by Tana French
I hoped to God we wouldnt run into a situation where I needed to show off my equestrian skills. And then theres Abby, Justin said. Has Abby ever talked to you about her mother?
Bits, I said. I got the idea.
Its worse than she makes it sound. I actually met the womanyou werent here yet, it was back in about third year. We were all over at Abbys flat one evening, and her mother showed up, banging on the door. She was . . . God. The way she was dressedI dont know if shes actually a prostitute, or just . . . well. She was obviously out of it; she kept shouting at Abby, but I barely understood a word she said. Abby shoved something into her handmoney, Im sure, and you know how broke Abbys always beenand practically hauled her out of the door. She was white as a ghost, Abby was; I thought she was going to faint. Justin looked up at me anxiously, pushing his glasses up his nose. Dont tell her I told you that.
I wont.
Shes never mentioned it since; I doubt she wants to talk about it now. Which is sort of my point. Im sure youve got reasons, too, why you thought the no-pasts thing was a good idea. Maybe what happened changed all that, I dont know, but . . . just remember youre still fragile, right now. Just give it a little while before you do anything irrevocable. And if you do decide to get in touch with your parents, maybe the best thing would be not to tell the others. It would . . . Well. It would hurt them.
I gave him a puzzled look. You think?
Well, of course. Were . . . He was still messing with the cling-film; there was a faint pink flush creeping up his cheeks. We love you, you know. As far as were concerned, were your family now. All of one anothers familyI mean, thats not right, but you know what I mean . . .
I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Course I do, I said. I know exactly what you mean.
Justins phone beeped. Thatll be Rafe, he said, fishing it out of his pocket. Yes: wanting to know where we are.
He started texting Rafe back, peering nearsightedly at the phone, and reached over to squeeze my shoulder with his free hand. Just have a think about it, he said. And eat your lunch.
* * *
I see youve been playing Whos the Daddy, Frank said, that night. He was eating somethinga burger, maybe, I could hear paper rustling. And Justins out, in more ways than one. Place your bets: Danny Boy or Pretty Boy?
Or neither, I said. I was on my way to my lurk spotI was ringing Frank almost as soon as I got out the back gate, these days, rather than wait even a few extra minutes to hear if he had anything new on Lexie. Our killer knew her, remember; no way to be sure just how well. Thats not what I was after, anyway. I was chasing down the no-pasts thing, trying to work out what these four arent sharing.
And all you got was a nice collection of sob stories. I grant you the no-pasts thing is fucked up, but we already knew they were a bunch of weirdos. No news there.
Mmm, I said. I wasnt so sure that afternoon had been useless, even if I didnt know how it fit in yet. Ill keep poking around.
Its been one of those days all round, Frank said, through a mouthful. Ive been chasing our girl and getting zip. Youve probably noticed: weve got a gap a year and a half long in her story. She ditches the May-Ruth ID in late 2000, but she doesnt show up as Lexie until early 2002. Im trying to track down where and who she was in between. I doubt she went home, wherever that is, but its always a possibility; and even if she didnt, she might have left us a clue or two along the way.
Id focus on European countries, I said. After September 2001, airport security tightened up a lot; she wouldnt have made it out of the U.S. and into Ireland on a fake passport. She had to be this side of the Atlantic before then.
Yeah, but I dont know what name to chase. Theres no record of May-Ruth Thibodeaux ever applying for a passport. Im thinking she went back to her own identity or bought herself a new one in New York, flew out of JFK on that, switched identity again once she got wherever she was going
JFKFrank was still talking but Id stopped dead in the middle of the lane, just forgotten to keep walking, because that mysterious page in Lexies date book had gone off in my head with a flash-bang like a firecracker. CDG 59 . . . Id flown into Charles de Gaulle a dozen times, going to spend summers with my French cousins, and fifty-nine quid sounded just about right for a one-way. AMS: not Abigail Marie Stone; Amsterdam. LHR: London Heath-row. I couldnt remember the others but I knew, sure as steel, that they would turn out to be airport codes. Lexie had been pricing flights.
If all she wanted was an abortion she would have headed to England, no need to mess about with Amsterdam and Paris. And those were one-way prices, not returns. She had been getting ready to run again, right off the edge of her life and out into the wide blue world.
Why?
Three things had changed, in her last few weeks. She had found out she was pregnant; N had materialized; and she had started making plans to take off. I dont believe in coincidences. There was no way to be sure of the order in which those three things had happened, but by whatever roundabout path, one of them had led to the other two. There was a pattern there, somewhere: tantalizingly close, popping in and out of view like one of those pictures you have to cross your eyes to see, there and gone too quick to catch.
