“Look, I appreciate your concern. But my husband and I are working things out amicably, as far as the money is concerned. So, I won’t be needing any help.”
“I don’t buy that.”
“You don’t buy what?”
“You can’t trust him. He’s not reliable. He’s possibly even dangerous. I have some information to give you. Things you’re not aware of. When can I see you?”
“That’s not a good idea right now.”
“Then when?”
He’d nearly shouted into the phone. This guy’s temper was on a hair trigger. Did I need to get the police involved? But that would blow my secret, probably without doing much to protect me. I had to remember that Aidan’s brother was a cop. My father always said, cops stick together.
“When I get back out to the beach, I’ll give you a call,” I said, to put him off, and calm him down.
“When will that be?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll call you when I know.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
If he’d been listening, he would’ve realized that I hadn’t actually committed to anything specific. But he seemed less agitated, so if he wanted to think I’d made him some kind of promise, then fine. I ought to get off the phone while I was ahead.
“Okay, talk soon,” I said cheerily, and hung up.
I immediately deleted Aidan’s number from my contacts and blocked it. That gave me more satisfaction than it should, given that I knew it was useless. Aidan was not the type of guy you could get rid of just by blocking his number.
26
My friend Stacey Allen was waiting for me in front of the spin studio. I watched her from across Third Avenue as I waited for the light to change, steeling myself for this encounter. It was a cool, crystalline fall morning, and I was trying to get my life together. Stacey was on my to-do list.
The light changed, and I ran up to her breathlessly.
“I’m not late, am I?” I said, giving her a hug.
“Not at all. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed our spin classes together. But I didn’t want to press, since I know you’ve been going through a tough time,” Stacey said, in a syrupy voice, holding the door open for me.
We hadn’t seen each other since the night of the housewarming party, when Jason brought the Russian woman to the house. Stacey had acted so sympathetic then, but she was a terrible gossip. Sure enough, mutual friends in the city had been pity-texting me about my marriage troubles ever since. Stacey had obviously blabbed my business all over town. Jason and I were patching things up, but the truce was fragile. Gossip would make things harder. I’d invited Stacey to spin class to tell her to back off.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Stacey. Things are great with me,” I said, in a cheery tone, as we presented our cards to the girl at the desk.
Stacey looked confused. “What about that big upset at your housewarming party? That woman, with your husband?”
“Right. Well, I can understand why you might’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion. I did myself, at first. But that woman was a disgruntled worker. She’d screwed up some paperwork, he complained, and they fired her. She was harassing him.”
“Is that what Jason told you?” Stacey said. “Because I’m pretty sure I would have heard about that if it was true.”
Crap. I’d forgotten that Stacey’s husband’s law firm represented Jason’s company. If my white lie had been true, her husband would indeed know about it, and might well have told Stacey. By repeating Jason’s explanation that the Russian woman was a coworker, I’d ended up confirming for myself that my husband was lying.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Stacey said. Which pissed me off.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s sympathy. And maybe you need some honesty. Look, I can’t really say much, but I think Jason has issues at work. You should ask him about them.”
“What kind of issues?”
Stacey made a zippering motion across her lips. Class was about to start. We headed for the spin classroom.
“Stacey, look, we’ve been friends for a long time, right?” I said.
“Since Gracie and Hannah were little. I love you, Caroline. You can trust me. You don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not.”
“That’s the thing. I can’t trust you. I know you’ve been gossiping about my marriage. And now you’re trying to make me doubt my husband.”
Stacey flushed bright red and put her hand over her heart. “No, you’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “I was not gossiping. I would never gossip. I wasn’t trying to do anything except look out for you.”
“Well, thanks, but I’m fine, and I’m asking you to stop talking about me to our mutual friends. Jason and I are doing great together. It’s hurtful and damaging to have people say otherwise.”
“Look, if that’s how you want to play it, I’ll butt out. I was only trying to be helpful.”
“I hear that, but it’s not helpful.”
“Fine. Message received,” Stacey said, holding up her hands defensively.
We took bikes side by side but didn’t look at one another. I wasn’t sure what my diatribe had accomplished. Would Stacey stop gossiping, or would she simply stop talking to me? Maybe I wanted her to stop talking to me. Her vague insinuations about Jason having trouble at work only caused me more anxiety. I remembered Jason’s boss, Peter Mertz, acting so skeptical at the party when I talked about Jason’s business trip. I’d had a feeling for a while now that something was off at Jason’s work. But I was hesitant to confront him about it when our reconciliation was so new. Not without more information, anyway.
Gabrielle, the spin instructor, mounted a bike at the front of the room, adjusted her headset, and fiddled with the controls. An image of a road winding through hills by the sea popped up on the video screen behind her, and the overhead lights dimmed. The music swelled, and I started to pedal. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a straggler entering the studio. Gabrielle paused the music. She hated tardiness, and I’d seen her eject latecomers. I was expecting her to say something nasty, but to my surprise, she gave a big smile.
