“No!”
“You didn’t tell Leslie Monroe that Sophia was the only thing holding you back?”
“What? No! I never said that.”
Ottilo consulted his notes. “Did you meet Leslie Monroe on September nineteenth?”
“She called me—”
“Yes or no, Mr. Lassiter?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t—”
“Leslie Monroe says that at that meeting you told her that you couldn’t leave because of Sophia.”
David pressed his hands against his temples. “I told her that things were different now—Sophia was just one of those differences—”
“Mr. Lassiter, Sophia was the only thing standing between you and a new life. If it wasn’t for Sophia you’d be free to be with Ms. Monroe—”
“I don’t want to be with Leslie!”
“If you could just get rid of Sophia—”
“No! I didn’t hurt her!”
Andrew said, “This is outrageous speculation!”
They were all yelling, three male voices raised in accusation and justification. Only Jill and Detective Finley were silent. Jill could feel the other woman staring at her, but she wouldn’t meet her gaze. Her skin felt hot, tight. When this happened to men it was called being cuckolded. Was there a similar word for women? She couldn’t take anymore. She stood up, headed to the door. David called after her, “Jill, wait!”
She kept walking, out the door and down the hall, but stopped in the front lobby when she saw a crowd of reporters still clustered outside the station. The desk sergeant stared at her. “Can I help you?”
“Is there a back exit?”
He pointed down another hall, which led to stairs and an exit onto a parking lot. She stalked out into the cold, wanting to get away from the building, away from everything, and then she remembered that they’d come in Andrew’s car and she had no way of getting home. She stopped walking and David was on her, trying to wrap her in his arms.
“Please, let me explain!”
“Get off me!” She fought him, knocking his hands away until he dropped them to his sides.
“It meant nothing to me, you have to believe me. She meant nothing!”
“Get away from me.” Jill backed away, arms clutching her stomach. She turned and walked in the opposite direction, heading toward what she hoped was a way out around the other side of the building. She felt as if she were being torn apart, piece by piece. Soon there would be nothing left of her. But David wouldn’t stop; he ran after her, walking backward in front of her, trying to see her face. She looked away from him, staring down at the pavement, studying the cracks in the asphalt and wondering what it would be like to disappear into them.
“It was nothing,” David said. “I swear, it was just sex.”
“What does that mean? What is just sex?” How could something that intimate be “just” anything? She was aghast at him and at her own naïveté. She wondered how many times he’d lied to her. How many times had he really slept with this woman? Where had he met up with her? A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Did you bring her to our house?”
“What? No, never, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, so there are some lines you won’t cross?”
Andrew had come out of the building and was standing a discreet distance away. Jill felt a moment’s shame at seeing him standing there, witnessing this, but anger at David overcame any sense of discretion.
“Jill, please! I only met her a few times. We were going through a hard period, remember?”
She laughed bitterly. “How could I forget? We’d just buried our son, David. You were fucking her when our son was barely in the ground!”
“It was a terrible time—I was vulnerable, we were vulnerable.”
“I didn’t cheat on you!” She pushed past him and strode over to Andrew. “Can you please take me home now.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
David trailed them to the car, where Jill took the front seat rather than risk David trying to climb into the back with her. David took the seat behind her and she felt his breath on her neck. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, but then Andrew got in the driver’s side and David sat back. They rode in silence broken only by Andrew as they approached the cul-de-sac.
“This news is going to be leaked, I don’t see any way to avoid it, but you need to keep a united front, weather the storm.”
“I agree,” David said. “I think I should go to the office. It looks bad if I don’t—”
Jill got out of the car while he was still talking, pushing through the crowd of reporters and past the open-mouthed patrolman. She saw another patrolman sitting on the sofa munching on a fast-food burger, the grease-stained wrapper splayed on the coffee table. “Eat that in the kitchen or get out of my house!”
The man mumbled an apology, but Jill ran past him and up the stairs to the second floor. She went into their master bedroom and did something she’d never done before—locked the door.
Within seconds she could hear David’s footsteps pounding up the stairs and coming down the hallway. She lay on her side on the bed, her back to the door with bent legs pulled to her chest, hands over her ears. But she could still hear him, his hand on the doorknob, trying to turn it. Knocking on the door. “Jill? Jill, let me in.”
The noise seemed to echo in her ears. She remembered being at the seashore with Sophia and showing her how to hold a conch to her ear and listen to the noise of the sea. Where had he been then? Off fucking someone else?
“Don’t do this, Jill. Please.”
But she wasn’t doing anything. He’d done it. He’d brought this poison into their lives. She thought of how casually he’d lied at the restaurant. He’d lied to her repeatedly. How often had he been with that woman during that time? Had he bedded her and then come home to Jill? Had he compared them, finding fault with Jill? She tried to remember what he’d said to her at the time, but couldn’t.
“I’ve got to go to work,” David said through the door. “We can talk when I get back.” Silence. She made no move to fill it. “I’m sorry, Jill,” he said in a lower voice and she knew he was pressed right up against the door. “I know you don’t believe me, but I never meant to hurt you.”
