The line clicked open. “Why are you calling?” he asked immediately.
Her mind blanked red at his greeting. Not Are you okay? Or What’s wrong? Just alarm that she’d overstepped her place. Her place on her back beneath him.
“I’ve been texting you,” she ground out.
“I just texted you back.”
“You can’t just—”
“How are you calling me?” he interrupted. “What if Johnny hears this?”
“I’m calling because I need you, obviously!” Her voice rose indiscreetly, but she didn’t care. Let Johnny hear. Let him come out and explain himself and his choices.
Her rage spilled over and spread everywhere. “Have I ever called you at night? Have I ever asked you to call me? Who the hell do you think you are, treating me like I’m some idiotic piece of ass who can’t use common sense?”
Silence on his end. She, on the other hand, was panting with fury. She knew he could hear it and she didn’t care. Let him wonder if she’d completely lost her mind. Let him worry.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, and her heart clenched with one last spasm of rage before calming a little. Then a little more. Some drain had opened up to provide relief. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You’re right.”
“It’s not like . . . it’s not like I text you all day, looking for attention. You keep ignoring me—”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve been putting together some designs and bids, catching up on emails. It’s not like that.”
“Are . . . ?” Are you home? That’s what she wanted to ask. It croaked in her throat, looking for escape, but she swallowed it down. If he wasn’t home, it couldn’t mean anything to her. It couldn’t.
“Something happened,” she finally managed. “More than one thing, actually.” She barked out a laugh at that.
“What’s going on, V?”
“I told you things have been weird. With Johnny. With the police.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re saying now that Tanner Holcomb wasn’t lost. He didn’t wander away. He was kidnapped.”
“What?” His voice cracked out sharp and bright.
“He was kidnapped and the family paid a ransom without involving the cops. That’s why the police have been asking so many questions.”
“Well, that explains it, then.” He said it so calmly.
“That explains what?”
Micah sighed. “It explains why the police have been bothering Johnny. They were suspicious about the whole thing, and he was the only person they could question. Well, him and a three-year-old kid.”
She nodded. “Oh. Right. I guess that’s right. He’s their only reliable witness. It makes sense that they’d pump him for every detail.”
“Exactly. So what are you freaking out about?”
“There’s more.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, and his voice came softer when he spoke, as if he’d finally decided to be patient with her. “What do you mean? More what?”
Veronica craned her neck to look down the hallway, but the bedroom doors remained closed.
“V?” he pressed.
She curled into herself, hunching around her connection to him. “He has another cell phone, Micah. An extra phone. One of those cheap throwaway ones you can buy at the gas station.”
“Who? Johnny?”
“Yeah. I saw him checking it. He keeps it hidden in his armoire.”
“Oh. I . . . That is strange.”
“Yes. That’s not normal. So what if he really is up to something? What if he . . . I don’t know. Criminals have those kinds of phones. What if he did have something to do with this?”
Micah huffed out a chuckle and she could practically see him running a hand through his dark hair. “Come on, Veronica. Johnny?”
“I know. It’s crazy. But the phone . . .”
“It could be anything,” he countered.
“No, it couldn’t be anything. It couldn’t be something good. It’s not good!”
Another pause. She heard a cabinet door close. The click of a glass being set on a counter. He was home. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a closed bedroom door keeping someone in the dark just as there was at her house. Maybe she could sneak out and drive over there. Was she desperate enough to expose herself as a jealous psycho? Probably not.
“I don’t know,” he finally sighed, weary of this conversation or weary of her. “Maybe he’s just doing the same thing you’re doing, V.”
“What?”
“Cheating.”
Tears clogged her throat at the word. Tears? Why? She knew what she was doing. And hell, she knew she was doing it with Micah. But he’d never said it outright like that. He’d treated it as something harmless. A little fling no one would ever know about.
And sure, Micah was Johnny’s friend. That was a betrayal. But Veronica was his wife. She’d made promises. They had a child. She was the cheater here, not him.
She swallowed her choking hurt and cleared her throat. “Is he?” she croaked.
“What?”
“Cheating?” The clink of ice. A pour of liquid. Silence. “He’d tell you,” Veronica pressed.
“V. Come on. It’s late.”
It’s late. As if she didn’t know how late it was. As if she hadn’t been tortured by both of these men for hours. “I know it’s late,” she snapped. “And I know he’d tell you if he was cheating. So tell me what you know, Micah. Is Johnny cheating on me or is this something bigger? If it’s just a woman, I need to know.”
“Fine.” The word hitched as if he’d just dropped onto the couch. She pictured him in his dim apartment, staring out the tall windows at the lights of downtown Denver. Despite her anger, she wished she were there, lying on the couch again, his body impossibly warm against hers.
“Okay,” he said, stalling, picking out which truths would be safest to hand to her. “There is a woman . . .”
Yes. Yes yes yes. She couldn’t deny the relief that crashed over her in a dark, warm wave. Relief that she wasn’t the only bad guy, relief that she had an out, relief that there was nothing more nefarious than sex here. Johnny was cheating on her. He had nothing to do with a kidnapping. The end.
