by Jeff Abbott
He opened a window on the computer that gave him the front door camera’s view. Then the one for the driveway. A man, wearing a baseball cap, his dog idling on the corner of the lawn, perhaps contemplating leaving a souvenir. Downstairs he heard Leo bark.
The same man from before, with the fedora and the dark glasses? It was hard to tell, with a baseball cap turned down low. The man pulled on the dog’s leash and kept walking.
You can’t see an enemy everywhere you look, he thought. But he pressed the keyboard command that snapped a picture from the camera and saved it to his drive. If he couldn’t see the man’s face, he could see the dog. He’d know the dog if he saw it again.
He wanted to take Leo for a walk himself. But not here on the streets of the neighborhood. He had had enough of his neighbors.
She’s not home tonight. You could go. There’s no one to ask where you’ve been.
He went, feeling like an addict going in search of his fix, hating himself, wishing he had more self-control. Craig Dunning put Leo on a leash, put him into the car, and headed out into the night.
20
BETHANY LEFT THESE clothes here when she moved out.” Sharon held the long-sleeved T-shirt and pajama pants, imprinted with roses and thorns, out to her. “You’re taller than she is, but it’s not like we’re going to the grocery or anything.”
“No, it’s fine,” Mariah said, thinking, They’re just clothes. The idea now of staying in Bethany’s old room felt overwhelming. And now wearing her clothes. She forced a smile to her face. No, this isn’t super weird at all.
Sharon insisted she had had to go arrange a complicated series of flights for a client who was demonstrating a new food product to buyers across the country, so she sat in front of the computer in Bethany’s old room. She seemed recovered from her fainting spell, but she also seemed hyper, as if trying to convince Mariah she was really all right when she wasn’t.
Mariah didn’t feel like watching TV. She went to the small, built-in bookshelf in the den to browse. A bookshelf was always an interesting glance into a person’s heart and head.
There were a few Bibles, not surprisingly, and a smattering of books by a married couple who were famous television preachers. The few novels on the shelf were picks from years ago on a popular talk show’s book club, and there was an entire shelf of more self-help books.
Her phone pinged. A text, from a number she didn’t recognize: Sorry about our misunderstanding this afternoon. Look forward to reviewing your portfolio in my office, or in yours, wherever’s convenient.
It had to be Andy. Misunderstanding? That sounded like he was making an excuse for his bad behavior. She decided not to answer—if he felt bad, let him stew for a bit.
She paged through the self-help volumes, wondering if she’d find a moment’s inspiration in them. The books were older, the edges of the pages showing their age, passages highlighted in fading yellow, scribbled notes in the margins in pencil. Try to remember to move forward. Be a better person. You can’t undo the past. Undo was underlined three times. This was an older person’s handwriting. The book opened to where a piece of paper lay. A bookstore’s yellowing sales slip was in the pages, apparently used as a bookmark. It had a date on it. The book had been bought over twenty years ago, at a bookstore in Houston.
Also at the page that she had opened, bookmarked, was a photo. Of a young girl, three or four years old, pale brown hair, a wide smile, dimples, pleased to be photographed, holding a kitten. Bethany as a little girl? But it was a newspaper clipping photo, yellowing and brittle with age, not a personal photograph. Just the photo, carefully scissored out, no caption.
Mariah shut the books, suddenly feeling like a trespasser. She put the books back and knelt to the bottom shelf. There was a small library of true crime books. A couple of classics by Ann Rule on high-profile murders. An account of a famous actor involved in a car accident that had killed a young woman and his attempts to cover his involvement. A book about the Zodiac Killer; another book about a nurse who had killed patients, young and old, in a hospital. The books, like the self-help titles, were worn, thumbed, tagged with notes and highlights.
She started paging through the book about the reckless actor: blue sticky notes included questions such as How did he think he could get away with it? and Everyone around him enabled this. Like the loopy handwriting on Bethany’s sticky note, stuck to her monitor and preserved by her mother. Bethany kept showing new sides of herself: the unhappy wife, the partying young woman, the accused thief, the aspiring writer, the fleeing spouse, now someone interested in researching true crime.
Mariah sat on the floor by the bookcase, her back against the couch. The house was quiet. She called her father. She needed to hear his voice.
“Dad.”
She could hear the car engine when he answered. He was driving, and he wasn’t supposed to answer his phone then, even hands-free. She hated that.
“Yes, honey?”
“Where are you?”
A pause. “Going to the grocery store for some ice cream.”
“Two outings in two days. Wow.”
“I used to have a normal life, Mariah. Can I try to have a normal one again?”
“Sure, Dad. I’m all for that.”
“How’s your friend?”
“Better.”
“Don’t you need pajamas or a toothbrush?”
“I’m taken care of.”
“If you’re seeing someone you could tell me. I would approve.”
“It’s so not that, Dad. I would tell you. No guy wants to date me. I have more baggage than…an extremely rich person who travels with a lot of luggage. I don’t even know who that would be.”
Her father laughed, once. It was rare. “Tell me what kind of ice cream you want for when you get home tomorrow.”
