“So that’s what’s worrying me, now. I try not to worry about her, and I don’t want to worry about her, but I do, all the time, like if she does it again, it’ll be my fault…” Victoria’s sentence trailed off.
“I’m so sorry, Victoria.” Jill’s head was still in her hands, and she let all of her regret and anguish flow. “I’m so sorry for what happened to Abby, and for what you had to deal with. I never wanted it to be—”
“Whatever,” Victoria interrupted, cool again. “You see the problem now. I’m not worried about somebody hurting Abby. I’m worried about Abby hurting Abby. That’s why we need to find her, fast.”
“Okay, right.” Jill rubbed her face, straightening up. She willed her emotions under control. “I know what to do. I need to go back to the police and light a fire under them. It’s been another whole day, she’s still missing, and they should know all the facts, especially this one.”
“No, I’ll go instead. I can do it. It’s my place.”
“Can we go together?” Jill asked, hopeful. “I’ve been there before, and they know me. I can meet you there, it’s Central Detectives, on 21st Street.”
“No, I’d prefer it if you didn’t go. I’ll go with Brian.” Victoria’s tone was final, and Jill could feel her maintaining the wall between them.
“Why don’t we just go together?”
“Jill, you have to respect what I’m saying. Can’t you do that, please?”
“Okay, fine, if that’s what you want.” Jill surrendered, tired of fighting and getting nowhere. “Ask for Detective Reed. He’s the one who handled the investigation of your father’s death. Detective Pitkowski is the one I spoke with, because Reed wasn’t there.”
“Got it.”
“Please call me and let me know how it went?”
“If I have time. I have a brief due, for legal writing.”
Jill bit her tongue. “Please let me know if Abby calls you then, okay?”
“That, I’ll do.”
“I think I’ll go up to Manhattan tomorrow and stop by Neil’s apartment, to see if they’ll tell me anything they wouldn’t tell you.”
“Okay, whatever. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks, bye. Love you,” Jill said automatically, hearing herself end the call the way she always used to, with Victoria.
Love you.
“Babe, you okay?” Sam asked, from the threshold of the kitchen.
Jill pressed END. She didn’t know if Victoria heard her, or how long Sam had been standing there.
And she didn’t like the look in his eye.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Did you say that Abby tried to commit suicide?” Sam asked, quietly.
“Yes, a while ago, after William and I broke up.”
Sam padded over barefoot and cupped her shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Thanks, but it’s not about me, it’s about her.”
“You feel guilty.”
“As I should.” Jill shook her head, slumping in the chair. “When we find her, I’ll make sure she goes to Sandy, I swear. It’s a way for me to make amends.”
“You don’t need to make amends.”
“Yes, I do.” Jill straightened up and met his eye. “She suffered after the divorce.”
“They all did.”
“It doesn’t mean that she didn’t, and in some ways, it was unique.”
Sam frowned. “Was it really?”
“Yes.” Jill could sense the tension growing between them, as if the kitchen had developed an atmospheric pressure of its own, brewing a domestic storm. “She tried to kill herself. Victoria didn’t. Megan didn’t. That’s unique.”
“Everyone suffers in his or her own way.”
“True, but that’s beside the point.” Jill stood up and walked past him to the sink, where she grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet and let the door close with a bang that woke Beef up, blinking.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t want to fuss.”
“Me, neither. Sorry.” Jill ran water into the glass, turned off the faucet, and took a sip. It was warm and tasted like nothing. She tried to move past the moment. The air felt too thick to breathe. “Anyway, the problem is we don’t know where Abby is, and time matters. It doesn’t make sense that she’s disappeared of her own volition. If she would try to commit suicide because I wasn’t in her life, why would she vanish now that I am?”
“Because now she knows you’re watching.” Sam came over and leaned against the counter, on his elbow. “It’s how she keeps your attention. It’s consistent with the drunk-driving, the phone calls, the requests for help. You stay if you’re needed, so she acts needy.”
