by Margot Hunt
“Well, it will all be cleared up shortly,” I said. “But we didn’t want you to go back to school without knowing what was going on.”
“Do I have to go back to school?” Liam asked.
“Yes,” I said at the same time Ebbie said, “Of course not.”
I looked at my mother. “What did you say?”
Ebbie rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s not like the sixth grade is so important that he can’t miss a few weeks.”
“Seventh grade,” Liam said.
“Whatever,” Ebbie said.
“Bridget, Liam, if you’re done eating, please clear the plates, then go to your rooms,” I said.
“I’m not done eating,” Liam said.
“Yes, you are,” Todd said.
“I don’t want to go,” Bridget moaned and snuggled into Ebbie’s arms.
“Bridget, do as your mother told you,” Todd said sharply.
Bridget gave him a hurt look but slithered out of Ebbie’s arms and stalked out of the room. Liam followed her, swiping a piece of pizza as he went. I was too weary to call him back.
“Ebbie...” I turned to my mother. “I appreciate your help, but please do not undermine me in front of my children.”
She looked surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you understand that this situation is already difficult enough without you saying things like school isn’t important?” It was hard to keep my growing frustration out of my voice. “Of course it’s important. Not just the learning part, although that’s the biggest reason. But even more important is the stability and sense of routine it gives them.”
“And what about when their classmates ask them if their mother is a murderer?” Ebbie asked.
“Ebbie, please,” Todd said.
“You know it will happen. What then?” she persisted.
“They’ll have to deal with it if and when it does,” Todd said. “We’ll talk to them. Coach them on the best response.”
Ebbie looked at me. It was a coldly appraising look, as though she were seeing something there that she hadn’t before. “Did you have anything to do with it?”
“With what?”
“This man’s death.”
Todd inhaled sharply as though someone had punched him in the stomach.
I stared back at my mother while an icy fear seeped through me. Ebbie and I had never been close, but she was still my mother. If she didn’t believe I was innocent, who would?
“Ebbie, that’s out of line,” Todd said, suddenly furious. His hands were clenched into such tight fists, the veins in his arms were standing out.
Ebbie didn’t seem to hear him. She continued to gaze at me with that peculiar expression. And for my part, I found I couldn’t look away. I felt like she was slicing me open, revealing what I’d rather have kept hidden.
“You were always an odd child,” Ebbie said. Her voice was so eerie, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. “You had a different sense of right and wrong. You were never bad, but you could be...cold-blooded is the only word for it. Like the time you found that baby rabbit the cat had gotten at and played with but hadn’t killed. Do you remember? It was clearly going to die from its injuries. You said we had to put it out of its misery. I couldn’t bear to do it. So you went and got the shovel and...just took care of it. Like it was nothing.”
The memory swam back. I did remember killing the rabbit, but it hadn’t been nothing. I couldn’t stand seeing it suffer, and Ebbie hadn’t been any help. After I’d euthanized it, I’d gone straight to the bathroom and thrown up until my stomach was empty. Even now the thought of it made me feel sick.
“Jesus Christ,” Todd exploded. He stood up, pushing his chair back so angrily that it almost toppled over. “That’s enough, Ebbie. Alice has been through enough. Look at her. She’s as white as a sheet! If you can’t be here without upsetting her, then you need to go.”
Ebbie shook her head slightly as though waking herself up, and then she gazed at my husband as though just hearing his words. “What? Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’m here to help out, not to cause any distress.”
I stood, my legs shaky. “I’m going back to bed,” I said. “I’m still very tired.”
Todd moved around the table to put an arm around me. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Call if you need anything,” he said.
I nodded and walked stiffly out of the kitchen.
“Good night, Alice,” Ebbie called after me.
I didn’t answer. I was still trying to process the chilling fact that when my mother looked at me, she saw a potential murderer. I heard Todd mutter something in a low tone to her. Ebbie responded with a predictable shrill indignation, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. That was probably for the best, I decided.
I retreated to the sanctuary of my bedroom, where I lay down on our soft king-size bed and stared up at the still overhead fan. My brain was fatigued, but it fought at the numbness, too anxious to shut down. I reached for my phone on my bedside table, where I’d plugged it into its charger. It, too, had spent the night in jail.
I was surprised that my phone hadn’t blown up. I had twenty-three text messages. Most of them were nice. Or nice-ish. A sample:
Omg. R u ok? Lmk if u need me 2 cover school pickup.
Hope everything ok. Call if u need anything.
Just kill yourself now and save the taxpayers the cost of a trial, you evil freak of nature.
The supportive ones were from friends and parents of my kids’ friends, and many of them made awkward yet touching offers to help. The threatening and insulting ones were from unknown numbers. I wanted to delete them but thought I should probably show them to Grace first.
I also had a number of voice mails. These were mostly from the press, asking for an interview or giving me a chance to comment on a story or asking for my reaction to a story they had run without first asking for my comment. I listened to each one before deleting it.
