Reece was cycling rapidly from confusion to horror to rage to fear. Her brother looked like a desperate, caged animal. She needed to calm him. She needed to not be alone with him here. She didn’t think her brother would ever hurt her, but then again, she’d believed he could never hurt any woman.
She steeled herself. He thought she’d already known this information walking in; she had to pretend that she was not surprised. If he realized he’d just confessed unnecessarily, he might panic.
“Reece, Reece.” He was now striding back toward her. “You believe me, don’t you? That it was an accident? I’d never hurt her, you know that! I loved her so much.”
Despite the revulsion she felt, Reece let her brother put his arms around her. She rubbed his back and attempted to soothe him. She needed to be away from here. Something crept up in her; had she known something worse had gone on? Had she suspected?
“I know,” Reece said, “I know.” The words were bitter on her tongue. The life Reece had known—the one where her brother was a good man; where her most darling, lifelong friend was still breathing—was a house burning to the ground before her very eyes.
She was able to calm Cameron enough to cancel his work dinner and to take a Xanax—he was now off in a drugged and dreamless sleep as Reece hurtled uptown in a cab toward her parents’ house. She’d called them on her way.
“Mom,” she said, “I need to see you. I’m coming up to your house.” Her voice shook, and she could barely hold her composure. Her eyes were pumping out silent tears.
“Darling, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me!” her mother said.
“I can’t—I’ll tell you when I get there. I just—see you soon, okay?”
She hung up before her mother could say anything else. She could see the eyes of the cabdriver flicking back and forth from the road to her in his mirror. She knew she must be a sight. She prayed he would not ask her what was wrong—she had the wild fear that she might tell him—thankfully he was silent.
“Honey, you’re scaring us half to death,” her mother said when she arrived at their house on East Seventieth Street. “Tell us what’s going on!” Elin had still been awake, but Thatcher had turned in at his customary early hour and was bleary-eyed in his robe as he took his daughter in his arms, kissing her hard on the cheek. He put his arm around her and guided her into the living room.
Her mother, a good hostess even under these circumstances, offered her wine or chamomile tea. Reece opted for the tea, feeling she needed to be sharp in this moment. Besides which, her head was already swimming from the tumbler of scotch she’d had at Cameron’s. Her stomach was empty; she’d planned to order takeout when she’d gotten home, as she often did after such a long day. She’d been flipping through the menu’s various options in her mind as she’d come up the subway stairs, just before the e-mail from Laila had blown her life to pieces.
Now, looking at her parents—their worried, expectant faces—she knew that they too were in their last moments of innocence about their son. Reece was torn between her desire to not shatter her parents’ world and her refusal to be alone in the hell into which her brother had dragged her. The hell of knowing that he was a monster. And how much worse to know the monster—or at least the man who’d done a monstrous thing—was your son? That you had, in the most literal way, created him?
It struck her anew how much her father—who had his long arm still encircling Reece as they sat on the couch—resembled Cameron. Both men had gotten a pass in life on account of their good looks, their height, and their sports prowess. In a country where white men still maddeningly held the upper hand, they were the ur-example of their species. People deferred to them implicitly, followed them slavishly. But Thatcher was good-natured, easygoing. As far as Reece knew, there was nothing sinister in his past; in fact this was a joke among his friends, who called him the Choirboy. However, who Cameron was, what he was, Reece realized, she no longer knew.
She ran through exactly what she would say as her mother was making the tea, and as she did, it hit her with a ferocious jolt: Cameron’s alibi. He said he’d been at his parents’ home that night, having met his mother for dinner when he had a disagreement with Liberty. Elin had confirmed the story more than once. Reece felt herself go rigid in her father’s arms, and she leaned away before he could notice. Did he know too?
“Here you are, sweetheart,” her mother said, handing her the steaming mug and placing a dish of cheerfully colored Jordan almonds on the table. Reece sipped the tea in the screaming silence of their vast apartment. So different from her own where the constant, vibrant buzz of the city she loved so much could always be heard. In this apartment, she always felt slightly entombed.
