Page 26

Four days after

I call Este as soon as I’m back in my car, still thinking about Perry, the stranger I met on the side of the road. “What do you mean Ardell is in my kitchen?”

“I came over looking for you, and he was at the front door,” she whispers. “Says he needs to talk to you.”

“Did he say anything about Will? Why are you whispering?”

“I’m hiding in your half bath.”

“What? Why are you—”

My phone signals an incoming call and I let out an audible groan when I see Fritz’s name on the screen.

“Hang on,” I sigh to Este and then kill the call with her as I click over to Fritz. “Hey.”

“Nora, what the fuck are you doing?” The accusation is harsh even if the volume of his voice is relatively normal.

What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are he and Ardell doing?

Maybe it’s because Constance has just castigated me, or the revelations from Perry, or maybe I am tired of Fritz yelling at me, but I unleash the most sarcastic tone I can conjure.

“Hello, Fritz. Thanks for returning my call—” I check the clock on my car.

“Three hours later. And yes, I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Cut the shit, Nora. I told you to do one thing: Stay home and don’t speak to anyone.”

“That’s two things.”

“Don’t be cute. First of all, stop getting mani-pedis with your friends, all right? This is a missing person investigation.”

He’s seen the coverage of Este and me out. Fucking perfect.

I don’t fold. “Is that what you called to say?”

He changes his tone, and I can tell he resents having to placate me. “We’re on the same team here, Nora. We all want Will home as soon as possible. But going out with your friends during all of this is irresponsible. It’s only going to distract the public from the real story.”

“Well, then maybe you should be calling Constance. Because she’s feeding information to her good friend Kristy at Channel 2. Seems to me that falls well outside of the realm of responsible behavior. And who put you in charge of the narrative anyway?”

“Let’s not blow things out of proportion, Nora. Just calm down.”

There’s something so patronizing about being told to relax when your husband is literally missing.

Yes, Fritz, I’ll try to smile more.

“And about Constance?” he says. “Look, Nora, you have to leave her alone.”

“Excuse me?”

“She just phoned me, very upset. You can’t just show up at her house.”

How the shit did Constance turn herself into the victim in all of this?

While I try to swallow my shock and indignation, Fritz goes on, “Things are looking bad enough as it is. The news has the story now and that’s going to make things worse. You have to keep your head down.”

“It would be a lot easier to keep my head down if anyone could explain to me how the news got the information about Will’s shirt.”

“Travis and I talked about an hour ago. We both agree that’s a problem.”

Travis Ardell and Fritz are a “we” now. Will hired a PI to look into me, and Constance thinks Will was unhappy in our marriage before he went missing. Do they know Will and Dean knew each other? Are they trying to keep that from me?

I can feel myself being set up to take a fall. But, for what? I start to tell Fritz that Ardell is in my kitchen presently, but decide against it. Fritz is on Constance’s side now.

As I turn onto my street, I hear the clang of metal equipment being banged around.

And my stomach drops at the sight of cameras on tripods being set up just before the Private Drive sign.

A camp of reporters. There must be one for every local station, and every last one of them is pointing their camera at my house.

And then I recognize the guy with the iPhone I saw outside the precinct the other day.

Are you the jerk I should thank for leaking Will’s shirt?

The press corps setting up camp at the top of my street is the last thing I’m prepared for.

I shake my head in disbelief and pull on my sunglasses.

I slink a little lower in my seat as I drive down the road, being careful not to hit anyone.

I may not understand everything that is going on, but even I know that would bebad.

They notice me. I’m sure of it because I hear voices rising as I pass them.

The shouting doesn’t quiet until the garage door is completely shut.

There’s a feeding frenzy outside, and Ardell is in my kitchen.

I sit in my car wondering if I can just stay here forever instead of going inside.

Probably not. I check the mirror and make sure I look somewhat presentable, mentally organizing what I will and won’t share from what I’ve learned.

Between his brush-off of Dean and the leaking of the shirt and how he made me feel like a suspect, I’m not sure I can trust him.

A minute later, I walk in to see Ardell sitting on one of the tall stools at the island in the kitchen and Este standing at the sink, uncomfortably making small talk, which might be funny under different circumstances. At the sight of me, she folds her arms, snapping back to protective mode.

“Hey,” she says.

“Thanks for coming home, Nora,” Ardell says.

“Listen, I’ve warned the reporters outside not to trespass.

The whole drive is private property—owned by the residents of the street—so they shouldn’t go past the entrance sign.

I can’t do anything about them where they are now, but if anyone crosses the line you let us know, and I’ll have them removed. ”

I nod, wondering how the hell things have gotten this out of control.

“And I’m sorry that the press got the shirt and the photos. Fritz has already called about it. We had no intention of divulging any of this information to anyone.”

God, Fritz and Ardell should get a buddy comedy.

“You’ve heard about the road to hell, right?” Este needles. “The one that was paved with…What was it again?”

“Este,” I admonish.

“I’m just saying.” She swivels her gaze back around to Ardell. “Someone should have to explain themselves.”

“It was an overzealous rookie. He’s been disciplined,” he says, definitively shutting Este down. “Nora, I need to ask you some more questions, would that be all right?”

“I—I guess?”

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

Why don’t I have a seat in my own house, Ardell? Really?

I don’t want to sit, but I comply because there’s something in his tone that feels different, and I’m a little worried. “Have you all found anything new?”

“Not yet. But we’re trying to understand Will’s state of mind the night of the party as we continue to investigate possibilities. How was he last Saturday? What was his demeanor?”

“He was Will. We were hosting a party and he was happy to be doing it.”