And then, from a number I didn’t recognize:
“Hi, Alice, it’s Kat.” Pause. “I hope you’re okay. Please be okay. Anyway...we need to talk, but somewhere where no one will see us. I’ll meet you at the Jupiter Lighthouse tomorrow at 9:00 p.m. It’s closed then, but I used to sneak up there when I was a teenager, so I know how to get in. No one else will be there. We’ll be able to speak in private. I know that sounds paranoid, but with everything that’s going on, I am paranoid. I borrowed this phone, so don’t call me back on this number. If you can’t make it, I guess I’ll try to get in touch with you some other way.” Another pause. “I miss you. I’m so sorry about...everything.”
The message ended there.
26
Three Months Earlier
I was sautéing chicken on the stove while simultaneously helping Liam with his literature homework. He was holding a worn hardcover school copy of Where the Red Fern Grows and looking peevish.
“I’m supposed to compare a time in my life to when Billy in the book buys his two coonhounds,” Liam said.
“And you can’t think of anything?” I asked, adding sliced onions and green peppers to the pan.
“No, nothing. I’ve never even had a dog,” Liam said grumpily.
“I don’t think you have to be quite that literal. Just try to think of a time when you got something you’d been hoping for.”
“Or we could just go get a dog. Then I would know exactly how Billy felt,” Liam suggested.
The dreaded dog conversation. Liam had been begging for one for years. Just recently he’d enlisted Bridget in the cause, so now I was hearing it from both of them.
My phone rang. I glanced at it and saw it was Kat.
“Hey,” I said to her. “You just saved me from havin
g to come up with yet another excuse for why we’re not getting a dog.”
“I heard that,” Liam said.
“You were meant to,” I called back.
There was a ragged intake of breath on the other end. And then what sounded like a sob being suppressed.
“Kat? What’s wrong?” I asked. There was no response. “Are you there? Hello?”
I heard her breathing again, sounding hard and labored. “Something’s h-happened. Can you come over?” Her voice broke on the word happened.
I looked at the stove, where my family’s dinner was half-cooked, then at Liam, who was paging through his book. “Right now? This isn’t the best time.”
“Please,” Kat said, her voice high and thin. I had never heard her like this. “I need you.”
I glanced at the clock. It was already after six. Todd should be home soon, and he could take over on the domestic front.
“Okay. Give me half an hour, and I’ll be over.”
Kat exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Thank God.”
“Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
There was another silence. It went on for so long, I thought Kat had hung up. But then, finally, she said, “It’s Howard. He just... Oh.” She sobbed again. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”
* * *
Kat had refused to say any more over the phone, except to assure me that she wasn’t in any immediate danger and that, no, she absolutely did not want me to call the police. I waited anxiously for Todd to get home, but I put the time to use finishing the chicken and putting out all of the taco toppings while distractedly answering Liam’s homework questions.
“You’re not even trying,” I finally snapped at him. “You just want me to give you all the answers.”
“I am too trying! This is really hard,” Liam complained.
“Hello, everyone. What’s going on?” Todd walked in.
“The daily homework battle,” I said. “Did you have three hours of homework when you were in seventh grade? I didn’t.”
“I can’t remember that far back.” Todd gave me a kiss on the cheek, which was what passed for physical intimacy in our marriage these days.
Todd set his leather architect bag on the table, like he always did when he came home from work. I responded as I always did.
“Please don’t leave that there. Dinner’s almost ready. Liam, set the table, please.” Then, turning to Todd, I said, “I have to go out for a bit tonight.”
“Where to?”
“Kat called. She was upset about something and wants to talk.”
Todd’s expression soured. “Of course. Kat crooks her little finger and you go running over to her.”
Anger flared in my chest, hot and tight. “Being a good friend is not a character flaw.”
“It is when you put your friend ahead of your family,” Todd fired back.
“I’ve cooked dinner. I’ve helped Liam with his homework. I’ve driven Bridget back and forth to soccer practice. What else do you want from me?” I asked. “Am I supposed to scrub and scour the floor while singing along with my little talking mouse friends?”
“Are you going to eat dinner with us?” Todd’s voice spiked with anger.
“No, I’ll eat later.”
Todd flung his hands up as though this made his point. “Perfect.”
“What the hell is your problem?” I threw the spatula I’d been holding into the sink with more force than necessary, then turned toward Todd, hands on my hips.
“Me? You’re the one racing out of here, leaving your children behind.”
This just served to enrage me more. But before I could respond with a barbed comment of my own, Liam interrupted.
“Stop fighting!” he yelled, standing up, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
Liam never raised his voice. He had always been the happiest, most easygoing of children. When he was a baby, he grinned and gurgled and held out grasping starfish hands to everyone who came near. He had carried this natural bonhomie throughout his childhood and into the teenage years. And now my breezy, easy boy was standing before us, rigid with unhappiness, tears gleaming in his eyes.