“Butter pecan.” It had been Mom’s favorite, too, and her eyes felt warm. “What would you do—hypothetically—if I found evidence that tied Mom to another criminal case?”
Five seconds of awkward silence. “What kind of case?”
“Hypothetically, someone who disappeared under similar circumstances.”
“What?” His voice rose. “An abandoned car? No trace?”
“I’m just saying, Daddy. Calm down.” She tucked her knees up under her chin. She faced the window looking out onto the front yard.
And there stood Andy and Julie, getting out of a car.
“Sharon?” she called. “You have company.” She put her face back to the phone. “Dad, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“What crime—” he said before she cut off the call.
The doorbell rang.
Sharon answered it.
“Mrs. Blevins? Andy and I are just checking up on you. Mariah Dunning texted me…”
“Oh, how sweet, but y’all don’t need to fuss.” Sharon brought them inside, Julie giving her a hug, Andy locking his gaze on Mariah for a moment and then greeting Sharon, who accepted his hug and then stepped away.
“Mariah, this is my boyfriend, Andy Candolet. He grew up with Bethany, too.”
I’m sorry for our misunderstanding this afternoon. The asking her out for a drink. The hand on the small of her back. Andy kept his smile in place, like he knew she wouldn’t blow the whistle on him.
She could play this either way. Accuse him, and maybe alienate them both, or pretend he hadn’t been a jerk. Their gaze locked, and on his side, she thought she saw a pleading in his eyes. He knew he’d been a bad boy.
“It’s nice to meet you, Andy,” Mariah said, evenly. “I’m Mariah Dunning.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” His voice was bright, friendly, but his smile was tight.
Sharon stared at Julie and Andy. “I didn’t know y’all were dating.”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you.” Julie squeezed Andy’s hand. “Not weird, right? We’ve known each other forever.”
“We’re worried about you, though, Mrs. B,” Andy said. “Can we talk?”
“Y’all come in, sure, have some cake…” Sharon said. “And just when did y’all start dating?” She sounded a bit peevish, the older person cut out from the news of the young.
“Oh, several months ago,” Julie said, like it was no big thing. “We’re living together now, too.”
“Oh.” Sharon didn’t seem to know what to say for a moment. “Well, isn’t that sweet.”
“We were just concerned about you. Mariah said you’d fainted.”
“I’m fine, Mariah’s been so sweet, but really I’m okay. Company does me good.” She managed to say it like it wasn’t an admission of loneliness. She headed into the kitchen, Julie following her. Andy and Mariah stayed in the den. They heard the clatter of plates, the two women talking, Julie continuing to ask if she was all right.
Mariah glanced at Andy. “Wow, and you invited me for drinks,” she whispered.
“For a business reason.”
“And then had to touch the small of my back.”
“I’m sorry, I was trying to steer you back to your seat.”
“I don’t require steering. You knew you misbehaved. Texting me about a ‘misunderstanding’ of some sort.”
“I didn’t know you knew Julie. She’s very jealous. Really, I did just mean drinks to talk over the proposal.”
She didn’t believe him. “I just met Julie, and I’m not going to interfere in her business. But you don’t need to be touching me. Ever.”
“I won’t and I’m sorry.” Then he couldn’t help himself. “And you didn’t tell me you were there to ask about Bethany’s case.” As though she had been unfair to him.
“It was half the reason. I do really need the freelance job.”
He took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s start again. As potential colleagues.”
“If you hit on me again, I’ll tell her.”
“I sent you the wrong message, and it won’t happen again.” He straightened his glasses. “Let me try to make it up to you. Maybe Julie and I can help you. What’s your mom’s name?” Andy asked.
“Beth Dunning.”
He blinked twice, then shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know her.” Andy got louder. “Mrs. B, you need anything?” he called to her in a hearty voice. “I’m at your service.”
“No, I’m fine,” Sharon answered in a small voice. They could hear her and Julie talking, in soft tones.
“I want to talk about Bethany, too. This embezzlement she was accused of.”
“That was settled, and I can’t really discuss it. She took off and told nobody, and nobody’s seen her since.”
“Still, your insights would be valuable. And I did you a favor.”
“I know you have a good reason for this, but it’s upsetting Mrs. B deeply. She fainted because of you.”
“If that was true she wouldn’t have asked me to stay. I’m not upsetting her. I’m giving her hope of an answer.”
She turned without another word to him and went into the kitchen and smiled at Julie and Sharon, who had gone silent when she came into the kitchen.
Mariah felt eyes on her. She glanced over, saw Andy lounging at the kitchen door, watching her, his amiable smile back in place. He really thought a charm offensive would work on her. Now Julie, almost seeming to study Mariah. Now Sharon, turning with the plates of cake, tired, worn by the unexpected company.
What is going on here? Mariah thought. They’re locked together, she thought. Because of Bethany vanishing. It changed them all. The way Mom leaving changed me.
Julie didn’t want any lemon cake, so Andy gobbled down the slice Sharon had cut for him. “I can come stay with you, Mrs. B,” Julie said, “if you need me to. I’m sure Mariah has her own life to get back to.”
Not really, Mariah thought.
“Thank you. Mariah and I are talking. It’s helpful. Someone else who’s gone through the same ordeal in having a family member vanish.”
