by Laura Wolfe
Before Ethan had arrived, I’d finished clearing my computer nook of all the clutter. Then I’d invited Beth over to eat paella with us. She’d declined at first, still shaken by Amanda’s disappearance, but I’d been persistent. Ever the good sport, Beth eventually agreed to join us. So far, no one had noticed my orderly desktop.
“How was your flight?” Beth held a glass of Pinot Grigio in her hand.
“Great,” Ethan said. “Right on time.”
I lifted the good plates from the cabinet. “I wanted to pick him up from the airport, but he insisted on taking an Uber.”
Beth nodded. “Uber is a lifesaver.”
“I didn’t know what Uber was,” I said. “Ethan explained it was like a taxi he could call from his phone, so I let him do it.”
Beth and Ethan glanced toward each other and chuckled. I stirred the paella, not realizing I’d told a joke. While I’d promised myself to accept Ethan “as is,” a small part of me couldn’t help thinking what a handsome couple he and Beth would make. My old way of thinking had a way of popping up, no matter how unwanted, like weeds in a garden.
“Can I set the table?” Beth asked, placing her wine glass on the counter.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Rascal whined, followed by a yawn. He peered up at me from his crate in the corner of the kitchen.
Ethan bent down and scratched the dog’s head, his face stretching wide with bewilderment. “I can’t believe you adopted a puppy. What happened to you?”
“I’ve been reading a lot of books lately. Self-improvement-type books.” I squeezed my hand into a fist, not making eye contact. “I’ve learned to take some risks. To do some things that I normally wouldn’t have had the courage to do.”
Ethan gawked at me as if I were wearing a clown costume. “Well, I like the new you.”
Beth offered a kind smile. “I didn’t know the old you, but I like the new you, too.”
I carried the pot of paella over to the table. “Let’s eat,” I said as we sat down.
Beth fluttered her eyelashes. “I love paella. I went to Madrid for an assignment once. I ate as much paella as I could while I was there.”
I leaned toward her, my lips parting in awe at her worldliness. “I’ve never been to Spain,” I said, “but I’ve always wanted to make paella. It was a challenge from one of my books. Make a new recipe. So, that’s what I did.”
Beth’s face beamed. “Awesome.”
Ethan nodded vigorously. “I can’t wait to try it.”
One by one, we scooped the rice and seafood concoction onto our plates, along with some green salad and a roll. Ethan dug into his food as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Wow. Really good, Mom,” he said between mouthfuls.
“It’s delicious, Gloria. Really.” Beth methodically peeled the shell from a shrimp and popped it in her mouth. “Just as good as the paella I ate in Spain.”
I puffed my chest out, pleased with the mixture of spices and textures in my mouth. “It’s called One-hour Paella. The saffron is the key. It’s hard to find and very expensive, but I’m happy to share the recipe.”
“Did it really only take one hour?” Beth asked. “I can’t believe it.”
“More like three, but who’s counting?” I replied, happy our dinner was distracting Beth from thoughts of her missing friend.
Beth smiled. “I’ll take the recipe, anyway.”
It might have taken three hours to create the meal, but it only took ten minutes for us to clean our plates. I leaned back and groaned, my stomach stretched to capacity.
Ethan scooped another helping onto his plate. “What’s up with the weird guy in the apartment?”
“You met Joe?” I asked. My hands pressed into the seat of my chair. I’d hoped to introduce them properly.
“Yeah. When I took Rascal out earlier.” Ethan shoveled a forkful of rice into his mouth. “He appeared out of nowhere. Scared the crap out of me. And Rascal, too.”
“He’s an artist,” I said. “Oil paintings. He has a strange way about him.”
Beth gulped the last sip of her wine. “The good news is he’s not around very often. He spends the weekends at art fairs. The bad news is he creeps around in the woods at night.”
Ethan stopped chewing and set down his fork. “Seriously?”
I nodded, dabbing my lips with my napkin and debating whether to mention the window incident and the scratches. I didn’t want to send Beth into a panic.
“You did a background check on him, right?” Ethan said.
My arms dropped to my sides as I felt the blood draining from my face. A background check? It seemed an obvious precaution in retrospect, but I hadn’t thought of it. Plus, I had no clue how to go about that type of investigation, especially without a connection to the internet. I lifted my eyes to meet Ethan’s.
Ethan’s eyes widened. “Mom. You didn’t do a background check on a guy that lives less than a hundred yards from you out in the middle of nowhere?”
I swiveled toward Beth, whose face had lost its color. Now wasn’t the time to reveal I hadn’t done a background check on her, either.
“Oh, my stars.” I suddenly felt sick. I’d put us all at risk. Maybe I really was useless without Charlie.
“It’s okay, Gloria. Everyone makes mistakes.” Beth’s voice was as thin as a layer of ice about to crack.
Ethan shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Mom,” Ethan held up his hand, signaling for us to stop talking about it, “it’s fine. But from now on, you need to be more careful. They haven’t found whoever murdered that woman in town yet. And now your former tenant is missing, too.”
“I’ll be more careful.” I looked at Beth, noticing the way her lower lip quivered. “Amanda will turn up,” I said. “I’ve been praying every day that her story has a happy ending.”
