Chapter 12

12

NOW

Sunday morning means pancakes and bacon. Aimee sits at the counter surrounded by dirty dishes, sipping coffee and nursing a hangover. Scott is upstairs getting the boys into their soccer uniforms. The carpool is arriving soon. Noa is in her room doing Lord knows what, although when Aimee walked by earlier, she could hear her daughter talking to her stuffed animals.

Aimee stayed later last night at Gwen’s than she intended to, drinking more wine than normal. But Gwen kept drinking, and she felt obligated to keep up. She knew Gwen would keep drinking, and the thought of her friend downing glass after glass of wine all alone in her house was too depressing. Now her pounding skull and dry mouth are the price she is paying.

The boys clatter through the kitchen on their way to the mudroom to collect cleats and a ball, and just as quickly they are out the door. “Hi, Mom!” they yell and then, “Bye, Mom!”

Moments later, Scott comes in and pours himself the last of the coffee. “Make a new pot?”

Aimee shrugs. She’s not satisfied with the answers he gave her yesterday about his little trip to Villain & Saint on Friday night, but isn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding like she’s hounding him. She would have asked him about it last night, but by the time she returned from Gwen’s he was passed out in front of the TV.

“I am going to take that as a yes,” he says, taking the pot to the sink to rinse. It’s hard to stay annoyed with Scott, he is so sunny and helpful. He never holds a grudge or sulks. She watches her husband as he grinds the coffee and spoons out the grounds into the machine, feeling her irritation be replaced by gratitude. Despite Scott’s flaws, he would never do what Anton did. It changes how she thinks of Anton. She understands why Gwen never told her. Would Aimee have wanted to spend so much time with a man she knew was a serial philanderer? Go on vacation with him? The answer is no.

“Are you going to tell me about last night? About Villain & Saint?”

“What more is there to tell?” Scott looks up, startled. “I already told you. I went out for a drink.”

Aimee bites her lip, trying to fight her annoyance. “C’mon, Scott, you have to admit it’s a really strange coincidence. The one night that you head out for a drink and Anton ends up getting hit by a car in an alley behind that same bar. You’re saying that’s a total coincidence?”

“What are you saying?” he snaps. “I don’t know, Aimee. It’s not that weird. It’s the closest bar to this neighborhood. I’m sure there were other people from East Bethesda that were there. Maybe Anton decided he didn’t want to go home, after all. Maybe after I left him at his house he headed to the bar.”

“You think he followed you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The doorbell rings, cutting their conversation short. When Aimee peers through the peephole, she recognizes the detective from yesterday. Her chest tightens. He said he would come by to talk about the video, but opening the door and letting him into her home feels like a turning point. There’s no going back, but she has no choice. She can’t not let him in.

“Detective, hi.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” he says. “Mind if I come in?”

He follows her into the living room as Scott enters from the kitchen. The two men introduce themselves and everyone sits, Aimee and Scott side by side on the sofa and Detective Salazar in an armchair across from them.

“We wanted to thank you for sending that video over, that was very helpful,” Salazar says.

“What video?” Scott asks.

“I told you.” She flashes a tight smile at Scott. “The doorbell camera? Remember?”

He nods, but a strange expression settles on his face that she can’t read.

“You were the one who answered the door that night, is that right, Mr. Crowder?”

“Yes. I was on my way out, anyway.”

“And do you mind telling me where you were heading?”

“I was just going out for a drink.” He turns to Aimee and nods. “Aimee was in bed, but I’m a bit of a night owl. I thought I would head down to Villain & Saint, have a drink, see if there was any live music.”

“Villain & Saint, huh? In the video, you walk down the street with Anton Khoury. Did he join you at the bar?”

“No. I walked him home. He seemed pretty drunk. I left him at his house and then went on.”

“Alone?”

Scott nods.

“And how long did you stay at the bar?”

“Maybe an hour? I had one drink and then I came back.”

“Were you by yourself?”

“Uhh, no, I met a friend.”

Aimee feels her shoulders tighten. This is the first she’s heard of a friend. But her instinct tells her not to betray her surprise, and she keeps a placid smile on her face.

“And could you tell me who that friend is?” The detective shoots a quick glance Aimee’s way. “Just so we can alibi you and cross you off the list.”

“His name’s Jon Block. Just a guy from the gym.”

Guy from the gym? It takes everything she has not to turn to Scott and scoff. She’s never heard of any friend from the gym. But her loyalty kicks in. They must present a united front to the police. That’s what they do, her and Scott, stick together. Scott can explain later, when the detective is gone.

“We’ll need his contact info,” Detective Salazar says.

“Of course.”

“Did Mr. Khoury show up at the bar, later?”

Scott shakes his head. “No. If he came to the bar, I didn’t see him.”

“What about in the parking lot? Or the alley? Did you see him there?”

“No.” Scott’s voice is strained. “I told you. The last time I saw him was here, in the neighborhood. I left him at his house.”

“So you keep saying, but it is odd, isn’t it? That you were the last person seen with Anton Khoury and then you go to a bar, and he ends up in an alley behind that bar, dead.”

“Hold on a minute,” Aimee says. “Are you accusing Scott of having something to do with Anton’s death?”

“It’s fine.” Scott puts his hand on hers. “He’s just doing his job.” Scott leans forward, and Aimee can see his muscles tensing and relaxing under his T-shirt.

“It’s not that weird,” Aimee says, parroting some of what Scott said earlier. “There’s one bar within walking distance. It’s where Anton would go if he wanted to get a drink and didn’t want to drive.”

