“Of course.” I tried not to stare at the clock on my nightstand as I threw on clothes and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. Heather would have called the hospital by now, then her mother-in-law. Had she phoned the police yet? I splashed water on my face in the master bath, looking at the thin scratch a branch had drawn down my cheek. I couldn’t face my own eyes in the mirror.
The kids were downstairs, dressed and waiting. “Mommy!” Matthew ran full-force at me on his small, socked feet, smacking against my legs.
“Oomph. Careful, baby.” I lifted him up, hugging him tight. “Ready for school?”
“Yes, Daddy made sandwiches for lunch!” He put a little hand against my face. “Oh, poor Mommy—you’ve got a boo-boo. Want to me to kiss it?”
I smiled. “Yes, please.”
He solemnly planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. “There, all better.”
I held him close, overcome by the desire for that to be true—for a kiss to make it all magically better, for what happened last night to be nothing more than a bad dream.
chapter sixteen
ALISON
It was an ordinary morning. It was only me that had changed. It felt bizarre to load the kids in the car and drive them to school. They chattered happily the whole way and I let it wash over me, smiling and nodding at them in the rearview mirror, making the appropriate sounds. Had the police found Viktor’s body yet? It wouldn’t take long. I thought of that slide down the embankment, of the heaviness of the gun in my hand.
“You passed it, Mommy!” Lucy cried and I saw that I’d driven right past the entrance to the elementary school. I abruptly stopped and then reversed, forcing the line of cars behind me to follow suit, a symphony of squealing brakes and honking horns.
“That was dangerous,” Lucy declared in her most censorious voice.
“Dangerous,” her younger brother chimed in.
“Sorry, sweeties.” I waved an apology to the other drivers as well, my hands sweaty on the steering wheel. For goodness’ sake, hold it together. I slowed the car, concentrating on not causing an accident in the queue of cars pulling up to the school’s front doors.
Kids were being ushered into the building and I got out just long enough to make sure Lucy joined the other third graders and to hand Matthew over to one of the kindergarten aides, a twentysomething young woman whose name I couldn’t remember. “Have a great day!” she said with a cheerful smile. It sounded ominous to me; I had to force a smile in return.
As I pulled out of the school I switched on the radio, rolling through stations for local news. A multi-car traffic accident on the Parkway East was top of the news, followed by a house fire in Brighton Heights. A shooting overnight—these words made me stiffen in my seat—but far away in Hazelwood, and they had the suspect in custody. I shut off the radio and called Julie. The phone rang and rang; just as I was about to hang up she answered. “Hi.” She sounded stilted, her voice higher than normal. “How are you?”
I broke into a sweat. “Is someone there?”
“Yes. Can I call you back?”
“Okay.” I hung up and immediately called Sarah.
She answered on the second ring. “Any word?”
“I think the police are at Julie’s.”
“What? They can’t be.”
“I just called her—she sounded odd and couldn’t talk.”
“It could be anybody,” Sarah said, but she sounded unsure. “There’s no reason the police would be there.”
“Unless Heather told them.”
“She wouldn’t do that—would she?”
“I’m on the road; I’ll drive by Julie’s house and see who’s there.”
There was an unfamiliar dark SUV parked in the driveway. It could be an unmarked car. The police could have sent someone to talk to her. What if Heather had told them? What if they were coming to my house next? I wanted to floor the accelerator and flee, but what if someone spotted me? As I drove slowly past I saw the realty-company logo on the car’s side. I sagged in my seat with relief and called Sarah back, feeling foolish.
“I knew it couldn’t be the police,” she said. “There’s been nothing on the news yet.”
We were both being careful not to say anything too direct, just in case someone was listening. “Do you think Heather’s got company?”
“Possibly. Look, we shouldn’t stay on the phone. Call if you hear anything and I’ll do the same.”
I didn’t want to hang up; I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. After driving home, I made a cup of coffee. The sound of it pouring into the cup reminded me of the rushing noise of dark water in the creek. I closed my eyes and heard the splash of the gun.
Focus on work. I carried the coffee into my office and opened my laptop, trying to absorb myself in the projects that were piling up. I would work for thirty minutes before taking a break. I set a timer, one of the many tricks I’d learned long ago when I’d just started working from home and setting my own deadlines. It forced me to start, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about Heather; we’d agreed that none of us could call her, not right away.
When twenty minutes had passed, I got online and checked the local news. Nothing; no mention even of a car being found. Shouldn’t someone have noticed the green Mercedes by now? It wasn’t as if we’d dumped it—him—out of the way, though maybe we should have. I ruminated yet again over what we’d done. It was stupid, just plain stupid to have tried to make it look like a carjacking. If we’d called the police first, if we’d waited with Heather and told them how scared she’d been, wouldn’t that have been smarter? But no, they wouldn’t have believed her, or believed any of us, not without some tangible proof. Sarah was right—she would have been charged with murdering Viktor. Why hadn’t Heather taken better photos? Why hadn’t we? We could have taken photos of her kitchen, for instance. Stupid, so stupid not to have thought of doing that, because we were so focused on convincing her to leave him.
It felt as if an enormous amount of time had passed, but when I glanced at the clock it was barely half past ten. I gave up and left my desk, circling around the house because I had too much nervous energy. At eleven, on impulse, I called my brother at work.
“Indiana Borough Police.” The desk sergeant’s voice was blandly professional.
“May I speak with Lieutenant Sean Novak, please?”
“One moment, I’ll put you through to his office.”
I almost hung up while the phone was ringing—what could I possibly ask him—but before I could he answered. “Hello, this is Lieutenant Novak.”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Hey, Ali.” He sounded happy to hear from me, which despite my stress made me smile. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just thought I’d call and say hello.”
“Kids okay? Michael?”
“They’re fine, thanks. You?”
“Oh, fine. Too much paperwork, but other than that.” He laughed and I joined in, but it sounded hollow to me. He said, “So what’s going on with you?”
“Not much—just busy as usual.” I chatted with him about what the kids were up to for a few minutes and then I tried to casually bring the conversation around to crime.
“You know those police scanners? Do you hear news reports on things happening everywhere? Even in my neighborhood?”
“Sometimes. Why? What’s up?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really, I just heard some sirens earlier and wondered what was going on.”
“Close by? Are you worried about the kids? Don’t worry, most schools have good security and emergency-response measures these days. They’re really sensitive because of all the shootings—” He must have thought my intake of breath was a gasp, because he stopped talking, although I could hear him clicking keys on his laptop. “I don’t see anything; it was probably a false alarm, people are always calling those in.”
What about carjacking, I wanted to ask, but didn’t. We chatted for a few more minutes and then just as I was about to hang up he asked, “Say, whatever happened to your friend, the one being abused? Did she leave him?”
Shit, why was he asking about her now? “Oh, she’s good. I mean, she’s dealing with it. Hey, that’s my call waiting—I’ve got to go.”