon’tjusthavehiswordforit.Wehaveawitness.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“AlocalboybrokeintoyourhouseandfoundtheburnerphoneinyourdeskdrawerafterAmandawentmissing.Butitwasn’ttherewhenwesearchedthehouseafewdayslater.Whatdidyoudowiththephone,Robert?”
Hedoesn’tanswer.Hisheartisracing.Insteadhesays,“Whatboy?”
Butthedetectiveignoreshisquestion.“Weknowyouliedtous.WeknowyouknewshewasseeingLarry.WassheseeingPaulSharpe,too?Didyouknowaboutthat?Howmanynumberswereinthatphone?Wasshesleepingwithbothofthem?Thatmusthavebeenhardtotake.Weknowyouhadthephone,soyoumusthaveknownshewasplanningtomeetsomeonethatweekendatthatcabin.Whichonewasit?Andyouwentthere,andsawthemtogether,andonceshewasalone,youbashedherheadin.”
Robertsaysnothing,buthisheartispounding.
“Maybetheburnerphoneisatthebottomofalakesomewhere,likethehammer,”Webbsays.
“Iwanttocallmyattorney,”Robertsays.
—
Olivia,”Paulsaystoher,inatroubledvoice,whenthey’regoingtobedthatnight,“whatifKeithwasseeingAmanda?”
She’dbeenthinkingthesamethingherself,allday,andallevening.Partofherdismissedtheideaasimprobable.SurelyKeithdidn’treallyknowher.He’dmetherattheneighborhoodparty,likeeveryoneelse,buthedidn’tworkinthesamecompanyasPaulandLarry,whereshewasaregulartemp.ThechancehewasseeingAmandaseemslikeastretch.GlendahadnevergivenanyhintthatshesuspectedKeithmightbehavinganaffair.Ontheotherhand…Sheanswershimquietly,“Doyouthinkit’spossible?”
“Idon’tknow.Idon’tthinktheyevermet,otherthanthepartyayearago.Hecertainlynevermentionedhertome.Ineverthoughthewasthetypetohaveanaffair.”
“Theycouldhavemetonline,”Oliviasays.“Theycouldhavemetanywhere.”
Paullooksbackather,radiatingtension.“Olivia,AmandaPiercewaskilledinourcabin.Ididn’tkillher.Butwhodoweknowhasbeentoourcabin?”
Andthat’swhyshe’sunsure.GlendaandKeithcometotheircabineverysummer,foratleastaweekendortwo.Theyknowthecabinverywell.Theirfingerprintsareeverywhere,andperfectlyexplainable.KeithcouldhavemetAmandatherethatweekend,andnobodywouldhaveknown.BecauseKeithprobablywouldhaveknownthattheywouldn’tbeusingthecabinthatweekend.
“Buthowwouldhegetin?”Oliviaasks.
“Keithknowswherewehidethesparekey,”Paulsays.
“Hedoes?”
Paulnods,bitinghislip.“Itoldhimoncehowwedroveallthewaytothecabinthattimeandforgotthekey,andhowafterthatwehidaspareintheshedundertheoilcan.”
Theylookateachother,anuneasydreadspreadingacrosstheirfaces.CouldithavebeenKeith,Oliviaconsiders,andnotAmanda’shusband,orLarry,orPaul,atall?
“Whatshouldwedo?”Oliviaasks.
“Wehavetotellthepolice,”Paulsays.“Letthemlookintoit.Theycanseizehiscomputer.”
CanshedothattoGlenda?Keithprobablywasn’tevenseeingAmanda.Buthewasseeingsomeone.Olivialooksatherownhusband,whomustsurelystillbeasuspect,andknowsthattheymust.
“Ifyougotothepolice,”shesays,“you’llhavetotellthemhowyouknow.You’llhavetotellthemthatRaleighbrokeintotheirhouse,too—andlookedinhiscomputer.”
“Iwon’t.Iwon’ttellthemhowIknow.”
“That’ssonaive,Paul.IftheyseizeKeith’scomputerandfindhewasseeingAmanda,Keithwillbeasuspectinamurderinvestigation.Everythingwillcomeout.”
“We’lljusthavetocrossthatbridgewhenwecometoit,”Paulsaysbluntly.
Asshesettlesunderthecoversandtriestosleep,shecan’tstopthinkingthatifKeithdidkillAmanda,thenhewaswillingtolethisbestfriendtakethefall,andsaynothingatall.Shefeelsadeepchill,andshedoesn’tknowifthatchillwillevergoaway.Shepullsthecoversmoretightlyaroundherandliesinthedark,eyeswideopen.
—
It’slate.Carmineisreadinginbedwhenshehearstheknockatthedoor.Howodd.Shehearsitagain.There’sdefinitelysomeonethere.Shegetsupandslipsonherterryrobe,wrappingthetiearoundherwaistasshedescendsthestairs.Whenshegetstothebottom,sheflicksonthelightswitch.Shepeersoutthewindowandthenhesitantlyopensthedooracrack.
“Hi,”shesays,smilinguncertainly.
“Sorrytobotheryousolate,butyourlightswerestillon.”
“Noproblem.WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Canwetalk?”
“Okay,”shesays.Shestepsbackandopensthedoorwide.Thensheturnsherbacktoherguest,closingthedoor.Everythingchangesinafractionofasecond.There’sasuddenmovementbehindherandthenshefeelssomethingaroundherneckpullingtightly.Ithappenstoofastforhertoscream.Shecan’tbreatheandthepaininherthroatisexcruciating.Shecanfeelhereyesbulging,hervisionblurringasshetriesdesperatelytograbatthecordaroundherneck.Butherkneesarebucklingandnowshe’sbeingpushedforward,herownweightworkingagainstherassheleansintothecordaroundherneck.Sherealizeswithsurprisethatshe’sdying.Noonethinksthisishowthey’regoingtodie.Andtheneverythinggoesblack.
THIRTY-FIVE
GlendaissurprisedtofindOliviaonherdoorstepthenextmorning.
“Whatisit?”Glendaasksquickly.“What’shappened?”Oliviaalwayscallsfirst,shedoesn’tjustshowupunannouncedlikethis.She’dtextedheryesterdaywhenPaulwasreleasedandtoldhernottocomeover.Herhusbandhasbeenreleasedwithoutcharge—whydoessheseemsodistraught?
“Areyoualone?”Oliviaasksnervously.
“Yes,they’vegonealready.Comein,”Glendasays.
“There’ssomethingIhavetotalktoyouabout,”Oliviasays,notmeetinghereye.
Glendastartstofeelapprehensive.“Okay.”
Theysitdowninthekitchen.“Doyouwantcoffee?”Glendaasks.
“No.”
“Olivia,whatisit?You’refreakingmeout.”
“ThedetectivesmatchedRaleigh’sfingerprintstosomefoundinthePierces’house,”Oliviasays.“He’sbeenchargedwithbreakingandentering.”
“Oh,no,”Glendasays.
“Butthat’snotwhyI’mhere,”Oliviasays.“Raleightoldussomethingsyesterday.”Shehesitatesandthencomesoutwithit.“Hetoldusthathebrokeintoyourhouse.ThenightyouandKeithwereoverfordinner.”
Glendaisshocked.Hermoodchangesabruptly.“Whywouldhedothat?”sheasks
“I’mso,sosorry,Glenda.”
EverythingaboutOliviaisbeggingforforgiveness.Shelooksabject.ButGlendafeelsbetrayed,violated.ShehadnoideathatRaleighmighthavebrokenintotheirhouse.That’sdifferent.Allthesmooth,glibassurancesfallaway.Nowwhatshe’sthinkingis,Howdarehe?Shedoesn’tsay,Oh,that’sokay,Olivia.IknowhowupsettingthismustbeforyouPleasedon’tworryaboutit.Shedoesn’ttrytomakeitbetter.Shedoesn’tsayanything.Shefoldsherarmsinfrontofherchest,notevenawareofhowdefensiveshelooks.
“Idon’tknowwhyhedidit,”Oliviasays.“Justteenagestupidity,Iguess—yousaidityourself.Teenagersdostupidthings.”
They’resittingatthekitchentable,acrossfromoneanother.Itfeelsawkward,althoughthey’vesatheretogetherahundredtimes.“Okay,thanksfortellingme,”Glendasaysfinally.“Iguessthere’snorealharmdone,isthere?”Shesaysitrathergrudgingly,andshe’sprettysureOliviaknowshowshereallyfeels.
Butthere’ssomethinginOlivia’sface,andGlendaknowsthatthere’smorecoming.WhatisOliviaafraidtotellher?Becauseshelooksfrightenedtodeath.“There’ssomethingelse,isn’tthere?”Glendasays.
Olivianods.Herfaceispale,herlipsarequivering,andshelookssosorrythatGlendaalmostforgivesherinadvance.Whateveritis,itcan’tbethatbad,Glendathinks.
