I shouldn’t have called in the middle of the night. I’m sorry. I forget other people sleep. I don’t anymore. No rest for the wicked, and all that.
The benefit, though, of not sleeping is that you have plenty of time to think. The world is awfully quiet at three a.m., and that makes it easier to hear yourself. And this is what I’ve realized: I ruin everything. Do you remember King Midas, that mythical ruler whose touch could turn anything to gold? I’m like him, but in reverse. Everything I touch turns to garbage and spoils.
The one thing that I haven’t managed to wreck yet is my daughter, but I know that, given enough time, I’ll ruin her, too. It’s inevitable. She deserves better than me. Adam deserves better than me. You deserve better than me. You’ve always been right about me: I’m untrustworthy, I’m a traitor, I’m a horrible human being. My hope is that, when I’m gone, you, Adam, Ann—all of you—can move past the mess that I’ve made of everything and just remember this: I always loved you. I know it doesn’t make anything any better, and it doesn’t absolve me, but it’s the truth. I love all three of you, just like I loved Mom and Dad, and love and loyalty—along with a hearty dose of bad judgment—are my downfalls.
God, Josie, I’m just so tired.
Always,
Your Sister
“Oh, bloody hell.”
Caleb, reading the letter over my shoulder, summed up my feelings perfectly. Turning to him in bewilderment, all I could say was, “I never called her a horrible human being.”
He rubbed my shoulder quickly, and then knelt down to Ann’s level and affected a friendly smile. “G’day, little lady. Did your mum bring you here?”
“I got a ride with the mailman.” She frowned slightly. “He wouldn’t let me deliver any mail.”
“The mailman, eh?” Caleb inquired, shooting me a worried look. “How’d that happen?”
Ann grinned, oblivious to our concern. “Mom and I are having an adventure. She didn’t make me go to school today, and instead we went to the movies and the roller-skating rink and the park! Then we got doughnuts, and then she said she needed to go off-grid and that I should find someone to bring me here.” She pointed to the envelope in my hands. “She wrote the address on there.”
“She wanted you to find anyone to drive you?” I asked, my voice thin with panic. “Anyone at all?”
Ann nodded.
“Is everything all right out here?” Aunt A asked, stepping into the foyer. “Oh! Ann! Shouldn’t you still be at school?”
“Mom said I didn’t have to go today.”
Grimly, I passed Aunt A Lanie’s note. She cried out as she read it, her hands flying to her heart.
Ann’s expression clouded. “Granny?”
“What has she done?” Aunt A squeaked.
“We’re having an adventure,” Ann insisted stubbornly, but I could see she was starting to absorb our sense of doom.
I bobbed my head like a marionette, my heart not in the motion. “Right. Hey, you want Uncle Caleb to get you a glass of orange juice?”
“Sounds like a brilliant idea, Jo,” Caleb said, taking her hand without waiting for an answer and leading her to the kitchen.
“Where do you think she is?” Aunt A asked, her expression still bewildered.
“I don’t know,” I said grimly. “I’m going to go talk to Adam. Call me if you hear from Lanie. Call me if you have any idea where she might be.”
“Good afternoon,” the receptionist greeted me cheerily as I banged my way through the door, either oblivious to my agitation or too well trained to acknowledge it. “Welcome to Ives Real Estate and Dream Homes. How may I help you today?”
I barreled past her and threw open a closed door marked ADAM IVES, JR. to find Adam leaning back in his padded desk chair, chewing thoughtfully on a pencil as he worked a crossword puzzle.
“Josie?” he said, setting down the pencil. “What are you doing here?”
I slammed the door before the approaching receptionist reached it, and shoved Lanie’s note in his face. “Your daughter just gave me this.”
“What is it?” he asked, taking it from me.
“Why don’t you read it and tell me.”
Adam’s face dropped as he skimmed the note. “Fuck.”
I exhaled, deflating completely. I had wanted Adam to laugh, to tell me that the note meant nothing, that Lanie was just messing around. I had wanted him to say that she was safely at home, that she was sleeping off a bender. I had wanted Adam to have an explanation.
I sank down into the chair opposite his desk. “Is it . . . Do you think it’s a suicide note?”
“It could be,” he said quietly.
“Goddammit, Adam,” I said, pounding my fist on his desk. “You’re the one who’s spent the last week telling me how worried you are about her. How could you let something like this happen?”
“I didn’t know . . .”
“So she seemed fine this morning?”
He lifted his shoulders slightly.
“This is important, Adam,” I insisted. “How did she seem this morning?”
“I didn’t see her this morning. I spent the night here.” Adam inclined his head to indicate the couch, the misshapen pillow resting on it, the afghan sloppily folded over its side. It was only then that I noticed the faint stubble on his chin, the wrinkles in his shirt. “Lanie and I got in a fight.”
“What were you fighting about?”
He shook his head. “You’re just going to get mad at me, too.”
“Adam, I swear to God, if something happens to her while you’re wasting my time, they’ll be finding your body for weeks.”
“The new episode of Reconsidered,” he said, frowning. “Did you listen to it?”
My stomach sank; I remembered my own reaction to hearing that same podcast. “Let me guess: you accused her of perjuring herself.”
He shifted and looked down. “I might have gone a little further.”
Don’t, Adam had said when I had suggested Lanie might have been mistaken about Warren. It’ll kill her.
“What did you do?” I whispered, almost afraid to hear.
“Do you think . . . ?” Adam trailed off. He looked up at me, his light-brown eyes wide and wet. “Be honest, Josie. Do you think Lanie might have pulled that trigger?”
Hearing Adam vocalize the same inconceivable, disloyal thoughts didn’t reinforce them in my head; if anything, it turned my stomach and made me realize that we were wrong, we were all wrong. We had to be. Lanie could be violent and irrational, but the only person she had ever done true, honest harm to was herself.
“Tell me you didn’t say that to her.”
“You’ve never thought it?” Adam pressed, the edge of his voice slipping into desperation. “Honestly? If Warren Cave didn’t shoot him, what other reason would she have for saying he did?”
“Adam, this is your wife we’re talking about. The mother of your child. Do you honestly think she’s capable of murder?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek before answering. “I never know what to expect with Lanie.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, standing up. “Our priority right now is finding her. Can you take the rest of the day off?”
Adam nodded, one of the tears making its way down his cheek. “Let’s go.”