“I wouldn’t keep ascribing so much bad motive to her, honey.” Jill felt her chest tighten. “Her father, he was a schemer, but she isn’t. If I can separate the two, so can you.”
“But you’re seeing her suicide attempt as a game-changer, and it isn’t. This isn’t new news, not really. We knew she was troubled.”
Jill couldn’t hide her irritation. “Anyway, you heard, I’m going to New York to find her, tomorrow.”
“Why New York?”
Jill thought he said it like Neptune, even though they went up there all the time, for the museums. “Neil Straub is a guy who was in investments with William. He lives in an apartment in the West Village. Victoria couldn’t find out much about him, but I hope I can.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because I don’t take no for an answer.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
Jill looked over, then let it go. She dumped out the water and set the tumbler in the sink since the dishwasher wasn’t through with its cycle. “Abby could have gone up to be with Neil. Or he could have taken her in, even. Or he could be in danger, too.”
Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Then it’s not a great idea, your going there.”
“I’m just going to ask a few questions, like if the doorman has seen Abby with him recently. If it seems dangerous, I’ll go to the police.”
“In New York?”
“Yes. They have cops there.”
Sam’s lips flattened. “Do you want to fight? It seems as if you do.”
“No, I don’t, but I just don’t want to be”—Jill paused, searching for the right word—“resisted, at every turn. To get pushback when I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“But what if I disagree that it’s the right thing? I’m supposed to be a yes man?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Jill leaned on the counter, suddenly weary. “Abby is still missing, Sam. She’s a suicidal girl. I’m not making something out of nothing.”
“Still, it’s not your problem.”
“Yes, it is. I can’t unknow something. I helped create the problem and I can’t deny it.”
“No, you didn’t,” Sam said, firmly.
“Then we don’t agree, and in any event, who’s going to look for her? Her parents are dead.”
“What happens to Megan, when you’re in New York?”
Jill thought it was a low blow. “What does she have to do with it? She’s in school tomorrow, then she has practice. Manhattan is two hours away. I should be home by five at the latest, even if I take the train.”
Sam shook his head. “I would think that after yesterday, you’d let go of this Abby thing, but you’re just getting in deeper.”
“I can’t let it go, now.” Jill raised her voice, though she knew Sam wouldn’t. Whenever they fought, she felt like a screaming meemie. The angriest he ever got was a sort of scholarly consternation.
“You have to let it go. Megan needs you.”
“During the day, for what? I’d be running errands, making calls, or answering email while she’s at school.” Jill didn’t add that she’d been feeling more and more useless on her days off, like she didn’t deserve to work part-time anymore, especially after what Sheryl had said.
“So we’re in for the duration, are we?” Sam
took off his reading glasses and tossed them to the counter, an uncharacteristic gesture.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means we’re going down this road. You’re fully on board with Abby, and we’re left behind.”
“Who is?”
“Megan and me.”
Jill moaned. “Oh, come on, that’s not fair. I’m paying special attention to Megan after what happened, but I don’t have to choose, I can multitask. Nobody’s where they are anymore. I have to return calls while I make dinner. I have to answer email when I’m in the car, waiting for Megan. Every mom does it, every day. I do it every day.”
“And what about me?” Sam’s blue eyes pierced her. “Where are my wishes in your plans? Where are my concerns? Do I even factor in, or do I just keep the home fires burning while you go off on your own?”
“Do I have to get permission from you to go to New York?” Jill asked, incredulous.
“No, but you’re not thinking this through, you’re just reacting.”
“Yes, because it’s an emergency. I’m trying to find Abby. She could kill herself.”
“Let’s say you find her. Does she come with us to Austin, or did you forget?”
Jill had forgotten. They were due to visit Steven, this weekend. “I haven’t gotten that far.”
“Well, you should. You have a stepson. When did he stop counting?”
