The Last September: A Novel

“Thank you,” I said.

I felt deflated, as if they were making a mistake, and felt another rush of insult at being so easily dismissed as a suspect. They had taken my laptop because Charlie used it, too, and it now sat on Maxine’s counter with the cord wrapped around it. Beside it sat a gallon zip-top plastic bag, filled with everything they’d collected from our station wagon. I could see Ladd’s postcard, the bright toucan’s bill, pressed against the clear plastic. Apparently that wasn’t worth keeping as evidence. I walked across the room and picked up the bag, then threw it away in the garbage bin under Maxine’s sink. Lightfoot clicked across the room to greet me, and I knelt to pet her, then stood to get the computer.

“I can walk you out,” I told the officer. “I’m just going to sit outside a while, my daughter’s asleep in the car.”

On Maxine’s stoop, after the officer had driven away, I turned on my computer. I hadn’t checked email in over a week. My account was clogged with messages from Lands’ End and Old Navy, Planned Parenthood, and the NRDC. Notices from the university, and colleagues checking in. I went down the page, marking them all for deletion. And then I saw it, several pages back, already opened and read by the police. Charlie Moss. Your Dinner was the subject heading. The time next to it, 7:30. An hour or two left for him to live.

Hey, Charlie wrote. I guess I’ll have to feed Eli your coq au vin. Then I’ll tell him he needs to leave in the morning. Please give Sarah a kiss for me. Love, Charlie.

A few feet away, Sarah stirred in her car seat. She lifted her hands off her knees and let out a great sigh, as if she had read the message, too. Then she returned to stillness. Your coq au vin. All the tastes Charlie created, now gone forever. I remembered that pot of food, still sitting on the stove when I went back to get my things. If only I had stopped, to spoon it into my mouth, no matter how spoiled it was, the last thing Charlie ever cooked.

I brought my eyes back to the screen for a long minute, then hit the Reply button.

Dear Charlie, I wrote, It’s okay. Eli can stay as long as he likes. Just please don’t wait for him. Come over to Maxine’s right away. Spend the night with Sarah and me. We miss you so much.

Up above, a great flutter as a flock of gulls rose into the air and headed out across the lake. For a moment, the sound could almost convince me I had turned back time and even now Charlie was walking across all the miles and endless days that stretched out over this past week. Headed home to us.

“LISTEN,” MAXINE SAID AFTER Sarah had gone to bed. “I have to get out of here.”

I sat in the leather armchair, holding a wineglass as Maxine filled it. She marched the bottle back into the kitchen, filled a glass for herself, and started to return the bottle to the refrigerator. Instead she closed the refrigerator door, filled her glass a little fuller, and left the bottle on the counter.

“I’m not sleeping,” she said. “It’s hard to eat.” She let her voice trail off as her eyes roamed around the house, falling on the spot where I’d entered after finding Charlie.

“When I didn’t know where you were this morning,” Maxine said, “it just all came washing over me. I can barely stand to leave the house. I’m so scared, Brett. I’m so scared that he’ll show up.”

“Who?” I asked.

Maxine put her glass down. Lightfoot jumped into my lap. I knew Maxine didn’t want the dog on the furniture, but maybe she wouldn’t mind if I was operating as a buffer. Against my body, the dog quivered.