The Last to See Her

by Courtney Evan Tate

  Instead, she contemplated.

  Finally, finally, she looked at him.

  “You can pay me a million dollars,” she said evenly. “And I’ll be more cooperative than anyone you’ve ever seen.”

  “A million dollars,” he repeated. “You know how much the firm made last year, Gen.”

  “Oh, I know. And I know what it’s projected to make this year. You can afford it.”

  “Barely,” he replied.

  “But you can.”

  He was quiet, and stood up, pacing to the windows and looking down at the city.

  “You have broken our marriage vows,” Gen said to his back. “We stood together in front of God and my parents, and everyone else, and said we would be together always. We would forsake all others. You haven’t done that, Thad. You broke your promise.”

  She cried now. She couldn’t help it. Her rage abated into grief, grief that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel, in spite of her therapist’s warnings.

  Her shoulders shook, and when Thad came to try to console her, she threw his arm away.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” she warned.

  He didn’t. He sat still, and listened to her cry herself out. It took over an hour. When she was too weary to keep her eyes open, almost too weary to breathe, Thad spoke, quietly in the night.

  “Okay. A million dollars.”

  Gen closed her eyes.

  In her mind, she was swimming in a black ocean, far from here.

  * * *

  Thad retreated to the guest room and collapsed on the bed, his head in his hands. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. She was a good person. Hard to handle at times, like most artists were, but good to the bone. He thought back to the beginning, to the good days, and it truly pained his heart that things had come to this end.

  He crept down the hall and paused at her door.

  He could hear her inside, sobbing quietly.

  He stood still as a stone, unsure about what to do.

  He waited until she was quiet, and then he softly walked in and sat next to the bed. She slept, her hand curled under her cheek, her hair splayed. He brushed it away from her face, and listened to her even breaths.

  Once upon a time, he had loved her more than anything.

  Once upon a time, she was the other half to his whole.

  Once upon a time, he’d never have thought they’d wind up here.

  He sat with her while she slept, and when she finally started to stir, he crept back down to the guest room. She’d never known he’d sat with her all night.

  44

  Meg, Now

  Meg sat on the bed in the hotel room, sifting through Gen’s bag for the twentieth time. Underwear, a bag of travel-sized toiletries, a pair of blue earbuds. She took each thing and carefully laid it out on Gen’s hotel bed. Four shirts, four sets of underwear. It was more than she needed to pack, but Gen had always been that way. Their mother always teased her about trying to pack the kitchen sink whenever she went anywhere.

  Nothing seemed unusual or out of place. There was no clue here at all.

  Meg slumped against the cushions and stared at the ceiling. She’d never felt so useless in her life. In her head, she ran through a million memories with her sister. Swinging on the tire swing when they were kids, spinning the rope and letting it whirl, their hair streaming around them in blond clouds. The two of them had stayed outside for hours. Their father could never tell them apart when he’d stood on the porch and called them in, because they were both blonde and skinny.

  She’d never known what it was like to be without her sister.

  It was a lonely feeling.

  Her gut started churning, and she ran to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, waiting to vomit. Gen had known about Meghan and Thad; she’d known all along.

  Meg retched, a hand on each side of the cold porcelain seat.

  She couldn’t fathom how Gen had contained herself, how she hadn’t said a word.

  Why had she done that? Why hadn’t she said something?

  She must’ve felt so betrayed, so absolutely gutted.

  Meg retched again. When she was finished, she sat back and wiped her mouth with her hand. She flushed the toilet as she stood up and quickly brushed her teeth. Her phone was ringing when she walked back into the bedroom.

  She grabbed it, seeing her mom’s name on the screen.

  She groaned, but knew that if she didn’t answer, she’d just have to call her back.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Meghan, you haven’t called me all day. Has there been any news? I’m looking for flights right now. Your dad and I are coming.”

  Meg recounted what she and Hawk had found in Chicago, the apartment.

  “I don’t understand,” her mother said when Meg was finished, her voice thin. “Had she already moved out of the condo? I thought she was moving back to the country.”

  “She was,” Meg confirmed. “I have no idea about the apartment.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. I guess she just needed a getaway.” She paused, though, and the silence was heavy. Meg and her mother both knew that Gen didn’t do well with stress. But she also didn’t do well with too much alone time. An apartment where she sat in solitude was probably not a healthy thing for her.

  Yet, that’s what had happened.

  Meg thought of the photo collages, of the many images of her and Thad and the angry red slashes through them. She shuddered.

  “Meg?”

  She snapped her attention back to the phone call.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m booking a ticket tonight. We’ll be there tomorrow. I’ll text you the flight details.”

  “Okay.”

  They hung up, and Meg dreaded her mother’s arrival. Not because she didn’t love her, but because it would complicate everything. Her mom and dad were annoyed with Thad, and they didn’t know about the role Meg had played.

  If they found out... Her stomach rolled again.