“It doesn’t.” Beth spoke with no hesitation, her tone flat and certain.
Ethan threw a questioning glance at me. I pressed my spine against the back of my chair, my stomach turning at her pronouncement.
“Why would you say that?” I asked. “We have to think positive thoughts.”
Beth looked down, fidgeting with her fork. “I’m sorry, Gloria. You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.”
My eyes focused on the half-eaten pot of paella, an uncomfortable silence surrounding us. I stood to clear the empty plates. “Anyone care for another glass of wine?”
The rain blew sideways, invading the cover of my porch. I pulled the sash of my robe tighter against my waist to shield my skin. I’d left the front light off to escape the moths and gnats.
“Hurry up, Rascal,” I whispered. “Do your business.”
Through the downpour, an owl hooted from the direction of the woods. The night felt heavy and dark. Rascal foraged through my drenched flower bed a few feet away, the shadowy outline of his wagging tail barely visible. Ethan had offered to get up with the puppy, but I’d waved him off. The bags under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion after the long day of travel.
“Get out of there, Rascal,” I said, imagining the mud dripping off his paws.
A car’s ignition sputtered, then turned over. The taillights of Joe’s Explorer lit up, casting an eerie glow in the distance. I sucked in my breath and crouched down. It was after 1:30 a.m. Where was he going? The SUV turned around and sped past me toward the main road. The curve in the driveway prevented me from seeing which way he turned. I struggled to swallow as I scolded myself again for skipping the background check. Rascal trotted across the muddy path, sniffing. At last, he crouched down to relieve himself.
“Good b—” I started to say when another engine rumbled to life. This time, the noise came from beyond the line of birch trees. I craned my neck and spotted more red taillights glowing through the curtain of rain, this time from Beth’s truck. I ducked below the railing. Her truck cut across the grass to the driveway and
headed toward the road. She was following Joe. Why else would she be going out on a miserable night like this?
This was all my fault. Maybe she’d been more spooked by the lack of background check than I’d realized. It would be just like Beth to take the initiative, to track Joe’s movements and find answers on her own. I wished she would have left it to Ethan to perform the background check. There was no sense putting herself in harm’s way.
The rain fell harder now and Rascal scampered up the steps to the porch, shaking the wetness from his coat. I scooped him up, ignoring his grimy paws. My eyes searched down the drive, but Beth’s truck had disappeared into the blustery night. I squeezed Rascal tight, wondering if Beth had discovered something suspicious about Joe, something she hadn’t wanted to tell me, perhaps something to do with Amanda’s disappearance. It often seemed like an important secret balanced on the tip of her tongue but, instead of sharing it, she locked it away in some mysterious compartment. I thought about her husband’s tragic death and her parents and estranged sister. Was it odd that she rarely spoke about them? That she hadn’t wanted me to see her sister’s photo? Did Ethan ever talk about me with his friends? I envisioned the box in Beth’s hands when I’d snuck up on her the other day. What had been inside? I kept a special box on the top shelf of my closet. It was filled with mementos from Charlie—cherished cards, love letters, and photos. Beth’s box probably contained memories from her husband, too. I bet that’s why she’d been so distracted when I’d stopped over with the muffins. She must have been pining over his old cards and letters.
Gazing through the rain into the darkness, I promised myself to wake up early and check on Beth to make sure she’d returned home safely. Rascal squirmed in my arms. “Ha!” I said to myself. There was no chance he’d let me sleep past 6 a.m. “No one can accuse us of leading a boring life, now. Can they?”
My puppy’s round eyes peered at me, his tail wagging. I rested my chin on his damp head and carried him inside, locking the door behind us.
Twenty
Elizabeth
Before
I finished unloading the groceries while Caroline sat in front of the TV messing with her phone.
“I’m heading into the office.” I closed the pantry door and peered toward her.
She nodded without looking up.
“Remember, I have to fly to Charlotte tonight. I’m going straight from work.”
Caroline didn’t speak, just gave me a thumbs up.
“There’s pizza in the fridge,” I said.
She didn’t respond. She was giving me the silent treatment. Last night, I’d asked her to stay away from the busboy at The Salted Olive, and my concern had offended her. Unease prickled through me. We had to resolve this before I left.
“Caroline, can you put your phone down for a second?”
She lowered the phone and glowered at me.
“I’m sorry for what I said about the guy from rehab.”
“His name’s Josh.”
“Right. Josh.” I shifted my weight. “I just don’t think it’s good for you to hang out with him, especially when I’m not around. And when Mom and Dad aren’t around.”
“I’m twenty-five, not twelve.” Her lips turned down in disgust. “I can decide who I hang out with.”
“Okay. I agree.” I touched my abdomen, calming myself. “This is my house, though. And I don’t know this guy. Can you please not have him over while I’m gone?”
She crossed her arms and sighed. “Fine.”
“Can you go to one of your NA meetings today? I know you think they’re not helpful, but I promised Mom and Dad you’d keep it up.”
Caroline stared at me. “I’ll try.”
