by Jason Starr
“I don’t care,” Riley said. “I know my mother, and I know there’s no way she’d be having an affair, an actual affair, with the grossest guy on the planet. She’d think that was the biggest joke ever. She’d be laughing about it so hard right now.”
“You have to understand,” Walsh said, “that people who are having affairs can be very clever. They take precautions, almost like the way spies take precautions. This was why your mom bought disposable phones.”
“How do you know? You can’t prove that.”
“Actually we saw her old credit card bills, on the card she kept with her maiden name. Like I said, people who are cheating can be very clever.”
“Maybe she bought the phone for somebody else, for a friend of hers or something.”
“She purchased multiple phones, and the messages Owen received were clearly from your mother.”
“What about Karen and my father? How come you forgot all about them?”
“Because there’s no evidence that your father and Karen were having an affair.”
“What’re you talking about? It was so obvious to everybody.”
“Sometimes the truth isn’t what’s obvious.”
“Yeah,” Riley said, “and what makes you such an expert about all this?”
Walsh stared at her. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them again, and said, “Well, it’s my job.”
“No, your job is to find out the truth,” Riley said, “and the truth is that Karen killed my mother, not Owen Harrison.”
Her grandmother rushed into the room and said, “Everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s fine, Grandma.”
Riley waited for her to leave then said to Walsh, “I know why you’re doing this. Because you like being famous, that’s why.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your name’s in the news, people are talking about you, like you’re this big hero. And Owen’s dead now, so nobody can prove anything, but you’re going around acting like you have all the answers. Meanwhile, you know nothing.”
“Look, you’re right.” Walsh’s eyes were bloodshot, the lids were puffy; maybe he was tired, but it looked like he’d been crying too. “We don’t have all the answers yet, and that’s why I’m here talking to you. Your mother’s officially missing, but based on evidence and witness accounts, and information we have about Owen’s past—”
“His past?” Riley said. “You mean his babysitter? You can’t prove that he killed her either. I read all about that online. Even her parents think she ran away.”
“That’s true too,” Walsh said, “but right now, based on what we know, and what occurred last night, we’re presuming that Owen was responsible for your mother’s disappearance.”
“Well, I’m presuming that Karen’s responsible,” Riley said. “So what makes you more right than me?”
Finally Walsh gave up and left.
Riley was exhausted. She was up crying all night, missing her mom and hating Karen, and hadn’t slept at all. Her grandparents were worried about her and insisted that she keep talking to this grief counselor guy, Dr. Adler, who’d been talking to Justin too. Justin had been crying a lot and had peed his pants a couple of times. Riley didn’t trust Dr. Adler, though, because even though he was acting like her friend, and saying he understood why it was so hard for her to accept the truth, she knew he was just playing mind games, and he actually thought there was something wrong with her, that she had a problem, because she didn’t want to believe the lies that everybody else were believing. It turned out she was right. He must’ve said something about her to her grandparents because the next day a shrink arrived to talk to her, and the shrink gave her some kind of drugs to take. Drugs, like she was insane, just because she wanted the police to punish her mother’s killer.
On Friday, Riley’s grandparents made her and Justin go back to school. It was weird how all the kids were suddenly acting nice to her, even the people who’d posted all that shit on her Facebook just a few days ago. The story was all over the news—not just in Westchester, so the whole country knew about it—and everyone felt sorry for her because of everything she’d been through. Elana wasn’t in school, supposedly because she was still recovering from trauma, but Riley knew that Karen was just keeping her home from school, to keep the whole act going. She wanted everyone to believe that her family were victims and were suffering, while she was actually responsible for everything.
Then, when Riley got home from school, her grandparents were in the living room, staring at the TV with the cracked screen. They were both crying.
“What’s going on?” Riley asked, hoping that the truth had come out, and Karen had been arrested.
“They found your mother’s body,” her grandfather said.
He explained that the police had found her body at the country club, in the woods, not far from where Owen had worked.
Her grandmother came over to Riley, sobbing, and hugged her and said, “You have to let go now, sweetie. You have to let her rest in peace.”
“Why should I?” Riley asked, not crying at all.
“Because they know what happened now,” her grandfather said. “They know Owen killed her.”
“How do they know that?” Riley asked. “Maybe Karen buried the body there to make it look like Owen did it.”
“Please,” her grandmother hugged her tighter. “You have to stop this craziness.”
Riley wriggled out of the hug, went up to her room, and slammed the door. She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening online, reading the latest news about her mother. They said that she’d been strangled and that skin under her fingernails had Owen’s DNA on it, but Riley knew these were just more lies so Detective Walsh could go on playing Mr. Hero. Karen had probably found out that Owen’s old babysitter had disappeared and knew that Owen would be blamed for the murder. Karen had probably been having an affair with Owen and when she broke up, he got jealous and went to her house to confront her, but that was part of her plan too.
Riley called Detective Walsh a bunch of times, but kept getting his voicemail. She had a feeling he was screening calls. Finally she left a message: “Hi, this is Riley Berman, and I’m begging you to arrest Karen Daily. She killed my mother, and she’ll kill somebody else if you don’t stop her. Please, you have to listen to me. Somebody’s life depends on this.”
