The perfume sitting on the bathroom counter was also vanilla. He made a mental note.
His cell phone rang and he answered it.
“Is this Detective Hawkins?” an older male voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Simon Jenkins. Private investigator. You left me a message about Genevieve Thibault.”
“Thank you for calling me back. Were you aware that she has a secret apartment?”
“Yessir. I’ve been there many times.”
“Good, so you know the address. Would you have time to come over here and meet me right now?”
“On my way.”
Hawk hung up and returned to the living room. He continued to look through the journal he had taken from the trunk. It seemed as though she’d been writing in it for a couple of months, at least. He read passages.
Thad is so distant. He comes home later and later and acts like I shouldn’t notice or care. It’s so odd. What’s happened to us? I’m doing everything I’ve always done—I’m not doing anything differently. Is this what it’s like when a couple falls out of love? I don’t get it.
He skipped forward a few days.
I’ve been trying to get his attention. He’s not really having it. It’s like I don’t exist to him anymore, and I don’t know what to do about it. What would make a husband act like that? It’s someone else. I’m sure of it.
Even the journal pages smelled like vanilla. Hawk held it to his nose and inhaled. She’d perfumed the page. She clearly liked the scent. She liked to be surrounded by it.
Perhaps she was seeking to be consumed by her environment.
He knew Gen was a writer and wondered about how that affected her mind. Does a writer create pure fiction, or do they absorb their surroundings and channel that? Did they really make it all up in their head? Or is there always a grain of truth?
He heard a quick rap on the door, and got up and opened the apartment door to find a graying man in a shabby shirt on the other side.
“Jenkins?” he asked.
The man nodded yes.
“Have you found Genevieve?” he asked Hawk anxiously.
Hawk stared at him.
“Not yet...”
Jenkins froze.
“She’s still missing, but we will find her,” Hawk told him. “She went to New York to meet her sister who was there for a convention, and she didn’t come home from a walk the first night.”
“I knew she was going,” Jenkins said. “She’d told me that much. Then I saw on the news...”
“I know. I wanted to keep it out of the press, but her parents got them involved.”
“I should probably get you up to speed,” Jenkins said to Hawk, as he entered the living room. “You got time now?”
“All the time in the world.” Hawk sat down on the sofa.
37
Gen, Then
Genevieve sat on the steps of the Field Museum. The breeze was chilly, although the sunshine on her shoulders was warm. Thad and a woman had just left.
She shook her head in disgust. She’d tried for years to get Thad to do artsy, cultured things with her, and he never would. Yet, here he was doing whatever this woman wanted him to do. They were so brazen about it, too. Didn’t he worry even a little that someone would recognize him?
Her anger was scaring her lately. It bubbled up so fiercely and so often that she worried it wasn’t normal. What was normal in a circumstance like this? What was a scorned wife supposed to feel like, particularly when the other woman was her sister?
She’d taken to following them herself. She’d wait in the shadows by his office building and watch him leave. Sometimes, he met work colleagues and clients. But more often than not, he met this woman. At the very least, they didn’t display their affection in public, but it didn’t really matter. She could imagine what went on behind closed doors. In fact, oddly enough, he seemed to treat her like a child.
“Jody, come back here,” Thad called after her one day. “You left your coat. It’s cold.” He held it out, and Jody reluctantly came back to get it, their fingers barely touching as she took it from his hand.
Maybe that was the issue. He wanted to feel like the man, the caretaker. Maybe being with Gen didn’t fill that need since she was self-reliant.
When was it time to confront them, she wondered as she watched Jody put on her coat. Now? Tomorrow? Next month?
She had all the evidence she needed for the divorce, but she found herself wanting more. She wanted a reason. She wanted to know why. What was lacking about her that Thad wanted someone else? How long had it continued with Meg before Thad had dumped her for this woman?
Meghan had always been a good sister. Everyone said so. Everyone knew it. She remembered every birthday, every anniversary, every occasion. She was loving, she was funny, she was Gen’s best friend.
What changed? Why had Meg betrayed her with Thad?
Gen had to know.
But first, she looked up a therapist’s phone number, a woman named Lila, and was able to get an appointment for that very afternoon. On the way, she grabbed a hot dog from a street vendor, piled it with sauerkraut and mustard, and ate it en route.
The therapist’s office was tidy and had a diffuser running in the corner with something tranquil. Was it lavender and mint? When Lila came out to call Gen’s name, she was dressed neatly in a pencil skirt and a sweater with tiny buttons. She looked about Gen’s age, and that put Gen instantly at ease. Maybe this person would understand.
Gen followed her back to a room, where chairs and a couch were arranged cozily. There was another diffuser running in this room as well, and Gen smiled.
“I guess you’ve got to keep the inmates calm,” Gen said, motioning toward it.
Lila, the therapist, smiled. “You’re funny. I like funny.”
“Me, too,” Gen agreed.