“He didn’t.”
“Explore this with me, then.” Sam opened his hands, palms up. “Assume you find Abby. Then what? You help her live on her own?”
“I suppose so,” Jill answered. Her thoughts hadn’t gotten that far on that issue, either.
“You don’t want her to move in with us, do you?”
Jill blinked, and Sam eyed her fixedly.
“Well?”
Jill felt her heart tug.
“Please tell me it’s impossible.”
“I can’t.”
Sam winced. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“I knew it.” Sam shook his head, looking away. “Why not? It’s your house.”
Jill didn’t want to go there again. It was an old wound. “You moved in here because we didn’t want to uproot Megan. You resent that now?”
“No, not at all. I’d do anything for Megan, but not for Abby.” Sam’s lips went tight. “Does Abby take Steven’s room?”
“What do you want from me, Sam? Just forget about her? You’re making me choose, her or you, is that what you want?”
“Tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want another kid, and I don’t want that kid, in particular. You’re simply ignoring my wishes, no matter what I say or do, and I don’t want to be in a marriage in which my wife gets what she wants, no matter what I want.”
“So don’t marry me!”
“Then I won’t!” Sam shot back, and for a second, the words hung in the air between them.
Jill was too angry to appease him, and their eyes met without seeing each other.
“I’ll sleep at the lab.” Sam turned around and left the kitchen, and Beef lifted his ears and looked bewildered at him, then back at Jill.
Jill felt anguished tears come to her eyes, but blinked them away.
Chapter Thirty-two
Jill stood in the backyard with Beef, her arms folded across her chest, trying not to think about Sam. He hadn’t called or texted, and neither had she. She didn’t know if he’d really meant what he said, and she didn’t know if she did, either.
Then I won’t!
She bit her lip, wondering if they were going to fall apart, dreading she’d been right, that forever was impossible. She found herself back on the night her marriage to William had ended, when she’d confronted him about the theft. They were alone upstairs in their bedroom, and she’d hoped to ask him about it calmly, but as soon as she mentioned the script pads, he’d flown into a rage like she’d never seen from him before.
How dare you accuse me! How dare you! You disgust me!
Jill had gasped, frightened. His face had gone bright red. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead. He was spitting mad. She didn’t know what he would do. We have a videotape, she said, and that was all she got to say. William had raced from the bedroom and down the stairs, Jill terrified at his heels, not knowing if he’d hurt the girls or what he would do. No, William, stop, please, we can talk about it! She hadn’t seen this coming, this violence. Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them!
William had raced into the family room, where the girls were watching TV and doing homework on their laptops, in sweats and flannel pajamas, bowls of microwave popcorn at their sides, with Beef eating fallen kernels off the rug. They looked up as their parents ran into the room, crazed and screaming, Jill pulling at William, the three incredulous girls, their mouths horrified circles, like silent screams.
William yelled, Abby, Victoria, get up, get your coat, we’re leaving! Right now! Get the hell up!
Dad, what? Victoria shook her head, terrified and stricken. No! Is this a joke?
Abby burst into tears. No, I won’t, I can’t! No, Daddy, no! Jill, Jill? Why? We live here!
GET UP, GIRLS! NOW! William grabbed Abby by her shoulder, ripping her pajama top, her favorite pair, covered with cartoon tabby cats.
DADDY? Abby shrieked, terrified, and Victoria fled the family room, her laptop falling to the floor.
Mommy, Mommy! Megan had run howling to Jill’s arms. Mommy!
William, no! Jill had shouted at him, shielding Megan with her very body, wishing she could run after the girls but Megan was shaking, clinging to her, screaming and screaming. William had yanked Abby away, dragging her, hysterical, to the entrance hall, throwing his daughters out of their own house, grabbing the car keys on the way, slamming the front door.
BAM!