God, all those years of trying to keep her prize away from other women, and now she was actually relieved.
“Who is she?” Veronica demanded. “Neesa?”
“I don’t know.”
“A client?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
“No,” he snapped. “I don’t. I don’t want to know. All of this is fucked-up, and I didn’t want to hear his confession. Not under these circumstances. I’m sleeping with his wife, so I didn’t want to know. Can you understand that?”
Some of her angry triumph cooled under the ice of his tone. He’d always seemed so cavalier about what they were doing, but apparently he felt some guilt too. “Okay. I get it.” But she kept pressing. “So what did he tell you?”
“He said there’s a woman, and she’s . . . whatever. I don’t know anything about her. There’s a woman, and this sudden media coverage of your happy family has caused some tension between them.”
“Good,” Veronica snapped before she could stop herself. This wasn’t the fun, sly side of her she offered Micah. This was the bitchy, cruel side she trotted out in arguments. Good that this other woman felt tension, because Veronica had been pretty damn tense for days, and why should she be the only one suffering? “So this isn’t just quick sex in the locker room? They’re . . . they’re some kind of couple?”
“No idea.”
“They must be. If she’s upset about me, and it’s serious enough that he got a phone to communicate with her . . . I bet it’s Neesa. Though maybe he’s always had a phone and there are lots of women. If I confront him—”
“Don’t.”
She blinked. “Don’t? Why not?”
“If I’m the only one he’s told, he’ll know I told you.”
“Okay, but I did find the phone. I can ask him about that.”
“Why?”
She pulled her phone away from her face to frown at it before sliding it back to her ear. “Why? What do you mean, why? He’s cheating on me and hiding a secret phone in our bedroom.”
“So you want to call him out? Get it out in the open?”
“Yes!”
“You told me we were doing this because you couldn’t leave him, Veronica.”
“I . . .” Her outrage died in her chest and began to shrivel. She felt it drying out and curling in, drawing important bits of her with it.
“You said Sydney would be devastated, that you couldn’t do that to her. That’s why we’re sneaking around like this. Lying to everyone.”
Her chest felt hollow, her skull too light.
“If you confront him, you’ll be dropping a bomb into this whole situation. If you want to blow up your family, you’d better be damn sure first. You can’t just throw it in his face without thinking. You won’t be able to control what happens afterward. You won’t be able to protect Sydney.”
She shook her head and pulled her body in close, wishing she could curl tight enough that she got smaller and smaller until she disappeared. “I . . . I . . .”
“Shh,” he murmured.
She was crying now, high, strangled sobs she didn’t want him to hear. “I can’t . . .”
“I know. It’s okay.”
He was right. Confronting Johnny would open the teeth of this awful trap she was stuck in, but she’d be sacrificing her daughter to free herself.
“Listen,” Micah said, “if Johnny has someone on the side, fine. How does that change anything? It doesn’t.”
She hiccupped in a breath.
“It just means you don’t have to feel guilty, right?”
Right. Yes. She’d already thought of that herself. She was getting caught up in being right. In winning. When all she should really want was a truce.
“And it means you don’t have to worry about what he’s up to, because you know what he’s up to. That’s why he’s been acting strange.”
“Yeah,” she managed. “I guess it is.”
“Unless you’re jealous?”
For a split second she thought of Micah and all the other women he could be seeing, but then she remembered he was talking about Johnny, and that chased the last of her tears away. “No. I’m not jealous.”
But she’d felt a burn of delicious righteousness today, hadn’t she? She’d loved that she might have a place to throw all her anger and frustration. Right into Johnny’s face.
So she definitely felt something. But it was only residual. A memory of what she’d once wanted with Johnny. The hot, ridiculous love she’d once felt for him.
“If you’re going to rock the boat, just let me know first, okay? I think I deserve a say in how this shakes out.”
He did. He was a part of this too. He’d known Johnny even longer than she had. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Are you going to be all right tonight?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Micah . . .” She sighed his name. Not a sweet sigh. More of a growl, really. But then she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Come on,” he said. “Don’t do that. Don’t play those games.”
It wasn’t a game. She shouldn’t have to ask him to treat her nicely. He should want to. But if she didn’t communicate her feelings, could she expect him to work it out on his own?
“Okay. I feel like I’ve been really respectful of what this is. I don’t ask . . .” She wanted to say it. She wanted to tell him all the fears that crawled into her head when they weren’t together. But if she spoke it aloud, he might answer questions she would never, ever be brave enough to ask.
“I don’t think I ask for much,” she finally said, downplaying her pain. “Not for anything, really.”
“Veronica—”
“So when I text you, could you please just treat me like a person who . . . who you have some respect for? Or some regard, at least? I wouldn’t ask for anything if it wasn’t important. I don’t . . . I never . . .”
