Owen’s: Let’s say Mom did kill Dad. It sucks, but what are we gonna do about it? Turn her in? Dad was about to die anyway. And maybe she didn’t want him to suffer.
Griff’s: WTF? If Mom killed Dad, that’s not okay. I’m not suggesting we call 911 and have her taken away in cuffs, but we should, at the very least, get to the bottom of it and make sure she knows that offing people isn’t okay.
* * *
—
Owen didn’t have a solid post-London plan. He thought about applying to art schools as a transfer student, but they all required letters of recommendation. He couldn’t even imagine reaching out to anyone from Markham. After two months under the same roof as Vera, Owen’s priority was just getting out of Boston.
Tom had left both of his sons some money. It was intended for college but wasn’t contingent on it. Mason suggested Owen move into the off-campus house with Luna, since Casey’s parents had bought a rental property for her to share with Mason. Owen wasn’t thrilled with the idea of returning to the general area of Markham U, but it was still a far better option than staying where he was. And he did miss his friends, the few he had left.
* * *
—
Owen moved back to Markham in August. He expected Luna to be more enthusiastic when he offered to take over the lease. While Luna did rally the night Owen moved in, she couldn’t summon much energy after that. Owen and Luna had been living together for a few weeks when he realized that her dark cloud wasn’t lifting. Owen watched Luna sleepwalk through her life. She barely went to class, watching TV half the night, staying in bed most of the day. Owen couldn’t work out what had happened with her. He knew from watching his mother that depression could strike randomly.
Owen also knew that if something didn’t change, she was going to fail out of Markham. He went so far as to go to her professors, claiming she had mono and asking for extensions on her assignments. He started gently waking her up at more reasonable hours, quietly reminding her how much money it would cost to redo a semester if she failed all her classes.
Casey was the only person Luna would talk to. When Casey dropped by, Owen could hear the women whispering behind Luna’s door. Whatever was going on with Luna, Casey knew. And Owen knew better than to ask Casey about it. She’d never tell. All of Casey’s secrets were sealed up like a can of soup. He used to like that about her.
* * *
—
Frugal to her core, Luna forced herself to do the bare minimum. She’d make it to class a few times a week, shower occasionally, and cut herself off from TV after two a.m. Casey and Owen convinced her to see a shrink. She started taking meds. The progress was slow, but Owen noticed incremental changes. Most of Luna’s energy was devoted to not failing. She didn’t have much left for Griff, and she didn’t want him to know the state she was in. Every single time he suggested Luna visit him, she declined. The few times Griff offered to visit, she firmly said no.
Owen had been in the Hudson Valley just a month when Vera summoned him back home. She’d decided to put the family house on the market and gave her sons a week to clear out the junk in the garage and all their childhood crap from their bedrooms. Owen and Griff arranged to meet over the weekend while Vera escaped to a friend’s house on Martha’s Vineyard. She would not, under any circumstances, be under the same roof as her elder son.
Griff had expected to see Luna at the house. At least, that was the plan they’d made when he spoke to her a few days before. When Owen arrived, sans Luna, Griff was visibly upset. Griff finally realized that something wasn’t right. He asked Owen for advice. Owen told Griff to give Luna some space. The advice was not given with any sense of malice. Owen legitimately thought that’s what Luna needed.
The brothers worked through the weekend, trashing memories. Neither Owen nor Griff mentioned the subject of Vera and the missing pills. Griff had already been punished for asking, and he still had no means of getting a real answer. But there was another question lurking in the back of his brain. If he didn’t ask Owen, it would always be there. Griff took the opportunity when they were alone, since he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance.
The brothers were sorting boxes of files—taxes, bills, contracts, all of the boring shit that proves you exist. Griff had a separate box for the paperwork they needed to keep. Everything else got thrown into an aluminum bin. Griff and Owen had planned a bonfire for later that night.
“You know how Luna had your phone the night Scarlet died?” Griff asked, wading into the subject without a shred of delicacy.
Owen stopped sorting and glared at his brother, silently conveying, Why the fuck are you talking about this shit now?
“Yeah,” Owen said impatiently.
“So…did you see her the day she died?”
“Who?”
“Scarlet.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Just curious,” Griff said. “When someone dies, you usually remember your last interaction with the person. Do you remember?”
“She waved at me from across the quad,” Owen said. “I ignored her.”
“The day she died?”
“No. Maybe a few days before,” Owen said.
“Are you sure?”
“Griff,” Owen said. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry,” Griff said. “This summer, you said something about what Scarlet was wearing when she…died.”
Owen waited for Griff to continue. Owen understood that he needed to be cautious. In fact, he had more sense of caution with his brother than he’d had with the police.
“How did you know what she was wearing?” Griff asked.
Owen shrugged, shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I guessed. We went out for a while. I knew what clothes were in regular circulation.”
“You guessed right,” Griff said.
Owen sensed the presence of a trap. “How do you know?”
“It’s in the police report,” Griff said.