Chapter Ten
The phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number and the timing sure is uncanny.
I wouldn’t normally answer. Just let it go to voicemail.
But whatever is happening out front has got me distracted for the second time today.
There are texts from Muriel on screen too.
Asking me to call her urgently. What the heck is going on?
I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Will you accept charges for a call from Vermont Regional Correctional Facility?” asks a robotic voice.
He’s never called me before. Not once in all these years.
Those creepy letters arrive now and then, but they’ve been his sole means of communication.
But he is bound to be the cause of whatever is going on right now.
It’s a definite. And the way fury fills me from head to toe at the thought.
I don’t even hesitate in my reply. “Yes.”
“Your call will be subject to recording and monitoring.”
Noah is busy drawing the curtains on the front windows and giving pats to Auggie. Trying to calm him down. The good boy is not happy about people hanging outside his home talking nonsense. Which is a sentiment we strongly share.
“Sidney,” says the horribly familiar voice. And he sounds so fucking happy with himself. Just so very pleased. “How nice to talk to you. What’s it been…ten years?”
“About that.” Hearing my ex’s low amused laugh sends a shiver down my spine. It makes my skin crawl. I hate him with everything in me and I don’t care if it’s healthy or not. “Ryan, how did you get this number?”
Noah’s head snaps around at my mention of the name and there’s a sudden wariness in his eyes. All of which is absolutely valid. I am not sure I should be giving my ex the time of day. It is in fact most likely an awful fucking idea. The worst I’ve had in a long time.
“What have you done?” I ask.
“Me? How could I have done anything? You’re forgetting I’m still stuck in jail.”
“Then why are you calling? Why now?”
“So many questions.” He sighs. “It’s important to me, for my spiritual and personal growth, to tell you that I forgive you.”
My eyebrows reach for the sky. “You forgive me?”
“Yes,” he continues. “Whatever demons forced you to carry out these terrible deeds are your own to deal with. I see that now. As much as I loved you, it was wrong of me to try and help you cover up your crimes.”
“Your love almost killed me.”
“Attacking you was a momentary lapse of reason on my part. Something I very much regret.”
“Do you really think there’s a chance they’ll drop your charges to accessory and time served?”
“Anything is possible through the power of prayer. My therapist has also helped me understand myself and be a better, more empathetic person. To prepare for my return to the world and life outside of prison,” he says.
“Prayer and therapy are how I turned my life around and learned to accept the unfortunate role I played in enabling you.”
“Enabling me?” I shake my head. “How many hours did you sit in your cell rehearsing this speech?”
“Sidney, I don’t expect you to understand. But I found God and—”
“Oh, yeah? Where was he hiding? Behind the sofa?”
Noah pushes aside the curtain and checks on whatever is happening out front. The man is now as unhappy as the dog. Though he’s doing a lot less growling.
“Don’t interrupt me, please,” says Ryan, an edge coming into his voice for the first time.
“Hearing your name mentioned on the morning news made me realize some things. That this violence and corruption…this evil in your soul is a disease. One that’s sure to catch up with you sooner rather than later. ”
“Okay.”
“It saddens me that you’ve spent all these years alone.”
“Been listening to the podcast, have you?” I ask. “They sure are your fan boys.”
“Though perhaps isolating yourself was safest for the general public. You abstained for so long, I hoped perhaps you’d changed. But apparently not.”
This is all such bullshit. He’s giving me nothing useful. And the chances this conversation is going to wind up in the documentary are right up there. I put the call on speaker and start searching my name online.
“I know your grandmother was a just and peaceful woman,” says Ryan. “Who tried to raise you to be a decent person.”
“Do not talk about her.”
“It gives me hope that one day you’ll seek forgiveness and admit to the terrible things that you’ve done. But I wanted you to know, there is nothing but love and compassion in my heart for you, Sidney.”
“Thanks. That really means a lot coming from you.”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me on my engagement?” he asks. “Being in a stable healthy relationship with a good woman has really helped to ground me. I’m so excited about our future together. The idea of starting a family.”
He prattles on as I scroll through a news feed.
There’s a photo of a luxury hatchback parked in a woodland area surrounded by crime scene tape.
