Page 43 of Too Old for This

Once I’m back at home, it takes a minute for my brain to adjust. I’m not used to pretending someone I killed is still alive. This is a bit like having a new job. The last time I had one of those, I could still get pregnant.

Once was enough for me. My pregnancy wasn’t an easy one. From the morning sickness to the preeclampsia, I felt bad the whole time. In my most delirious moments, I started to wonder if Gary was haunting me and our baby from the grave.

I got over that when Archie was born. He was big and healthy with a strong pair of lungs.

As soon as he was old enough to understand what a father was, and that he didn’t have one, he asked why. I told him the truth, mostly. I said his father had died in an accident before he was born.

But what was he like?

That was the question I hated. Archie wanted to know all about his father. Was he good at sports? Did he prefer baseball to football? Was he funny and outgoing or shy and introverted? What did he do? Was he successful? Did people like him?

Archie also wanted to know if he looked like his father. I could barely remember Gary, and I certainly did not see him in my son.

I didn’t want to say anything bad. I wouldn’t let Archie grow up thinking someone horrible was a part of him.

As far as he knows, Gary was kind and loving, and he wanted to be a father more than anything.

When Archie asked for a picture, I found him one.

It was inside an old frame at a garage sale, and I bet he still carries it in his wallet.

It wouldn’t surprise me if he scanned it into his phone.

Throughout high school and college and his early twenties, Archie didn’t mention his father at all. Not until Stephanie was pregnant with their first child.

When they called to tell me, Stephanie was so excited she blurted it out before Archie could say a word. The next day, I called my son so we could speak alone.

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” I said.

“I am. I’m really happy.”

“Are you sure?”

After a long pause and a dramatic sigh, he blurted it out. “I wish Dad was here for this.”

Archie hadn’t mentioned his dad in years. But when he was on the brink of becoming a father, he brought up his own. Like his dad was the only person who mattered.

That hurt more than I could put into words.

“Your father would be so proud of you right now,” I finally said.

“You think?”

Archie sounded like a little boy searching for approval. I took a deep breath, and once again, I lied.

“I know he’d be proud.”

No other option. It would’ve been worse to tell Archie his father was a horrible man who’d said cruel things to me in the shower. Plus, he was terrible in bed.

I chose to keep my mouth shut. And to make myself feel bad, instead of Archie.

—

Norma’s phone stays in her hotel room. Since I couldn’t bring it back to my house, I took dozens of pictures of her call and text history. It was the only way I could do any research, though the small screen on my prepaid doesn’t make it easy.

I settle down at the kitchen table with my laptop and a cup of coffee. Another long night ahead, making sure everyone thinks Norma is alive. Later tonight, I have to deal with what’s left of her body. My fireplace is going to get quite a workout.

One by one, I go through all the local calls and look up the numbers online. She called the police department nonemergency line several times. She also ordered food, called the airlines and her friend Tammy. That’s exactly what I would have expected to see.

Norma and Plum had not texted or spoken for at least two weeks before Plum showed up at my house. Their earlier texts were short and perfunctory.

Norma: How’s everything?

Plum: Good. Hope you’re doing well.

Norma: Are you free tonight for a call?

Plum: No, tomorrow would be better.

Norma: Okay. Talk soon. Love you.

They weren’t as close as Norma had claimed.

As I expected, Cole was the one who told her that Plum was missing. He texted and asked if Norma had seen or heard from her daughter.

Norma: Not for a couple days. Why?

She was already lying. It had been weeks.

Cole: If you hear from her, let me know. She’s traveling down in Oregon for work.

Norma did not respond until the next day, when she texted back to see if Cole had found her. He called and they spoke for thirty-seven minutes. Over the next week, they called and texted multiple times. Every message was about Plum. Cole also mentioned coming to Baycliff to talk to me.

Norma: Who is Lottie Jones?

Cole: Someone she wanted to interview for her docuseries.

Norma: Never heard of her .

A day or two later, that changed. Norma called the Spokane Police Department.

Norma’s communication with Cole ended the way she said it did. She reached out three more times, and he ignored her. His final message came a few days later, when he referred Norma to his lawyer.

All of this takes a long time to put together, given that I’m working off pictures of screen images.

I stop and close my eyes, seeing flashes of light in my head. My neck is killing me. I need more ibuprofen and more coffee. By the time this whole thing is over, I might need a new stomach, too.

At nine o’clock at night, there’s a knock at my door.

Tula is the first one who comes to mind. Norma is dead, Cole is hiding behind his attorney, and neither Sheila nor Bonnie would stop by this late. It has to be Tula.

My phone lights up.

It’s my personal one, which is on the kitchen counter. Right where it should be.

Morgan: Hi, I’m here!