Chapter 28
COOPER
The phone is ringing.
It feels like it’s been ringing for a while. I’m lying in bed, my head throbbing slightly, willing it to stop. And it finally does stop when the phone goes to voicemail, but whoever it is just calls back again. It’s an endless cycle.
“All right, damn it!”
Through my haze, I recall that there could be a name on the screen that I don’t want Debbie to see.
Frantically, I feel around on my nightstand, but when I grab my phone, the screen is black.
My phone isn’t the one that was ringing.
It’s Debbie’s phone that’s ringing. Over and over and over. My relief is replaced by curiosity.
That’s when I become aware of another sound.
It’s the sound of the shower running in the master bathroom.
I had told myself I was going to stay awake until Debbie got home, but I clearly failed at that task.
I passed out almost immediately after lying down, and right now, I feel like I got hit by a truck. My mouth feels like the Sahara Desert.
Why do I feel hungover?
Debbie’s phone stops ringing, and I say a silent thank you. But then thirty seconds later, it starts again. I throw Debbie’s pillow on top of my face, trying to stifle the sound of the ringing phone. But it’s no use. Whoever is calling my wife wants to talk to her really badly.
“Debbie?” I call out. “You coming out soon?”
There’s no answer, but she’s definitely in there. I can hear her singing, which is weird because Debbie doesn’t usually sing in the shower.
Finally, I give in. I grab the phone off the nightstand next to Debbie’s side of the bed. The name on the screen is Garrett Meers. Debbie’s boss.
What the hell is he calling about over and over again? They can’t possibly have a news emergency that involves Debbie. First of all, my wife writes an advice column. What’s an advice column emergency? Somebody has a party in fifteen minutes and doesn’t know how to get grass stains out of her dress?
But clearly, Garrett is freaking out. Which is also weird, because I met the guy once, and he seemed pretty laid-back to me.
I swipe to take the call, and before I can even say hello, Garrett’s voice booms in my ear, “Debbie! Debbie, what the hell did you do?”
“Uh, hello?” I say.
Garrett is momentarily thrown off by the sound of my voice. “Who is this?”
“It’s Cooper.” Because he doesn’t respond, I add, “Debbie’s husband.”
“Where’s Debbie?” he demands to know. “I need to talk to her right away!”
I struggle into a sitting position, and the pounding in my head intensifies. “Sorry, she’s in the shower.”
“Then get her out of the shower! I need to talk to her right now!”
“Uh, no?” I rub my eyes. “Whatever is wrong—”
“Whatever is wrong!” he bursts out. “There’s pornography on the newspaper’s website. That’s what’s wrong! And it’s not just pornography, it’s… Look, I know Debbie has the password for our website. Just because I fired her—”
“You fired Debbie?” I repeat, unable to keep the astonishment out of my voice.
That throws Garrett for a loop. “Oh. I thought she would’ve…
Well, anyway, yes. There was an issue with a lawsuit, and…
Sorry, but I didn’t have a choice. But what the hell?
She needs to get it down this minute!” His voice is getting louder with each word.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? She’s going to ruin me! ”
“Why can’t you take it down yourself?” I ask impatiently.
“She changed the password! I’m locked out!”
As Garrett is talking, I navigate to the website for the newspaper on my own phone.
No offense to Debbie, but the Hingham Household is the most boring newspaper I’ve ever seen.
The website generally contains their logo and the top news story in Hingham, which is probably, I don’t know, a PTA meeting where they’re trying to decide what to watch on the middle school movie night.
But instead of that, the only thing on the screen is a video that seems to be playing on a repeat loop.
It’s a video of two people having sex. And one of those people is Garrett Meers.
I don’t know who the other person is, but I met his wife, and it’s not her. The whole thing looks like it’s taking place in an office, on top of a desk. I’m guessing it’s the office at the newspaper.
Wow. He’s right. He really is screwed.
“We’ve already had half a dozen advertisers call to cancel their contracts with us.” His panicked voice has turned pleading. “And my wife… If she sees this…”
Even though it’s rude, I bark out a laugh. “You really think there’s any chance your wife isn’t going to see this?”