“I’ve just been to see Cameron,” she offered, curling her legs beneath her on the sofa.
“How is he? I’ve been so worried about him!” Elin’s hand fluttered to her cheek.
Her parents hadn’t only lied to the authorities—grievous enough—they’d lied to their own daughter. But perhaps they didn’t know the whole truth? Reece wished ardently that there was some alternate explanation than the one she kept circling back to. For now that her mind stopped whirring for a moment, she could see it: getting away with murder was something far too sophisticated for Cameron alone to pull off. Her mother, on the other hand . . .
“He told me,” she said finally.
“About what, dear?” Elin asked too quickly, too innocently. Her father let out a great sigh, as though wearied by some quotidian fight between his wife and daughter; his “girls.” So he, then, also knew.
“You said he was with you,” Reece said, looking her mother straight in the eye for the first time since she’d sat down. “That night.”
The silence that opened between the three of them could fill a century. Reece felt a litany of accusations bubbling up, but she held back. She sensed her mother would only tell her what she had to.
“Well, we were with him that night. He came to us,” her mother finally said. “He explained what happened. It was an accident, a horrible mistake. We only did what any parents would do.”
Reece felt a rage uncoil deep in her belly. She saw clearly now what she’d willfully ignored: that her parents had been covering for Cameron his whole life. The incidents in high school, the trip to London; all orchestrated to get Cameron “out of a jam,” as her father would put it—that Waspy cliché covering all manner of sins.
“You think this is what most parents would do? Cover up the fact that their son murdered his fiancée? Perjure themselves? Implicate an innocent man?”
“You’re being very melodramatic, Reece,” her mother said, in the sharp tone that Reece recognized on such a visceral level from her childhood that it immediately quieted her. “An accident is not a murder. And Sean Calloway is not an innocent man. You’ve seen the news: spousal abuse, assault, not to mention the kids he abandoned. Sean Calloway is the scum of the earth.”
“Could be,” Reece said. How could her parents be defensive about this? But of course, in Elin’s mind, her family ought not to be subject to the same justice as the rest of the world, and there’s no reason a lowlife like Sean Calloway shouldn’t bear the brunt of it. “But he didn’t kill Liberty.”
“It was an accident,” her father said weakly, “he told us. He was so upset, Reece, you should have seen him. He would never have hurt her. He loses his temper sometimes, forgets what he’s doing.”
“And London,” Reece said, remembering, shaking her head as the knowledge set in, “you sent him there because of the girl. He did something to her.”
“She was trash,” her mother said indignantly, “she would have ruined him.”
“You never should have let him come anywhere near Liberty,” Reece said of her friend, now gone forever, who had loved her and loved her brother, he who had not deserved Liberty or any other woman. “She loved the two of you! You’ve known her for decades. How can you just let him get away with it?”
“Well, he’s not ex
actly getting away with it, you know. There are punishments worse than prison. He’s so distraught over all of this,” Elin said. “Do you know he can barely sleep? Barely eat? It will haunt him for the rest of his life.”
This was a convenient story—that his own feelings were punishment enough—Reece supposed, but it wasn’t a realistic one. Cameron might have felt guilty now, but his parents would be there to assuage that guilt, to remind him that it was an accident, treat it as some unfortunate incident propelled by the hand of fate rather than their son’s own brutal force. In time—probably sooner rather than later—Cameron would move on to some other girl, one who would have no idea what she was getting into.
“Pumpkin, you don’t want your brother to go to prison,” Thatcher said. “You might think you do, right now, in this moment. But think about what it would do to our family. We’ve all been through enough already.”
Reece couldn’t stomach how her parents were talking about Liberty’s death as something that had happened to all of them, as if it were some inevitability rather than something her brother had done.
