Chapter 37
37
NOW
This Wednesday morning is running smoothly, a rarity for Aimee. The kids are up, fed, and she still has fifteen minutes before she has to hustle them out the door to the bus stop. She’s exhausted, her body on autopilot after another sleepless night. She lies in bed, replaying the conversation with Aunt Kay—her admonition to get a lawyer, how she had reacted when Aimee told her that Scott was being blackmailed. She wasn’t shocked. She wasn’t outraged. What had she said— He’s not in trouble again, is he?
She’s loading the dishwasher—because even when your husband goes missing, life marches brutally on—when her phone rings. Aimee lunges at it, desperate for news about Scott, but sees it’s only her dad calling, not the police.
“I was calling about those oak leaf hydrangeas. They’re root-pruned and ready to be picked up if you want to send one of the guys out tomorrow. Looks like good weather, a little cooler with a chance of some rain in the evening.”
“The weather sounds perfect. I’ll call Tim.”
“How are things?”
“Fine,” she says without hesitation. It’s a reflex of hers to keep any problems from her father. “Actually, things are not fine. Something terrible has happened, Dad.” She recounts what’s going on without going into too much detail, sticking to the fact that Scott is missing and that the police are involved. “And yesterday I found Scott’s car, but we haven’t found him yet.” Her voice hitches. “I’m so scared and worried. I’m not sleeping.”
“Oh, honey. That is a lot to deal with.” He clears his throat. “I’m sure the police will find him. They’re very good at this sort of thing. You’ll see. There’ll be a logical explanation.”
She waits for something else, some sign of emotional life in him. She feels as if they are on opposite sides of a great lake, shouting across a vast distance. She longs to be closer to him. She needs him now the way she needed him when her mother died. She wants him to reassure her the way only a father can. He’ll show up. He loves you so much. The silence is deafening.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” she says finally, just to keep the conversation moving.
“And how about the kids? How are they handling this?”
“They think he’s on a business trip. I don’t want to scare them until we know more.”
“Well, that sounds smart. Why don’t you all come up to the house this weekend? At least you won’t be alone,” he says. “Your brothers will be here, too. Deb’s making chili. You should be with family at a time like this.”
“Maybe,” Aimee says.
“Did I tell you your brother and I installed a zip line in the backyard? I bet the kids would love it.”
“I bet they would, Dad.” A heavy sadness settles on her shoulders. The doorbell rings. “I better go. There’s someone at the door.”
“Sure. Oh, Aimee, one more thing.”
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice rising on a hopeful note.
“I threw in a maple leaf viburnum. I know you didn’t ask for it, but it’s a beautiful specimen. A real four-season winner. If you can’t find a client that wants it, you should keep it.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Aimee hangs up and squeezes back the tears that are threatening to flood her eyes. She knows his love for her is in there somewhere. He’s just never been one to express it with words. But taking the time to select the perfect viburnum specimen and put it aside is his way of telling her he is thinking of her. Aimee just wishes he could say it out loud.
The doorbell rings again. “Coming,” she calls as she walks to the front door.
“Who is it?” Noa pops out of her bedroom and takes a perch on the stairs.
“I don’t know. You all set for school?” Noa nods and Aimee turns away from her daughter so she can wipe at her eyes. She doesn’t want Noa to see her upset. “Let’s find out.” She opens the door to see Detective Salazar standing there.
“Oh, hi. Good morning.”
“Didn’t Officer Nguyen mention I would be coming by?”
“I guess he did, but I didn’t realize it would be this early.”
“I wanted to catch everyone before work, school, you know.”
“Please, come in.” Aimee steps back to allow him room to enter the foyer. “We can go in the kitchen to talk privately.” She jerks her head toward Noa on the stairs.
As Detective Salazar steps inside, he touches two fingers to his brow in a salute to Noa. “Morning, young lady.”
Noa stares, wide-eyed.
Salazar turns back to Aimee. “Actually, it’s your daughter I’d like to have a quick word with, if you don’t mind.”
At the sound of the word daughter , Aimee’s stomach does a flip. She steps back a few feet into the dining room and motions the detective in. He follows her into the darkened room. “I would do anything to help you guys find Scott,” she whispers. “But my kids think he’s on a trip, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Of course. I won’t say anything,” Salazar says. “We just want to ask her about the time she spent with the Stocker lady. Maybe she saw something, or heard something?”
“I’ve already asked her that. Several times. She doesn’t remember anything being off or scary or strange.”
“Well, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to ask her myself.”
Aimee sighs. “I guess so, but you have to keep it short. I don’t want them to miss the bus.”
He nods and they re-enter the foyer. Noa is still sitting in the same spot. Aimee wishes she could answer Salazar’s questions for her. Noa is so sensitive that many of the things her peers love—roller coasters, action movies—often cause panic attacks and nightmares. Aimee has all but given up on Noa sleeping over at a friend’s house, a ritual she remembers loving as a child. It was one of the reasons she had felt safe leaving her with Cathy. She had believed the woman to be a former teacher, and she certainly had the demeanor of one. But who knows if any of that is true.
