Chapter 45

LILY-ANN

Lily-Ann frowned at the picture frame on her living room floor.

She knew the top was perfectly aligned with the door, because she’d already checked twice.

Despite that, she checked for a third time.

And sure enough, the picture was still in the right place.

Unlike herself. She felt uncomfortably out of place.

She sat and frowned at her phone, at the “Mrs. B is missing” updates buzzing every few seconds.

“You want to check See’s Candies?” Anthony stepped in from the kitchen in his flour-dusted apron. “You know how she feels about peanut crunches.”

“I’m not upset about Mrs. B,” Lily-Ann said.

“No?”

She looked up at him. “No.”

“She’s missing.”

“She’s fine. I’m just … agitated.”

“Why?”

She didn’t want to tell him, because despite years of therapy she didn’t entirely embrace the theory that talking about your problems helped with them.

It was like thinking that talking about dinner sated your appetite.

Plus, she wasn’t comfortable needing that sort of back-and-forth.

Though, what else had she paid all those therapists for?

And say what you will about Lily-Ann Novak, she tried.

“What exactly do we know about Frank DeYoung’s death? The cause, if we trust the police. The time and location. Two eyewitnesses claim CJ pushed him, but eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable.”

“Okay,” he said.

“What I’m trying to say is proof is difficult. Proof is specific and fragile. However, suspicion lingers. Consequences linger. And the opposite of innocence isn’t always guilt.”

“I don’t understand.”

She took a breath. Yeah, she needed to try a little harder than that. “I’m talking about the last time, about—”

To her relief, her phone buzzed again. She happily fell silent and checked the screen.

Hamilton was notifying the group chat that there hadn’t been any emergency medical admittances that day.

So Mrs. B wasn’t lying injured in a hospital bed.

Everyone else on the group chat expressed relief, but Lily-Ann wasn’t surprised.

She suspected she knew exactly where Mrs. B had gone, and why.

And if she was correct, she expected that she’d return shortly.

“Lil,” Anthony said, crouching in front of her, his heavily muscled forearms resting on her knees.

“You’re all floury,” she said, watching the dust swirl from his apron. “I’ll need to vacuum.”

“I know,” he said.

She put her palm on his arms, to feel his strength. “Waverly called.”

“Your sister-in-law.”

“Ex-sister-in-law.”

“Again?”

“Twice this morning.”

“Did she say anything new?” he asked.

Lily-Ann frowned at the picture frame. “No, it was the same as always: Piotr is in prison because of me. Their family is broken because of me. Which is not entirely unfair.”

“He tried to kill you,” Anthony said.

“I know.”

“He got off easy.”

“I know.”

He eyed her flatly and waited for her to continue.

“Waverly and her mother believe Piotr tried to kill his controlling, estranged ice queen of a wife. That they believe. But they also believe he’s incapable of killing anyone else, and that I’m fully capable of framing him.”

“He got off easy,” Anthony repeated, in his rumbling voice.

“I don’t feel bad about Piotr. I don’t. But his mother and sister treated me okay and I … I put Piotr in jail for the rest of his mom’s life. And they suspect me.”

Anthony’s face blanked at the pain in her voice. His hands flexed by his side. One thing she’d learned about him was he didn’t hold on to tension when he felt the urge to lash out; he became looser, more relaxed.

“Don’t you dare get involved,” she told him.

He ducked his head in acceptance, and she watched the muscles in his neck and shoulders moving under his inked skin.

“I hate that they hurt you,” he said.

“I like that you hate that.”

“Trust yourself.” He put his palm against her cheek. “Trust yourself half as much as I trust you.”

He meant about the decisions she’d made to protect her friends. And about her ability to remain undetected no matter what Piotr’s family suspected. She started to tell him that she’d try when her phone buzzed again.

Ocean

She’s back

The old bat

Hamilton

Where was she?

Sophie

Is she ok?

Nicholas

She’s fine

Sophie

How would you know?

Nicholas is sitting two inches from me

pretending he knows things

Ocean

He’s right

Nicholas

Ocean wouldn’t call her an

old bat if she wasn’t fine

Ocean

She’s worse than fine. She’s

pleased with herself like the cat

who ate the canary

Hamilton

Is the canary in that adage the

same one who is in the coal mine?

Nicholas

You think there’s a cat in the

coal mine?

Hamilton

If so, ‘the cat who ate the canary in the

coal mine’ would refer to feeling

smug about impending disaster.

Sophie

There’s probably a German word

for that.

Anthony

Gld shook

Nicholas

Mein gott, Anthony, I didn’t know

you spoke German.

Lily-Ann looked up to see Anthony wincing at his phone.

“‘Glad she’s okay,’” he translated.

“Maybe stick to emojis?” she suggested.

“I don’t understand them. Riley told me the smiley is sarcastic.”

She texted as she spoke. “No one ever misinterprets a thumbs-up.”

Lily-Ann

Anthony and I are glad

she’s okay

Hamilton

So where did she disappear to?

Ocean

She won’t tell me.

Ocean

Says she’ll show us tonight

at Hamilton’s house?

Hamilton

Sounds great. With rings on your

fingers and bells on your toes.

Lily-Ann

Anthony is baking baguettes

as we speak.

Hamilton

Oooh! I’ll make Italian sodas.

Anyone like any flavor more

than Spicy Lavender?

Nicholas

Yes.

Hamilton

How about Salted Egg Yolk?

Nicholas

I cannot tell if you’re joking.

Hamilton

Custard-y!

Anthony looked at Lily-Ann. “You still think you know where Mrs. B went?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

And while she knew that this didn’t reflect well upon her, she was relieved.

She wanted to think about Frank DeYoung’s murder, about CJ’s guilt, about this new cast of suspects.

About why anyone would kill a good man with only a few years left.

Because that was so much better than thinking about having framed her ex-husband.

She didn’t say that, though. She just watched Anthony as he labored over his phone for two minutes, then sent her a thumbs-up.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.