Page 132 of I Will Ruin You

They nodded.

Marta left.

Sixty-Four

Richard

I had to force myself to look away from the lawnmowers and give Melanie a smile. I held out a hand and took the beer from her.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

I couldn’t look at Trent. I didn’t want to look at Trent. All I could think about was how, when I first told him how Mark LeDrew had gone on about the “lawnmower man,” Trent acted as baffled as I’d been. He pretended to have absolutely no idea who LeDrew might have been referring to.

And then there was what LeDrew’s mother had told me, earlier on that evening when all hell broke loose. How Mark had been abused by someone at the school, someone he would only refer to as the “lawnmower man.”

It was Melanie who’d mentioned that there was a summer when they’d hired Mark LeDrew to maintain their property while they were away. He’d been here. He’d been in this utility shed.

I exited the structure and started walking back toward the deck, getting ahead of Melanie. I took one sip from the beer and set it on the patio table. Bonnie could read my expression and see that something was wrong.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“Why? What—”

“Richard!” Trent shouted. I glanced back, saw him coming out of the shed with the new barbecue brush in his hand. “Wait up!”

When Melanie reached the deck, I turned to her and with a look of apology on my face said, “I’m so sorry, but we have to go. Bonnie just got a text that Rachel isn’t feeling well, so we’re going to have to pick her up.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible,” Melanie said. Trent was at her side now, an excessively jovial smile on his face.

“You’re leaving?” he said. “I won’t hear of it.”

Melanie said, “Rachel’s sick.”

Bonnie, reading the signals, tried not to look confused, stood up from her chair, and played along. “That’s right. We’re so sorry.”

“You must take the steaks home with you,” Melanie said. “Let me wrap them up.”

“It’s okay, really,” I said. “Enjoy. You can make it up to us next time.”

I didn’t think there would be a next time.

Bonnie and I made our way through the house, heading for the front door, Melanie and Trent trailing us.

“Why don’t you bring Rachel back here,” Trent suggested, his voice on the verge of pleading.

“I think she’ll want to go home,” I said.

We were out front now, by the car. Melanie, all smiles, giving Bonnie a hug as she got into the passenger side, expressing hope that Rachel would feel better soon, you know how kids are, they can be sick to their stomach and an hour later devour a hot dog, and while that was happening Trent was following me to the driver’s side, trying to engage with me.

“Richard,” he said with quiet urgency. “I think you may have gotten some idea into your head that’s wrong.”

I shook my head. “I have to sort some things out.” I was behind the wheel now, turning on the engine. My window was down and Trent wouldn’t give up.

“Please, come on, we should talk,” he said. He leaned his head in so only I could hear him. “I know Rachel’s not sick.” And then, “What I did, I did for you.”

Whatever the hell that meant, I wasn’t waiting around to find out. The car was in reverse. As soon as Bonnie got in, I took my foot off the brake, backed out onto the street, and sped off.