“Honey,” I said, turning to him.
“Liam, it’s okay,” Todd said at the same time.
“It’s not okay,” Liam bellowed. “It hasn’t been okay for a long time! You’re always mad at each other and I’m sick of it!”
He stalked out of the room, leaving Todd and me behind to stare at each other.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I said.
“No, I’ll do it,” Todd said. “You go ahead. And I don’t—” he held up a placating hand “—mean that in an ugly way.”
I nodded but hesitated. We weren’t through here. “You know, you play tennis in the evenings twice a week, and I don’t hassle you about that.”
Todd dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. And it’s not about the time away. It’s about...” he began but stopped.
“Kat,” I said.
“Kat,” he agreed.
“Is this because of the money she lent us?” I asked. “I talked to Lydia Rafferty at Kidtastic yesterday. She said the series is selling well. I think we’ll be able to start paying her back soon. Once we’re caught up.”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Todd shook his head and looked weary. “I appreciate what she did. Don’t look at me like that. I really do.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’ve been different ever since you met Kat. Ever since the two of you became friends.” Todd looked at me, holding my gaze. “You do see that, don’t you?”
But I wouldn’t have agreed with anything he said at that moment, let alone something so damning.
“No. I don’t see that at all.” I picked up my bag nestled on one of the kitchen chairs. “The dinner stuff is all out. You and the kids can serve yourselves.”
And then I turned and left.
* * *
The sun was sinking in the sky as I pulled into Kat’s driveway, my tires crunching against the gravel. Her house looked imposing and silent as I made my way up the walk, but the light by the front door was on. I rang the doorbell. Nothing happened, so I rang again, this time holding the doorbell down longer. Still nothing.
I peered inside the window beside the front door, cupping my hands around my eyes. The house looked still and empty, and there weren’t any interior lights on that I could see. I tried to fight back a feeling of unease.
I walked around the house, letting myself through a side gate and glancing around to see if anyone was watching me. The last thing I wanted was for the police to show up and arrest me for loitering. But I needn’t have worried. As I turned around the back corner and headed toward the patio, I saw Kat sitting on one of her cushioned wicker chairs, glass of wine in hand, feet tucked underneath her. She looked wan tonight, dressed in all black—a mock turtleneck workout shirt over yoga pants—and somehow smaller than usual.
She turned, then started as I approached.
“Oh!” she said, lifting a hand to her heart. “You scared me.”
“I rang the doorbell a few times,” I said, sitting down in the chair opposite her. “What are you doing out here?”
Kat shrugged listlessly. “I felt like I was suffocating inside, so I came out here to get some fresh air.”
“Good thing I looked back here,” I said. “I didn’t think anyone was home.”
“Sorry, I should have realized I wouldn’t hear the doorbell. Do you want some wine?” Kat asked. She picked up a bottle and waved it at me.
I nodded. Kat stood and went to the poolside bar to get an extra glass. She filled it and handed it to me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Kat inhaled deeply, then sighed. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. It�
�s not like you can do anything to help.”
“You never know. Maybe we can figure it out together.”
Kat’s face suddenly crumpled. She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook silently.
“Kat? Are you okay?” I sprang out of my seat to crouch next to her, my hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I dragged you over here. I shouldn’t have,” Kat said, her voice shaky and muffled by her hands.
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Just tell me what happened.”
Kat finally lowered her hands and looked at me with watery red eyes. And then, without speaking, she pulled at the collar of her mock turtleneck, hooking it with one finger and pulling it down to reveal the skin over her lower neck and sternum, mottled with a ring of dark bruises.
I gasped, dropping my wineglass. It shattered, the pale pink wine pooling on the patio.
“Did Howard do this to you?” Without waiting for a response, I stood, grabbing her hand and gently pulling her up, too. “Come on. We have to get you to the hospital.”
“No,” Kat said harshly, wrenching her hand away from me. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
“You have to. You need to get checked out. Make sure there isn’t any serious damage.”
Kat laughed without humor. “It’s a bit late for that.” She waved me down. “No, I’m fine. I will be fine. My throat just hurts a little.”
“Where’s Howard?” I asked, the anger burning hot and white inside me. If he thought he could get away with this, he was very, very wrong.
Kat shrugged. “I have no idea. We fought. This happened—” she gestured at her neck “—and then he left. Probably off to see his girlfriend.”
I stared at Kat, at a loss for what I should do or say. Logic would say that she should get the hell away from here, away from this house, away from Howard, and, once she was safe, call the police. Lounging outside by the pool, wineglass in hand, made no sense at all.
“Come on, Kat. We have to go before he comes back,” I insisted.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere. Come stay at my house tonight,” I said, even though I knew she’d never agree to that. Kat didn’t enjoy spending time at my house, with its confined spaces and resident raucous children. “Or if you won’t go with me there, let me take you to your parents’ place. Or a hotel. You could check into The Breakers. It would be like a mini vacation.”
