Chapter 45
45
NOW
Gwen turns as Aimee leaves the house and walks right by her without a word. She leaves Scott’s mom sucking on a cigarette and hurries to the truck.
“Let’s go.” Aimee climbs into the passenger side of the truck, so Gwen gets in on the driver’s side.
“What about Scott?”
“You drive.” Aimee hands Gwen the keys. “I’d like to go back and scream at that woman, but there’s no point. She’s a horrible mother who ruined her son’s life and he’s still listening to her now.”
“What’s going on? Is Scott staying?” Gwen peers up at the house as if Scott might come running out at any moment, but the only movement is from Jen, who stands at the front door like a sentry, flicking the ash from her cigarette.
Aimee pulls her knees up to her chest, pressing her face against them. “Just drive, please. Just drive.”
“Of course.” Gwen starts the ignition and turns the truck around, heading back the way they came, past the high school with the earth movers parked out front. The clock on the dash says it’s twelve-thirty. They’ll be back in plenty of time for school dismissal. Gwen doesn’t say anything on the drive home, but the quiet is fraught with tension. Aimee stares out the window, unmoving. She’s a million miles away. It obviously did not go well with Scott, and as curious as Gwen is about what transpired between them, she wants to give Aimee her space.
It isn’t until about forty minutes later, once they are off 495 and driving through downtown Bethesda, that Gwen dares break the silence. “I’m not trying to pry, but how do you feel?”
Aimee turns from the window. “I don’t know how I feel right now. I’m so angry, I’m just so angry at him. But at the same time, I want him back. But the old him. Before I knew all this shit.”
“Is he coming home?”
“I don’t think so.”
Gwen lets this sink in. She pulls into their neighborhood, a sensation of gloom overtaking her. The last few days have blotted out her good memories of this place, and she hates that. “Can I ask you—did you have a chance to talk to him about Anton?”
“He said that he didn’t even know Anton was the one blackmailing him, and I believe him.”
Gwen considers this. “So you don’t think he was involved in Anton’s death?”
Aimee gives her a sharp look. “No. Scott’s not a killer.”
“And you believe him?” Scott is, at the very least, a liar and a fugitive. He might even be a murderer.
“He was genuinely surprised that it was Anton. Yes, I believe him.”
“But they were together right before Anton was killed. And with the blackmail, Scott does have a motive.”
“What do you want me to say, Gwen?” Aimee’s voice is shrill. “That I think my husband killed yours? Because I don’t.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Well, don’t. Because I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Fine. But are you going to call the police?”
Aimee scowls. “Of course I am. You think I’m just going to pretend to the police that he’s still missing, and I have no idea where he is?”
Gwen pulls the truck up in front of Aimee’s house and cuts the engine, unsure of what to say. Aimee seems to vibrate with anger. After a few moments of silence, Aimee takes out her phone.
“Why do I feel so guilty calling the police?”
“Because you still love him.”
Aimee taps out a number on her phone. “Hi, Detective Sala zar, this is Aimee Stern. I know where Scott is. He’s at a house up near Frederick.” She recites the address and hangs up. “It was his voicemail.”
“I could tell.”
She turns to face Gwen, looking weary. “Did I do the right thing?”
Gwen reaches out and squeezes Aimee’s arm. “You did the right thing.”
“Then why do I feel so crappy? No, don’t answer that. I better go inside. The kids will be home soon.”
Gwen recognizes the urge to be alone when she sees it. She’s not going to stand in Aimee’s way. She doesn’t know what Aimee and Scott discussed when they were alone, but the fact that he didn’t come home with her says everything. The two women get out, and as Gwen starts to walk away, Aimee calls her name.
“Hey, do me a favor—don’t talk about this with anyone, okay? I mean, not yet. I know pretty soon it’s all anyone will want to talk about. But until then.”
“You got it.” She hands Aimee the keys. “And when all this is over, you and me are gonna go on a trip where no one knows us, right?”