He didn’t call her back.
In the morning, her grandfather went to pick up her dad at the hospital. Riley was in her room, writing another email to Walsh. During the night she’d already sent him about ten emails, and she planned to keep sending them until he arrested Karen.
Then she got an IM from Elana: we’re moving to Manhattan today just wanted to say bye
Okay, this was really weird. She hadn’t heard anything from Elana in days, and now she writes, not to say, sorry about your mom, but to tell her she’s moving? What the fuck? And why were they suddenly moving anyway?
Then it hit Riley. Holy shit, if this wasn’t evidence that Karen was the real killer, what was? Yeah, Karen was running away from the police, trying to escape to Manhattan. She thought if she went there, people in Westchester would forget all about her. Or, even worse, maybe she had some secret plan with Riley’s dad. She would move to the city first then, eventually, he would want to sell the house and move to the city too. Maybe they were even planning to get married. The idea of Karen, a psycho killer, becoming Riley’s stepmother scared the hell out of her. How could her father do this to her? And what about the stupid police? Were they just going to let Karen run away and get away with it?
When her dad came home, Riley barely recognized him. Although he’d been in the hospital less than a week, he looked like he’d aged five years. His face was very thin, and he looked exhausted. After he hugged her grandmother and Justin, he limped over to Riley and hugged her as tight as he could, but Riley’s arms remained by her sides.
“I’m telling you right now, that crazy woman isn’t going to be my stepmother
,” Riley said. “I’ll run away from home, I’ll kill myself before I let that happen.”
Her dad looked confused. “What are you talking about?” His voice was soft and scratchy; it was hard to hear him.
“Yeah, like you really don’t know,” Riley said. “Is that part of your plan too?”
“Riley, stop it, right now,” her grandmother said.
“Plan?” her dad said. “What plan?”
“They’re moving to New York today, then you’ll want us to move in with them.”
Now her dad seemed terrified, but Riley didn’t get why.
“I don’t wanna go to New York,” Justin said.
Mark had opened the front door and was walking as fast as he could.
“Hey, the doctor said you need rest,” her grandfather said.
“Stay back,” Mark said, waving his arms.
“Mark, please!” her grandmother yelled.
“Back, back, back.”
Justin was crying, piss soaking through his pants.
Watching her father limping along Savage Lane, flailing his arms, Riley decided that this must be part of the act too. Detective Walsh had been right about people who have affairs: they always thought they were so clever.
AT THE hospital, after Mark had heard about the text messages from Deb on Owen’s phone, the last thing he cared about was himself. It didn’t matter to him if he had to live in pain for his entire life as long as he had a chance to talk to Karen, to apologize to her for the horrible mistake he’d made and to do whatever it took to make things right.
He wished he’d handled the situation differently from the beginning. Now, after being through it all, what he should’ve done was so clear to him. Pining for the days when he’d met Deb and things were good was ridiculous. Those good times had died out years ago, and he should’ve been strong enough to admit this to himself. When things had started going wrong in his marriage, he shouldn’t have been such a wimp; he should’ve manned up and divorced Deb. Instead, he’d spent all that time fantasizing about Karen and thinking he was doing the right thing by repressing his feelings and staying in his shitty, hopeless marriage. Meanwhile, Deb had been screwing a teenager, a teenager. Worse, Deb had made him feel bad for holding Karen’s hand at the Lerners’ dinner party. What was up with that? Holding hands was wrong, but fucking a teenager was okay? Mark felt he’d been duped by Deb, his whole marriage had been a big lie. This was what happens when you don’t confront a problem head on, when you stay in a relationship past its expiration date, when you let things simmer—the pain for everybody involved gets so much worse.
From the hospital, Mark called and texted Karen, but she wouldn’t answer. He didn’t blame her for being upset with him for accusing her of kidnapping and killing Deb. But it wasn’t all his fault—everybody thought she’d done it, everybody had gotten it wrong. So, okay, he’d messed up, but he’d redeemed himself by saving her life, hadn’t he? If he didn’t come into the house with the baseball bat and try to fight off Owen, Owen might’ve killed Karen and her kids. Karen had to realize that, she had to understand that, and she had to forgive him for the things he’d said to her. Isn’t there a saying that when there’s true love there’s always forgiveness? Well, if there was ever an example of true love, enduring love, it was him and Karen. She had to feel what he felt, she had to.
It was nice to have Deb’s parents and Justin visit at the hospital. For some reason, Riley didn’t want to come; it was probably too traumatic for her. Several friends stopped by—his boss and his wife, and some people from the country club, including Stu and his wife, Janet. As far as Mark was concerned, Stu and Janet were the model couple. They’d been married as long as Mark and Deb, but at the hospital they were holding hands the whole time and couldn’t stop looking at each other.
When Mark heard the news that Deb’s body had been discovered, near where Owen worked at the club, he was angry and sad, naturally, but he felt even more foolish for blaming Karen. The idea that she could’ve killed Deb, or anybody, now seemed ridiculous, absurd. She was a schoolteacher, a mom, for God’s sake. She was kind and sincere, the opposite of that troubled maniac who’d killed Deb.