Up until that night, I hadnt had much time for Franks mystery stalker. Very few people are willing to ditch their whole lives and spend years bouncing around the world after some girl who pissed them off. Frank has this tendency to go for the more interesting theory rather than the more likely one, and Id filed this one somewhere between Outside Chance and Pure Hollywood Melodrama. But this made three times, at least, that something had smashed broadside into her life, left it totaled, irreclaimable. My heart twisted for her.
Hello? Ground control to Cassie?
Yeah, I said. Frank, can you do something for me? I want to know anything out of the ordinary that happened in her May-Ruth life in the month or so before she went missingmake it two months, to be on the safe side.
Running away from N? Running away with N, to start a whole new life somewhere, him and her and their baby?
You underestimate me, babe. Already done. No strange visitors or phone calls, no arguments with anyone, no odd behavior, nothing.
I didnt mean stuff like that. I want anything that happened, anything at all: if she switched job, switched boyfriend, moved house, got sick, took a course in something. Not ominous stuff, just your basic life events.
Frank thought about this for a while, chewing his burger or whatever. Why? he asked, in the end. If Im going to call in more favors from my friendly Fed, I need to give him a reason.
Make something up. I dont have a good reason. Intuition, remember?
OK, Frank said. He sounded disturbingly like he was picking bits out of his teeth. Ill do it. If you do something for me in exchange.
I had started walking again, automatically, towards the cottage. Hit me.
Dont relax. Youve started to sound way too much like youre enjoying yourself in there.
I sighed. Me woman, Frank. Woman multitask. I can do my job and have a laugh or two, all at the same time.
Good for you. All I know is, undercover relax, undercover in big trouble. Theres a killer out there, probably within a mile or so of wherever youre standing right now. Youre supposed to be tracking him down, not playing Happy Families with the Fantastic Four.
Happy Families. I had been taking it for granted that shed hidden the diary to make sure no one found out about her N appointments, whoever or whatever N was. But this: she had had a whole other secret to keep. If the others had found out that Lexie was about to slash herself straight out of their interlaced world, shed it like a dragonfly shrugging out of its skin and leaving behind nothing but the perfect shape of its a
bsence, they would have been devastated. I was suddenly, almost dizzily glad I hadnt told Frank about that diary.
Im on it, Frank, I said.
Good. Stay on it. Paper crumplinghe had finished his burgerand the beep of him hanging up.
I was almost at my surveillance spot. Snippets of hedge and grass and earth sprang alive in the pale circle of the torch beam, vanished the next moment. I thought of her running hard down this same lane, this same faint circle of light ricocheting wild, the strong door to safety lost forever in the dark behind her and nothing up ahead but that cold cottage. Those streaks of paint on her bedroom wall: she had had a future planned here, in this house, with these people, right up until the moment the bomb dropped. Were your family, Justin had said, all of one anothers family, and I had been in Whitethorn House long enough to start understanding how much he meant it and how much it meant. What the hell, I thought, what the hell could have been strong enough to blow all that away?
* * *
Now that I was looking, the cracks kept coming. I couldnt tell whether they had been there all along, or whether they were deepening under my eyes. That night I was reading in bed when I heard voices outside, below my window.
Rafe had gone to bed before I had, and I could hear Justin going through his nighttime ritual downstairshumming, puttering, the odd mysterious thump. That left Daniel and Abby. I knelt up by the window, held my breath and listened, but they were three stories down and all I could hear through Justins cheerful obbligato was a low, fast-paced murmur.
No, Abby said, louder and frustrated. Daniel, thats not the point . . . Her voice dropped again. Moooon river, Justin sang to himself, hamming it up happily.
I did what nosy kids have done since the dawn of time: I decided I needed a very quiet drink of water. Justin didnt even pause in his humming as I moved across the landing; on the ground floor, there was no light under Rafes door. I felt my way along the walls and slipped into the kitchen. The French window was open, just a thumbs width. I went to the sinkslowly, not even a rustle from my pajamasand held a glass under the tap, ready to turn the water on if anyone caught me.
They were on the swing seat. The patio was bright with moonlight; they would never see me, behind glass in the dark kitchen. Abby was sitting sideways, her back against the arm of the seat and her feet on Daniels lap; he had a glass in one hand and was covering her ankles casually with the other. The moonlight poured down Abbys hair, whitened the curve of her cheek and pooled in the folds of Daniels shirt. Something fast and needle-fine darted through me, a shot of pure distilled pain. Rob and I used to sit like that on my sofa, through long late nights. The floor bit cold at my bare feet and the kitchen was so silent, it hurt my ears.
For good, Abby said. There was a high note of disbelief in her voice. Just keep on going, like this, for good. Pretend nothing ever happened.
I dont see, Daniel said, that we have any other option. Do you?
Jesus, Daniel! Abby ran her hands through her hair, head going back, flash of white throat. How is this an option? This is insane. Is this seriously what you want? You want to do this for the rest of our lives?