  Instead of retching, she picked up her phone again.

  She called Hawk.

  “I know you’re disgusted with me right now,” she said instead of saying hello. “But could you meet me for coffee? I really want to discuss something with you.”

  Hawk was silent.

  “Are you still there?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “Yes. Just discuss whatever you need to right now.”

  Meg clenched the phone tight. She deserved this. She had done something heinous. She deserved people treating her this way.

  “Detective, please. I would like to see you in person to discuss this.”

  There was more silence, and then a sigh.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you at the place by the station.”

  He hung up without her confirmation.

  She grabbed her purse, and within a few minutes, she was in a cab. She stared out the window, at the blurs and the shadows, and she couldn’t help herself—she watched for Gen’s face.

  But that was nothing new. Every place she went, she looked for Gen’s face.

  The only thing she saw was her own, staring back from windows and mirrors and shiny cars.

  * * *

  Hawk was already at a table when she arrived.

  He barely looked at her when she sat across from him. Her stomach clenched.

  “Thank you for coming,” she told him. He nodded. She noticed that his dark hair was touching his collar. He needed a trim. But he looked good in tousled hair, too.

  She took a deep breath. “I know this all puts me in a terrible light,” she told him. “I know you probably don’t come across many people in this situation.”

  He snorted.

  She paused.

  “You did a terrible thing,” he acknowledged. “But I’ve seen people who are far
worse. You didn’t kill her husband. You slept with him.”

  Meg wasn’t sure it was any better.

  “Just tell me what you want,” Hawk told her, although he seemed softer now.

  “My parents are coming tomorrow,” she said. “They don’t know about Thad and me.”

  “So you don’t want me to mention it.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I won’t cover it up if I need to discuss it,” Hawk answered. “If it’s relevant to this case, I won’t hesitate.”

  “But you won’t bring it up if you don’t have to,” Meg urged. “Right?”

  “Good God. Stop being a child,” Hawk snapped. “You fucked up. Face the consequences. That’s what adults do.”

  “I know what adults do,” Meg answered. She kept her voice level. “I went through med school, residency, a surgical fellowship, I’m a mother... I know a little something about being an adult.”

  “Okay,” Hawk said. He stretched one leg out, and Meg tried not to look at it. She knew if she did, she’d see the contours of his thigh through his pant leg. It was just a reminder of his masculinity. Of all the things in the world, she didn’t need to focus on that right now. But when his steel eyes met hers, in spite of herself, she felt a surge of attraction, and she jolted to life. It was something she hadn’t felt in quite some time.

  “I’m a good person,” she told him. “I really am.”

  “Usually if someone has to point out what they are, then they aren’t,” Hawk replied.

  He lifted an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.

  “Not in this case. I just know how I must seem.”

  “Generally, in my line of work, I judge people based on their actions, not their words.”

  Hawk took a drink.

  “And I fucked my brother-in-law.”

  Hawk didn’t even blink at her language.

  “Pretty much.”

  “You don’t understand the situation,” Meg told him simply. “Nothing is ever black-and-white.”

  “No, but everything is either right or wrong,” Hawk replied.

  “Don’t you ever wonder about the people you arrest?” she asked suddenly. “Don’t you ever wonder if that man who robbed the gas station had starving kids to feed, or if that woman who shot her husband had been abused for a decade?”

  “Well, normally, I know all the extenuating circumstances by the time the investigation is complete. And it’s not my job to determine the morality of their choices. It’s my job to uphold the law.”

  “There’s no room for gray in the law,” Meg said quietly.

  “No, there’s not.”

  As Meg watched him, she understood. Being a detective wasn’t a job to him. It was simply who he was. He must see someone like her as complete scum. There was no point in her being here at all.

  “Last night, I dreamed I died,” she said, putting her words into the air, not directing them at him. “I was trapped somewhere, in a foggy, ethereal place. My feet were tangled in tree roots, and I couldn’t run. I knew I’d been there a while, but I don’t know how long. It was dark, misty. And finally, in my dream, I decided to die. I decided I’d had enough of the solitude and the fear, so I sat down, said a prayer and closed my eyes.”

  “Deep down, you think Gen is dead, and you are powerless to find her,” Hawk interpreted her dream.

  “My emotions have been all over the place,” she admitted. “I’m not myself. I think random thoughts. I’m distracted... I’m just not me.”

  “Of course you’re emotional,” Hawk said, and he was kind now. He gestured for another cup of coffee. The waitress came and filled his cup up. Meg shook her head and covered the top of her own. She needed to sleep tonight. “This is emotional. All of it. Have you been to see someone, maybe?”

  He watched her, his eyes more gray than blue in this moment.

  She realized what he was saying, and startled. “A therapist?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” He cleared his throat. He almost couldn’t believe he was suggesting it himself. Therapists generally annoyed him, with their fascination with blaming everything on the mothers. But this was a cesspool of a situation, and it would take a professional to help figure it out.

