Only Ever You

by Rebecca Drake

  “No I didn’t!”

  “—and replacement knives from Henckels, coincidentally the same manufacturer as the set in your kitchen that’s missing one.”

  “This is crazy!” Jill looked from Ottilo to the others in the room. “I didn’t search for those things. I didn’t!”

  “You can’t prove anything with that,” David said angrily.

  “I want to see the official report,” Andrew said, but Ottilo ignored him, turning his attention to David.

  “Do you know a Leslie Monroe, Mr. Lassiter?”

  The name sounded familiar. Where had Jill heard it before? She looked at David, but he glanced at Andrew before looking back at the detectives.

  “She’s an acquaintance,” he said after a few seconds.

  “Just an acquaintance?” Detective Ottilo feigned surprise. “She’s a lawyer with Goldberg, Winthrop, and Shaw, isn’t she? Didn’t your firm work with them on a big case several years ago?”

  Jill stared from the detective to David and back. What was going on? What did this lawyer have to do with Sophia?

  “It was a long time ago,” David said. His face flushed and he avoided Jill’s eyes.

  “Didn’t you meet Leslie Monroe last month for drinks?” Finley said.

  “She called me,” David said, but Andrew cut him off.

  “Don’t answer that!” he snapped. “This is not relevant to your investigation, Detective.”

  Finley barely glanced at him. “Mr. Lassiter, you were asked by the polygraph examiner if you’d had any extramarital relationships.”

  Jill shot David a look then looked back at Finley. “Extramarital? An affair?”

  “Your answer to that question was no. The polygraph indicates that this was deceitful.”

  Jill remembered where she’d heard that name. The blonde woman in the fur coat reaching out to slap David outside that stupid restaurant what seemed a lifetime ago. “She’s just a lawyer from another firm.” She felt sick remembering how David had gotten defensive. “Are you spying on me?”

  “This has nothing to do with my daughter.” But David’s voice shook. He wouldn’t look at Jill.

  “Did you have an affair with Leslie Monroe, Mr. Lassiter?” Ottilo said.

  Jill waited for him to deny it, to try to convince them that it was all a misunderstanding, that this was strictly a professional relationship. David stared down at the table for a long moment and then he looked up at Ottilo and Finley, his profile as handsome as ever, his hands coming up to rest flat on the table. She saw the red staining his cheeks and knew his answer before he even opened his mouth.

  “Yes.”

  chapter twenty-nine

  DAY TWENTY-TWO

  A very seemed groggy and her skin was pale. Bea needed to get some vitamin D capsules for her. In the meantime she’d let her out to the yard to get some sunlight, however little there was on these shorter days, the end of the year when darkness descended. “Do you want to go in the yard and play with Cosmo?” she said and the child’s eyes brightened. Bea bundled her into a boy’s coat that she’d gotten at Goodwill.

  Predictably, Avery fought her on it. “No coat!” she said, thrusting the brown jacket away.

  “No outside without the coat,” Bea countered and the little girl complied, though she did it with her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

  “I like pink,” she said, plucking at the brown sleeves with her tiny hands.

  “We’ll get you a pink one later.” Bea stood back to look at her. With her cropped hair and male clothing no one would guess she was a girl. She wrestled a dark blue knit cap on the child’s head and only then did she open the kitchen door and let the child and Cosmo head out into the fenced yard. Avery’s pout vanished. She laughed, running around the yard throwing handfuls of leaves while Cosmo barked excitedly.

  Bea stood in the doorway watching them. The air was fresh, if cold. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her, crossing her arms for warmth. The air smelled of rotting leaves and traces of woodsmoke from a faraway chimney. Another year passing. Her daughter always liked this time of year, enjoyed the run-up to the holidays. Thinking about her hurt, like brushing up against a bruise. She frowned, forcing her mind off the past. Focus on the present and the distressing lack of action on the part of the police. What was it going to take before they made an arrest? Did they have to have all the dots connected for them? She knew that DNA testing took time, but she’d thought that this case would be a priority, that they’d be able to rush it through.