In a matter of seconds, the family had been blown apart, like a bomb exploding in the family room, and all that was left was Jill and Megan weeping, collapsed together on the floor, and Beef barking and barking, running back and forth, alarmed and not knowing why, so freaked out he ignored the popcorn, spilled in bowlfuls on the rug.
Jill wiped a tear from her eye, coming back into the present. She refolded her arms, hugging herself, breathing in the night air. It was cool out, and the darkness above took on a softness, with the stars obscured. Crickets kept up a constant chirping, and bats squeaked noisily behind the louvered shutters of the house.
Beef lifted his muzzle, turning toward the pool, and she looked over, but couldn’t see what had drawn his attention. The flagstone deck was slick from the humidity, and the pool looked black, without the light on. She always opened the pool early and heated it because she loved to swim, but she hadn’t gone for a night swim yet. She could use one, now. Her last was last summer, with Sam.
I’ll sleep at the lab.
Jill went over to the pool, found the outlet hidden near the steps, and flicked on the light. It transformed the pool into a glowing turquoise rectangle, like a blue topaz in an emerald cut, a “dinner ring” her mother used to called them, wistfully. She remembered the day she’d bought the house, happy to be able to afford an in ground pool. She’d grown up using the public pool, in much humbler circumstances, her father a draftsman and her mother a nurse.
On impulse, she slid out of her sweater and khakis and let them drop to the flagstone, which left her in a bra and panties. It was the same thing as a bathing suit, and nobody could see through the privacy fence. She stepped into the pool and stood on the top step, getting used to the cold water, like the old Italian grandmas at the Jersey shore. Beef trotted over, standing on the deck and wagging his tail, and she petted his head, staying in the moment. Just her and a dog and the water. No men, no kids.
She waded into the shallow end to her waist, gasping at the sudden chill, then she plunged underneath, stretching her fingers ahead of her, feeling the cold everywhere at once, as she held her breath and plowed under the water, driving a wedge, then she was off.
She swam freestyle
, her favorite stroke, and tried to focus on technique, bending and extending her arms, keeping her elbows high, holding her head down, in line with her spine, then rolling to catch her breath and pointing her toes to the back of the pool. She was breathing hard in no time, her body remembering its job even though her lungs weren’t as able, and she reached the wall and did a flawed flip-turn, then slipped through the water again, rolling left, then right with each stroke, trying to streamline her body, ignoring the raggedness of her breath and the ache in her arms. Her college coach used to say that nothing trains you for swimming but swimming, and he’d been right, though she kept on anyway.
Jill swam, letting her body feel its own way and find its natural rhythm. She heard the gasp of her own breathing, and she tried to maintain the pace, taking the fewest strokes because it would make her faster, striving for economy of effort, matching the gliding motion she visualized as she swam. She focused with all of her being, exerting muscle, heart, and mind, feeling the sheer physical pleasure of the water sliding against her breasts and tummy.
She hit the wall again, did a better flip-turn, and powered forward, fingertips reaching and legs fluttering until her body finally found its stride, slipping through the water at speed, her brain focused only on her swimming, like a meditation in motion, and she hit the wall again, then again, swimming one lap, then the next, effortless as a jet at cruising altitude, until she exhausted herself, when she stopped, her heart thundering, floated suspended in the pool, then holding on to the jagged edge of the thick flagstone and climbing out, gasping for breath but feeling better. Cleansed, relaxed, new.
Beef barked at the fence, standing up, his tail straight out, and Jill hoisted herself out of the pool, turning to see where he was looking, but there was nothing there. The neighbors, the Weitzes, weren’t in their driveway, and the neighborhood had gone to sleep.
“Quiet, Beef, no!” she said, her chest heaving from exertion.
Beef ignored her, barking and bounding to the privacy fence, as if someone were on the other side, and Jill rose to a crouch, dripping wet, beginning to wonder.
Beef barked and barked, the hair rising on the back of his neck, and before Jill understood why, she was scooping up her clothes, instinctively covering her body with them, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
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