Daniel turned to look at her; I could only see the back of his head. In an ideal world, he said gently, no. Id like things to be different; several things.
Oh, God, Abby said, rubbing at her eyebrows as if she had a headache starting. Lets not even go there.
One cant have everything, you know, Daniel said. We knew, when we first decided to live here, that there would be sacrifices involved. We expected that.
Sacrifices, Abby said, yes. This, no. This I did not see coming, Daniel, no. None of it.
Didnt you? Daniel asked, surprised. I did.
Abbys head jerked up and she stared at him. This? Come on. You saw this coming? Lexie, and
Well, not Lexie, Daniel said. Hardly. Although perhaps . . . He checked himself, sighed. But the rest: yes, I thought it was a distinct possibility. Human nature being what it is. I assumed youd considered it too.
Nobody had told me there was a rest of this, never mind sacrifices. I realized I had been holding my breath for so long that my head was starting to spin; I let it out, carefully.
Nope, Abby said wearily, to the sky. Call me stupid.
I would never do that, Daniel said, smiling a little sadly out over the lawn. Heaven knows, Im the last person in the world who has any right to judge you for missing the obvious. He took a sip of his drinkglitter of pale amber as the glass tiltedand in that moment, in the fall of his shoulders and the way his eyes closed as he swallowed, it hit me. I had seen these four as safe in their own enchanted fort, with everything they wanted within arms reach. I had liked that thought, a lot. But something had blindsided Abby, and for some reason Daniel was getting used to being terribly, constantly unhappy.
How does Lexie seem to you? he asked.
Abby took one of Daniels cigarettes and snapped the lighter hard. She seems fine. A little quiet, and shes lost some weight, but thats the least we could expect.
Do you think shes all right?
Shes eating. Shes taking her antibiotics.
Thats not what I meant.
I dont think you need to worry about Lexie, Abby said. She seems pretty settled to me. As far as I can tell, shes basically forgotten about the whole thing.
In a way, Daniel said, thats whats been bothering me. I worry that she may be bottling everything up and one of these days shes going to explode. And then what?
Abby watched him, smoke curling up slowly through the moonlight. In some ways, she said carefully, it might not be the end of the world if Lexie did explode.
Daniel considered this, swirling his glass meditatively and looking out over the grass. That would depend very much, he said, on the form the explosion took. I think it would be as well to be prepared.
Lexie, Abby said, is the least of our problems here. JustinI mean, it was obvious, I knew Justin was going to have trouble, but hes just so much worse than I expected. He never saw this coming, any more than I did. And Rafes not helping. If he doesnt stop being such a little bollocks, I dont know what . . . I saw her lips tighten as she swallowed. And then theres this. I am not having an easy time here either, Daniel, and it doesnt make me feel any better that you dont seem to give a damn.
I do give a damn, Daniel said. I care very much, in fact. I thought you knew that. I just dont see what either of us can do about it.
I could leave, Abby said. She was watching Daniel intently, her eyes round and very grave. We could leave.
I fought down the impulse to slap a hand over the mike. I wasnt at all sure what was going on here, but if Frank heard this, he would be positive that the four of them were planning some dramatic getaway and I was about to find myself bound and gagged in the coat closet while they hopped a plane to Mexico. I wished I had had the sense to test out the mikes exact range.
Daniel didnt look at Abby, but his hand tightened around her ankles. You could, yes, he said, eventually. There would be nothing I could do to stop you. But this is my home, you know. As I hope . . . He took a breath. As I hope its yours. I cant leave it.
Abby let her head fall back against the bar of the swing seat. Yeah, she said. I know. Me neither. I just . . . God, Daniel. What do we do?
We wait, Daniel said quietly. We trust that things will eventually fall into place, in their own time. We trust one another. We do our best.
A draft swept across my shoulders and I whipped round, already opening my mouth on my drink-of-water story. The glass clanged against the tap and I dropped it in the sink; the clatter sounded enormous enough to wake up all of Glenskehy. There was no one there.
Daniel and Abby had frozen, faces tu
rned sharply towards the house. Hey, I said, pushing the door open and going out onto the patio. My heart was pounding. I changed my mind: Im not sleepy. Are you guys staying up?
No, Abby said. Im going to bed. She swung her feet off Daniels lap and brushed past me, into the house. A moment later I heard her running up the stairs, not bothering to skip the creaky one.
I went over to Daniel and sat down on the patio beside his legs, with my back up against the swing seat. Somehow I didnt want to sit next to him; it would have felt crude, too much like demanding confidences. After a moment he reached out one hand and set it, lightly, on top of my head. His hand was so big that it cupped my skull like a childs. Well, he said quietly, almost to himself.
His glass was on the ground beside him, and I took a sip: whiskey on the rocks, the ice almost melted. Were you and Abby fighting? I asked.