“YouknowRaleighwassnoopingaroundonpeople’scomputers,”Oliviabegins.
Glenda’ssurethere’snothingontheircomputerstheyneedtoworryabout.SheandKeithsharethesamehomecomputer.WhatisOliviagettingat?
“Hefoundsomeemailsonyourcomputer….”
“Whatemails?”Glendaaskssharply.
“EmailsthatshowthatKeith’sbeenhavinganaffair.”
Glendafeelslikeshe’sbeenkickedinthestomach.Foramomentshecanhardlybreathe.“No,”shesays.“Raleigh’slying.Therearenosuchemails.Whywouldhesaysuchathing?”
“Idon’tthinkhe’slying,”Oliviasayscarefully.
“Youknowhe’saliar,”Glendasnapsback.“Hetoldyouhewasatthemovieswhenhewasoutbreakingintohouses.Whydoyouevenbelievehim?”
“Whywouldhelieaboutit?”Oliviasays.“He’snotsayingittogethimselfoutoftrouble.Whywouldhemakeitup?”
“Idon’tknow,”Glendasays,ataloss.“ButIusethatcomputerallthetime.AndIevenadmit—IdolookthroughKeith’semailssometimes.Andit’sallworkstuff.There’snothingtheretoanyotherwoman.Iftherewere,I’dknow.”
Olivialooksevenmoreuncomfortableandsays,“Raleighsaystheywerehidden.Youhavetoknowwhattolookfor.AndRaleighknows.”
SuddenlyGlendaknowsitmustbetrue.Hiddenfiles.Howcouldshehavebeensostupid,soblind?Sheshakesherhead,shecan’tevenspeak.Shewantstokillhim.
“I’msosorry,Glenda.ButIthoughtyoushouldknow.”
FinallyGlendafindshervoice.“Whoisit?Isitanyoneweknow?”
NowOliviashakesherhead.“Idon’tknow.Raleighsaysitwasamade-upname.”
“Thatsonofabitch,”Glendasays.
“Doyouthink,”Oliviasays,venturingcautiously,asifoverthinice,“thathemighthavebeenseeingAmanda?”
GlendaturnscoldeyesonOlivia.“Amanda.Whywouldyouaskthat?”
“Idon’tknow,”Oliviasaysquickly.“Heprobablybarelyknewher.”
“Thenwhymentionher?”
Oliviashakesherhead,backtracking.“I’msorry,Ishouldn’thave.”
“Maybeyoushouldleave,Olivia,”Glendasays.
“Don’thateme,Glenda,please,”Oliviabegs.“Ididn’twanttotellyou,butIthoughtifitwasme,I’dwanttoknow.”
Glendarepliesacidly,“OrmaybeyouthoughtyoucouldshifttheattentionawayfromPaul,isthatit?Onemorepossiblesuspect.Areyougoingtotellthepoliceaboutthis?”ShelooksatOlivia’sface.“MyGod,youaregoingtotellthepolice!”
Oliviasitsinfrontofher,bitingherlips.
“Getout,”Glendasays.
Oliviascramblestoherfeet.
Glendadoesn’tevengetoutofherchairasOliviaturnstoleave.Glendahearsthefrontdoorclose,andthenthehouseissilent.Shefeelsterriblyalone.
Foralongtimeshedoesn’tmove.Thenshespringsfromherchairandclimbsthestairstothesparebedroomtheyuseasanoffice.Shesitsdownatthedeskandturnsonthecomputer.Shetrieseverythingshecanthinkof,whichisn’tmuch.Shecan’tfindthehiddenemails.Butshebelievesthatthey’rethere.Andthoughshewishesshedidn’t,shebelievesRaleighistellingthetruth.
Finally,fightingbacktearsoffrustration,shegivesupandcollapsesontothesparebedagainstthewall.Andthenshereachesforherphonetocallherhusband.
—
Webbhearssomeonetappingathisofficedoor.Anofficerpopshisheadin.“PaulSharpeheretoseeyou,sir.”
Surprised,Webbsays,“Showhimintoaninterviewroom.I’llberightin.”HeseesMoenontheway;she’scomingtowardhimdownthehall.“PaulSharpejustcamein.Let’sgo.”Shechangesdirectionandfallsinbesidehim.Astheyentertheinterviewroom,Webbhopesthismightbeabreakthroughinthecase.HecansensethesameanticipationinMoen.
“Mr.Sharpe,”hesays,havingremindedhimofhisrightsandturnedonthetape,“istheresomethingnewyouwanttotellus?”
“Yes.”
Webblooksathiminquiringlyandwaits.Hedoesn’tlooklikeamanabouttoconfesstomurder.Andhehasn’tbroughthislawyerwithhim.
“Imightbecompletelywrongaboutthis,”Sharpebegins,“butIthoughtIshouldletyouknow.I’velearnedthatafriendofminewascheatingonhiswife.AndIthinkhemayhavebeenseeingAmandaPierce.”
“Andwhyareyoujusttellingusthisnow?”
“Ijustfoundout.”
“Howdidyoufindout?”
Sharpelooksuncomfortable.“I’drathernotsay.”
Webblooksbackathim,mildlyannoyed,andexhalesheavily.“Whyareyouwastingmyvaluabletime,Mr.Sharpe?”Hedoesn’tanswer,merelylooksstubborn.“WhatmakesyouthinkthismanwasseeingAmandaPierce?”
Sharpesaysnervously,“Heknowsourcabin.He’sbeenthere.”
“Who?”
“KeithNewell.”
Thenameisfamiliar.“Right,hisfingerprintswereinyourcabin;weeliminatedhim.”
Sharpenods.“Heandhiswifevisitusthereeveryyear.”
“AndyounowthinkhewasseeingAmanda,butwon’ttelluswhyyouthinkso?”
“Idon’tknowthathewasseeingAmanda,buthewasseeingsomeone.Hewashavinganaffair.Idon’tknowwhowith.Andheknowswherewekeepthehiddenkey.Itoldhim,whenhewasoutatthecabinlastsummer.”
Webbchewstheinsideofhischeek.“Isee.”
“Lookonhishomecomputer,”Sharpesays.“Lookfortheemailstohisgirlfriend.Maybeyoucanfigureoutifitwasher.”
“Andhowdoyouknowabouttheseemails?Didhetellyouaboutthem?”
“No.”PaulSharpelooksaway.“ButIknowthey’rethere.”
—
Keith,”Glendasaysterselyintothephone.“Ithinkyou’dbettercomehome.”
“What?Why?I’mjustheadingintoameeting.”
“Oliviawasherethismorning.ShesaysRaleighbrokeintoourhouse.Hegotintoourcomputer.”
“What?Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?WhywouldRaleighdothat?”
Shehearsthefearinhisusuallycalmvoice.Sheignoreshisquestion.“Whatareyouhidingonourcomputer?Emailstoanotherwoman?ToAmandaPierce?”Hervoiceclimbs.
Thestunnedsilenceontheotherendofthelinetellshereverythingsheneedstoknow.Shecouldkillhim.
“I’llberighthome,”Keithsays,soundingpanicky.
THIRTY-SIX
DetectiveWebbknocksonthedoorfirmly.He’sobtainedawarranttosearchKeithNewell’scomputer.ThetwomenwithhimandMoenaretechexperts;they’llgethiscomputerandotherelectronics.
Awomananswersthedoor.“Mrs.Newell?”Webbasks,holdinguphisbadge.Henotesthewoman’spallor;she’sclearlybeencrying.
“Yes,”shesays.
“Isyourhusbandathome?”They’dalreadycalledhisoffice,expectingtofindhimthere—wantingtoquestionhim—butweretoldhe’dbeencalledhomesuddenly.Webbnotesherreluctancetoanswer.
Finallyshesays,“Yes,heis.”
“We’dliketotalktohim,”Webbtellsher.
Sheseemstoknowwhatthisisabout.Sheopensthedoorwithoutsayinganythingfurther.
Webbstepsintoafronthallway,andsheleadsthemintothelivingroom.“I’llgethim,”shesays.
WebbwondersifKeithNewellisatthecomputer,hurriedlydeletingfiles.Itdoesn’tmatter.Theycanrecoverjustaboutanything.
Afewmomentslater,KeithNewellcomesdownthestairslookingnervous.
Webbsays,“I’mDetectiveWebbandthisisDetectiveMoen.We’dlikeyoutocomedowntothepolicestationtoanswerafewquestions.”
“Aboutwhat?Whoarethey?”Keithsays,indicatingthetwosilenttechs.
“They’rethetechnicianswhoareheretogetyourcomputers,laptops,tablets,smartphones,andsoon.”
“Youcan’tdothat.”
“Actually,Ican.Ihaveawarrant.”Webbholdsitup,seesthefearintheman’seyes.
KeithNewelllooksfromhimtohiswife,obviouslyfeelingcornered.
