“No, but I never had pierced ears.”
Lauren pulled the sleeve of her cardigan up revealing a thin chain that looped around her wrist. On it was a five-petaled gold flower with a tiny pearl at the center. “This?”
Bex shook her head. “It’s really pretty though.”
“It was my mother’s. Her earrings. They only found the one. He took the other one.”
They were silent for a long while. Bex noticed that Lauren wouldn’t look at her. She stared straight ahead while they sat shoulder to shoulder, barely blinking, talking without a breath, but focused like there was something in front of her to see.
“I think I came here… I wanted to see if maybe you knew.”
Bex was walloped. Surprise, shame, anger, pain. She snapped her head to Lauren. “Knew what?”
Lauren swallowed and her voice was barely a whisper. “Why he did it.”
Bex knew she should argue. Set this girl straight. It was alleged that her father was a murderer, but it had never been proven. A sob lodged hard in her chest. She shook her head slowly, her breathing shallow and painful.
“My mom had one of those giant personalities. And your dad…” Lauren went to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s just a man, you know?”
Bex nodded again, although she didn’t really know. Her father was a distant memory. Her father was a two-dimensional picture in the newspaper, a man with a dark beard and a shaggy haircut. He was a gray man and a legend with a made-up name. He was the Wife Collector. Her father died a long time ago.
“I’d look at his pictures. I was obsessed with them.” She let out something between a snarl and a laugh. “I couldn’t believe it was him. I wanted him to be bigger. A monster maybe, with claws. Someone—something that couldn’t help what it was, so a real person wasn’t responsible for seeing my mother—hearing the way she would laugh out one high-pitched squeak before giggling without making a sound. The fact that she was a mother who read Horton Hears a Who! with a crazy voice and her arm in front of her nose like a trunk just because it made me laugh.
“I wanted your dad to be a monster who couldn’t understand that my mom was a woman and a person with an awesome chocolate-chip cookie recipe and a daughter because really, how could a person do that to another person?”
Bex didn’t have to look at Lauren to know that tears were pouring over her cheeks. That they were the kind of tears that took with them a tiny bit of Lauren’s hope and joy and heart.
“I think I came here hoping that he would be here with you.”
“He’s not.” Bex didn’t mean for it to come out a whisper. “I don’t know where he is either.”
Now Lauren shook her head and used the palms of her hands to wipe at her tears. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t… You don’t…” She paused, and a fresh torrent of tears started. “I guess I thought maybe you owed me something but”—she sniffed—“you’re out a parent too.”
Bex wanted to apologize for her father. She wanted to tell Lauren that even at home he was shy and mostly kept to himself, but she didn’t know the man that Lauren talked about.
? ? ?
Bex spent the rest of her week avoiding Detective Schuster and trying not to think about Lauren, about her wide, flat brown eyes. But by Saturday, the thoughts consumed her as she sat in front of her laptop.
“Hey, Bex. You okay? You’ve been up here all day.”
Bex blinked at Denise as she stood in the doorway. Her head was cocked, her voice soft. “It’s Saturday. I think by law we’re supposed to make sure you get at least one hour of sunlight each day.”
“Yeah,” Michael said, coming up behind Denise. “Don’t let anyone say that we’re raising veal.”
Bex rubbed her eyes. “Um, I was thinking of going to a movie with Laney and Chelsea.”
“Sunlight! Fresh air! Stretch your legs! Stop watching that little screen and go watch the big screen. In the dark. While sitting down.” He looked at Denise. “Pretty sure we’re nailing this parent thing.”
Denise shot him a high five and Bex smiled. “You guys are so weird.”
They left the room and Bex glanced back at her computer, hoping Denise and Michael hadn’t noticed the way she’d blanched when they came in the door. She was still on the Wife Collector fan site, still trying to avoid the photos that popped up. She had already seen most of them, but they never ceased to make Bex’s stomach drop into her shoes. She was going to close the laptop when a chat bubble popped up.
DETECTIVE LT. SCHUSTER is requesting a chat.
Bex clicked Accept and a tiny, smiling picture of the detective appeared in one corner of the gray box, his typing scrolling across the screen.
LT SCHUSTER: How is it going?
B*AND: Not gr8
LT SCHUSTER: Be patient. He’s going to be cautious.
Bex felt slimy talking to Detective Schuster about trying to trick her father.
B*AND: Maybe he’s just not on there.