“And how did you get there?” Salazar asks Scott. “Did you drive?”

“No, I walked.”

“Did you take the cut-through that runs from the back of your cul-de-sac?”

Scott nods. “It’s the fastest way, yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened when Anton came to the house. Exactly.”

“He was drunk. He was bleeding from his temple. I figured he fell and hit his head. He was babbling.”

“About what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I was late, and I wanted to get going. I told him I was meeting someone at Villain & Saint and then I walked him back to his house. I walked him right up to his front door. I assumed he went back inside.”

“But you didn’t see him go inside?”

Scott shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He was kind of hanging out by the door, but like I said, I was late. I took off.”

“And that’s the last time you saw him.”

“Yes. That’s the last time I saw Anton Khoury.”

“How well did you both know Mr. Khoury?”

Scott and Aimee exchange a glance. “We’ve known Anton and Gwen for just over a year,” Aimee says. “They moved in last summer.”

“It’s really Aimee who is good friends with Gwen,” Scott says. “And with Lisa, who lives down the block. The husbands—me, Marcus, and Anton—all get along but I wouldn’t say we’re close friends.”

Aimee nods. “Our families go on vacations together and stuff like that.”

“Has he ever mentioned any problems with anyone? Someone who might have a grudge against him?”

“No, I can’t imagine anyone holding a grudge against him,” Scott says. “He’s a pretty quiet guy. Keeps to himself. He’s a writer. I think he mostly works from home.”

“And nothing unusual in the neighborhood lately?” Salazar asks. “Nobody lurking around who doesn’t belong?”

“No. It’s very quiet here. Very safe,” Aimee says. “It’s a cul-de-sac, so no one who doesn’t live here ever goes through here. Except, like, Amazon and DoorDash.”

“People from the neighborhood don’t come through the cul-de-sac to use the shortcut to get to downtown Bethesda?”

“Sure, I guess. But just locals who live here,” she says. “Do you think someone from the neighborhood is involved?”

“We’re just asking questions at this point. Can you think of anything else that might be relevant? Anything at all?”

Aimee debates whether she should offer up any of the jigsaw pieces she’s picked up in the past day: the fight she overheard last night, where the blood on Anton’s head came from, Anton’s history of cheating. But she decides it’s none of her business. Detective Salazar is a professional. He’ll find these things out if they are relevant. It would feel like a betrayal of her friendship with Gwen to mention any of them.

Detective Salazar looks at Scott. “If you could walk me out, give me that name and number of the friend you met. The one from the gym.”

His tone is slightly amused, as if he thinks Scott has made it all up. But maybe that’s how he talks to people, Aimee thinks, keeping them off guard. She watches as Scott and the detective leave, and goes to the kitchen. As she busies herself with the remaining breakfast dishes, she replays the interview. She’s shaken, as much by the fact that her neighbor has been killed as by her husband’s behavior. It’s off, there’s no denying it. She doesn’t believe Scott is capable of violence, but he is hiding something.

“So, who’s this friend?” she asks as soon as he crosses the threshold into the kitchen.

“Whoa, easy there.” He holds up his hands as if he’s being robbed. “He’s nobody. Just a guy from the gym.”

“What did you say his name was?”

“Jon Block.”

“How come you never mentioned him before?”

“Aimee. What’s going on with you? I’m not allowed to meet a friend from the gym for a drink?”

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Noa runs in and yanks at Scott’s pants. “Can you get the first aid kit down? I’m setting up an animal hospital and I need bandages.” Aimee had placed the first aid kit out of Noa’s reach for this very reason—she could go through a jumbo pack of Band-Aids in an hour. A look of relief flashes across Scott’s face. He’s glad, Aimee realizes, to have an excuse to cut the conversation short.

Moments after Scott leaves the room with Noa, his phone pings. Aimee stays still a moment, trying to establish where the sound is coming from. Ping. She finds the phone plugged into their charging station on a table by the back door.

Aimee holds it in her palm, torn about what to do.

They have a marriage built on trust. She’s not like Gwen, full of suspicions. She’s never gone through Scott’s things, never read his texts or his emails. But then again, she’s never had any reason to doubt him before.

She’s dying to read what has just come in but knows that will be crossing a line. She’s never been tempted to invade his privacy before. The last thing she wants to do is turn on Scott, but in light of Detective Salazar’s questions and Scott’s slippery responses, she feels justified.

Aimee turns the phone over in her hand. The home screen has a text from Jon Block. I’ve found something. Can you meet me…

The text cuts off and she can’t access it because she doesn’t know his passcode. She tries their anniversary, her birthday, the twins’ and then Noa’s birthday, but nothing. She hears his footsteps approaching and drops the phone back on the table, stepping back, pretending to look for something in Max’s backpack, which hangs on a nearby peg.

“There it is.” Scott picks up his phone. Peering over her shoulder, she watches him read the message.

“Get the first aid kit for Noa?” She watches his face as he reads the texts, searching for any change in his reaction.

He doesn’t respond straight away. He’s absorbed in what he’s reading. Finally, he looks up. “Huh? Yeah. Hey, listen, I think I’m going to head to the gym while the boys are at soccer. That cool with you?”

He doesn’t wait for a response but walks away, obviously distracted. Something shifts inside her. She can sense a crack in what she had long taken for granted. No matter what challenges she faced as a mom and a business owner, she always thought her marriage was rock solid.

But Scott is lying to her.

She doesn’t know why, but she is going to find out.

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