TheyleavethetechsbehindinthehousewithNewell’swife,anddrivehimtothepolicestation.Theretheyleadhimintoaninterviewroomandadvisehimofhisrights.Hesayshedoesn’tneedalawyer.Hesayshe’sdonenothingwrong.“So,”Webbbegins.“DidyouknowAmandaPierce?”
Newelllookswarilyatthem.“Yes,Iknewher.”
“Wereyouhavinganaffairwithher?”
Newelllooksasifhe’spoisedontheedgeofaprecipice.ThepanicinhisfacetellsWebbthetruth,nomatterwhathemightsaynext.ButNewellsays,“Yes,Iwashavinganaffairwithher.ButIdidn’tkillher.”
“Tellusaboutit.”
“Wedidn’twantanyonetoknow.Herhusbandwasveryjealous.Hemadeherlifemiserableattimes.Shewantedtoleavehim.”
“DidyoueverseeherattheSharpes’cabin?”
Henods.Exhalesdeeply.“Justonce.Theweekendthatshedisappeared.”Hestopsasifhecan’tgoon.Hishandsareshaking.
“Whathappened,Mr.Newell?”Moenasksquietly.
“Iknewthecabinwouldbeemptythatweekend—Iknewthefamilywouldn’tbegoingup.Iknewwheretheykeptthesparekey.AmandaandIwantedtoseeeachotherandIdidn’twanttogoanywherewemightberecognized.ThenIthoughtofthecabin.”Heclearshisthroat,takesasipofwater,hishandtremblingbadly.
“Shetoldmethatshecouldgoawayfortheweekend,thatshewouldtellherhusbandthatshewasgoingawaywithherfriendCaroline,shopping.SoshepackedanovernightbagandIgaveherdirectionstothecabin.SheknewIcouldn’tstayallweekend.Itoldherthat.ItoldherIcouldcomeoutlateFridayafternoonforawhilebutthatI’dhavetogohome,andthatI’dcomebackformostofthedayonSaturday,butIcouldn’tjustleavemyfamilyforanentireweekend—itwouldlooktoosuspicious.Shewasfinewiththat.Shewashappytospendtimewithme,butshealsolikedheralonetime.Shelikedtohavetimetobeawayfromherhusband.
“SoIwentupthereonFridayafternoon,aroundfive.Shearrivedaboutahalfhourlater.Istayedforawhile,butIcouldn’tstaytoolate.Ileftaroundeight.EverythingwasfinewhenIlefther.Iwenthome.Thenextday,ItoldmywifeIwasgoinggolfing,andIwentbacktothecabin.ThefirstthingInoticedwasthatAmanda’scarwasn’tthere.Ithoughtthatwasodd,becauseI’dbroughtupeverythingwe’dneed.Ithoughtmaybeshe’djustgoneforadrive.Iwasabitannoyedbecauseit’salongdriveupthereandbackandIcouldn’tstaylate.Thedoortothecabinwasn’tlocked.Iwentinsideandeverythingwasalltidy.Noneofherthingswerethere.She’dgone.Ifoundthekeyonthecounter.Youcouldn’ttellshe’deverbeenthere.
“Therewasnonoteoranything.Icheckedmyphone—therewasnomessage,notext—butshe’dalreadywarnedmethatherhusbandhadfoundherburnerphone.Iwonderedifshe’dchangedhermindabouttheweekend,ormaybeaboutme.Ormaybesomethinghadcomeupathome.Anyway,Iwaitedaroundforalongtime,untilitwastimetogo—hopingshe’dcomeback,Iguess.Butshedidn’t.AndthenIlockedupthecabinandputthekeybackundertheoilcanandjustwenthome.Ididn’tknowwhatelsetodo.Icouldn’ttellanyone.
“Onthewayhome,Idrovepastherhousetoseeifhercarwasthere,butitwasn’t.ThenextdayIdrovebyherplaceagainandhercarstillwasn’tthere,butthegaragedoorwasclosedandIthoughtitmightbeinside.
“Ihadnowaytoreachher.Mytextsandemailswouldgotoherburnerphone,butherhusbandhadit.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Iwasamess,butIhadtopretendthateverythingwasfine.ThenIheardacoupleofdayslaterthatshe’dbeenreportedmissingbyherhusband.”
HelooksupatWebb,hisfacehaggard.“He’stheonewhokilledher,I’msureofit.Backthen,therumorgoingaroundwasthatshe’dlefthim,becauseshe’dtoldherhusbandshewasgoingawaywithafriendandhefoundoutitwasn’ttrue.ButIknowsheliedtohimtobewithme.Ithinknowthatheknew,andhekilledher.Butatthetime,Ithought—Ihoped—thatshereallyhadjustlefthim.Aftershewasfound—”Hehideshisheadinhishands.
“Aftershewasfound,youdidn’tcomeforwardwithanyofthis,”Webbsays,notbotheringtohidehiscontempt.
Newellshakeshishead,lookingremorseful.“Iknow.I’mnotproudofit.”Hetakesashudderingbreath.“Herhusbandmusthavekilledher.Shetoldmesometimesthatshethoughthewasapsychopath.Hewasn’tthemanshethoughtshe’dmarried.Hewasmanipulative,heplayedgames.Shewantedtoleavehim.”Herunsahandthroughhishairnervously.“She’dsendmetexts,tellingmewhattheirmarriagewaslike.Itwas—abnormal.”
“Whatarewegoingtofindonyourcomputer?”Webbasksafterabit.
“EmailstoAmanda.”
“Youhidthem.”
“OfcourseIdid.IusedaburnerphonemostlyforAmanda,butsometimesIsentemailstoherburnerfrommylaptop.Ididn’twantmywifetoseethem.Ifitweren’tforRaleigh,nobodyeverwouldhaveknownanyofthis.”
“RaleighSharpe?”Webbasks.
Keithsnorts.“Hebrokeintoourhouseandfoundthoseemailsandtoldhisparents,whoobviouslytoldyou.Thelittleshit.”
“Isee,”Webbsays.“Andwhathappenedtoyourburnerphone?”
“Ismashedittopiecesandthrewtheminapassinggarbagetruck.”
Afteramoment’spause,Webbasks,“Didyouknowabouttheothermenshewasseeing?”
“Amanda?Shewasn’tseeinganyothermen.Justme.”
Webbcan’tbelievetheman’sgullibility,orperhapsit’shisego.“Seriously?Youdidn’tknow?ShewasmeetingsomeoneelseattheParadiseHotel,quiteregularly.Wehavevideoevidenceofit.”
Newell’sfacedropsandhelooksaway.“No.”Heasks,“Who?”
“LarryHarris.”WebbfeelsacertainsatisfactionatthelookonNewell’sface.“Howdoweknowthatyouweren’tthejealousone?”Webbasks.“YouwereatthecabinwithherthatFriday.YouwentbackagainonSaturday.Shehasn’tbeenseensincethatFriday.Asfarasweknow,youwerethelastonetoseeheralive.Youknewshe’dtoldherhusbandshewaswithCaroline,thatitwouldlooklikeshe’dsimplyleft.Didyouknowshewaspregnant?Didthatnotfitwithyourplans?Didyouargueaboutit?”
Newelllooksbackathimingrowingfear.“No.Imean,yes,Iknewshewaspregnant.Butwedidn’targueaboutit.Shewasgoingtoterminateit.”
“I’mnotsureIbelieveyou,”Webbsays.
“Iwantalawyer,”Newellsays,hisvoicefrightened.
WebbgetsuptoleavetheinterviewroomandsignalstoMoentojoinhim.HesendsanofficerintofacilitateKeithNewell’scalltohislawyer.They’lllethimsweatandshakewhilehewaitsforhislawyertoarrive.
—
Glendapacesrestlesslyaroundherhouse.Thetwotechsleftlongago,takingalloftheircomputersandelectronicswiththem.She’sterrified.Keithtoldherhe’ddeletedtheemails,butshe’safraidthatisn’tgoodenough;she’sprettysurethatthepoliceknowhowtorecoverdeletedfiles.That’swhattheydo.
Keithhasbeengoneforhours.Shedoesn’tknowwhat’shappeningandit’sdrivinghermad.TheyobviouslysuspecthimofmurderingAmanda.Hewasseeingher;headmittedittoherandwillprobablyadmitittothem.They’llfindtheemails.They’llchargehimandtryhimformurder.Whatwillshetelltheirson?
ShethinksregretfullyofOlivia.Shehasneverneededafriendmorethanshedoesatthismoment,butOlivia’sthelastpersonshewantstotalktorightnow.
—
WhenAdamgetshomefromschool,Glendaiswaitingforhim.Hedropshisheavybackpacktothefloorjustinsidethefrontdoorwithafamiliarthud,andsweepspastheronhiswaydirectlytothekitchenforsomethingtoeat.Hedoesn’tevenseemtoregisterthatshe’sstandingthere.