“I’m sorry,” he said on a sigh, cutting off her stammer. “I’ve been stressed about work with the season wrapping up, and I’m trying to get crap organized for my accountant, and . . . I’m truly sorry. I’ve been insensitive. I know I have.”
She nodded, holding in the words she really wanted to say. That she needed him. That she was afraid he didn’t need her. That he didn’t even want her as much as he used to. That if he got tired of this, she’d have nothing good to look forward to, nothing to get her through.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered instead. “This week has been crazy. I’ve been crazy.”
“You’re fine,” he murmured. “You’re fine, V. I’m glad you called.”
“All of this has just been . . . I mean, things will calm down. Everything will get back to normal. Right?”
“Of course,” he said, the words breezy with relief that this conversation was over.
She wanted to keep talking. They so rarely got to talk, but he let silence fill the seconds between them. “I’d better go,” she muttered.
“Night, V. I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead. She stared at the black rectangle of the narrow window next to the TV and whispered good night in return.
CHAPTER 14
This time the police came right to the front door. Veronica’s nerves sizzled mildly as Detective Reed explained the reason for the visit, but it wasn’t true fear this time. Of course they needed to question Johnny. Everything had changed, and they’d need to follow up on what they’d learned from the Holcombs.
Veronica was only a little surprised that they wanted to question her again as well, but they were covering all their bases. Perfectly logical in the midst of a kidnapping case.
In fact, she and Johnny had been discussing it before the police had knocked. He’d brushed his teeth and dressed early after Veronica had pointed out the cops would probably want to speak again soon.
Thank God Trish had already dropped by to pick up Sydney. She spent time with her aunties most Saturdays and they spoiled her rotten, so she didn’t even mind waking up early and being ready to go at 9:00 a.m.
Johnny left the house to follow a male detective to the station, and Detective Reed stayed behind to sit at Veronica’s kitchen table.
Did they do that on purpose? Have Veronica sit with another woman in the comfort of her own home while sending Johnny off with a man in a show of authority? Not a bad plan, but if they’d asked, she would have advised them to have Johnny speak to a woman as well. He liked to impress them. Liked to be pleasing.
“Let’s go over last Friday again,” Reed said in a voice that seemed cultivated to convey that any secrets spoken would fall onto a soft and understanding place. “That was the day the boy went missing. The last time we talked you said you were with your husband that afternoon.”
“Yes. I worked in the morning and got home before noon.”
“What time exactly?”
“Eleven fifty, I think. Maybe eleven forty-five. It’s basically the same every other week.” Tanner Holcomb had disappeared sometime around three, according to last week’s news stories.
“And where was Johnny when you got home?”
“He was here. In the backyard. The grill was lit and ready.” She watched Reed scratch away at her notebook, filling it with the details of Veronica’s life.
She could offer up even more details if that was what Reed wanted. I remember it all distinctly because I’d dreamed about having sex with my lover that night, and I’d been thinking about it all morning. I was annoyed at having to spend quality time with my spouse, because I wanted to lounge around and touch myself and think of Micah’s fingers in me. His tongue. His body. I wanted to take a bath and stroke my hands down my skin and remember. Instead I had to chat about my husband�
�s plans to fertilize the lawn for winter.
Veronica kept her face placid and her mouth shut and waited for the next question.
“You made lunch?” Detective Reed asked.
“Johnny made lunch. Chicken breasts and grilled zucchini.”
“And you ate together?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I think I paid some bills. We watched a little news. He left around two forty-five to walk to the school and pick up Sydney just as he always does.”
More pen scratching. “He brought her back here?”
“Yes. Everything was perfectly normal.”
“So they got home around . . . ?”
“Three fifteen,” Veronica answered easily. She’d hoped maybe they would stop at the park and she could sneak in that bath, but they’d walked through the door right on time.
“And after that?”
“Johnny went for a run. I helped my daughter research a topic for a history project. He was gone for about an hour.”
Reed perked up at that, her eyebrows twitching higher for a split second. That was when Veronica felt a strange little zing down her neck. A tiny bolt of awareness. Because maybe he hadn’t been running after all. Maybe he’d jogged a couple of blocks and then slipped into someone’s house. A woman’s. The woman he was texting on his secret phone or even another woman altogether. Maybe there were several in the neighborhood. He could have daily appointments.
“How do you know he went for a run?” Reed asked.
How indeed? He’d left on foot and he’d come back sweaty and gone straight to the shower. And what did that prove? He’d exerted himself. That was all. “I know because he goes for afternoon runs when things are slow at the gym. His truck was here. He took off jogging.”
Did her voice sound warped and high, like she was lying? Were her words as doubtful as her soul? Reed wrote something down and then her dark-brown gaze rose to study Veronica. The detective’s face was a blank, but her eyes blazed with a thousand thoughts.
“Ma’am,” Veronica blurted out, then: “Detective. I saw the news. I know what you’re asking.”
“Is that right? What is it I’m asking?”
Veronica clenched her fingers tight together into fists, then regretted it immediately when Reed’s gaze slipped down to light on them before darting back to her face.
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