  “You think I’m crazy,” she said, and her voice shifted from serious to laughing.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he assured her. “I’m not making fun.”

  “I know.” She twisted her mouth, trying to hide her smile. “The irony of life is just funny sometimes. I don’t need a therapist. But trust me, I’m a doctor. If I decide I need one, I know a few.”

  “Good,” was all he said. His long fingers messed with his cup, running over the reservoir, the handle. Meg watched. She didn’t want to leave, yet she didn’t know what else to say.

  “My mom will never forgive me,” she said, and it was completely unexpected, both to her and to Hawk. She didn’t know how the words bubbled out. Hawk sat up a little straighter.

  “She’s your mother,” he pointed out. “She’s going to be more concerned about Gen’s absence than about anything you did with Thad.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “So you keep saying,” Hawk said. “I think I deserve more credit.”

  Meg shook her head with a watery smile. “I mean, it’s more complicated than I could convey in one conversation. My parents always favored Gen, for as long as I can remember. She got away with everything. I got away with nothing.”

  “Isn’t that backward?” Hawk interrupted. “Usually, it’s the oldest kid who gets the heavy-handed treatment.”

  “I know,” Meg replied. “Not in this case. Here’s an example. One time, Gen and I were outside playing. Our dad had built us this incredibly huge play-town in our backyard. It had several playhouses built to look like an old-fashioned main street. We had a little soda shop, a general store and a post office. At the end, there was a jungle gym with a big slide.”

  “Sounds nice,” Hawk offered.

  “It was. Very. But one day, we were out there playing, as we always did. We were fighting over the wooden fruit from the general store, some bananas and oranges. I had them in my basket, and Gen took them from me. I wanted them back, and I snatched them away, and she hit me. You know, as little siblings sometimes do.”

  Hawk nodded, following.

  “My dad, though, he was watching from the back porch. He started hollering and screaming at her, and was coming over to tan her hide. Only...he thought she was me. When he got close enough to see the difference, he stopped. He didn’t whip her. He just told us both to straighten up and he went back to the house.”

  “So he was going to tan your hide, but when he saw it was Gen, he didn’t?”

  “Exactly. And that was the story of my life.”

  “But why? Because she was the firstborn and they thought she was perfect?”

  Meg laughed. “No. They knew that wasn’t true.”

  “So you think once they find out about you and Thad, they won’t forgive you.”

  “I know they won’t.”

  “If you explain the circumstances, which by the way, you haven’t explained to me, maybe it will help.”

  “Trust me. Nothing will help. I’ve spent my entire life trying to come out of Gen’s shadow. I worked hard in school—I always got straight A’s. I was captain of the cheerleading squad. I was point guard on the basketball team. They barely noticed. I became a doctor. All that did was give them peace of mind that I’d be able to help Gen out as we got older if she needed it.”

  “Why would she need it?” Hawk lifted an eyebrow.

  Meg sighed. “She’s just Gen. She’s never focused. She’s got that artistic side of her that is ten feet above the ground at all times. She doesn’t worry about realistic things like bills, or problems. She just floats above it all.”

 
“That would drive me crazy,” he remarked.

  Meg laughed. “Sometimes. And sometimes, she’s the most fun person in the world. It depends on the day. On her mood. On whatever she’s writing. She gets absorbed into the character she’s writing. If it’s a good one, so is she. If it’s a troubled one, so is she. She calls it method writing.”

  “She becomes the character she’s writing, like with method acting?”

  “To a degree,” Meg commented.

  “What is she writing right now?”

  “I don’t know. She rarely talks about her books until they are finished. She feels that it dilutes her creativity.”

  “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t understand artists,” Hawk told her. His hand was on his thigh, his index finger tapping restlessly.

  Meg laughed. “I don’t, either. But thank God for them. Otherwise, life would be boring.”

  “Not in my world,” Hawk disagreed.

  “Your world is black-and-white,” Meg reminded him. “That’s pretty simplistic.”

  “No. It’s honest. Honesty is the most entertaining of all.”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction?” Meg stared at him.

  “Exactly.” Hawk paused. “Where is her laptop?” he asked.

  Meg thought about it. “It’s not in the hotel room. She must’ve left it at the condo.”

  “Must’ve. Because it wasn’t in her apartment, either. I need to find it.”

  For the first time, since this whole thing began, Meg agreed with the detective.

  45

  Jenkins, Then

  Simon Jenkins loosened the top of the bottle of aspirin. He popped six of them into his mouth, far more than the instructions indicated. He rubbed at his temples and studied the chart that Gen had given him for safekeeping.

  “I don’t know how things will play out,” she’d told him that morning. “I don’t know if Thad will be decent, or not. He’s becoming volatile. I’m afraid he won’t keep his word. I’m keeping mine, though. I’m not telling a soul, except for you, what has really happened...that Thad has been sleeping with my sister.”