Aimee gives a little nod, but Gwen feels her heart sink. This feels like the end of their friendship. She wants to believe that they have a solid enough foundation that they can get through this. After all, she is one of the few people who can really understand what Aimee is going through. She watches to make sure Aimee is safely inside before she turns to her own home. As soon as she enters her house, she realizes that she left Anton’s journal back in Frederick. She hesitates by the door, wondering if it matters, but decides to let it go. It is just one of the many things she’s going to have to learn to live without.
She finds Barb in the kitchen packing a cooler bag with snacks and drinks.
“What’s going on?” Gwen asks.
“I thought I would take the boys to Richmond tonight and keep them for the rest of the week. I’m going to be honest with you, Gwen. I don’t think it’s healthy for them to be here with you while you’re in this state.”
“And what state is that? Grieving?”
Barb purses her lips. “It’s that attitude I’m talking about. The boys can pick up on it. What they need now are reliable, strong, positive adults in their lives. Your father and I can help. I thought we’d keep them over the weekend and bring them back next week for the funeral.”
“The funeral?”
“It’s all set. I’ve arranged it for next Tuesday at Gawler’s. That will give Henri enough time to fly in from France. He’s coming in Monday and leaving Wednesday. I’ve got him a room at the Marriott here in Bethesda; he doesn’t drive anymore. This way he can walk to everything. There’s that French bakery, Toot de Sweet, nearby. I’m sure he’ll find their croissants passable.”
Gwen lets all this sink in. Normally her mother’s presumptiveness would rankle her. She hates Barb’s sense of entitlement over her life. But she has to admit that Barb has a point. She needs help. She’s barely holding on. “I guess so. I mean, thank you for dealing with all that. I really do appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome. I assume you’ll join us in Richmond. We could all use a little R&R.”
“Of course, did you think I was just going to let you take the boys again?”
Her mother looks up from her packing, clearly caught off guard. “Well, that’s settled, then.”
They decide that Barb will leave with the boys now, and Gwen will follow later in her own car, once she’s had a chance to pack up her things and get Sababa’s crate down from the attic. Her parents are very particular about the dog. They won’t let him stay in the house unattended without crating him. It’s one of the reasons Gwen visits so seldomly.
She stands at the door and sees them off, glad to have a few hours to herself to process what happened that afternoon.
Scott may not have murdered that boy back in California, but he is wanted for a felony all the same. And his mother, what a piece of work, she had that hard-edge look to her. How the hell did she ever convince Aimee that she was a retired schoolteacher, and a safe person to leave Noa with?
Gwen goes inside and grabs a vodka seltzer from the fridge. Just one , she tells herself. She needs it after the day she’s had. She doesn’t like to be too harsh on Aimee, but her friend has some serious lapses in judgment. Her husband is a wanted man, her babysitter a drug matriarch, and her close friend an adulterer.
The doorbell rings and she freezes.
“Hello!” a voice calls. She recognizes the nasal tone as belonging to Michelle J. She waits a few minutes until there is silence and then tiptoes to the front door to peer out. She can make out Michelle J.’s back as she turns the corner at the end of the cul-de-sac. When she opens the door, Gwen finds a basket the size of an infant’s bassinet filled with fruit—pineapples, strawberry kebabs, clusters of grapes. She brings it in and sets it in the kitchen, pushing aside the several overflowing vases of flowers that have been delivered in the past few days.
This will be dinner, she decides, and finishes off her vodka soda.
As she pops a grape in her mouth, she replays the afternoon. Why did Anton want money from Scott? Was he planning on using it to leave her? She has so many questions she wants to ask him but will never be able to.
Outside the sun has set, turning the kitchen windows black. She has always hated the way uncovered windows at night make her feel so lonely. Growing up, the Buckley dining room had three French doors that looked out on the side garden. At night, she ate with her family in tense silence under the glow of the overhead chandelier, staring into the flatness of those three glass doors darkened by night. She felt like a specimen, easily observed by any passerby on the street, and it made her self-conscious and afraid. She gets up and draws the curtains.
She’d better start getting ready for Richmond.
Upstairs, she packs a suitcase, gets the crate down, and leashes up Sababa for a last walk before the long drive. She’s halfway down the block when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her. She turns to see Lisa approaching, waving wildly.
“Hey, hey!”