  It was too cold to have the door open for long. “Avery, time to come inside,” she called. The little girl ignored her, or perhaps she didn’t hear. She’d found a stick and was playing fetch with Cosmo, laughing happily when the little dog chased after every throw. “Avery!” Bea raised her voice and the child looked at her this time. “Come back inside now. Let’s go, Cosmo, you too.” Bea clapped her hands at the dog, but he took one step toward her before pausing and whining, looking from the three-year-old to Bea.

  “No!” Avery said, stamping a sneakered foot. “Cosmo wants to play!”

  Bea sighed. She’d forgotten how much energy it took when children were little. And this child wore her out with the constant arguing. She started out the door to get them, but it was too damn cold to have this fight without a coat. She called, “I’ll be right back,” and headed to the front closet.

  A crunching noise outside made her jump. She hurried to the window just as a blue SUV came up the gravel driveway. The car looked familiar. Bea tugged on her coat and ran down the basement stairs to the garage, pressing the button and ducking under it as it slowly lifted.

  A woman came around the side of the SUV, an enormous handbag on the shoulder of her bright white coat, waving and calling “Hi there!” She dropped the cigarette from her other hand and ground it out with a preposterously high heel. Damn, it was the real-estate agent. Bea grimaced as Patsy Duckworth came traipsing toward her, a nasty smoke smell trailing after her.

  Bea went down to meet her, moving as far from the house as she could. “Hello, Patsy.” She tried not to cough on the lingering haze of smoke. “I was just on my way out.”

  “Sorry to drop by unannounced, but you are a hard woman to reach.” Patsy gave her characteristic nervous laugh. “I’ve left you multiple messages; didn’t you get them?”

  “The machine hasn’t been working,” Bea lied.

  “Oh dear, well, it’s a good thing I came out here then, isn’t it.” She laughed again while Bea just stared, willing her to go away. “Bad news, I’m afraid,” Patsy pressed on. “There’s a buyer for the house—the one we had last year who fell through? He’s back, offering more money, and Mrs. Stephens has decided to accept the offer.”

  It took Bea a second to process. “The rental agreement is through next year.”

  “Yes, I know, but there was that clause in the contract, remember?” The agent reached into her overstuffed mustard-yellow handbag and pulled out a pile of papers, flicking through the stapled pages with nicotine-stained fingers. “Here it is: ‘Terms subject to expire if a buyer is found for the property’ and that’s what you signed—”

  “How long?”

  Patsy stared stupidly. “How long?”

  “When do we have to be out?”

  “Oh, of course.” Patsy smiled. “By the end of the month. They want this transaction completed before the end of the year. Tax reasons; I’m sure you understand.”

  “That’s not enough time.”

  Patsy’s smile wavered, corners quivering for a moment. “I know it’s come as a shock, but I’m sure we can find you and your husband another rental. Unless you’re ready to buy?” The corners of her mouth upped another half-inch, Cheshire Cat grin firmly back in place. Did she know how moronic she looked? “Barring any major damage, you’ll get your full security deposit back.”

  Bea laughed at that. “Any damages? The place is a dump.”

  Patsy’s eyes lit up as if she found that funny, but then
she said in a sweeter, high-pitched voice, “Hello there! Who are you?”

  Bea whirled around, but she knew before she saw her that it was Avery. The child had come around the side of the house; Cosmo nowhere in sight. She glanced from Bea to the agent, head tilted shyly for a moment, before she announced, “I want to go home,” and headed toward the SUV.

  For one very long moment, both women just stood there watching the child crunch determinedly past them down the gravel driveway. Bea snapped out of it and thinking fast, hustled after her, saying in a singsong, “C’mon, Avery, let’s get you into the car.” She swept the child into her arms, but Patsy Duckworth was faster in those stupid shoes than Bea had anticipated.

  “Is this your grandson?” She reached out a manicured hand to touch the child’s cheek. “He’s just adorable!”