Aimee smiles up at Noa. “What do you think, honey? Can you come down and answer a few questions for this nice man?”
She has no idea why she said that— nice man . Nothing about Detective Salazar suggests he is nice. Tough, yes, slightly sinister in his dark shirt and suit, his thick black hair pulled off his face and kept miraculously in place by what Aimee guesses is a significant amount of gel, but nice? She doesn’t need him to be nice, however, just good at his job.
Noa narrows her eyes but doesn’t move. The girl grips the balusters of the staircase with two hands and presses her face against them like a prisoner in an old-time movie.
“You know,” Detective Salazar says to Noa, “we can talk right here. That’s fine. I’m a police detective. You can call me Jay if you want. I just wanted to ask a couple of questions. Do you think that’ll be okay?”
“I guess,” Noa says, shifting her eyes to Aimee without moving her face. “When is Daddy coming back?”
“I told you, Daddy had to go on a business trip.” Had Noa somehow picked up on the tension and realized that her father was missing? Or is she just a little girl who misses her dad?
The detective leans against the wall. “I’m actually here to ask you about your friend Cathy, is that all right?” He waits for Noa to nod before he continues. “Do you remember a few days ago when you were at Cathy’s house to see the kittens? And she drove you home?”
Noa nods. “Yes. I remember.”
“Well, I wanted to know if you remembered anybody coming to her house that day, even if they didn’t come inside. A car pulling up. Or Cathy going to the door to talk to someone?”
“No.”
“You sure? Did she go outside at some point?”
Noa scoffs. “How can I see if she went outside if I’m with the kittens?” She looks at Aimee. “The kittens are upstairs in the back room, which is the quiet room. They sleep in the closet.”
“Makes sense,” the detective says. “Did Cathy do anything different that day? Anything kind of strange or weird?
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, anything at all.”
“Why are you asking about Cathy?” Noa turns to Aimee. “Is Cathy in trouble? Is she going to be arrested?”
“No, not at all,” Aimee says, stepping closer. “But we need to find Cathy. That’s all.”
“Is she missing?” Noa’s voice is high, tinged with panic.
“No, not missing,” Salazar says. “She went on a trip, and we don’t know where. And we need to tell her something.”
“Something about the kittens?”
He smiles. “Exactly.”
“What do you need to tell her?”
“Well, see, someone wants to adopt one,” he says. “A really nice lady, but she needs to know right away. So we’re trying to find where Cathy might have gone to on her trip. So we can ask her.”
“Because when Cathy comes back, it might be too late?” Noa asks.
“That’s right.”
Noa puts a finger on her chin and says, “Hmmm,” the way a cartoon character might. Aimee feels a pang of guilt. All this lying doesn’t sit well with her. She knows it’s in Noa’s best interest, but she’s sick of lies.
“Maybe she went to Texas?” Noa suggests.
“Why would she go to Texas?” Salazar asks, his hawkish face eager.
“I don’t know.” Noa shrugs. “Did you know that Texas is the second largest state in the country? Alaska is two-and-a-half times bigger.”
The detective’s shoulders slump, disappointed. “That’s pretty cool. All right, Noa. You’ve been a big help.”
Noa straightens up, beaming.
“You go on up, honey,” Aimee says. “And tell your brothers they have two minutes to get downstairs. We’re not missing that bus.”
Noa nods and scurries up the stairs.
Aimee turns to the detective. “I’m sorry she wasn’t of more help. I was hoping she knew something.”
“Maybe something will come to her later,” he says. “Mrs. Crowder—”
“Stern. I kept my last name.”
“Ms. Stern, if you have any idea of where your husband has fled to, now would be a good time to tell me. You may think you are protecting him, but the longer this goes on, the more dangerous it becomes for everybody.”
At first, she thinks she must have misunderstood him, but the cold look in his eyes tells her otherwise. “You think I’m part of this? I’m the one who called you yesterday morning, remember?”
“We know your husband was being blackmailed by Anton Khoury—”
“Yeah, you know because I told you.”
“And we found corroborating evidence on his laptop. And we know that Mr. Khoury came here Friday night to talk to your husband, and they walked down your walkway together.”
“Scott explained that. Anton was drunk. He was taking him home.”
“And your husband admits to being at the scene where Mr. Khoury was killed. And then a few days later, he’s on the run.”
“He’s not on the run! Something’s happened to him. Cathy Stocker has done something to him.” Her voice is strident but it belies the doubt that has crept into her thoughts. What if Scott is involved with Anton’s death? Being blackmailed is a motive, after all. She won’t believe the worst about Scott. Not until she has proof. Until then she will hold on to the shred of hope that her husband is innocent. She yanks open the front door, indicating it’s time for him to leave. “Maybe you should go do your job and find them.”
“Maybe she has done something to him.” Salazar pushes open the screen door. “Or maybe she’s helping him.”