“Adam,”shesays.Shefollowshimintothekitchen.“Weneedtotalk.”Heopensthefridgedoorandthenlooksoverhisshoulderatherwarily.Sheswallows.“Yourfatherisdownatthepolicestation.”Hegoesstillasastone.“He’sbeingquestionedaboutAmandaPierce.”
Alookofdreadcomesoverherson’sface.There’sadrawn-outsilence.“They’requestioningeverybody,though,right?”Adamsays.
“Yes.”
“They’lllethimgo,”Adamsays.“LikeRaleigh’sdad.Theylethimgo.”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays,hervoicetight.“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingonatthestation.Butthepolicetookyourfather’scomputeraway.”
Adamstandscompletelystillforamomentlonger,hisfacepale.Thenheturnsawayfromherabruptlyandleavestogoupstairs.“Wait,Adam,Ineedtotalktoyou.”
Buthe’stakingthestairstwoatatime.
—
Raleighisawreck.He’stheonewhosawKeithNewell’semails.Becauseofhim,hisdadwenttothepolice.Becauseofhim,KeithNewellissittinginthepolicestation,probablysuspectedofmurder.RaleighjustgotafrantictextfromAdam.
Raleighfinallygothiscellphonebackfromhisparentsafterhetoldthemthetruthaboutthebreakinsandsworehewasdonewithhacking.Butnowhealmostwishestheyhadn’tgivenitbacktohim.Hestaresatthetextagain.Well,whatdidheexpect?HeknewthatassoonashetoldthetruthaboutAdam’sdad,hisparentsmightgotothepolice.Hedidn’tfeellikehehadachoice,withhisowndadstillundersuspicionofmurder.RaleighknowsthatKeithNewellisanasshole,butcouldheactuallybeamurderer?It’slessoutrageousthanthepossibilityofhisownfatherbeingamurderer.
HelooksagainatAdam’stext,thentossesthephoneaside.
Hewon’tbeabletocontainit.Itwillallcomeoutnow,thathebrokeintotheNewells’houseandtheircomputer,too.IfAdam’sdadgoesontrial,Raleighwillhavetotestifyaboutthoseemails.Everyonewillknow.Raleighcouldbeinbigtrouble.ButifKeithNewellkilledAmandaPierce,atleasthisownfatherwillbefree.
—
Webbenterstheinterviewroomagain,latethatafternoon,Moenbehindhim.KeithNewellnowhashislawyerbesidehim.
Theyresumetheinterview.Newellstubbornlyshakeshisheadbackandforth.“Ididn’tkillher.WhenIleftherthereFridayeveningshewasfine.WhenIcamebackonSaturday,ataroundtenthirtyinthemorning,shewasalreadygone.Everythingwascleanedup.Ithoughtshe’dchangedhermind.Ihadnoideawhathadhappenedtoher.”Hestiflesasob,theexhaustionandthestraingettingtohim.“IknewsomethingwaswrongassoonasIsawhercarwasgone.Itriedtoopenthedoorbutitwaslocked.Igotthe—”Hestopssuddenly.
WebbfeelsMoensnappingtoattentionbesidehim.“Itwaslocked,”Webbrepeatsintothesilence.
“No,”Newellsaysquickly,shakinghishead.“I’msorry,I’mtired.Itwasn’tlocked.Iwalkedrightinandsawthattheplacewasempty.”
“Yousaiditwaslocked.Igotthe—youweregoingtosayyougotthekey,isthatright?”Webbsays.
“Itwasdefinitelynotlocked,”Newellrepeats.“Iwentrightinandthekeywasonthecounter.”Helooksathislawyer,seemstosignalsomethingtohimwithhiseyes.
“Nomorequestions,”thelawyersays.“Myclientistired.That’sitfornow.”Thelawyerstandsup.“Areyougoingtodetainhim?”
“Yes,”Webbsays.“Wecertainlyare.”
—
OliviaarrivesatGlenda’sdoor.It’slate,afterteno’clock.Thestreetisdark,andit’scoldout.Shepullshercoatcloser.She’striedcalling,butGlendaisn’tpickingupthephone.Oliviaknowsshe’shome;RaleightoldherthatAdamhasbeentextinghimbecausehe’sworriedabouthismom,andaskinghimtosendhismotherovertohelp.Soshe’snotexactlyimposing;she’sbeeninvitedover.Butshe’snervousbecauseshe’sprettysureGlendawon’twanttoseeher.
Glendadoesn’tanswerthedoor.Oliviaringsthebellagain.Finallyshehearsthesoundoffootsteps.Thedooropens,butit’snotGlendathere,it’sAdam.Helooksdistraught.Andmaybenotcompletelysober.Shecansmellliquoronhissixteen-year-oldbreath.Itmakesherheartsink.Shestepsinside,intodarkness.“Where’syourmother?”
Henodswithhisheadtowardthelivingroom.Shestepsfartherintothehouse,notstoppingtotakeoffherjacket.SheseesGlendasittinginthedarkenedlivingroom.Oliviaautomaticallyreachesforthelightswitch.ThelightfloodstheroomandGlendablinks,asifshe’sbecomeunusedtolight.Shemighthavebeensittinghereforhours.
“Glenda,areyouallright?”Oliviaasksanxiously.She’sneverseenGlendalooklikethis.Herfaceishaggard.Usuallyshe’sprettyresilient,evenintimesofcrisis;she’stheonewhoholdsthefamilytogether.OliviaglancesatAdam,whoisstaringathismother.Heseemstobeswayingslightlyonhisfeet.Oliviafeelstheweightofitallpressingonherchest.Howhaseverythingcometothis?Shestepsforwarduntilshe’scloser.“Glenda,”shesays.“I’mhere.”Hervoicebreaks.Glendaisherclosestfriend.Howcanthisbehappeningtoher,toherfamily?Toallofthem?“I’msosorry.”
Glendafinallylooksupatherandsays,“It’snotyourfault.”
Adamstandswatching,swaying.“Whydon’tyougobackupstairs,Adam,”hismothersays.Adamflees,obviouslyrelieved.
“It’sgoingtobeokay,”Oliviasays,andsitsdownonthesofanexttoher.Shedoesn’tbelieveit,butshedoesn’tknowwhatelsetosay.SheremembersGlendasittingbesideherinthepolicestationthatday,whentheirpositionswerereversed.Shewantstocomforther.“They’vebeenquestioningeverybody,youknowthat.They’lltalktoKeithandthenthey’lllethimgo,justlikeLarry,likePaul.Hedidn’tkillAmanda.Youknowthat.”Butshe’sthinking,It’ssomeoneweknow.Andtruthfully,shethinksitmightbeKeith.
ForamomentGlendadoesn’tanswer.Thenshesays,“He’sbeentherealongtime.”
“TheykeptPaulforalongtime,andthentheylethimgo.”
Glendawhispers,“I’msoworriedaboutAdam.”
Olivianods.She’salmostafraidtoask,butshemust.Shemustknow.“DidyoufindoutwhoKeithwasseeing?”
“That’sit,isn’tit?”Glendasays.“WeallwanttoknowifKeithwasseeingher.”
Oliviawaitsfortheanswer.WhenGlendafallssilent,Oliviasays,hervoiceawhisper,“Washe?”
Glendalowershervoicetoawhisper,too.“Keithtoldme,beforethepolicecame.Headmittedhewasseeingher.Hesaidhedeletedeverythingfromthecomputer,butthey’llbeabletorecoverit,won’tthey?Andthenthepolicewillknow.Theymustknowalready;hemusthaveadmittedit.It’sbeenhours.”
Oliviafeelsthebloodpoundinginherears,terrifiedofwhatshemighthearnext.
GlendaleanstowardOliviaandsays,“Keithsayshedidn’tkillher.ButIdon’tknowifIbelievehim.”
Olivialooksbackather,rememberingherowndoubtsaboutherownhusband,herheartbreakingforGlenda.
THIRTY-SEVEN
WebbpaceshisofficewhileMoensitstiredlyinthechairoppositehisdeskandwatcheshim.It’slate.Butthey’vegottwopeoplebeingheldinthecells—RobertPierce,who’sbeendetainedsincethedaybeforeandwhomustsoonbechargedorreleased,andKeithNewell.“Newellslippedupwhenhesaidthedoortothecabinwaslocked,”Webbsays.“Before,hesaidthedoorwasunlockedandthekeywasleftonthecounter.”WebbstopspacingandlooksatMoen.“That’swhathewantsustobelieve.Whywouldhelieaboutthat?”
“Maybehewasjustconfused,likehesays,”Moensays.
ButWebbknowstheybothbelievethatKeithNewellslippedup—itwasobvious.Whyelsethebackpedaling,andthesudden,silentpleatohislawyertostoptheproceedings?“Youdon’tbelievethateither,”Webbsayswithasnort.