  “Yes,” Bea said, moving with Avery toward the car. “We’ve got to get going—”

  Patsy just chuckled. “How old is he? Three?” she said to Bea, and to the child, “What’s your name, little guy?”

  Avery ducked from her hand. “Soph—” As she spoke, Bea shifted her arm and pressed the child’s head against her shoulder, muffling the answer. She said to Patsy, “He’s shy.”

  The child yanked her head back. “Put me down!”

  “It’s okay, sweetie, I’m going to get you in the car, we need to get to the doctor.” The child immediately wriggled in her arms, struggling to break free.

  Patsy’s hand drew back. “Oh, is he sick?” She opened her purse and Bea was sure she was searching for hand sanitizer.

  “Woke up feeling bad,” Bea said. “I told my daughter that I’d take him to the doctor.”

  “I didn’t know you had a daughter.” The agent wiped her hands on a tissue, smile firmly back in place. “Does she live around here?” Couldn’t she take the hint that this wasn’t a good time to talk?

  “Baltimore,” Bea said. “They’re visiting.” Avery scratched her arm and Bea cried out, loosening her hold. The child slipped to the ground and darted away, running past the SUV and down the drive.

  “Avery!” Bea ran after her. “Come back here!”

  The child lost her footing, slipping in the pea gravel. Bea was on her, dragging her up. “Let go! Let go!” the child screamed. “I want my mommy! I wanna go home!”

  “His eyes do look a little glassy,” Patsy mused, staring at the child, but keeping her hands far away. “He could be coming down with something; I’d better let you go.”

  “Yes,” Bea agreed, trying to mimic Patsy’s laugh. “Got to get this little boy in the car.” She turned to head back into the garage with the child.

  “I’m not a boy!” the child cried. “I’m Sophi—” Bea discreetly pressed her hand over the child’s mouth.

  “Mrs. Walsh? Just one more thing.”

  Caught off guard, Bea spun around. The damn real-estate agent had come up behind her without Bea hearing. Patsy Duckworth’s eyes widened as she registered the hand covering Avery’s mouth. Bea immediately shifted it, pretending she was stroking the child’s face. “You’ll feel better soon.”

  Avery struggled, reaching out to Patsy. “I wanna go home!”

  “Is everything okay?” the agent said, smile faltering. “Sounds like this little boy really needs his mother.”

  “I’m not a boy!” The child cried, voice hoarse.

  Patsy looked perplexed. Bea forced a laugh. “He likes to pretend he’s someone else sometimes.” She opened the rear car door and plopped the child onto the backseat, then closed the car door to cover the wails. She rolled her eyes at Patsy. “Kids; you know how it is.” She tried to hide her panic behind a big fake smile of her own.

  “Of course,” the agent murmured, but her smile was definitely gone, replaced by a furrow between her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know that the buyer will be coming to see the house with a home inspector. He wants to get the property checked again before the papers are signed. I’ll make sure it’s late in the month, though, and I’ll call beforehand, of course.”

  “Of course.” Bea waited for her to leave. Avery’s wails were barely suppressed by the car door. She’d climbed up on the seat, was banging her little hands against the window.

  “Well, I’d better get going. If you’re sure you don’t need any help.”

  “I’m sure.” Bea smiled again, one hand clenched on the door handle. “He’s just high-strung.”

  Finally, Patsy headed back down the driveway to her car. Bea yanked open the car door and hissed, “Sit down right now!” Her voice must have scared the child; she scrambled to obey. Bea looked back down the drive. Patsy glanced back, looking doubtful, and Bea raised a hand, waving good-bye. She waited, watching the other woman climb back into her SUV and execute an awkward three-point turn before heading back down the drive. Bea waited until the other car had disappeared beneath the thick canopy of trees. She waited until she could no longer hear the spray of gravel or the roar of the motor.

  Avery was curled up on the seat whimpering, face red and blotchy from her tears. “Stop crying,” Bea snapped, reaching in to haul her back out. “You’ve got nothing to cry about.”

  “I wanna go home,” the child dared to say again, but in a teary whisper this time.