One of the car doors is open and various official-looking people are standing around.
Some of them wear police uniforms. The article says the owner of the vehicle is missing, though no names have been released yet.
Nothing about a body being found. There’s obviously plenty of rumors going around, however, for reporters to be standing outside my house already.
My history with Ryan has to be the sole link between me and the story about this vehicle. I mean, what else could it be?
This cannot be happening again. Women going missing and the community living in fear. The way I want to scream.
“But it’s important for you to know that it’s not too late for you to seek help,” he says. “Even now…”
Then it hits me. Shit. “That’s Grace’s car. It’s my cousin’s car.”
“Who?” asks Ryan oh so sweetly.
“You know who I mean.” There’s something stuck in my throat. It might be my heart. I don’t know. But puking isn’t out of the question. “What have you done to her?”
“You’re forgetting again. I am incarcerated. There’s no way I could have been involved.”
Noah turns away from the window. “Sid, the police are here.”
“Who is that?” asks Ryan, spitting out the words. “Who the fuck is that? You have someone there with you, you whore?”
I disconnect the call. His peace, love, and positivity sure didn’t last for long.
Hanging up on the asshole is a small victory, but one I will gladly take.
And sure enough, someone knocks on the door.
This spiraling sensation is a horribly familiar feeling.
I take a deep breath and say, “Might be best if you move the board on the fence and get out the back way.”
Noah pauses and stares at me for a minute. “Do you not want me here? Or do you think I don’t want to be here?”
“I think this is quickly turning into a disaster that you don’t need to be part of. Something’s happened to Grace and…I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”
“Okay. I appreciate you trying to protect me. But unless you’re asking me to leave, this has to be my choice.”
I don’t know what to say.
The knocking happens again. With more urgency this time.
Meanwhile, Noah takes a seat in one of Grandma’s black leather and chrome armchairs. He pats his lap and Auggie jumps up to make himself at home. My eyes are watering suspiciously. But I will not cry in front of the cops. Not happening.
The coffee in my stomach has turned as sour as can be. What I need to know is if Grace is alive or dead. She invited herself into this situation for shitty reasons. But she sure as hell didn’t deserve to get hurt or worse.
I blink repeatedly, stand up straight, and undo the hundred and one locks on my front door.
No eye contact for the reporters standing out on the street.
Keeping their distance due to a warning from the police officer, probably.
My focus is all on the woman standing in front of me.
She’s about my size with white skin, long dark hair in a braid, and wearing a charcoal-colored suit.
There’s a very serious expression on her face.
I wonder if it’s what gave her identity away to Noah.
She isn’t someone I’ve met before. Which is not a bad thing.
“Sidney Walsh?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Detective Hahn.” She holds up her badge and I.D. “I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask you.”
Inviting a cop into my home is generally a no.
But this isn’t Officer Smith here to mess with me.
And I would rather answer a couple of questions now on my own territory than be invited down to the station for something more serious.
The other thing is…I need information now.
She can tell me what the hell is happening.
I step back and she enters. The front door is immediately shut tight against the press. Detective Hahn gives a nod to my neighbor and the dog.
“What happened to Grace?” I ask. “Have you found a body?”
The detective gives me a long look before taking a seat on the couch. Her blank face is excellent. “Why don’t we sit?”
There’s no chance of me being still. I commence pacing back and forth in the small space. “I am guessing you don’t have a body. Just the car. But there must have been signs of a struggle for you to be here, right? For this to be taken so seriously?”
Her chin rises just a little. I am taking it as confirmation.
“It’s not even midday. So you found it what…early this morning? The article online said it was left in the same national park as Briana Petersen.”
“Where were you last night, Miss Walsh?” asks the detective.
“I was at a party next door until about ten and then here.”
“Was anyone with you? Someone who could corroborate this?”
“Me,” says Noah.
“And your name is?”
“Noah Allard. I’m her neighbor.”
“You were together the entire time?” asks the detective, taking notes on her phone.
“Yes.” I nod. “Apart from the five minutes it took me to walk home, unlock the door, and take my dog out back to pee.”
“By then I was here,” says Noah.