Lila settled into her chair. “Is that what you like about your husband?”
“Wow, so we’re diving right in,” Gen answered.
Lila smiled again. “Well, you sounded so upset on the phone, and you told me the gist. So I’m aware of what’s going on. I’d like to help you as much as possible. We’ll have to delve into it deeper, of course, as the sessions go on, but I want to help today, too.”
“I’d like that,” Gen agreed. “And yeah, I guess I like that about Thad. He used to be funnier around me, years ago. But lately, I’ve noticed that he doesn’t really try. Not like he used to.”
“Have you tried?” Lila’s pen paused on her notepad.
“Maybe not,” Gen told her. “I guess we settled into routines.”
“That happens,” the therapist said. “To pretty much everyone. The key is in realizing it, and in changing things up.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Gen replied. “On the phone, I told you my husband was being unfaithful. What I didn’t say is that the other woman is my sister.”
Lila’s face said it all. Her mouth formed an O before she could stop herself and Gen nodded.
“Exactly.”
“So you and your sister aren’t close?”
“No, she’s actually my best friend. I don’t know what started this. I don’t know why she’d do it.”
“Have you confronted them?”
“Not yet. My own anger is scaring me. So I called you.”
Lila nodded, and they spent the next few minutes discussing what was happening, how Gen had found out and what she’d done to date.
“So you still have your own apartment besides the one you live in with your husband?” Lila asked when Gen was finished.
“Oh, yes. I love it there.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“I’ve just always liked the idea of having my own space. It felt too confining to give it up. To close that door to my own identity.
”
“I would suggest that you keep it, then. If you decide to leave Thad, you’ll want someplace to go.”
“I’ll be leaving Thad,” Gen said decisively.
“Okay. Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet. But I’m not staying. How could I?”
“Well, many women do decide to stay, if their partner wants to work on his issues and recommit. However, I can see where the circumstances here would prohibit that, or at the very least, make family gatherings awkward.”
Gen wished she felt like smiling.
“I don’t know what I should be feeling,” she told Lila. “Some days, I feel unhinged. Some days, I feel nothing. Some days, I seethe with such anger that I frighten myself.”
Lila nodded. “There’s no normal,” she replied. “Every woman in your situation has different feelings, and I’d just tell you that whatever you’re feeling is normal for you.”
Gen laughed at that. “That’s kind of a cop-out,” she observed.
“No, it’s the truth,” Lila insisted. “Every single person handles things differently. We see them differently. We process them differently. And that truly is normal.”
“If you say so,” Gen offered.
“I do. So, tell me how you are feeling today,” Lila instructed.
“Today, I feel murderous. I have a million questions. I want to confront my sister, to ask her how she could do this to me.”
“Are you angrier with Meg than with Thad?” Lila paused.
Gen thought on that. “Maybe so,” she decided. “Meg is my flesh and blood. I would never, ever, in a thousand years, have thought she’d do this.”
“You feel very betrayed,” Lila said.
Gen nodded.
“By both of them.”
“Of course.”
“You’ve hired a private investigator, and you’ve gathered evidence. You have enough now. When do you think you want to confront them?” Lila asked.
Gen didn’t know that answer.
“I know that when I do, I’ll lose my sister,” she said simply, finally. Lila stared at her.
“Are you still talking to your sister?”
“Not as much, but yes.”
“And you both act as though nothing is out of the ordinary?”
“Yes.”
Lila was quiet. “You’re not dealing with your anger,” she pointed out. “You’re pretending all is fine, but keeping all of your rage pent-up. I can tell you that that’s not healthy. Have you spoken to anyone at all?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Gen replied.
Lila nodded. “Okay. Well, we’re going to have to think of a way for you to handle this, because honestly, keeping it inside will backfire on you. I would recommend coming clean to them—getting it off your chest. You have what you need for a divorce.”
“But I don’t have the thing I need for closure,” Gen said firmly. “And that’s why.”
“You may never get that,” Lila told her gently. “So often, the excuses offered are lies. You may never find out the truth. You need to be prepared for that.”
“That sounds so bleak.”
Lila nodded. “It’s just the truth. However, there are times when the unfaithful spouse wants to work on their own issues, and on the marriage, and in those times, it is more hopeful. Although often, you still won’t get the complete truth. They lie to protect themselves. They lie because they don’t want the world to know their dark secrets.”
“I can get another husband, if I ever want one. But I can’t get another sister.”
Lila nodded. “I agree. Have you told your mother?”
“Oh, no. She wouldn’t believe it. She never can believe something bad about one of us.”
“What do you think of telling Meg’s husband?” The therapist cocked her head.
Gen thought of her brother-in-law’s kind face, his trusting eyes, and her stomach clenched. “Her husband is such a good guy,” she said.
“You don’t want to hurt him,” Lila observed.
Gen shook her head. “I know that Meg is the one who did this, but if I’m the one to tell him, I’ll be the one holding the knife.”