  “This is your home,” Bea said matter-of-factly, carrying her back inside the house and almost tripping over Cosmo. Somehow the dog had gotten back in the house and was scratching at the door out to the garage, trying to get to them. The child must have put him back in the house. Bea put the child down, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “I think we’re going to keep you inside from now on,” she said, squatting to take off Avery’s coat and hat. She took the child’s hand and led her toward the bedroom.

  “No!” Avery dug her heels in the floor. “No! I don’t wanna go!”

  “Too bad.” Bea huffed as she lifted the child under her armpits to drag her the rest of the way. She pushed her through the door into the room. “Bad girls have to do a time-out in their room.” She slammed the door and drew the bolt across it. The child’s smothered cries could be heard through the door; small fists hammered against it.

  Cosmo bared his teeth at Bea, growling. She clapped her hands at him and he cowered, retreating, tail between his legs, into a dark corner of the basement. “Good, you can take a time-out, too.” She climbed back up the stairs and closed the basement door to drown out the child’s cries. Her hands shook a little as she pulled the cork from the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. The real-estate agent’s visit had unsettled her. She poured a glass of cabernet and took a healthy swig.

  “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Frank sat at the kitchen table, looking disapproving.

  “Oh mind your own business,” she muttered. They would have to leave here much sooner than she’d anticipated. She didn’t know how they’d travel with the child; it would be too risky. “I guess your plan isn’t going to work after all.” Frank’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “You’re wrong.” Bea carried her glass to the kitchen door and locked it. “You’ve always underestimated me.” She took another swallow, savoring the sharp yet warm liquid before letting it slide down her throat. Bea stared blankly out the window in the top of the door without seeing the sunshine dappling the carpet of leaves outside. This was just like chess, which her daughter had learned at school and tried to teach her. Frank hadn’t been interested, dismissing it as a game for nerds, but Bea had listened to the instructions if only for the sheer pleasure of hanging out with her teenage daughter. She could still see those slim fingers moving the carved pieces around the board, carefully explaining what each piece could and couldn’t do. Bea drained her glass, trying to dull the ache that always came when thinking about her daughter. Focus on the plan. The plan was like chess. She just had to consider the cause and effect of each possible move.

  “Well then, how are you going to make it work?” Frank demanded, sounding slightly slurred, which was funny since Bea was the one drinking.
r />   “Never you mind,” she said. “There’s always a contingency.”

  chapter thirty

  DAY TWENTY-TWO

  Jill had broken her arm when she was young and the pain of having it set had been a high-pitched, blinding white pain, like the shrieking of a teakettle. It felt like that again as she listened to her husband recount the details of his relationship with another woman.

  “It’s been over for a long time,” David said to Ottilo. “It has nothing to do with Sophia.”

  “How did you and Ms. Monroe meet?”

  “I don’t know—a company retreat, I think.” David glanced at Jill, but she wouldn’t look at him. She thought of those twice-a-year weekends, of David leaving on Fridays with an overnight bag and a quick kiss and arriving home exhausted but cheerful on Sundays. He used to complain about the retreats, say that he didn’t understand why a law firm actually thought that putting a group of lawyers together in an enclosed space for an entire weekend was a good idea. They’d laughed about it. She wanted to vomit.

  Andrew cleared his throat loudly. “Again, I object to this line of questioning. I fail to see how this has anything to do with Sophia’s disappearance.”

  Ottilo ignored him. “Isn’t it true that you told Leslie Monroe that you wanted out of your marriage?”

  Andrew said, “Don’t answer that.”

  “No. I want to.” David leaned forward in his chair, wiping a hand over his face as if it would wash away the stress. “I might have said that, but that was years ago. We—Jill and I—were going through a bad patch in our marriage.”

  A bad patch. Was that like a bad batch? Jill thought of how easily David tossed things out when he cooked, how often he began again. “It didn’t turn out; I’m starting fresh.” Is that how he thought of their marriage? Of her? This one didn’t work, so I’ll just find someone new?

  “Wasn’t the only thing holding you in your marriage your daughter?”