The next day, Deb’s father drove him home from the hospital, telling him about the memorial plans for Deb, but it was hard for Mark to focus on anything he was saying. At home, he was planning to shower and change into some nicer clothes before he went over to Karen’s, but then Riley, acting crazy, told him that Karen and the kids were moving to the city. Mark went outside and saw Karen’s car pulling out of her driveway. He limped along Savage Lane, waving his arms, trying to get her attention. He knew he had to just get her to see him. If she just saw him, she’d understand how much he loved her, how much he needed her.
He was trying to scream her name, but his voice was too weak and he could only say, “Karen, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” in a faint, hoarse tone.
Just look at me, baby, he thought. Just look at me.
KAREN MADE the decision to leave Westchester as she watched Owen bleed out on her kitchen floor. She decided there was no way to come back from this, at least not here in Westchester. Too much damage had been done, too much trust had been lost. How could she stay here, in this fish bowl, knowing the way her friends and coworkers had betrayed her, made such horrible assumptions about her? And how could she ever go back to the country club where people had treated her even worse knowing now that, under their warm smiles and polite conversation, they were actually thinking horrible thoughts about her? Maybe time heals some things, but it can’t restore trust. When trust is gone, it’s gone forever.
On Tuesday morning, after a long night of police interviews and statements to the press and the treatment she and the kids got for trauma, she called the school and gave her notice to her principal, Seth. He seemed surprised and apologized profusely for any inappropriate behavior from himself and other teachers at the school, but Karen maintained a flat, professional tone and thanked him for the opportunity to work on his staff and told him that he would receive a formal resignation letter from her shortly. When she hung up she rattled off the letter, and cc’d it to all of the appropriate people, and then she called a real estate agent to make an appointment to get her house appraised.
That evening, she called the kids down to the living room, sat them down, and announced, “We’re moving to Manhattan.”
If she’d hit them with this a few days ago, they would’ve flipped. Elana would’ve had a huge fit about having to leave all her friends, and having to switch high schools before senior year, and Matthew was very social as well, and his friends were extremely important to him. But now the kids seemed relieved, even excited. Like Karen, they were probably eager for a fresh start, as they’d also lost trust in their friends who’d rushed to judgment and tormented them.
“Manhattan will be awesome, I can go shopping any time I want,” Elana said.
“Yeah, and I can go to Knicks and Rangers games and be closer to Dad,” Matthew said.
Karen still had a lot of resentment toward her ex, for turning on her, and she doubted she’d ever be able to forgive him fully. But since the breakup, she’d never said a harsh word about him in front of the kids, and she wasn’t going to start now.
“I’m sure your father would love that too,” she said.
Elana and Matthew hugged her.
“I love you so much, Mom,” Elana said.
“Me too,” Matthew said.
After everything they’d been through, all the trauma, it was nice to see the kids happy, with something to look forward to. She hugged them, squeezing them close, not taking this moment for granted, knowing that as bad as things had been lately, she could still hug her children. Deb Berman would never have another chance to do this.
“I feel like the luckiest mom in the world,” she said.
A COUPLE of days later, an appraiser came and Karen put the house on the market, priced to sell at fifty thousand dollars below the appraised value of $8
75,000. Karen got right to work packing up and browsing online for apartments in the city. Searching for an apartment on the Internet was so much more enjoyable than searching for a man.
She was getting seriously excited about the idea of a new life in Manhattan, of starting over. She didn’t know where she’d work, but she was burned out of working at a school setting, and liked the idea of trying to find work at a hospital. Even if she couldn’t find a job right away, and things were tight financially, it would be a relief to be in the city, where she could walk for miles all day long without seeing a single familiar face. Ah, to blend in, to be anonymous; the city was going to be such bliss.
Later, Elana, came into her room, got into bed with her, and snuggled close. She hadn’t done this in years, since she was a tween, but Karen wasn’t surprised because she’d been extremely needy and clingy the past few days.
“I wish we could go tonight,” Elana said sadly. Her face was still bruised from where Owen had hit her.
Karen sensed that Elana was upset about something in particular.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did you read something on Facebook?”
“It’s just hard,” Elana said, struggling not to cry. “People were so mean to me, I can’t forgive them. And Riley’s been acting like such a total bitch, I hate her so much.”
“I understand, sweetie,” Karen said. “But this has been a hard time for Riley too. Everybody has their own way of dealing with grief.”
“I know,” Elana said, “but it’s just like so much has happened, you know? And I know, I know it’s not her fault. It was Owen’s fault, just Owen’s fault, but things can never be the same and I… I hate it. I just hate it so much.”
Karen held her daughter, trying to console her, squeezing her own eyes shut so she wouldn’t start crying herself.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be in the city soon,” she said. “We’ll all have new lives in the city soon.”
The next day they found Deb’s body. Karen watched some of the news reports—scenes from the country club, a teary interview with Linda Harrison who swore her son was innocent—but she couldn’t take any more of it. She wanted the whole thing to disappear, to be forgotten, but now the reporters were calling again, ringing her bell, wanting quotes from her. She refused to talk to anyone, but they kept harassing her.