“To play devil’s advocate, if he found out that you knew and didn’t tell him, will he feel betrayed by you?”
Gen blinked. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
“It’s just a thought,” Lila said. “And pragmatically speaking, he’s the father of your nephew, so you’ll want to keep your relationship with him. So that you can see your nephew as often as you like.”
“True,” Gen agreed. “I love that kid. It will be terrible if his parents split up.”
“That probably plays into your decision not to want to tell Joe,” Lila pointed out. “Keep in mind that children in a very unhappy home don’t have it any easier than children of divorce.”
“But they aren’t unhappy,” Gen said. “Which is the strangest part. Thad and I weren’t unhappy. She and Joe aren’t unhappy. So none of it makes sense.”
“Different factors play into infidelity,” Lila said. “Some get into a rut and want excitement. Some want variety. Some develop feelings for someone else.”
Gen froze. “You don’t think they grew actual feelings for each other over the years, behind my back? While my father sliced the turkey on Thanksgiving, they were playing footsie under the table?”
Lila was quick to reply. “Not necessarily. I’m just saying that there are multiple reasons it could’ve happened. They may or may not have feelings for each other.”
The thought that they could have real feelings for each other hadn’t really occurred to Gen. For whatever reason, she had simply assumed that it was a physical attraction. What if they actually loved each other? That would mean that she’d be exposed to Thad for the rest of her life, at every family function her parents held, if Meg intended to stay with him.
That wasn’t a future she wanted.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
“Somehow,” Lila said, “you have to figure out a way to work through your feelings, whether you decide to confront them right now or not. If you don’t, if you keep suppressing them, it could lead toward you exploding in the future. Bad things happen from too much suppression.”
Aloud, Gen agreed. But she didn’t explain how she was secretly setting up Meg’s marriage to fail, or how she would get revenge on Thad, too.
“Journaling works well,” Lila told her. “It helps work through emotions and feelings. You can say whatever you’d like, without fear of judgment. You can even burn it after you’re finished, so that no one will ever see. It could be very cleansing.”
Gen didn’t commit, but on her way home, she did stop at a greeting-card shop and bought a couple of journals.
38
Jenkins, Now
“How did you meet Mrs. Thibault?” Hawk asked Jenkins. The older man cocked his head. Hawk found himself thinking that a cowboy hat would suit the other man’s demeanor.
“I met Gen when she called me and asked me to work for her. She just searched online for a PI to catch an unfaithful husband in Chicago. My assistant set it up on Google somehow, so that my name would pop up when someone used those search words. Pretty smart.”
Hawk wasn’t in the mood to discuss SEO or other marketing tactics with the man in front of him.
“How long did you work for her?”
“I figure you already know that,” Jenkins said. “You’ve found the bank statements—you already counted the monthly payments.”
“There were eleven payments,” Hawk said evenly. Jenkins smiled.
“What did you do for those eleven months?” Hawk asked.
“I gathered evidence for her. Pictures, hotel receipts, whatnot.”
“For eleven months?”
“She wanted as much as she could
get,” Jenkins answered. “I suggested to her after about four months that she had enough. She didn’t want to stop.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said she needed a reason.”
“A reason?”
“She needed to see why they did it.”
“Did she find out?”
Jenkins shook his head. “Probably not. They never really do.”
“How did Genevieve seem to you throughout that time?” Hawk kept glancing at the door, not entirely unsure that Meg wasn’t listening outside.
“She varied. She wasn’t even-keeled, if that’s what you are asking,” Jenkins answered, and he looked down his nose at the detective. “But, she was always kind. She’s a lady, that one.”
“How so?”
“You can just tell by being around her. She was cool and collected, and always nice to people. I saw her give money to homeless people many, many times. She always paid me right on time, didn’t cause any hassle at all. She even helped me write a help-wanted ad for my new assistant, and brought us muffins once.”
“Sounds like Mother Teresa. Did she ever seem angry?”
“At times,” Jenkins admitted. “But wouldn’t anyone?”
Hawk couldn’t argue that.
“How angry?” he pressed.
Jenkins seemed to think about it. “Well, one time she had a nice painting over there.” He gestured toward the wall where a moonscape hung now. “And when I came, she had slashed it all up.”
Hawk stared at him. “What was the painting?”
“It appeared to be a man and a woman. It was hard to tell after she destroyed it. But like I said, none of this is abnormal in her situation.”
“Anything else?”
Jenkins paused. Hawk stared at him, waiting.
“She learned to shoot a gun,” Jenkins finally said. “She was taking shooting lessons. I think she bought a handgun.”
That was a surprise. Hawk sat forward in his seat. “Did she say anything? Like, why she bought it?”
“She said she always wanted to learn.”
“And didn’t that make you a little wary? Her husband just cheated on her, and she bought a gun?”
The Last to See Her Page 17