“No,Idon’t,”Moenadmits.“Ithinkhemadeamistakeintherealittlewhileago,andheknowsit.”
“HesayshearrivedbeforeshedidonthatFriday,”Webbsays.“Soheprobablyretrievedthekeyfromundertheoilcanintheshedbeforeshegotthere.Sheprobablydidn’tknowaboutthehidingplace.Heneversaidshedid.”
Moenisnodding.“Andheleftthekeywithher,becauseshewasstaying,andthenhecameback,andifitwaslocked—”
“Andhehadtogetthekey—hewouldgetitfromtheusualhidingplace.”Webblooksdownathisnotes.“Hesaid,Itriedtoopenthedoorbutitwaslocked.Igotthe—andthenhestopped.”Webbcontinues.“Ifthekeywashiddensomewhereelse,hewouldn’thaveknownwheretofindit.”
“He’sprotectingsomeone,”Moensays.
“WhoeverkilledAmandaPiercemusthaveknownthatthesparekeywaskeptunderthecanintheshed,andputitbackthere.Keithcamebackthenextday,foundthedoorlocked,andautomaticallywenttotheshedforthekey.ButafterwardhemusthaverealizedthattheonlyotherpeoplewhoknewaboutthathidingplaceweretheSharpes.RobertPiercedidn’tknowaboutthehidingplace.”
“UnlessPiercesawNewellpickupthekey.”
Webbconsiders.“IfPiercewasthere,hiding,watching,hemighthaveseenhimgointotheshed,buthecertainlywouldn’thavebeenabletoseehimgetthekeyfromundertheoilcan.It’swayinsidetheshed,againstthewall.Hemightfigureoutthekeywaskeptintheshed,butnotwhere.”
“NewellistryingtoprotectPaulSharpe.”
Webbnods.“WhatifSharpesomehowknewthattheywouldbeusingthecabinthatweekend?WhatifhecameuptothecabinafterNewellleft,knowingthatAmandawouldbethere?Hekillsher,cleanseverythingup,dumpsherbodyandcarinthelake—andgetshomeinthemiddleofthenight.”Webbexhalesloudly.“Newellgoesupthenextday,findstheplacedesertedandlocked,thekeyunderthecan.”
Moensays,“Sharpemusthavebeenrattled,notthinkingclearly.HeforgetsNewellwillcomebackthenextdayandfindthekeyintheusualhidingplace—adeadgiveawaythathe’dbeenthere.”
Webbnodsagain.“ThenNewellwouldberattledhimself.Hewouldn’thaveknownwhathappened,buthemusthaverealizedthatSharpehadatleastbeenthere.Whenwequestionedhim,heknewthatifhesaidthedoorwasunlockedandthekeywasleftonthecounter,itmeantanybodymighthavekilledher—fromherhusbandtoacompletestranger.”
“Right.”
“Piercewouldn’thaveknownwheretoputthekey,”Webbsays.“We’regoingtohavetoreleasehim.”
“IwonderhowlongKeithNewellhasknown,”Moenmuses,“thathisbestfriendisamurderer?”
—
FridaymorningtheyheadintointerviewKeithNewellagain.“Iwantonemoreshotathim,thenwe’lltalktoPaulSharpeagain,”WebbtellsMoen.
KeithNewellhasspentthenightinacell,andlooksit.
“Let’sgetstarted,”Webbsays,flashingaglanceatNewell’sattorney.ThenhelooksatNewell.“I’minclinedtobelieveyou,”hesays.Theothermanlooksathimmistrustfully.“Idon’tthinkyoukilledAmandaPierce,afterall.”Newellglancesathislawyer.“ButIthinkyou’recoveringupforthepersonwhodid.”
“What?No.I’mnotcoveringupforanybody.Idon’tknowwhokilledher.”He’sagitated,buttryingnottoshowit.
“Ithinkyoudo.”
Newellshakeshisheadvigorously,looksathislawyerforsupport,andthenturnsbacktoWebb.“Idon’tknowanythingaboutit.Itoldyou.Ineverthoughtanyharmhadcometoheruntilyoufoundher.”
“Andwhatdidyouthinkthen,Newell?”Webbleansincloseandfixeshimwithhiseyes.
“I—Idon’tknow.”
“Youmusthavehadanuncomfortabletimesinceherbodywasfound.Youknewsomeonehadkilledher—whodidyouthinkitwas?”Newelldoesn’trespond,buthiseyeslookhaunted.“WhenyougottothecabinthatSaturday,thedoorwaslocked.”
“No,itwasn’t.Itwasunlocked,andthekeywasonthekitchencounter,”Newellsaysstubbornly.Buthewon’tlookathim;he’sstaringatthetable.
“Doyouhaveapointtomake?”theattorneyasks.“Becausewe’vebeenoverthis,andhe’stoldyouquiteclearlythatthedoorwasunlocked.”
Webbgivestheattorneyahardlook.“Healsoslippedupandtoldusthatitwaslockedandthathehadtogetthekey.Andwethinkhegotthekeyfromtheusualhidingplace.AmandaPiercewasbrutallymurderedinthatcabin.Andwhoevercleanedupputthekeybackintheusualhidingplace.Whoelseknewaboutthathidingplace,Newell?”Heseesthattheman’sfacehasgoneashen.
“I—Idon’tknow.”
“Youdon’tknow.Well,let’ssee.PaulSharpeistheonewhotoldyouaboutit,sohecertainlyknew,didn’the?”
KeithNewelllooksathislawyer,andturnsbacktoWebb.
“Whoelse?”Webbdemands.
—
OliviarecoilswhenshegoestoanswerthedoorandfindsDetectivesWebbandMoenstandingonherdoorsteplookinggrim.Whatcantheywantnow?Whenisthisgoingtoend?DotheywantthemtohelpputthefinalnailinKeithNewell’scoffin?Shewantstobedonewiththis;shewantsitalltobeover.
“Goodmorning,”Webbsays,allbusiness.“Isyourhusbandathome?”
“Yes,”shesays,automaticallyopeningthedoor.SheturnsherheadwhenshehearsPaulcomingupbehindher.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Paulsaysguardedly.
“Wehaveafewmorequestions,”Webbsays.
“I’vealreadyansweredallyourquestions,”Paulprotests.Buthelooksworried,Oliviacantell.Hedoesn’twanttotalktothemaboutKeitheither.
“We’dlikeyoutocomedowntothestation,”Webbsays.
“Whatfor?Can’tyouaskmehere?”
“No.Wewanttointerviewyouagainontape.”
“WhatifIrefuse?”
“ThenI’mafraidwe’dhavetoarrestyou,”Webbsays,withoutbattinganeye
Oliviaissuddenlyfrightened.Whyaretheybackforherhusband?Whathaschanged?
Raleighappearsonthestairs.“What’sgoingon?”
Olivialooksathersonindismay,unabletofindthewordstotellhim.
“We’dlikeyoutocome,too,Mrs.Sharpe,”Webbsays.“Wehavesomequestionsforyouaswell.”
—
They’veleftPaulSharpeinaninterviewroom,waitingforhisattorney.Inthemeantime,WebbhasalsoaskedGlendaNewelltocomeinforaninterview.Theywilltalktothetwowiveswhilethey’rewaitingforPaulSharpe’sattorney.TheystartwithMrs.Sharpe.
Shesitsnervouslyintheinterviewroom.Webbgetsdirectlytothepoint.“Mrs.Sharpe,thiswon’ttakelong,”hesays.“Iunderstandyoukeptasparekeyforyourcabinhiddenintheshedunderneathanoilcan.”
“Yes,”shesays.
“Whoknewaboutthehiddenkey?”
Sheclearsherthroat.“Well,wedid,ofcourse.MyhusbandandI.”
“Anybodyelse?”
“Mysonknew.”Hewaits.Shesaysquietly,“AndKeithNewellknewaboutit.Myhusbandtoldhimlastsummerthatwestartedputtingitthereafterwedroveallthewaytothecabinonceandforgotthekey.”
“Anyoneelse?”
Sheshakesherheadmiserably.“No.Idon’tthinkso.”
“Yousee,here’stheproblem,”Webbsays.Hewaitsuntilshe’slookinginhiseyes.“Wedon’tthinkKeithNewellkilledher.Butwhoeverdid,cleanedupthesceneandthenreturnedthekeytothathidingplace.”
Shestaresathiminhorrorasthepennydrops.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Glendawatchesthedetectives,unsureofhowtobehave,whattodo.Theinterviewroomisbareexceptforatableandchairs.It’sintimidating.Thisiswhereherhusbandhasbeenspendingsomuchtime.Allthosehourswhenshecouldn’timaginewhatwashappeningatthestation—she’sbeginningtobeabletoimagineitnow.He’sstillhere,somewhere,inadifferentinterviewroom,probablyjustlikethisone.Whathashetoldthedetectives?Whatdotheythink?Aretheygoingtotellher?Oraretheyjustgoingtoaskendlessquestionsandtrytogethertoimplicatehim?