It was strange how intense emotional pain could become physical. Jill felt as if she had the flu. She thought of all the times that she and David had made love while they were trying to conceive. The thermometers and ovulation kits and record keeping they’d mastered to keep track of something that other people managed with seeming ease. She thought of the day they’d come home to their apartment with Ethan and she’d nursed him in this same bed, while David hovered around grinning from ear to ear. She thought of the worst days of all, the days after Ethan’s death, when she’d barely left her bed, shuffling to the bathroom and back and willing herself to die.
The tears she’d held back finally spilled from her eyes in a hot wave, and there was relief in shedding them. She cried and cried, thinking of that tiny torn and stained nightgown and how the detective had referred to Sophia in the past tense. Jill had barely survived the loss of one child—how would she survive the loss of another? And how monstrously unfair that in addition to losing Sophia she had to lose the last remaining relationship she cherished, on the same day.
But hadn’t she known her marriage was in trouble back then? Hadn’t she sensed David pulling away at the time, but been too afraid to ask about it because she couldn’t handle another loss, not after Ethan? And really, if she looked back, hadn’t their marriage been under stress even before Ethan? Hadn’t they been simply hanging on, burned out by infertility treatments and demanding jobs?
The darkest months after Ethan’s death were a blur to her. Swallowed whole by grief, she was amazed she hadn’t simply died from it. How could he even think about sex during that time? The selfish bastard—she’d thought they’d been in it together, working through their grief even if individually, adopting Sophia, moving on as parents and partners.
But it was all a lie. She wondered what it had been like, his first meeting with this woman. The other woman. It was something from a made-for-TV movie, not her life. She’d heard David say something once about other lawyers at the retreats, how they viewed it as a free pass from their marriage. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Had he been testing her with that information? Judging how gullible she was, how ready she was to believe that he’d done nothing when he was away on those weekends?
Her body felt so heavy and her eyes ached from crying. She closed them and fell into a deeper sleep than she had had in days. She dreamed she was trying to find Sophia, that she was searching through room after room of a house and then suddenly she opened the last door, but instead of Sophia what she found was David in bed with a faceless woman.
It shocked her awake. Jill sat up, blinking. The sun was starting to set; streaks of orange covered the bedspread and carpet. She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. The face in the mirror was puffy and salt-streaked, hair a tangled mess. She washed her face, ran a brush through her hair.
She listened at the door before opening it. There was no one in the hallway and she walked slowly down the stairs. It surprised her to find David in the kitchen.
“I thought you were going in to work?”
“I did.” He’d pulled his tie loose and the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt were rolled up. He was standing at the window, staring out at the backyard with a drink in his hand. “They asked me to leave.”
“What?” Surprise overcame her resolve not to speak to him. “You’re kidding.”
“Apparently employing a child killer is bad for the firm.”
“Did they actually say that?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, of course not. They suggested that it would probably be a good idea to take a break, that I needed to concentrate on my family situation.” He took a swig from his glass. “That’s what they called it—a situation.”
“I can’t believe they actually asked you to leave.”
“Oh, it was all very polite.” He laughed, a harsh sound, and then his voice went deeper and she knew he was imitating one of the senior partners. “Of course you understand that this does not reflect on your performance, but we must think of the firm.”
“But what about Andrew? I know he wouldn’t support that.”
He turned from the window to look at her. “The partners are having a meeting now; they’ll let me know tomorrow. He’s trying his best, but he’s probably going to be outvoted. He told me as much.”
“What did you say when they asked you to leave?”
“What could I say? No? It really wasn’t presented as an option. I said I was sorry my situation had inconvenienced the firm and I left.”
“Situation.” She repeated the word, thinking how antiseptic it was, and how wildly inappropriate to describe the disappearance of their child.
The doorbell rang, startling them both. “Isn’t the officer still outside?” Jill said.
“It could be Andrew,” David said. He headed toward the front hall. “If it’s another one of those reporters I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do.”
She followed behind him and saw him swing the door open. A middle-aged woman with long, graying hair stood on the doorstep. She wore a purple tunic-like garment over black stretch pants with black boots and she had a silvery scarf looped around her neck, but it was her eyes that captured most of Jill’s attention. They were a strange shade of blue, so pale that they appeared almost translucent. “Hello, are you Mr. Lassiter?”
“We’re not giving interviews,” David said, moving to close the door, but the woman stepped forward, sticking her foot inside.
She smiled. “I’m not a reporter.” She peered around David and spotted Jill. “You must be Mrs. Lassiter. I’m Glynnis Moonday.”
David said, “I’m not sure what you’re selling, Ms. Mooday—”
“Moon-day,” the woman corrected with the same smile.
“Moonday. But whatever it is, we’re not interested.”
“I’m not selling anything. I’m here to help you.”
“Are you with the police?”