“Hey, new student. Awesome, we need more guys in this class. Come on in, take a bike.”
I turned to look, gasped, and grabbed the bike handles. It was Aidan, and he was walking right toward me. He wore biking shorts and a cut-off sweatshirt, like he actually planned to take this class. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. He was stalking me.
Aidan held my gaze as he walked up to the cycle next to mine.
“Hello, Caroline,” he said, with a chilling grin, as he got on the bike.
Stacey’s head whipped around. She couldn’t believe that this good-looking young guy knew me.
“Hey, I could use some help with my settings,” Aidan said.
I had a terrible urge to run. But I needed to stay cool, and act like nothing was out of the ordinary, so Stacey didn’t get suspicious. She was gossiping about my marriage enough already.
I dismounted and stepped over to Aidan’s cycle. The music came back on, loudly enough that I wouldn’t be overheard. I leaned down, my mouth at his ear.
“Stop following me,” I said, the words coming out like I’d spit them.
“I’m not following you.”
“Then how did you know I’d be here? You went through my phone, didn’t you?”
Aidan looked hurt, even bewildered.
“You told me a lot of things when we were together. You told me how much you love this class, and that I should try it.”
“No, I didn’t. You’re making that up. I never told you about this class. And I certainly never said you should come to it.”
“Maybe you don’t remember all the things you said.”
From the front of the room, Gabrielle spoke into her headset.
“Everything okay over there, folks?”
I gave Gabrielle a thumbs-up and climbed back on my cycle. I forced myself to do the class, but the entir
e time, I was flooded with panic at Aidan’s presence. I couldn’t have him making a scene in front of Stacey. I was afraid that he might follow me home. (Though I realized he could already know my apartment address from my phone.) I had no idea how to defuse the situation. I pedaled maniacally, dreading the end of class.
Forty minutes later, the lights came up. I was bathed in sweat and my legs were shaky, but I jumped off the bike, ready to bolt for the door. Stacey stood in the aisle, blocking my escape and eyeing Aidan with open curiosity.
“You know him?” she asked.
“Caroline. Wait, don’t go,” Aidan said, dismounting.
“I guess so,” she said.
Aidan came over to us, and I caught Stacey looking him up and down. He was buff in his workout clothes, his hair damp, his arms glistening with sweat.
“Hey, thanks for your help with the bike,” Aidan said. “Is this your friend?”
“I’ve got to get going.”
They both ignored me. Aidan stuck his hand out, and Stacey took it, her eyes lighting up.
“I’m Aidan.”
“Stacey. What did you think of the class?”
“Great. Caroline’s been telling me this class is an awesome workout, so I decided to check it out for myself.”
Stacey looked back and forth between us, her eyebrows shooting up. “How do you two know each other?”
“I tend bar at a restaurant near her beach house.”
“Oh. So you’re from out on the island. What brings you into the city?” Stacey asked.
“I’m here to visit Caroline.”
“That’s not true,” I insisted. “He’s a friend of my sister’s. Of Lynn’s. Right? He’s here to see Lynn.”
“He said he was a bartender near your beach house,” Stacey said.
“He’s also a friend of Lynn’s, which is why he’s in the city.”
“Really? How do you know Lynn?” Stacey asked, turning to Aidan.
He laughed. “Whatever Caroline says. Nice to meet you, Stacey. Come on, let’s go, babe.”
Aidan grabbed my arm and steered me firmly toward the door, as Stacey stared after us slack-jawed. I gave it thirty seconds till she opened her phone and started texting everyone I knew.
Outside, I yanked my arm from Aidan’s grasp.
“Get away from me,” I said.
I turned and ran, dodging traffic on Third Avenue. But he was in much better shape than me, and within a block, he’d fallen into step beside me. I slowed to a fast walk, my heart hammering in my chest as I realized I couldn’t outrun him.
“Leave me alone,” I said, staring straight ahead.
“Don’t be like this.”
“Go away, or I’ll scream.”
“What do you expect when you block my number? I call and call, and it goes straight to voicemail, so I came to find you.”
I whirled on him. “A normal person would take no for an answer.”
He looked hurt and bewildered. “You never told me no. You said you would call. You said you were coming to the beach. And you didn’t. I want to see you, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to see you. You’re screwing up my life. I’m trying to make my marriage work. You told my friend that we’re having an affair.”
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did. You might as well have.”
“You’re ashamed to have her know? You think I’m not good enough for you, is that it?”
“Aidan, how many times do I have to say this? I’m married. Is that a concept you understand? Do you know what you did? Stacey’s the biggest gossip in town. She’s going to tell everyone I have a hot young boyfriend now. My husband will hear.”
“Good.”
“Good? You’re trying to ruin my life?”
“I’m trying to help you get away from him. He cheated on you. He took your money.”
“He put the money back.”
