WEST McCRAY:
Let’s back up a little here. You told me when we talked on the phone that Sadie came to you for information about Darren. She’d never been to Wagner before from what I can tell, so how did she know she needed to talk to you?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
Figure someone inside told her about me. Damned if I know. That part’s not real important, though, it could’ve been anyone. I’m the go-to guy around here. People want something—I mean, people want to know something, they’re going to come to me. I always know what the fuck’s going on because I just … I just do.
WEST McCRAY:
Did you know Darren?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
We weren’t friends, but if he saw me at the diner, we’d talk. Ruby knew him better. I didn’t know he had a daughter.
WEST McCRAY:
And that is who Sadie told you she was—Darren’s daughter.
CADDY SINCLAIR:
Yeah, she showed me his picture and it was Darren, all right.
WEST McCRAY:
Do you happen to have a picture of him?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
No, but I can tell you what he looked like: white, tall, broad. Dark hair. He was just a guy. Nothing in particular really stood out.
WEST McCRAY:
Tell me what happened next.
CADDY SINCLAIR:
She pulled a knife on me.
WEST McCRAY:
Really? Just like that?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
Yeah. She told me to tell her everything I knew about Darren or else.
WEST McCRAY:
And did you?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
Do I look alive to you?
WEST McCRAY: What did you tell her?
CADDY SINCLAIR:
I told her the truth. I told her the most I knew about Darren was that a few years back, he was with Marlee Singer and she’d probably know more about him than I did. I told her Marlee lived in Wagner. Kid took off. Didn’t seem right in the head to me. If you do find her, let me know. I want this on record because I’m gonna charge that bitch with assault. Switchblades are illegal too.
WEST McCRAY:
Thanks for your time, Caddy.
WEST McCRAY [PHONE]: Was Sadie a violent person, May Beth?
MAY BETH FOSTER [PHONE]: No. No! Never. I mean … she could’ve been, but in the way we all could be. It wasn’t something that she was. It wasn’t in her nature, if that’s what you mean.
WEST McCRAY [PHONE]: Caddy said Sadie had a switchblade. She pulled it on him. There wasn’t a switchblade in her belongings.
MAY BETH FOSTER [PHONE]: Then he’s lying. Sadie wouldn’t—she wouldn’t … if it’s not in her things, he’s lying.
WEST McCRAY [PHONE]: Or she could still have it.
WEST McCRAY [STUDIO]: Whether or not she still does, I think the real question is why she felt she needed it.
sadie
I’m outside Silas Baker’s house again.
A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I pull up behind his Mercedes. That must mean he’s home. The food from Lili’s does an uneasy turn in my gut. I get out of the car, pocketing my keys and make my way to the front door when I hear the laughter—what sounds like Kendall and Noah—coming from the back of the house. I round it slowly, until I reach the backyard and find them there, lounging by a pool.
The private side of the Baker’s’ property is no less impressive than its public facing one. Their pool is inground, long, wide and deep with a diving board. There are four chaise longues, two on either side, and a fancy metal table between them.
The backyard is lush; the grass is jewel green with thriving vegetable and flower gardens taking up opposite sides. A pine deck leads to a sliding glass door to the inside of the house. Noah drifts on a float in the water. Kendall is resplendent in a tiny red bikini, sunning herself on a soft monogrammed towel. Everything around us seems blessed to be here, and I try to process the luxury of it, of everything I’m seeing against everything else I’ve seen today. The only thing my head is able to arrive at is, this isn’t real …
“Where’s Javi?” Noah asks, tilting his head at me.
“I d-don’t know.” I shrug. “He s-said he’d m-meet me h-here.”
“Huh.” Noah grabs his phone, which is resting on his abdomen, and thumbs out a text. He waits a minute and says, “Not answering. Maybe on his way.”
“Weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” Kendall asks me. Noah laughs.
“D-didn’t go home last n-night.”
Kendall leans up on her elbows, the action pushing her impressive chest out in a way I think is meant to intimidate me. “How come?”
“T-too hard to b-be there.”
“Well, hope you don’t mind doing this all morning,” Noah says. “We’re on lockdown because when we came home last night someone”—”he points an accusatory finger at his sister“—”didn’t have the decency to fake sober. Grounded for a goddamn month.”
I look around. “What a p-p-punishment.”
Noah smiles. “I don’t know you all that well yet, Lera, but I detect a hint of sarcasm.”
“Only a h-hint,” I return. “W-where’re your p-parents?”
I look up at the house, half-expecting to see Silas Baker’s face in the window, gazing down at this poolside scene. Where are you, Silas …
“Dad went over to the florist’s,” Kendall informs us.
“What?” Noah raises an eyebrow. “He in shit again?”
Kendall stretches languidly, arms over her head, toes pointing to nothing. “Mom heard him get up at the asscrack of dawn today to go into the office. And she told me he was late as hell getting home from T-ball last night. He promised he’d be here all weekend, no work, and he lied. Now she’s pissed, so she went out with Jean and she’s not picking up the phone. Sunday family dinner is going to be great.”
“K-Kendall,” I say abruptly. “C-can I b-borrow a swimsuit?”
“They won’t fit you.” She nods to her chest.
“Jesus,” Noah says, because I guess he’s got limits. “You could lend her a tank or shorts or something.” He kicks his legs, pushing the float to the edge of the pool and climbs out. “I’m gonna try Javi again. Not like him not to answer.”
“Whatever,” Kendall says. She groans, getting to her feet like it’s the last thing in the world she wants to be doing and it sends a flare of anger through me that is almost immediately put out for something that feels so much worse.
She doesn’t know her father is a monster.
“Come on,” she mutters and I follow her inside. “You can borrow some of Noah’s trunks and one of his old shirts…”
“D-don’t like sh-sharing, huh?”
“No offense, but you look like you need a shower.”
“N-no offense, b-but you look like a bitch.”
She stops in her tracks and turns to me, smiles nice.
“You can always leave,” she says.
I don’t say anything. She shakes her head like that’s the end of it and we step through the back door. I imagine what it must be like to step through it every day just because it’s your home and you live here. I get that feeling I got when I first saw Montgomery, that if I can’t have any of this for myself all I really want is to see it ruined.
Inside, it’s incredibly stark, monochromatic. The family photos on the wall are professionally shot, black-and-white, all of them taken next to the flowerbeds outside. I study each one as I pass, following Noah’s and Kendall’s progression from babies to toddlers to awkward tweens, to now. Their mother, a lithe blonde with curly hair that keeps getting shorter. Silas and the way he doesn’t change. The most offensive part about him is how inoffensive he looks. Anyone would look at him and think he was safe.
The family portraits suddenly shift to Silas, his T-ball teams.
“There’s Javi,” Kendall says, startling me.
She points him out in a picture. I can’t make myself look.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.
“J-just a little h-hungover.”
“I’m not.” She sounds pleased.