“No, but they’ve used my services before. I’m a psychic.”
“Oh dear God,” David said.
“I know about your little girl.”
Jill knew she should send the woman away. Early on in the investigation, before they became the prime suspects, Ottilo had warned them about people like this. “Every nut in the country will try to contact you,” he’d said. “Don’t answer their calls. Just refuse to talk to them.”
“You need to leave,” David said, moving to close the door.
“I just want to help you find your daughter.”
“We’re being helped by the police, but thank you anyway.” David pushed against the door, but the woman wouldn’t move. She’d fixed her gaze on Jill.
“Do you want me to leave, Mrs. Lassiter?”
Jill knew she should say no, knew that there was no basis in fact, that it was just superstitious nonsense, but she couldn’t do it. David had the door half-closed. “Wait!”
He stopped, shocked. The woman pushed her way back inside. “I’m here, Mrs. Lassiter,” she said in a soothing voice. “I’m here to help.”
David looked at Jill. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s just hear what she has to say.”
“Why? To give us false hope? This woman is a fake—there is no such thing as psychic ability.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Lassiter,” Glynnis Moonday said, but her strange eyes remained fixed on Jill. “I’m used to skeptics.”
“Do you know something?” Jill asked. “Have you seen Sophia?”
The woman smiled. “Not physically, no.”
“But mentally? In images?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen her.”
“Where is she?” David demanded. “If you can see her then tell us where she is.”
“Spirit doesn’t work that way, Mr. Lassiter.”
David snorted. “Of course not.”
“What can you tell us?” Jill asked. She felt like she did as a kid when she’d wanted so desperately to believe that Santa Claus existed.
“Can I see her room?”
Jill hesitated, but the woman was already moving toward the stairs. David took Jill’s arm. “This is crap,” he hissed. “All she wants is money.”
“If she doesn’t know anything then we’re no worse off than we were before.” Jill said.
She hurried up the stairs after the woman and watched her wander down the hall until she stopped inside the doorway to Sophia’s room. It was gloomy, but she didn’t put on a light. Jill came into the room every single day, unable to stay away even though just being there was like pulling off a scab. She could see dust on the butterfly mobile that hung from the ceiling, turning silently. The room looked untidy, but not the way Sophia left it, with toys scattered around and her clothes left in piles. It was disheveled from searching. The sheets tossed back where she’d pulled them, the drawers open where the police had searched. The clothes in the closet separated where strange hands had pushed the hangers apart. Jill felt the gnawing ache in the pit of her stomach, but she stayed, watching Glynnis Moonday survey the room.
“Can I touch something of hers,” she said in a quiet voice.
Jill looked around; everything was Sophia’s. “Does it matter what it is? Do you want clothes?”
“Does she have a favorite toy?”
“It’s gone—missing, I mean.”
“Was it a stuffed animal?”
Jill clenched her hands. “Yes.”
Glynnis Moonday moved forward and paused next to the bed. It looked so small, but it had been Sophia’s big-girl bed. She’d been so excited to move out of the crib, but Jill wished she’d waited another year. Why hadn’t she waited? From the minute that bed was in the room Sophia got up at night. Although she’d climbed out of her crib, too, and that was why t
hey’d gotten the bed in the first place, because Jill was afraid she’d hurt herself falling over the high sides of the crib. But no matter how many times they’d spoken to her, Sophia would sneak out of bed. The danger had been there all along, but Jill hadn’t recognized it.
The psychic reached down and put one hand on the pillow. Her hands had prominent veins and her nails were long and painted a deep red that was chipping. Jill didn’t want her to touch it, didn’t want her there in Sophia’s room, another stranger picking among her things, but she wanted it at the same time. The woman held her hand there for a moment, pressed into the pillow, her long, graying hair hanging around her face. Then she straightened up, moving her hand away and turned toward Jill. Her odd eyes rolled back in her head and Jill felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.
“I see trees. Lots of trees. And there’s a dog.”
“Blinky? Is it a stuffed animal?”
If the woman heard her she didn’t acknowledge it. “I see water. Running water.”
“Is she near the river?”
The woman looked down again suddenly and her eyes came back into focus. “I can’t see it,” she said.
Jill heard a snort behind her and turned to see David in the doorway. She ignored him. “What does that mean?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” the woman said. “You need to put those images together with other evidence.”
“Yes, very helpful,” David said. “Trees and water. Wow, I hope we can find some of those.”
Glynnis Moonday looked at him. “The reading wasn’t as strong as it could be because his negative energy is blocking.”
David made a derisive noise, but Jill ignored him. “Please,” she said, touching the woman’s arm. “Please, is she, that is, did you actually see her?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask directly, but Glynnis Moonday did it for her.
“Is she alive? I feel her energy, Mrs. Lassiter,” she said. “But it’s very weak.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s here, but I don’t know for how much longer.”
“Oh, no—is she hurt?”
“I can’t tell, not without spending more time. If you want to engage my services—”
Only Ever You Page 21