“Go to hell!” Garrett snaps back at me. “Debbie has gone too far this time!”
I frown at the phone, suddenly overtaken by a feeling of déjà vu. This is the exact same conversation I had with Brett yesterday morning, when he accused Debbie of messing with his fuse box.
She certainly has the technical skills to do this.
And if she got fired yesterday, that’s a motive right there.
She would have needed to obtain the footage of Garrett with that other woman, but she’s the one who installed the cameras outside our front door.
She certainly knows how to plant a hidden camera.
And yet I still don’t believe it. I always tell Debbie to advocate for herself more, because she’s constantly letting herself get pushed around. She’s great at giving advice, but she never takes mine. I can’t envision her doing something this diabolical. It’s not her style.
“Look,” I say, “Debbie didn’t do this…”
“She did it!” he insists. “And I swear to God, she is going to pay for this. I’m going to make sure she pays.”
Okay, that’s enough. I understand he’s upset, but nobody threatens Debbie. “Watch what you say about my wife,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” Garrett seems unimpressed. “Or else what?”
“If you so much as breathe on her,” I growl into the phone in a voice that actually sounds fairly scary, “I’m going to drive over to your house and break your face.”
I can hear the sharp inhale of breath on the other line, and with that, Garrett finally goes quiet. I take the opportunity to end the call. A second later, the phone starts ringing again, but I put it on silent.
Could I actually break Garrett Meers’s face? I don’t know. I have been going to the gym a lot lately. I’ve never thrown a punch in my entire life, but if he did anything to hurt Debbie, I would definitely make him pay.
“Who was on the phone?”
I didn’t even notice that the shower had turned off, and Debbie has come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a terry-cloth bathrobe. Her hair is still wet and slicked back from her face with water. She looks so small and vulnerable. Innocent. Except…
Did you break into our neighbor’s house and wreck his fuse box?
Did you post a video of your former boss banging his secretary?
Where were you last night?
What are you hiding from me?
“That was Garrett,” I finally say. “He’s upset about something with the website. It looks like he…”
Instead of saying it, I show her my phone, where the video is still playing on repeat. If a picture is worth a thousand words, a video pretty much says it all. Debbie’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Oh!” she says. “I guess Garrett really is sleeping with Sierra. So much for being a family man, huh?”
I keep my gaze trained on her face, watching for her reaction. “He thinks you’re the one who posted the video.”
“Does he?” She laughs. “What does he think? That I hid a camera in his office months ago to get something I could someday use to embarrass him?”
“Uh, not in so many words…”
“Well, that’s a little ridiculous.” She cocks her head at me. “Don’t you think?”
I don’t know what to say to that. “He wants you to take it down. He says they already lost a bunch of advertisers. And he’s worried his wife will see it.”
Debbie gives the video one last look, then hands my phone back to me. “I’m sure somebody already sent his wife an email letting her know about the video.”
“You…you think so?”
“Oh yes.” She bobs her head. “And as for getting it down, I’m sure that somebody from tech support can reset the password for him. That man spirals into a panic far too easily.”
“Debbie.” I swallow a hard lump that has formed in my throat. “You weren’t the one who… I mean, did you…”
For a moment, she just stares at me. My head is still pounding, but all I can do is stare back into my wife’s brown eyes. I’ve known her for nearly half my life, but I’m starting to wonder if I know her at all.
What have you done, Debbie?
Just when I can’t stand it another second, she pipes up, “Of course not! Where would I even get a video like that?” Then she smiles at me. “I’m starving. Do you feel like pancakes?”
“Uh, sure.”
She’s still humming to herself as she gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen to make us breakfast.
After Debbie is gone, my gaze drops to the small pad of paper by the bed.
If I had any delusion that what happened last night was some sort of wild dream, the address scribbled in my handwriting indicates otherwise.
I stare at my writing for a moment, not sure what to do.
I was so tired when I wrote it, the street name is nearly impossible to make out.
It seems to say “Main” but just as easily could say “Maple” or something completely different.
I rip the paper from the pad and stare at it for a moment. And then, for reasons I can’t entirely explain, I stuff the piece of paper into the top drawer of the nightstand before heading for the shower.