“Mrs.Newell,”Webbbegins.
Shelooksbackathimwithdislike.She’sangryathim;she’sangryandafraid.Shewillaskforalawyerifshethinksitbecomesnecessary;fornow,shethinksshecanhandlethis.
“DidyouknowthatyourhusbandwashavinganaffairwithAmandaPierce?”
“No.”
“He’sadmittedit,”thedetectivesaysbluntly.
Shelooksbackathimandsays,“Ididn’tknow.”
“You’refamiliarwiththeSharpes’cabin,aren’tyou?”Webbasks.
“Yes.TheSharpesaregoodfriendsofours.”Shepauses.“WewereoutthereinJuneofthisyear,andagaininJuly.”
“Doyouknowwherethesparekeyiskept?”thedetectiveasks.
Shegoescompletelystill.“Pardon?”
Webblooksathermoreintently,anditmakeshernervous.
“Doyouknowwherethesparekeyforthecabinwaskept?”herepeats.
“Sparekey?Idon’tknowaboutanysparekey,”shesays.
Webbfixeshiseyesonher.“Yourhusbandtoldusthatyouknewwherethesparekeywaskept.”
Shecanfeeltheperspirationstartbeneathherarms.It’shotinhere.Toomanybodiesclosetogether.Sheshiftsinherseat.“He’smistaken.I’mnotsurewhyhe’dtellyouthat.”
“It’sanimportantpoint,”Webbsays.
Shedoesn’tsayanything.Shesuddenlyfeelslight-headed.Itisanimportantpoint.Sheknowsthat.Theyobviouslyknowit,too.WhathasKeithtoldthem?Sherealizesnow—toolate—thatsheshouldhavetoldKeiththetruth.Butshedidn’t,andnowtheyareinseparateroomsbeinginterviewedbythedetectives.Theyshouldhavegottheirstoriesstraight.Theycouldhaveprotectedeachother.Butthat’sthething—shenevertoldKeiththetruthbecauseshecouldn’tbesurehewouldprotecther.
Webbsays,“Yourhusbandclaimsthatwhenheleftthecabinataroundeighto’clockthatnight,Amandawasalive,butwhenhearrivedthenextmorningaroundtenthirty,hercarwasgone,andthecabindoorwaslocked.Headmitsheretrievedthekeyfromtheusualhidingplace,undertheoilcanintheshed.”Heleansinclosetoher.“WhoeverkilledAmandaFridaynightcleanedeverythingupandreturnedthekeytothehidingplace.Aneasymistaketomake,”Webbsays,“inthestressofthemoment.”
Glendacan’tthinkofanythingtosay.Itwassuchastupidmistake.
“Mrs.Newell?”thedetectiveprods.
Butsheignoreshim,herthoughtsfallingoveroneanother,rememberingflashesfromthatawfulnight.Scrubbingthekitchenfloor,wipingdownthewalls,usingthecleansersshe’dbroughtfromhome.DrivingAmanda’scardowntothebendintheroadinthedarkanddeliberatelysinkingit.Checkingeverythingover,makingsureitwasspotlessandtidy.Shewassoexhaustedbythenthatshe’dlockedupand,withoutthinking,putthekeybackinitsusualhidingplace.
Itwasn’tuntilKeithcamehomethenextafternoon,lookingsodistressed,thatsherealizedhermistake.Realizedthathewouldlookforthekeyandknowthatsomeonewhoknewwherethekeywaskepthadbeenthere.
Herbesthopethenwasthatthecarwiththegrislybodyinthetrunkwouldneverbefound;thateveryone—especiallyKeith—wouldthinkthatAmandahadsimplytakenoff.KeithwouldassumethateitherPaul—ormorelikely,Glenda—hadbeenthereandhadconfrontedAmanda,andthatshe’ddecidedtodisappearandleavethemallbehindforgood.
He’dneversaidawordtoheraboutit;perhapshewastooafraidofwhatmighthavereallyhappened.Beneaththeconfidentexterior,healwayswasacoward.Butthenthey’dfoundthecar.Thebody.Andthey’vebeenlivingwiththisbetweenthemeversince.Herknowledge,hisfear.
Ifonlytheyhadneverfoundthecar,Glendathinkshollowly.IfonlyBeckyhadn’tseenPaulinthecarwithAmandathatnight,theywouldn’thavehadanyreasontolookatPaul,tosearchthecabin,tofindtheblood.Thereshouldhavebeennowayforthistoleadbacktothecabin—toPaul,orKeith,orher.
“Mrs.Newell?”Webbsaysagain.
“Yes?”Shemustfocus.Whatishesaying?Shecan’tadmittoanything.Itmuststillbepossibletoturnthisaround.She’dtriedsohardallthistimetoprotecttheonessheloves.Adamneedsher.Hedoesn’tneedhisfatherthewayheneedsher.MaybeshecanstillpinthisonKeithsomehow.Itwouldservehimright,thecheatingbastard.Shethoughtofeverything,exceptthekey.“Idon’tknowaboutanysparekey,”shesaysfirmly.“Idon’tknowwhymyhusbandwouldtellyouthat,”sherepeats.
—
Sir.”
“Yes,whatisit?”Webbasksbriskly.He’sgothishandsfullatthemoment.
“There’sbeenareportofahomicide.”
Webblooksupinsurprise.“Where?”
“OnFinchStreet.NumberThirty-two.Neighborfoundher.Called911.Victimis”—hereferstohisnotes—“awomannamedCarmineTorres.Uniformsareonthescene,sir.”
“We’dbettergetoverthere.SendMoentome,wouldyou?”
“Yes,sir.”
WebbgrabshisjacketandmeetsMoenonhiswayout.
“Whathavewegot?”Moenasks.
“We’llknowwhenwegetthere,”Webbsays.
Theyparkonthestreetinfrontofanattractivegrayhousewithblueshuttersandareddoor.There’syellowpolicetapeacrossthefrontstep,andauniformedofficerfromPatrolDivisionstandingguard.
“Thecrimeteamisonitsway,sir,”theofficertellshim.Webbnoticesawomanstandingofftotheside,onthedriveway,beingcomfortedbyanotherofficer.She’sprobablytheonewhofoundthebody.
Webbstepsintothehouse.Thevictimissprawledonthefloor.Thewomaniswearingapinkterry-clothrobeandanightieunderneath.It’sclearfromtheobviousbruisingaroundherneckthatshe’sbeenstrangledwithsomekindofropeorcord.Notsomethingthinenoughtocuttheskin.
“Dowehavewhatshewasstrangledwith?”
“No,sir.”
“Anysignofforcedentry?”
“No,sir.We’vecheckedthehouseandgrounds.Lookslikesheletherkillerinthefrontdoor,andhediditassoonasshehadherbackturned.”
“She’sinherpajamas,”Webbobserves.“Sheprobablyknewherkiller.”
Hebendsincloser.Shelookslikeshe’sbeendeadawhile—atleastaday,maybemore.
“Themedicalexaminerisonhisway.”
Webbnods.“Whofoundher—thewomanoutside?”
Theofficernods.“Aneighbor.”
HecatchesMoen’seyeandthetwoofthemheadbackoutside.Theyapproachthewomanstandingonthedriveway.She’snotcrying,butshelookslikeshe’sinshock.
“I’mDetectiveWebb,”hesays.“CanIhaveyourname,please?”
“ZoePutillo,”thewomansays.
“Youfoundthebody?”
Shenods.“Shelivedalone.Ihadn’tseenherforacoupleofdays.Inoticedthatshehadn’tpickeduphernewspapers.SoIknockedonthedoor.Shedidn’tanswer.Itriedthedooranditwasn’tlocked,soIwentin—andIsawherthere.”Sheshudders.“Ican’tbelieveit.Shewasnewtotheneighborhood,tryingtomakefriends.”
“Didyouknowherverywell?”Webbasks.
“Notreally.Justtospeakto,”Zoesays,adding,“Shewasbrokenintorecently,andshewasmakingherselfcrazytryingtofigureoutwhoitwas.”
WebbremembersthenthatRaleighSharpehadconfessedtobreakingintothishouse.Herememberstheaddress,32Finch.
Thewomansays,“Shewasmakingabitofanuisanceofherself,tobehonest,tellingpeopletheymighthavebeenbrokenintoandnotknowit.Gettingeverybodyworried.”Sheshakesherhead,clearlyunnerved.“It’sterriblewhathappenedtoher.Nothingeverusedtohappenaroundhere.”
“Didyouseeanyonecomingorgoingfromherhouseinthelastfewdays?”
Shelooksathiminsuddendismay,asifsomethinghasjustoccurredtoher.Shesaysuneasily,“Actually,nowthatyoumentionit,Ididseesomeone.”
