I pause to finger a hill of cold beans into my mouth, aware of how famished I am. I can no longer remember the last time I ate.
“They told me I had forty-eight hours to register his death. I never did it. To be honest, it’s making me a little nervous. Do you think that might be a crime?” I bounce Joshua to the balcony door, opening it. I need some fresh air. I reach for the binoculars on the bookshelf and look across the wet backyards, into Winnie’s home, wondering what she’s doing. I haven’t seen her in two days, since Daniel was there, when I watched him open the curtains and then make her dinner, sitting beside her on the couch, handing her tissues from the box in his lap, her plate untouched on the coffee table.
Oh right, I remember, putting the binoculars back in their place. She’s not home. She’s in jail.
I turn to Francie. “Anyway, that’s pretty much it.” I laugh. “My ‘birth story.’ I’m glad I got my turn. I wanted to volunteer to go that night, when Winnie declined. But I don’t know, I was feeling shy.”
“What night?” Nell asks.
“The fourth of July. At the Jolly Llama.”
“You were there?”
“Yes. I stayed inside at first, at the bar. Watching you guys. I was going to join the table, but it felt weird. I’ve never felt like I really fit in with this group. And then, of course, I met that guy.”
I see him, standing there, watching me. I knew what he wanted. I’d just witnessed him attempt the same thing with Winnie. The blatant eye contact from his place at the bar. The smile. The way he took in my body when he finally approached. Winnie rejected him immediately, but I couldn’t help myself. “I accepted his drink,” I tell Francie. “One thing led to another.” I feel his hands under my dress in the bathroom stall, begging me to go home with him. If only I’d said yes. I sigh and shake my head. “It had been a while.”
Francie is immobile. “Was he wearing a red hat?”
“He was hard to miss, right? So handsome. But yeah, that stupid red baseball hat.”
“I don’t understand,” Nell says. “How did you take the baby? With Alma—”
“Alma was lucky.”
“Lucky?” Nell says.
“Yes. After I left the bar with the key you gave me, I was sure I’d have to hurt her. But she saved me a lot of trouble. She was sound asleep.”
Tears collect at Nell’s chin. “I gave you the key?”
“Yes. We spoke that night, at the bar. You don’t remember?”
Nell squeezes her eyes shut. “I do—I thought I did. But everyone said you weren’t there. They said it was Gemma I spoke to.”
“Nope. Hang on.” I stand and walk to the small closet off the kitchen, taking out the blond wig and straw cowboy hat from the top shelf. I put the wig on, but it sits awkwardly. I look inside, and Winnie’s phone falls to the floor at my feet. “Oh, there it is. I was wondering where I put that thing.” I put the wig back on and turn to Nell. “Look familiar?”
“It was you.”
“Yes. I couldn’t believe you recognized me. Colette and Daniel—sorry, Token—stood right next to me for like ten minutes and had no idea. Of course, they were too busy looking at each other all googly-eyed. Remember, Colette? You told Daniel about your job with the mayor, swearing him to keep your little secret between you.
“I eventually decided to push my luck, get closer, see what you guys were talking about. I stood at the railing, my face toward my phone. And then I took that photo of you, Nell, looking so wild and out-of-control.” I can’t help myself, and a laugh escapes me. “Sending that to Detective Hoyt worked out way better than I’d dreamed. I thought it was just going to lead Hoyt down your trail, buying me some time. Instead, it distracted everyone from the real issue. That the police had failed to find a baby.” I fish inside the jar for another pickle.
“I watched the whole thing. Winnie leaving her phone. You deleting that app. Putting her phone in your purse. Then you barged into me on my way out of the bathroom, just when I was about to go home. ‘Come on,’ you said. ‘Let’s bum a smoke. It’s been ages.’
“We went to the smoking patio where a very nice gentleman gave you one of his cigarettes. I had a glass of red wine, you had a Camel Light and a gin and tonic laced with my last four Xanax. Within the half hour, I had Winnie’s phone and key. Trust me. Me and Joshua, together in the end? I didn’t think for a second that was possible. I didn’t keep going to your meetings believing I’d actually get him back.”
“Our meetings,” Francie said. “You came. You had a baby.”
“No.” I raise my eyebrows. “I had a porcelain doll inside a stroller. Hello? Thanks for never asking to hold him, by the way. The level of self-absorption in this group really played to my advantage.”
“Oh my god. You—” Nell’s words break apart in a sob.
“Followed you into the bathroom. You tried to fight, but you were pretty out of it by then. Wait a second. Listen.” I hear a noise in the hallway. “Are others coming?”
“No,” Francie says and holds up her mug. “My tea is cold. Can I have another?”
“I suppose.” I lift Joshua to my shoulder and step over Colette and back into the kitchen.
“So, you and Joshua are moving to Westchester?” Francie asks as I light the burner. “That’ll be nice.”
“Westchester? I wouldn’t be caught dead in Westches—” But then I remember. “That was also a lie. God, I’m terrible. I’m not sure where we’re going. My mom has been dead for years and god knows I’d never stay with my dad. We were upstate for a few days, at Winnie’s house, but we can’t go back there.”
Francie’s eyes are wide. “Wait. Do you mean—”
“That Winnie knew about it? Of course not. But you can find anything on the Internet if you’re willing to look hard enough. Like Daniel’s mug shot. Or your real identity, Nell, if you have a flair for remembering faces and access to Lexus Nexus. The address of Winnie Ross’s country home upstate was right there in the police report of her mother’s death. I was sure there’d be no way she’d hide a key, but lo and behold. Under the flowerpot. The same place my mom used to hide ours.” I feel a dark wave passing over me, thinking about those four quiet days with Joshua, how peaceful they were. “We’d still be there, if it were up to me. But then Hector came to mow the lawn and screwed everything up.”
“Hector.” Francie’s expression is severe. “Scarlett, you didn’t—”
“I had to. He saw us. I couldn’t believe it when he walked into the kitchen as I was scrambling eggs for breakfast. ‘You’re supposed to be in Brooklyn,’ I said. I’d been watching him. After the journalists dragged their darkened souls back home, Hector would arrive at Winnie’s. Bring her groceries. Straighten up her house. He wasn’t supposed to go upstate—that wasn’t in my plan. But he did, and he had to pay the price, and now, so does Winnie.”
I walk to close the door to the terrace, to drown the sound of sirens splicing the air. I take Francie’s mug and return to the kitchen, pouring the boiling water over a fresh tea bag. “I’m being honest when I say this, but I really didn’t want Winnie to go to jail. That unfortunate woman has been through enough. I tried to place the blame on others. You know how many times I called that police line, offering tips? The white guy on the bench. The sex offender down the block. Alma. Poor thing. Won’t be long until she’s deported.” I place the kettle back on the stove, and then suddenly I hear a commotion behind me. Nell is sliding the boxes aside, and Francie is fumbling for the lock. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, Daniel is there, forcing the door open.
“Daniel!” I say. “I knew I heard someone knocking earlier. You’re late.”
“I’ve been texting you,” he says to Francie. “I saw her coming. I’ve been trying to get in the building, but—” He stops talking, noticing Colette on the floor. His face goes pale.