Julie shrugged, dragged fingers through her dark hair. “I’m glad you two have found each other.”
“Since there’s no connection between your mom’s case and Bethany’s, though—” Andy began and Sharon interrupted: “So what if there’s not? Talking to Mariah is a comfort to me.”
“We’re glad, then.” Julie attempted a smile.
“We should go, babe,” Andy said, all business. “Mrs. B, please call us if you need us. And I’ll give you a call to check up on you. Nice to meet you, Mariah. We should talk about you writing some apps for Ahoy.”
He established the potential for a business relationship very smoothly, in case Julie asked what they’d talked about in the den. Julie gave Sharon a hug; Andy reached for a hug from Sharon as well, then nodded at Mariah. They left. Sharon didn’t stand at the front door waving them off. She shut the door as soon as they were gone and leaned against it.
“Are you all right?” Mariah asked.
“They’re reminders of the past. Of Bethany. Do you ever feel you’re spending your whole life looking backwards because of your mom? Never forward?”
“Sometimes.”
“But everyone thinks you should be ruled by tragedy. Like you don’t have a right to think about anything else, even for a minute. If you do, well then you didn’t love your daughter. Or your mom. I’m so tired of the judgment.”
Mariah said, “I hope I haven’t judged you.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want cake?”
Now it seemed rude to refuse, so Mariah nodded and now Sharon carefully cut another slice and put it on the plate. “You seemed surprised that Julie and Andy were dating.”
“I haven’t seen them both together since the gathering to honor Bethany,” she said. “Sometimes I see Julie at the grocery. We talk for a minute, but she hadn’t mentioned dating Andy.” She cleared her throat and sat. “I…I shouldn’t tell you this.”
“What?”
“Andy didn’t take it well when Bethany married Jake. He loathed Jake. Bethany said he tried to tell her Jake was no good for her. Now, Bethany and Andy hadn’t ever dated. They hung out together in high school, saw each other some at college. She’d say, ‘I love Andy like a brother.’ What do they call it…friendzone? When one wants to be just friends but the other wants more?” There was an odd little tremble in her voice.
“I guess,” Mariah said. She hated that term, thought it always put the blame on the woman for not wanting the relationship to change.
“She’d say she loved him like a brother, and it was like a sting was stuck in his smile. He doesn’t like hearing no. But when she wanted a new job, he got it for her. I think so she would be around him all day, away from Jake. Like he was trying his luck. If he’d been some random guy at work, she would have told him to shut up and leave her alone. But this was an old friend. He…” Sharon paused. “He’d been there for her in the past. When her daddy died.” The last words were nearly a whisper. “He was here a lot then.”
“He flirted with me at his office. He had no idea I knew you or Julie.” He’d done more than flirt, but she decided to play it down, for now.
“Did he now? Of course he did.” Her mouth wavered slightly and she shook her head. “Usually he’s such a Boy Scout type. Until he’s not. There are impulse control issues there.”
“He apologized to me.”
“Because Julie was here. Honestly, she should know better.”
“More like you said. He tried his luck, he lost, he shrugged it off.”
Sharon put a cover over the lemon cake and leaned against the counter. “Sometimes Bethany’s friends aren’t a comfort but a trial. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I’m tired.”
“Of course. Why don’t you get to bed?”
Sharon nodded and checked the front door lock again. “I’m glad you’re here, Mariah. It helps to talk with you.” For a moment Mariah thought Sharon was going to embrace her, but she didn’t. Sharon fiddled with her hands as if unsure where to place them. Finally, she jus
t folded them together.
Something’s wrong, Mariah thought. Julie and Andy here upset her. Why?
Mariah nodded. “I’m a light sleeper. You let me know if you need me in the night.”
“I will. Good night.” Sharon went into her bedroom and shut the door. Mariah stood in the den, surrounded by the photos of the missing Bethany, feeling the guilt and tension in the air like it was a shifting mist.
21
THE LOT WAS dark, no streetlights, only a distant gleam from a house at the end of the street, and a cloud-choked moon. There should have been a warmly lit house here, a place to welcome home Mariah, and her family if she’d ever chosen to have one, and a place where Craig and Beth could sit on the porch and sip wine and watch the sunset over the hills.
There was only an emptiness: the breeze, the quiet, the absence of her. This land, where Beth had gone missing, felt like a jagged rip in the universe, a place with both answers and questions. He hated it here now—he would never build a house here, and he knew everyone wondered why he hadn’t sold the land—but he felt drawn here. He sometimes worried if he didn’t sell it that something would happen to him and Mariah would build her own home here. And that must never be.
You haven’t sold the land because someone will find her body there, won’t they? Broussard had said to him a few months ago. But they’d looked for her body and they hadn’t found it. Not a hint of her.
Craig parked Beth’s car, took a deep breath, and eased Leo out on his leash. The stars were a reckless spill across the velvet surface of the night. He turned on his flashlight, played it along the jumble of pale limestone rocks that lay scattered and prevalent along this edge of the property. He stared for a moment at the rocks. Had the one left on his driveway come from here? Was someone being doubly cruel? He had no way to know.