—
GlendalooksupwithastartwhenDetectivesWebbandMoenreentertheinterviewroom.Theyhavebeengonealongtime,leavinghertostewinherownfearandanxiety.
Webbreadsherherrights.
“Idon’tneedalawyer,”shesays,frightened.
“Areyousure?”Webbasks.
“Ididn’tknowanythingaboutthatkey.”
“Verywell,”Webbsaysequably.Thenhesays,“CarmineTorreshasbeenmurdered.”
Shefeelsalltheblooddropfromherhead;shefearsshemightfaint.Shegrabstheedgeofthetable.
Webbleansinclose.“Wethinkyoukilledher.”
Glendafeelsherselfblanch,shakesherhead.“Ididn’tkillher.”
“Youwereseen,”Webbsaysbluntly.“CarmineTorresfiguredoutwhatyou’ddone—thatyou’dkilledAmandaPierce.”Helooksatherforalongmoment,hiseyesonhers.Finallyshelooksaway.
Sheletsherselffallapart.There’snowayout.Anothermistakethatshewillpaydearlyfor.Sheshouldn’thavekilledCarmine,thepryingbitch.Shemusthavebeenoutofhermindtodoit,blindedbyfear.She’dactedoninstinct.Shehadn’tthoughtthingsthrough.Finallysheliftsherhead,looksatthedetectives,andmanagestosay,“Yes,Ikilledher.Iwasafraidshe’dfigureditout.”Sheavertshereyes,defeated,andsays,“IkilledAmandaPierce.Shewashavinganaffairwithmyhusband.”
—
WebbandMoenleavetheinterviewroomandconsultquietly,downthecorridor.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Webbasks.
“What,youdon’tbelieveher?”Moensays.
“IbelieveshekilledCarmineTorres.ButIthinkshewaslyingwhenshesaidshekilledAmandaPierce.Hereyesshiftedawayatthatpoint.Herbodylanguagechanged.Ithinkshe’sprotectingsomeone.”
“Herhusband?”
“Idon’tthinkshe’dconfesstomurdertoprotectherhusband,doyou?”
THIRTY-NINE
I’mshakingsohardanyonecanseeit.Ifeelnauseated,butit’snotjustfromthedrinking.
Thedetectivestakemeintoaroomwithacamerapointingatmefromacornerintheceiling.Iknowthatmyparentsarebothheresomewhereinotherroomslikethisone.Thewomandetectivebringsmeacanofsoda.TheyintroducethemselvesasDetectiveWebbandDetectiveMoen;theotherwomanhereisalawyer.
DetectiveWebbgoesoverprocedurebutIcanhardlytakeanythingin;heturnsonthetape.Hesays,“Adam,yourmotherhasconfessedtokillingAmandaPierce.”
Ilookbackathim,unabletospeak,shakingmyhead.Ifighttheurgetothrowup,swallowthebilebackdown.ShetoldmenevertoadmitwhatI’ddone.Butshenevertoldmeshewouldsaythatshehaddoneit.Iwishshewasherebesideme,totellmewhattodonow.Ilickmydrylips.
“Shetoldusthatshewenttothecabinandbeathertodeathwithahammerandputthebodyinthelake.”
Istarttocry.AfterawhileImanagetosay,shakingmyhead,“No.IkilledAmandaPierce.”It’ssucharelieftosayitoutloud.It’sbeenlikeamonsterinsidemyhead,screamingtogetout.IknowmymotherhasbeenafraidthatI’mgoingtogetdrunkandjustblurtitoutsomewhere.I’vebeenafraidofthat,too.Well,shewon’thavetoworryanymore.
Thedetectiveslookbackatme,waiting.Ihavetotellthemeverything.“MydadwassleepingwithAmandaPierce.”
“Howdidyouknow?”Webbasks.
“Hekeepsallhisusernamesandpasswordswrittendowninanotebookinthebackofhisdesk.Igotintohiscomputerandfoundhisprivateonlineemailaccount.He’dhiddenit.Healwaysdeleteshisbrowserhistorysohisemailaccountdoesn’tshowup.Isawtheiremails.Iknewhewasseeingsomeone,butIdidn’tknowwhobecausetheyusedmade-upnamesontheiremailaddresses.Shewaspregnant.Ithoughthewasgoingtoleavemymomandstartanewfamilywithher.Mymomdidn’tknowanythingaboutit.”Iswallowandstop.IwonderhowthingsmighthaveturnedoutdifferentlyifI’dtoldmymotherwhatIknewinsteadofgoinguptothecabin.
“Whathappened,Adam?”thewomandetective,Moen,asksgently.
Iblubberoutmystory.“IknewhewasmeetingherthatnightoutattheSharpes’cabin.Ioverheardhimtalkingtoheronhisphone.Iwantedtoseewhoshewas,that’sall.Ididn’tplantokillher.”
It’sthetruth,andIlookatallthreeofthemtoseeiftheybelieveme,butIcan’ttellwhatthey’rethinking.“Itookmymom’scar.Idon’thavemylicenseyet,butI’vebeenlearningtodriveinhercar,andI’dbeenouttothecabinlotsoftimeswithmyparentssoIknewtheway.Dadtoldushe’dbehomethatnightbyaroundnine.Iwantedtogetthereaftermydadleftandseeher,findoutwhoshewasandtellhertofuckoff.TellherthatIwasgoingtotellmymotherabouther.”Ipauseforminute,gatheringcourageforthenextpart.
“Whattimewasthis,Adam?”Webbasks.
“Itwasaroundeightforty-fiveIthink,maybenine.I’mnotsureexactly.”Itakeadeepbreath.“Ileftthecarintheroadandwalkeduptothecabinandlookedinthefrontwindow.Irecognizedher.Iknewwhoshewas.I’dseenheraroundtheneighborhood.Ithoughtaboutleavingthen.IwishIhad.But—insteadIopenedthedoor.Shewasstandingatthebackofthekitchenlookingoutthewindowsatthelake.Shewhirledaround—”
Iclosemyeyesforamoment,remembering.I’mshakingagain;myeyesflyopen.“Shewassmiling,probablyexpectingmydad.Butthenshesawitwasme.Idon’tthinksheevenknewwhoIwas.Therewasahammeronthecounter.IsawitandIpickeditupwithouteventhinkingaboutit.Iwassomad—ather,atmydad.Itjustcameoverme.This—rage.Ijust—Ilungedatherandhitherintheheadwiththehammer.”
Istoptalkingandtheyallstareatme,asiftheycan’tlookaway.IcanfeeltearsrunningdownmyfacenowandIdon’tcare,I’msobbingasItalk.“IjusthitherandhitherandIdidn’tevencarethatIwaskillingher—”
“Howmanytimesdidyouhither?”DetectiveWebbasksafteraminute.
“Idon’tremember.”Iwipethesnotfrommyfacewithmysleeve.“Ijustkepthittingheruntilshewasdead.”Istoptalkingagain.Ihavenoenergylefttotellthemtherest.Iwanttogohomeandsleep.ButIknowIwon’tbeabletogohome.Thesilenceseemstogoonforalongtime.
DetectiveMoenasks,“Whatdidyoudothen,Adam?”
Ilookupatherinfear.“Isatthereonthefloorforawhile.OncetheshockworeoffIcouldn’tbelievewhatI’ddone.Iwascoveredinblood.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.”Iswallow.“SoIcalledmymother.”
DetectiveMoenlooksbackatmesympathetically.Idecidetolookonlyather.SheseemskindandI’msoscared,butIhavetogoon.Ilookonlyinhereyes,nooneelse’s,asItelltherestofmystory.“ItoldmymomwhatI’ddone.Iaskedhertohelpme.”Istarttosobagain.“Shedroveuptothecabininmydad’scar.Whenshegotthereandsawme—Ithoughtshe’dhugme,andtellmeitwasgoingtobeallright,andcall911.Butshedidn’t.”I’mcryingsohardnow,Ihavetostopforaminute.AfterawhileIkeepgoing.“Shedidn’thugmebutshesaid,‘Iloveyou,Adam,nomatterwhat.I’llhelpyou,butyoumustdoexactlyasIsay.’Shewaswearingglovesandshehandedmesomegloves,too.Shegavemeabigblackgarbagebagandtoldmetoputitovermyheadandpokemyheadthrough,soIwouldn’tgetanyfibersonthebody,andthenshetoldmetopickAmandaupandputherinthetrunkofhercar.She’dbroughtmeachangeofclothesandalotofplasticbags.OnceIhadAmandainthecar,shetoldmetogodowntothelakeandstripoffallmyclothesandputtheminthebagsandwashmyselfinthelake.Thewaterwasfreezing.”Myvoicehasbecomemonotonousnow.“Iputontheclothesshebroughtme.Shescrubbedthewholeplacedownuntilitlookedlikeitdidbefore.WhileshewascleaningIwentoutintherowboat.Itwasreallydark.Idroppedthehammerinthemiddleofthelakeandweigheddownthebagofmyclotheswithheavyrocksandknottedituptightanddroppeditinadifferentpartofthelake,justlikeshetoldme.Onceeverythingwascleanedup,MomgotinAmanda’scaranddroveitandIfollowedinhercar.Shestoppedatabendintheroad.Bythenitwasverylate,pastmidnight.IlefthercaralittledistanceawayandthenIjoinedher.Sheloweredallthewindowsandthetwoofuspushedthecarintothewater.