“I have to go,” she said woodenly. She had come here thinking she was delivering the most shocking news of her parents’ lives. Instead, she’d been on the receiving end of a horrible revelation. And now that the floodgates were opened, Reece realized with a sickening sensation that she’d known all along that something wasn’t right with her brother. A thousand tiny incidents came back to her: whispered accusations and closed-door conversations with his parents. It had just been easier to love him than suspect him. But something had always been there—the thing crawling around beneath the bed that she’d refused to pull into the light.
“Why don’t you stay the night in your room here, sweetie?” Thatcher said. She and Cameron still had rooms in the house, despite the fact that it was not the one they’d grown up in. Their things had been preserved and reestablished in the new location to remind them that they could always come home. What had seemed sweet suddenly felt sickening to Reece.
Reece shook her head and stood up to leave. Her mother darted in front of her, clutching her shoulders in her soft, manicured hands. Reece stood a few inches taller than her mother, but in that moment felt cowed by her. She’d never seen her mother look so hard and determined. Her countenance was that of a lioness protecting her cub.
“Listen to me, Reece,” she said, digging her fingers into the flesh of Reece’s shoulders. “You must not say anything to anyone. You’re exhausted, and you’ve had a shock. Go home, and get some sleep. I will come over tomorrow, and we’ll talk this all through, okay, my darling?” Now she reached up to smooth her daughter’s hair. Reece instinctually melted a little under her mother’s touch.
All Reece wanted was to be allowed to leave.
“Okay, Mom. Okay.”
30
* * *
WHEN CAMERON showed up at Laila’s door at midnight, she assumed she knew what he was there for. He would be angry, of course, that she’d told Reece, but it would snap him to his senses. It had to. The public appearance had been for Elin, but she’d been unmoved by it, held her ground. One hundred thousand, not a penny more, she’d told her, and she wouldn’t even get the remainder if she didn’t shut up and fall in line. But Cameron must have access to at least some money himself, so it was time to put the screws to him. With the initial payment she’d gotten from the Michaelses, Laila had put first and last down on an apartment in the West Village, not far from Cameron. She figured she’d make herself inconveniently close until they came around.
“You look,” Laila said, opening the door of her apartment only a crack, “like shit.”
“Let me in,” he said, and she obediently widened the door. Cameron was still groggy from the Xanax, but he’d woken with a start on his couch less than an hour ago, and the conversation with Reece had come hurtling back to him. He’d come straight to Laila’s—this storm needed to be contained. As long as only Reece knew, things would be fine.
“You told Reece,” he said finally.
Laila exhaled. She’d only e-mailed Reece that afternoon but had expected this news to ricochet fast, and it had.
“You didn’t leave me much choice,” Laila said, pulling her robe tighter around herself and settling into the corner of her leather couch, putting distance between her and the pacing Cameron. The couch and a glass coffee table were the only pieces of furniture other than her bed: she’d purchased all three from Crate & Barrel on credit. Fourteen thousand dollars truly didn’t get you very far in Manhattan.
“What the fuck were you thinking? That Reece would protect you instead of me? She’s my sister, and she doesn’t give a shit about you.”
Cameron glared at her. His eyes looked hollowed and dark, his expression manic. Laila began to wonder if she ought to have let him in at all. She tried not to let her fear show, but he wasn’t making any sense. He had that wild animal look to him again.
“What are you . . . ?” Laila began, confused.
“You little mongrel, you really don’t understand anything about family, do you? Did you think that Reece is such a Girl Scout that she won’t protect her own brother?”
Laila tried not to let the ugly word penetrate. She took a deep breath, composed herself.
“Really, Cameron, it’s not like your reputation is all that sterling to begin with. It can’t be that much of a shock to your sister that you were cheating on Liberty. Though I’d imagine she was plenty pissed off.”
Cameron looked at her, bewildered.
“She said . . . ,” he ran his fingers through his hair, his face collapsing, “that you told her what we did to Liberty . . .”
“Cameron,” Laila said, slowly getting to her feet, “I told her about our affair. Nothing else. I’m not crazy. Jesus.”