I took a deep breath, willing to take what I could get. “And if Jason stops by for any reason, don’t let him in.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Great.” I slung the new purse I’d picked up at the bohemian store on Main Street over my shoulder. It fit my personality so much better than that pretentious Fendi bag. “I’ll only be away two nights. I’ll call you when I get to North Carolina.”
Caroline picked up her phone again. “Safe travels.”
“Love you,” I yelled over my shoulder as I exited through the back door.
Loading my suitcase into the trunk, I tried not to think about the last trip I’d taken, and the shock that had awaited me when I’d returned. I pulled out of the driveway, but instead of heading toward the office, I turned in the opposite direction, toward Jason’s friend Robert’s house. The story I’d told Caroline about going into the office had been a fib. I’d lied to Gwen, too. She thought I was working from home today, at least until my flight at 3 p.m.
Gwen didn’t need to know there was no chance I’d be able to focus on my assignment. I couldn’t get anything accomplished until I knew what Jason was doing, where he was, and who was with him. It was as if he’d locked me inside a horrific room of mirrors, leaving me unable to decipher the difference between reality and illusion, truth and lies. If there was a part of my life with him that had been real, I didn’t know what it was. I needed to sort out the facts for myself.
I lowered my sunglasses over my eyes and navigated through traffic, at last reaching the other side of town. My car crept along White Oak Drive. I eased to a stop before reaching a compact Tudor house with overgrown shrubs: Robert’s house. This was where Jason claimed he’d been staying, but he could have been lying about that, too. I lay in wait, my hands clenching the steering wheel. A car parked in front of me blocked my view of the driveway, so I reversed into a better spot.
I let out a breath, noticing Jason’s SUV parked near the garage, the morning sun reflecting off its polished windows. He was telling the truth about staying with Robert. I checked the clock – 8:22 a.m. He’d be leaving for work soon. A sickening sensation settled in my stomach. Would he be alone? I slunk down in my seat, feeling exposed. Idling in front of the house was too risky, so I circled around the block.
The next time I passed Robert’s house, the front door was open. Jason emerged carrying his briefcase. I slowed the car as he turned to lock the door and then strode toward his car checking his watch. My hands relaxed on the wheel. He was alone. I sped past him, ducking down and circling the block again.
The third time I turned the corner, Jason’s car was gone. My breath lodged in my windpipe as I scanned the street in both directions. Brake lights flashed in the distance. His Mercedes pulled to a stop at the corner. I accelerated after him, my car following a few car lengths behind down Woodward Avenue until he pulled into the parking lot of the red-brick building where he leased an office for his one-man company. I drove past his lot and into the raised parking area of the building next door, hoping he hadn’t noticed me.
Through the slats of a metal railing, I had a clear view of the main entrance to the building, as well as the office windows. The building’s windows were tinted, obscuring everything inside from my view. I waited, slouching down in my seat while Jason disappeared through the front door. I straightened up and breathed, my heart still pounding from my covert operation. I’d wait here and I’d watch. I’d see for myself if he was still lying to me.
All morning, cars pulled into the parking lot below me. My pulse quickened each time the drivers revealed themselves—a middle-aged man, a curly-haired woman, a mother with a toddler, a bald guy. None of them came close to the memory of the woman in my bed.
I opened a bag of pretzels, crunching on them as two men in charcoal suits entered the building. A few minutes later, an elderly woman hobbled out through the front door, balancing on her walker with each labored step. By the time she reached her car, my pretzels were gone, and I’d swallowed the last gulp of my caffeine-free green tea. I huffed, annoyed with myself for wasting an entire morning on a fool’s errand. As I ripped open a granola bar, Jason barged through the front door of the building, his head turning in my direction. My eyes stretched wide as I dove down, hiding behind the steering wheel.
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br /> Shit! Shit! Had he spotted me? I tilted my phone toward my face, the clock reading 11:50 a.m. My eyes blinked, double-checking the numbers. It was lunchtime already. He was leaving to meet someone. I’d been spying for over three hours.
Through the windshield, I watched Jason back out of his parking space. With one hand I fumbled for my seat belt, while I started the car with my other hand. He turned right onto the side road leading to Woodward Avenue. I waited, letting a car pull between us, then I exited the neighboring lot, following.
Was he going to meet Sarah? Was this their routine? Meeting for a midday tryst? I gulped air as I drove, struggling to keep my car from swerving over the centerline.
Two miles later, his right blinker flashed and he turned into the parking lot of a restaurant called Coney Island. The place was a dive, its neon sign burned out on one side. I pressed my back into the seat and turned into the hardware store next door. Pulling into a spot facing the restaurant, I spied on Jason as he entered the diner. A Prius parked in the spot next to his SUV and I braced myself, but relaxed when a squat woman with salt-and-pepper hair emerged.
There were no windows in the cinderblock wall of the restaurant opposite me. Wondering if Sarah was already inside, I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling as if I was losing my mind. This must be what it felt like to go insane, everyone a suspect, the world spinning around me as I struggled to maintain my balance.
When I opened my eyes, Jason was passing through the front door carrying a white, grease-soaked bag in one hand, and a soda in the other. He ducked inside his car, reversed out of his space, and zoomed back into the traffic.