“Itsankrightaway.Shetoldmenoonewouldeverfindit.ThataslongasIkeptmynerveandneversaidanything,nooneeverhadtoknow.Andthenwedrovebacktothecabintocheckeverythingandtogetmydad’scar.Thenwedrovehome.Idrovehercarandshefollowedmeinmydad’scar.
“Whenwegothome,Dadhadgonetobed.MomhadtoldhimthatshewasgoingtoherfriendDiane’sandthatIwasataparty.Hedidn’tseemtoquestionit,butIdon’treallyknow.Idon’tknowifhenoticedthatboththecarsweregonethatnight.Iknowhemusthavegonebacktothecabinthenextdaylikeheplanned.Istayedinmyroomallday,sickandterrified.Hecamehomeandactedasthoughnothingwaswrong,butIcouldtellhewastense.Weallactedasthoughnothingwaswrong.ButI’dkilledher,andmymomknew,andIthink—Ithinkmydadmighthaveguessed.”
IlookupatMoenandsay,“Mymomdidn’tkillher.Shejusthelpedcleanupmymess.Itwasmyfault.Andhers—Amanda’s.Myparentswereperfectlyhappyuntilshecamealong.”
“Yourmotherisanaccessorytomurder,”DetectiveWebbsays.
“No,”Iprotest.“Shedidn’thaveanythingtodowithit.”Islumpinmychair,exhausted.IlookatDetectiveMoen.I’mtooscaredtolookatWebb,orthelawyer.“What’sgoingtohappentome?”Iask.
Shefrownsatme,butthere’sagrimsortofkindnessinherfrown,andsadnessinhereyes.“Idon’tknow.”Sheglancesatmylawyer.“Butyou’reonlysixteen.It’llgetsortedout.”
—
WebbsitsbackinhischairandwatchesquietlyasMoenconsolesAdam,hisattorneybesidehim.
“DoyouknowCarmineTorres?”heasks.
Adam’sfaceispuffyandblotchy.Helookssurprisedatthequestion.WebbiscertainAdamhasnoideathathismotherhaskilledher.
Hesniffs.“Yeah,Iknowwhosheis.”
“Howdoyouknowher?”Moenasks.
“Shecametothehouse,talkingaboutthebreak-ins.AndI’veseenheraround.”
“She’sdead,”Webbsaysbluntly.
Adamlooksstartled.“Isawthepoliceatherhouse—”
“She’sbeenmurdered.”
Adamglancesathisattorney,obviouslyconfused.
Webbhastotellhim.“Yourmotherkilledher.Toprotectyou.”
—
GlendaraiseshereyesasthedooropensandWebbandMoenwalkbackintotheinterviewroom.Shehasbeensittinghereforhours.Shenowhasalawyer,whohasbeensummonedandissittingbesideher.
WebbandMoensitdownacrossfromher,andshecantellfromtheirdemeanorthatsomethinghashappened.Shesteelsherselfforwhat’scoming.Webbtakeshistimetellingher.
“Adamhasconfessed.”
Shetriestoremaincalm,incasehe’stryingtotrickher,buthestartstellingherallthedetails,thingsthatonlyAdamcouldhaverevealed.Shebeginstocry,silently,tearsrunningdownhercheeks,staringatthetableinfrontofher.She’dfinallyunderstood,whenshearrivedatthecabinthatnight,aboutAdam’sdrinking,thathe’dstartedbecausehe’dfoundoutabouthisfatherandAmanda.
“He’sajuvenile,”Webbsays.“Amanda’smurderwasimpulsive,notpremeditated.Hecouldbeoutbythetimeheturnseighteen.”Shelooksathimthen,feelingatentativehope.“Butyou’regoingtobeinjailformuchlonger.”
Herbodysags.Shedoesn’tknownowhowshewithstoodit,howshe’dborneitwithoutcracking.HowhadsheeverthoughtthatAdamcouldhandleit?Ofcourseheconfessed.Shethinksoftheterribleburdenofhidingthetruthfromeveryone,hidingwhatthey’ddonefromherhusband,herslowrealizationthathemighthavefigureditout.HerfearthatAdamwouldgetdrunkandtellsomeonewhatthey’ddone.Herdawningrealizationthatshehadmadeaterriblemistake.
Shelooksupathimdesperately.“Ijustwantedtoprotectmyson.”
Webbsays,“Itwouldhavebeenbetterforeveryoneifyou’djustcalled911.”
EPILOGUE
Olivialooksblanklyoutthewindow.Thenightmareisn’tover,ithassimplychangedshape.Paulhasbeencompletelycleared.Adamhasconfessed.Oliviacan’twrapherheadaroundit—allalong,AdamwastheonewhohadkilledAmanda,andGlendahadhelpedhimcoveritup.AndOliviahadhadnoidea.
Thethoughtofwhathappenedattheircabinmakeshershrinkinrevulsion.Shewillnevergooutthereagain.Theywillhavetosellit.Onemorepieceofheroldlife—gone.
AndGlendahasconfessedtomurderingCarmine.Theshockofit.OliviaimaginesCarmine,deadonherfloor.Theysayshewasstrangledwithacord.ShetriesnottothinkofGlendathrottlingCarminefrombehind;itgivesherafeelingofvertigo.ApparentlyGlendahadseenCarmineasathreat—afraidthatCarminehadseenAdamandGlendadrivinghomeinseparatecarsthenightthatAmandawaskilled,afraidshe’dfigureditoutandwouldtellthepolice.PerhapsGlendahadbecomecompletelyunhingedbythen,Oliviathinks.Glendathoughtshewasprotectingherson.Amotherwilldoalmostanythingtoprotectherson.
Oliviawondersifthissurrealfeelingwillevergoaway.ShewondershowsheandPaulwillgoon.Heknowsthat,foratime,shethoughthemightbeguilty.Thatliesbetweenthemnow.
Hereyeswellup.HowwillshecopewithoutGlenda?Shecan’tbeartothinkofGlendaasamurderer;shewillalwaystrytothinkofherasjustGlenda,herbestfriend.Shealreadymisseshermorethanshecanbear.Shemustmanagesomehowwithouther.
Raleighwillpleadguiltytothreecountsofbreakingandenteringandunauthorizeduseofacomputer;becausehe’sajuvenile,hislawyerthinkshecangethimofflightly,withcommunityservice.Raleighhaspromisedthemthathishackingdaysareover.He’ssaidthatbefore.She’snotsureshebelieveshim.
—
RobertPierceisdelighted.Asdelightedashiscold,darkheartallows.
Hehadn’tknownaboutKeithNewell.He’dthought,whenPaulSharpewasarrested,thathehadbeenthesecretsecondlover.ButitwasKeithNewellhiswifehadbeenseeing,hissonwhohadkilledher.It’sgoodtoknow,finally,whathappened.It’sgoodnottobeunderacloudanylonger.
Robertrecognizesthathe’sbetteroffwithoutAmanda.Thingswerebecomingimpossiblebetweenthem.He’dconsideredkillingherhimself.
RobertwatchesBeckygooutinhercar.Now,hepullsonthegardeninggloves,grabsthetrowel,andgoestothebackofthegardentodiguptheburiedcellphone.Everythinghascometoasatisfactoryclose,butstill,hemustgetridofAmanda’sphoneonceandforall.Hehasn’tforgottenaboutthatdamnteenager,whomighthavelookedinit.Therearethingsonthatphonethathereallydoesn’twantanyoneelsetosee.Amandawassmarterthanhe’dthought.
He’sgoingtoretrievethephoneanddriveacoupleofhoursnorthalongtherivertoadesertedplaceheknows.He’sgoingtowipeitcleanagainandtossitintothedeepwateroftheHudson.
Robertsinkstohiskneesanddigsaroundintheearthwhereheburiedthephone,buthedoesn’timmediatelyfindit.Hedigsdeeper,faster,inawideningarea,turningoverthedirtrapidly,hisbreathquickeningwithrage.It’snotthere.
Becky.Shemusthaveseenhiminthegarden.Shewasalwayswatchinghim.Shemusthavedugupthephone.
Herisestohisfeet,tryingtocontrolhisfury,andstaresacrossthefenceatBecky’semptyhouse.Plottinghisnextmove.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
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