A blind terror rose up in Laila as Cameron recounted his conversation with his sister that evening. He’d confessed it himself—for no reason, as it turned out. But he’d assumed Laila had told her first; so, then, what was he doing here?
“Cameron . . . ,” Laila began, taking a deep breath. He had never looked less appealing to her, with this small and ruthless side of him showing in full view. It was so clear to her that he’d dispose of her at a moment’s notice. “Did you come here to threaten me?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be dramatic. I just want to make sure that you understand how this would all go down if you tell anyone else. For your own sake. You see what’s happening to Sean Calloway.”
“Reece knows,” Laila said, her voice small. She began to shake.
“Stop it,” Cameron said, taking her shoulders in his hands and forcing her to face him. “Reece isn’t going to tell anyone. She wouldn’t. My parents will make her understand. This is how family works. But no more messing around with television interviews and gossip, okay?” he said, now squeezing her shoulders roughly as though to throttle a delicate bird.
“Okay,” she said. She needed Cameron to go, that was all. She needed to be alone for a few minutes.
He walked to the door and looked back at her. Was there pity in his eyes? He seemed arrogantly certain that no harm would come to him. Of course, the same could never be said for Laila. And there would be no asking for more money now. The more Laila pushed, the more dangerous she became, the more likely it was that some misfortune would befall her. She didn’t belong to anyone or with anyone. She was, just as he said, an orphan, a mongrel.
“Good-bye, Laila,” he said.
And he was gone.
Detective Neely was out on a call when Reece arrived at the station. Her parents had offered to call their driver, but Reece had told them it was late; she’d get a cab. In truth, she didn’t want them to know where she was headed. She told them she needed to get home to feed Catniss, whom she’d adopted after Liberty’s death. But this first, now or never.
“I’ll wait,” she said to the young female lieutenant who told her Neely was out.
“You sure, honey? It could be a while.”
The lieutenant looked weary, like this was only one of many long nights she’d worked. Reece felt suddenly ridiculous in front of this woman, realizing that she be might be an imposition.
“As long as it’s okay, I’d like to wait.”
She shrugged and returned to her work.
Reece knew that she couldn’t go anywhere until she talked to Detective Neely. He was the only one she trusted to tell what she’d discovered. She felt certain that whoever else might be in her parents’ pocket, he wasn’t. He was well-known, had made a reputation for himself as incorruptible. Reece knew that if she left the station now, she might not have the courage to return. She would have to find it in herself to be ruthless toward her brother. Her image of Cameron, whom she’d always looked up to and sought approval from, had disappeared into thin air that night. She now realized he’d been an illusion all along; one she’d held on to selfishly because it comforted her. But the real man, whom he actually was, was dangerous, and had to be stopped.
She waited an hour, maybe more; she had nothing to keep her busy and simply let herself become quietly absorbed in the activity of the station. This was the other side of the city she loved, the one unbuffered by money. Liberty had never ignored it the way the rest of them had, and Reece promised herself that, going forward, she wouldn’t either.
“You wanted to see me?” She at last heard the now-familiar voice from above her. Neely was there; his eyes tired but kind.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, standing up and offering a handshake. “I’m Reece Michaels; we spoke about the Liberty Lawrence case.”
“I remember. What can I do for you, young lady?”
She took a deep breath. There was still an off ramp, but it was the very last.
“I have some information that I wanted to share. Could we go in your office?”
Epilogue
IT WAS Laila’s first time flying Emirates, and she was immediately comforted by the luxury of their business class. Rather than being crammed in a row, she sat in a neat little pod that would recline all the way back. The last-minute flight to the Maldives was already outrageous, so why not splurge for a little extra luxury? There’d been no real time to plan; a quick Google of which countries had no extradition treaty with the United States had yielded the exotic island nation as the most appealing of the options. She did not see herself thriving in Ukraine or Angola. She’d have enough to pay off the horrendous credit card bill when she sold the pendant, one of the only possessions she hadn’t left behind. She suddenly felt as though she had all the time in the world to figure things out.
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