Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
“Do you realize how stupid you are?”
It’s midnight, and I’ve been yelling at Bradley intermittently for the last three hours. He looks exhausted, but I still don’t feel like I’ve made him suffer enough.
“She thinks I’m guilty.”
“She thinks everyone’s guilty. That’s her job. She considers everyone in turn. But at the end of the day, there’s no evidence.”
“How do you know that?” I see my reflection in Bradley’s bedroom window. I’m back in my old shorts and T-shirt, and I’ve returned the earrings I took. “Did you really think it was a good idea not to warn me?”
“We’ve gone over this. You needed to appear natural.”
“There was never going to be anything natural about it. I’m covering up a murder!” I pace up and down the bedroom, while Bradley remains on the bed like a statue, impassive, unemotional.
“Detectives need evidence. Lots of evidence. They can’t just tell the jury someone was acting a little weird during an interview.
And guess what? There isn’t any evidence for them to find.
Grace will look like she got disoriented in the fires.
Or maybe she jumped off the bridge on her own volition. Either way, case closed.”
“How can you be so sure of yourself?”
“Because I’m thinking rationally! What would you have me do?”
“Call a lawyer. Get real advice.”
“We can’t call a lawyer. I’m the victim here, remember? My beloved wife has gone missing, and I’m sick to death about it.”
He’s right—it would be a mistake to call a lawyer. It would just give the police another reason to take an even closer look at Pine Ridge.
“I should move out then.”
“What would that achieve? They’ll think you’re on the run.”
“I won’t run. I’ll just get out of here.” I walk up to the window, close enough to see through myself to the outside world. “Until it’s over.”
“Away from me, you mean?” I can see him in the reflection, looking at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He gets up from the bed and walks slowly towards me. I’m reminded of a lion, strolling through the expanse. I feel his strong arm around my waist, his lips on my neck.
“Because I’ll miss you too much. I can’t live without you.”
“Stop. You’re being ridiculous. What about the police? What are we going to do?”
“Tell them everything about Grace,” he says. “Don’t worry if you feel like it gives you a motive. It will make her seem like exactly what she was—an unhinged psychopath. That’s what we’re counting on.”
“What about the wound on her head?”
“She fell onto the rocks.”
“What about—”
“Stop, Brie! We can come up with a million whatabouts, but at the end of the day, the police will settle on the simplest and most likely explanation. It’s not uncommon for people coming off that medication to have suicidal thoughts.
Murder is a thousand times more unlikely, especially by an English professor and a bird scientist.”
“What about—” He tries to interrupt me, but I elbow him in the stomach. “Shut up. Give me this one. What if they find out about us?”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s a motive for Grace hurting you. But why would we need to hurt her?”
“The money, of course.”
“I’d get the money in a divorce. There’s no need for murder.”
Grace said otherwise just before she died, but I don’t press the point.
He’s been talking to a divorce lawyer, so I’m guessing he knows the details better than Grace.
I feel like we’re walking through a garden and Bradley is pointing out rare and beautiful flowers, but every time I look, all I see is weeds.
He turns me around and kisses me, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. “I was going to wait, but I can’t. I want you to have this.”
I open the box cautiously, as if it were the jaw of an alligator. It yawns open to reveal a diamond ring.
“I know you don’t want to wear Grace’s jewelry, so I thought I’d get you your own.”
I gently touch the diamond, then pull away. I feel like an alarm is about to ring out and announce that I’m a thief, a liar, a parvenu.
“For God’s sake, will you put it on?”
“Bradley,” I whisper. “This is too much.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not proposing or anything. But I want to give this a real shot.” He waits a second, then laughs. “Say something. Every passing second is a crushing blow to my ego.”
I take the ring and put it on, shaking my head.
“You’re giving me mixed messages.”
“Bradley.”
“That’s my name.”
“It’s too soon. It’s wrong.”
“No.” He sounds angry. “That woman controlled me for years. I’m not going to let her take anything else from me. Especially not you.”
“She’s not,” I say, touching his arm gently. “But why don’t we wait?”
“Because this is my life! I’m tired of being sensible. I’ve invested my entire life into a job and a marriage, always trying to do the right thing, always ignoring what I feel—and for what? Neither of them wanted me.” He hugs me around the waist and looks into my eyes. “I love you. Be with me.”
“This isn’t fair,” I say. “I can’t think.”
“Don’t think, then. Don’t be rational. Just do what you want for once in your life!”
It feels like a curse word. What I want? Since when does that have anything to do with the choices I make? According to my mother, life is about responsibility, about doing the right thing. About sacrifice.
But then, she was alone when she died, and as far as I can tell, she was miserable. Why is she my role model?
“Life can be different. Life has to be different.”
“Then yes,” I say, kissing him softly. “Let’s give this a shot.”