Chapter Fifty-One. Cat
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CAT
Thank God for Melanie, showing up just when I needed her, stopping me from doing something so incredibly stupid. She’s always been my life preserver, there to keep me afloat just before I sink.
My sponsor says exercise and routine are supposed to help—stress relief, mood regulation, all that.
So I take a walk around the neighborhood, avoiding the road that winds along the river, past The Hollow, where the forensic team is still at work.
I zip my fleece up to my chin. The sky is low and gray.
The trees shiver and sometimes bend. In the distance, the hills are obscured by the mist, so they look like the backdrop of a stage play, somehow both less vivid and more beautiful.
It isn’t raining, but the air is wet with the threat of it, every gust of wind spritzing my cheeks with cold moisture.
And the cold feels nice in the way it brings me fully into my body.
The walk clears my head, and when I spot the food truck that comes around each day to bring lunch to the construction workers, I buy two foil-wrapped tacos, and walk down to the construction trailer, planning to bring Mark the extra and ask if Olivia can stay the night.
It isn’t her job to look after her mother, but it will be easier to stay focused on my goal when my reason is right there under my roof.
But when I knock on the door, it’s Emily who answers. I step back. “Oh, hi. I was just bringing Mark some lunch.”
She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “He’s meeting with the developers. They aren’t too happy about this.” She tips her head in the direction of The Hollow.
“Right,” I say. Then, after an awkward beat, I remember the tacos in my hand. “Well, here.” I hand her one.
She takes it, turns it over. “You and Mark have lunch together a lot?”
“No. I mean—I was going to ask if Olivia can stay the night with me tonight.”
“Do you really think that’s the best thing for Olivia?”
I feel that same wash of shame from last night, but then the heat in my cheeks meeting the stinging cold of the air only makes me burn hotter.
Olivia is my daughter. This is between Mark and me.
Not her. I take another step up, so that we’re on equal footing.
“Sorry,” I say. “I meant, Olivia will be staying with me tonight. I just wanted you to know that I’ll pick her up from the Amenity Center.
” The words feel strange in my mouth, but solid too.
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond.
“Enjoy your lunch.” Then I spin on my heel and leave her to stew. I hear the door shut behind me, and my steps feel lighter than they should as I head back toward the street.
And this time, I can’t help but look over at The Hollow, at the team of people in white coveralls and face masks, taking photographs, bringing bags of evidence to the van parked up on the road. There are onlookers too. People from town who have come to see it for themselves.
And then, farther along the bend, I see Abel Sherman standing on the bank of the river that used to be his.
He has his hands in his pockets as he watches the officers.
Then he stoops to pick up a stray beer can that must have floated downstream from the kids’ party, just like he used to do all those years ago.
The sight of him turns my stomach, dragging me back in time.
We have to tell your dad, I told Melanie once. He can help.
But Melanie was so desperate, so frantic. Please, Cat. I don’t want him to know. I’ll die. He’ll never see me the same. Please.
But we could have stopped it all.
Abel looks over and spots me, up on the hill above him. And the way he’s looking at me, it sends a chill through me.
It’s like he knows.