“Hey. You’re back,” Luna said to her husband.
Luna was unsettled to find Sam home. Even though logic told her that he didn’t kill Irene, his freshly won person-of-interest status, and her participation in it, made their reunion profoundly uncomfortable. Luna had made the bland statement because she had to fill the air, but she knew it was the kind of thing that got under his skin. Sam didn’t believe in using words to state the obvious, or fill up silence, or attempt to ease discomfort.
“Your powers of observation are impeccable,” Sam said.
Luna decided to give Sam the efficient conversation he craved. “Mason found your phone. Your secret phone, I mean.”
Sam remained silent as he considered every possible response.
“Detective Goldman was trying to figure out whose number it was. He called. I answered.”
“You gave him the phone, I take it,” Sam said.
“Yes. I also gave him your toothbrush so they could test your DNA.”
“They could have gotten that from the phone,” Sam said.
“Good to know,” said Luna. “So, you and Irene?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Luna.”
Grief over Irene’s death undercut emotions that would otherwise have been in the conversation. Luna and Sam both felt as if they were going through the motions of talking about infidelity. Still, they went through them.
Luna opened the refrigerator and retrieved another beer. “For how long?” Luna asked, uncapping the pilsner.
“About a year.”
Sam paced around the couch, noting a few dog hairs trapped on a throw rug. Neither Sam nor Luna made eye contact during their entire conversation. As usual, they spoke concisely, using as few words as possible.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because she understood.”
“Understood what?” Luna asked.
“How fucking lonely it is being married to you,” Sam said.
The statement stung, but Luna had to concede that it was reasonable.
“I should pack,” Luna said.
“Where will you go?”
“Not sure.”
Sam was about to mention his brief meeting with the infamous Griff, but then the landline rang.
“Answer that. It’s for you,” Luna said.
Her tone was cold. Sam wondered if she was imitating him, if that was how he sounded to her. It was creepy, he thought. Sam answered the call. He could feel his blood pressure rise as his heart thumped, trying to sustain the oxygen level that his brain required.
“Hello,” he said.
“Dr. Burroughs, this is Detective Margot Burns. We should talk.”
March 2004
After Luna spoke to Owen, she phoned Griff at the Berkshires house. She and Griff had exchanged a few emails over the past few months. He’d mentioned staying at the Berkshires house over spring break. Griff immediately got in the car and drove to Deerkill. He arrived at the police station an hour after his brother’s interview began and just a few minutes before it would come to its natural end. When Griffin Mann identified himself to the desk clerk, Mrs. Hayes went on a tear. Police had to intervene again. An officer ushered Griff down the hallway, where he was reunited with Owen. At which time, Detective Oslo patted Owen on the back and thanked him for his cooperation.
“Use the back exit,” Oslo said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Owen caught his brother’s disapproving gaze as they passed under the emergency exit sign.
“Dude, what part of asking for an attorney do you not understand?” Griff said.
“Chill,” said Owen. “It was fine. He just asked a few questions. How’d you know to come?”
“Luna called right after she spoke to you,” Griff said. “What did you tell him?”
“I don’t know,” Owen said. Once he stepped out of the interview room, he didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Luna pulled up in Owen’s car. Owen climbed into the back seat on the driver’s side.
“Why don’t you move up front, Owen? I have my car,” Griff said. “I’ve got a room at the Motel 6. I’ll check in and meet you back on campus later.”
“I’m good here,” Owen said.
He’d had enough of Luna that day. All he wanted was a quiet ride back to campus.
“Why don’t you stay with Owen?” Luna asked Griff.
Motels, to her young, broke mind, were an expense reserved for family road trips and illegal assignations.
“Because Owen needs his space,” Griff said, walking away.
“Do you want to drive?” Luna asked Owen, trying to catch his eye in the rearview mirror.
“No,” Owen said.
Owen was silent for most of the ride. Luna took the main drag back to campus. Owen wished he had taken the wheel, because Luna was so goddamn slow. He rested his head against the cold window and closed his eyes. He was too angry to sleep. Luna wasn’t sure what had transpired during the interview, but she couldn’t help but feel as if Owen was paying for her crimes.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Luna said.
Owen gave up on sleep, opened his eyes, and caught Luna’s partial reflection in the rearview mirror. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m listening.”
Luna confessed to Owen as she drove him back to campus. She told him who she was and detailed her text conversation with Scarlet. In the front seat, like a chauffeur, she never saw his reaction. Or the absence of a reaction.
Luna dropped off Owen at the quad, offering to park the car in the lot, a half mile away.
“Write down the parking space” was all he said when he got out of the car.
Luna parked and made a quick call from the pay phone outside the lot. She left a message at Griff’s motel. Then she caught the bus back into town.
* * *
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