Gwen turns her back on Lisa and tries to keep walking, but Sababa has found something pungent to smell and resists her tugging.
“Hey, Gwen—” Lisa, breathless, is beside her all of a sudden.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Gwen says without looking up. “We’re not friends.” She finally yanks Sababa free and starts walking away.
“Fine. I know that. I know that you hate me, that you think I’m a terrible person,” Lisa calls after her. “But you love Aimee, and so do I.”
Gwen halts. She can’t believe she’s about to fall for this line, but she is. Aimee is her Achilles’ heel with Lisa. She turns around. “So?”
Lisa takes a few steps forward. “I just want to know how she’s doing. I called. I texted. She’s not responding. I’m worried.”
Gwen wrestles with her impulse to tell Lisa to get lost. But Aimee needs all the love and support she can get right now, and if Gwen’s at her parents’ in Richmond, Lisa will be the only one here to check on her.
“She had a bad day,” Gwen says begrudgingly. “She saw Scott. And I don’t think he’s coming home.”
“I’m confused. He’s okay?” Lisa tilts her head, her thick black hair falling to one side.
“He’s physically fine.” Gwen hesitates, trying to find the right words to describe the situation. “But it turns out there’s a warrant or something for him in California, so he ran.” This barely scrapes the surface of the story, but she figures it will suffice for now. If Aimee wants Lisa to have the details, she can tell her later.
“That’s crazy.” Lisa covers her mouth with her hand.
“I guess you were right about it being a bad idea for Noa to go over to that woman Cathy’s house, by the way.”
“Oh no, is she involved in all this?”
“Yeah, it’s very complicated. I’m sure Aimee will tell you.”
“Thank you for filling me in,” Lisa says. “Poor Aimee. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”
Gwen yanks on Sababa’s leash. “Well, I better get going. I’m driving to my parents’ house tonight. I’m not sure if Aimee’s sticking around here or heading up to her dad’s. But maybe you could check on her.”
“Oh, I will. Definitely. Marcus is gone this weekend, too. He and Kai are at a soccer tournament in Delaware,” Lisa says. “Aimee shouldn’t have to be alone at a time like this. Maybe I’ll pop by with a bottle of wine. She may have just turned her phone off. I mean, can you imagine? Finding out your husband was wanted for murder all these years?” Lisa scrunches up her nose as if she’s just smelled something rotten. “Hold on, do you think he might have, you know, Anton? I mean, if he has a history of violence.”
“No. I don’t.”
At home, Gwen heads straight into the kitchen to grab her bag and car keys. She’s ready to leave Nassau Court, maybe forever. But something is bothering her about her exchange with Lisa. It was as if Lisa was pretending to act how she thought an adult woman would behave, but there was some human element missing. And the way she was so excited to play nursemaid to Aimee creeped Gwen out. As if she had been waiting ages for this moment to step in and be Aimee’s savior.
She’s dragging the crate to the front when the doorbell rings. Gwen yanks it open to find Lisa on the stoop, holding a gold-colored box of chocolates. “These are for Aimee. She loves their sea salt caramels.”
“What do you want?” Gwen asks, annoyance swelling within her.
Lisa slips through the narrow opening of the door, past Gwen, who is forced to move back.
“Actually, I was on my way out.” Gwen motions to the suitcase and dog crate. She wants Lisa out of her house. It physically disgusts her to be near this woman, close enough to smell her sickly sweet perfume, to see the thick bronzer on her face. What did Anton see in her? “It’s a long drive, and I want to get going.”
“Right, sure! I’m heading to Aimee’s in a minute.” Lisa hoists the box, at least pretending to be full of good cheer. “I just wanted to talk to you for a second, you mind?” Lisa shuts the door behind her.
Gwen is startled by her boldness, and then it hits her. She realizes what was bugging her about the earlier conversation with Lisa.
I mean, can you imagine? Finding out your husband was wanted for murder all these years?
Lisa knew about Scott’s past.
“How did you know Scott was involved in a murder?” Gwen blurts out. “I didn’t tell you that.”
Lisa bites her heavily glossed lip. “Well, fuck. I was hoping you hadn’t caught that.”