In fact, Jason had only restored a fraction of the funds he’d taken from the accounts, leaving me with just enough to cover our immediate bills. When I asked where the rest of the money went, he made excuses. Deals that went south. A “cushion” he needed for his business accounts. It was possible that he was lying to me, and that he planned to use the money for his Russian girlfriend. Or maybe Stacey Allen was right, and Jason was in serious trouble at work. That prospect was just as worrying, frankly.
“You’re lying. He didn’t put the money back. Did he?” Aidan said, watching me knowingly.
“None of your business.”
“You made it my business when you asked for my help, Caroline.”
“I never asked for your help. Stop saying that. We spent one night together. It was fun, it was great even, but now it’s over, and I’m asking you, nicely, to leave me alone. If you can’t do that, then there’s something wrong with you. If you won’t do it, you’ll force me to go to the police. Are we clear?”
His face fell. “You feel the same way I do. I know it. He’s making you say these things.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I’m going to free you from him.”
“Free me? Do you know how that sounds?”
“You think I’m not serious? I am serious.”
I looked into Aidan’s blue eyes and saw a glassiness there, a vacancy. Fear licked my bones. I’d had moments of thinking something was off with Aidan, but now I saw that he was truly detached from reality. We stood at the busy intersection of Second Avenue and Seventy-ninth Street. The whole time we’d been talking, people and cars and taxis had been whizzing by, giving me a false sense of security. I must be safe, because this was Manhattan, in the middle of the day, with a million people all around. But no. I wasn’t safe with Aidan, any time, any place.
I held up my hand, and a taxi screeched to a halt in front of me.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I’m leaving. If you follow me, I swear to God, I’ll call the police,” I said.
I jumped in the backseat and slammed the door.
“Drive!”
The cab sped away. When I looked out the rear window and saw Aidan fading into the distance, getting smaller and smaller, my eyes filled with tears of relief. But this was a temporary escape. I hadn’t seen the last of him, and I knew it.
“Where to, miss?” the cabdriver asked.
Where would I be safe? If he’d gone through my phone, then Aidan knew the address of my apartment in the city. He knew my comings and goings, my spin class, restaurants I liked, my friends’ addresses. Anywhere I normally went, he would find me. I’d held off going to the police out of fear that my fling with Aidan would become public knowledge. But given what gossipy Stacey had seen in spin class, it already had. I needed to worry less about my reputation and more about my safety.
“Take me to the nearest police station,” I said.
27
The Nineteenth Precinct was housed in a quaint brick-and-limestone building on a quiet side street. Inside, it was standard government issue, with scuffed linoleum floors and garish fluorescent lighting. When I explained why I’d come, the gruff old guy behind the desk took my name and told me to have a seat.
The waiting room was crowded, and from the look of it, I could be sitting here all day. While I waited, I texted Hannah. Seeing her at dinner the other night had reminded me how much I missed her. Some quality mom-daughter time would make me feel better about everything. I suggested picking her up at school this weekend to take her shopping and to lunch.
Ten minutes later, Hannah still hadn’t texted me back, and a young woman stepped into the waiting room, holding a clipboard, and called my name.
“Follow me, please,” she said.
She introduced herself as Officer Sanchez. She was short and stocky, with a pretty face and dark hair pulled back in a bun. I followed her through the door to an open area crowded with rows of desks. Uniformed officers bustled all around us. A large, tattooed man was being led away in handcuffs, and a police dog stood obedien
tly in a corner. Officer Sanchez led me to the back of a room, to a desk that was separated from the others by a partition. The desk was covered with folders and paperwork and strewn with half-filled coffee cups. We sat down, and she pulled a keyboard toward her and pulled up a form on the screen. She typed in my name and address.
“First,” she said, “do you require medical attention?”
“Medical attention? No.”
“You were not injured physically in the incident?”
“I mean, he grabbed my arm. Maybe I have a bruise or something. But no.”
“Name of perpetrator?” she asked, evenly, holding my gaze.
And I froze.
This was the moment of truth. If I gave Aidan’s name, this officer would presumably interview him, possibly even arrest him. I would have to face Aidan in court. My one-night stand would become public knowledge. My indiscretion might even make the news. It would be so much worse than Stacey’s gossip. But wasn’t it better to risk humiliation and public shame than—than what? Aidan had followed me, but would he really hurt me? I found myself denying, rethinking—chickening out.
“I—I don’t know if I can.”
“This is always the hard part,” Officer Sanchez said. She glanced down at my wedding and engagement bands. “It’s your husband, right? A lot of women get to this moment, and they can’t bring themselves to file charges. No matter how long he’s been hurting them, they still love him. But you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know in your heart it’s the right thing.”
“No. You see, that’s the problem. It’s not my husband.”
“Oh. Another man?”
“Yes.”
“An intimate partner?”
“An—?”
“Somebody you had sex with?”
I hesitated.
“Ma’am, no judgments. This situation comes up more than you’d think, where the abuse was by—you know—someone on the side. I always advise complainants to put their safety ahead of any embarrassment.”
“But why do you need to know if we were intimate? You’re not going to write that in the computer, are you?”
A Stranger on the Beach Page 12