“And how were things between you two?”

“Us? Totally normal. Good. Everything was fine.”

“Had you all had any fights lately? Anything you were disagreeing on?”

“None at all.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Este shifting.

What was that?

She moves toward the kitchen island, away from me.

What did I just say? I said that Will and I were fine. Why is she being weird?

“This is really helpful, Nora. What about your finances? Have you all had any issues lately?”

Este lets out a little bit of a snort. I cut a look in her direction.

“What?” She puts up her hands. “He regularly drops three grand on dinner out with friends just because it’s Friday.”

“Nora, can you answer the question?”

“Our finances are fine,” I say. But the truth is, Will and I never talk about money. I just know he has plenty of it.

That magic paperweight of a credit card always seems to be limitless.

“I am going to need a list of all the people who were at the party, and their contact information. I also need to know who all Will was representing, what cases he was on, but I can figure that out with Fritz.”

“I’ll ask Autumn for the guest list.”

“I want the name of the cleaners who cleaned the house the next day, too.”

“Fine.” I stand up as if to indicate this inquisition is over, but Ardell doesn’t budge.

“Had Will been drinking that night?”

“It was a party,” I say dryly. “With a bunch of lawyers. We were all drinking.”

“Sure. But was he unsteady on his feet at all?”

“No.”

“How would you characterize your relationship with Constance? And what about Will’s?”

The way his questions jump around feels intentional, like he’s trying to keep me off balance. I almost slip and tell him that I’ve just seen dearest Constance. But Fritz has already chastised me about that, so I let it lie.

“She’s his ex and I’m the new wife. We’re not exactly trading friendship bracelets.” I give Este a what-the-fuck look and Ardell catches it.

“What about life insurance? Is there a policy in Will’s name?”

“Wait, why does that matter?”

It’s a stupid question. I know it is. But I can’t believe it’s come to this. And I have to ask the question I don’t want to ask.

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Ardell leans toward me. “Do you?”

Ardell’s tone of voice is pointed. Warning signals blare in my head, and I hear Fritz saying not to talk to anyone, especially without him. “Do I need a lawyer here? I think I should call Fritz over.”

“No need, Nora. I am going to go track him down to answer the work-related questions anyway. Thanks for your time.” Ardell heads for the front door. I’m so mad that I don’t even bother to show him out. Este follows him, closing and locking the door behind him.

“What the actual fuck was that?” I’m rattled and angry that Ardell just came over here to grill me with questions when it was his precinct that leaked evidence in a missing person case. “Is anyone looking for Will? Or are they all just gawking at me?”

“The mob of reporters at the top of your street would suggest it might just be you.”

It wasn’t that long ago that Este told me not to care what people think, but now even she’s changing her tune. I don’t wait for her to pour me a glass of wine. This time, I go to the refrigerator, pull out the opened bottle, and swig directly from it. Este’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Nora, are you okay? Where were you when I texted?”

I don’t want to tell Este where I was, but it’s only a matter of time before she pries it out of me. I spare her the trouble.

“I went to Constance’s.”

“You went to Constance’s? Nora…” She shakes her head. “That was a mistake.”

“Why? Why does everyone say I shouldn’t talk to her? I saw the shirt on the news and I figured she should have to explain—”

“Fritz said—”

“Fuck Fritz. Constance appointed herself the family press officer, and she owed me an explanation for all of this Kristy bullshit.”

“Are you sure it’s Constance you’re pissed at? Is it possible Constance is a surrogate for your anger over Will being missing?”

I glare at her. “Do you ever tire of being right?”

“Oh, no. I love it.”

“Anyway, I ran into the guy in the gray sedan.”

“You ran into him?”

“Not quite literally, but almost. Over on Alabama. He was behind me. Turns out his name is Perry Conroy, and he knew Will when he was growing up.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know, it sounds crazy—”

“It sounds fucking insane. Are you sure you can trust what he says?”

“He knew the guy—Dean—who plowed through Carol Parker’s fence. The one who died. He came up to check on him. Dean knew Will, too.”

I leave out the PI part for now.

“Nora, he could be anyone. Will’s face is all over the place. This guy could be a journalist, or someone trying to exploit you.”

Even Este is second-guessing me now.

“He wasn’t trying to exploit me,” I argue.

“He was a legitimate person. And he’s the only person who has given me any sort of answers.

” I’m so keyed up I feel my entire body starting to shake.

“Okay? So, here’s what’s going to happen.

Perry is going to help me do some research.

And then we’ll figure out where Will is, and he will come home.

Will can do anything. Ask anyone. Whatever bind he’s in, he can get himself out of it.

He can get himself out of anything. So we’re just going to keep doing what we’re doing until he comes back. ”

“Nora, honey,” Este says again as she walks over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it’s time you start to consider the possibility that Will might not be coming back.”

Something from deep inside of me starts to boil over and I can’t control it. “Goddamnit, Este! Stop it. Stop talking about it. I don’t have to consider anything.”

“Nora—”

“You can either have a glass of wine with me and let it go, or go home.”

Este stands there. I think it’s the first time in our friendship that I’ve fired back at her.

I throw my hands up. “Fine, go home.” I storm past her into the living room, bottle of wine in hand.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door open and close, and then I can see Este making her way through the hedge to her house. I flip on the TV to find something mindless. I’m done playing amateur detective. I’m going to watch Bravo until Will comes home.

But watching middle-aged women squabble over who gets the best room on a girls’ trip doesn’t do much to block out the look on Este’s face. It was the same pitiful look she gave me when I claimed my marriage was fine.

She knew I was lying.