Chapter 41
THE MORNING DAWNS GRAY AND DREARY. I HEAR VOICES IN THE FRONT room as I descend the stairs with my suitcases bumping against my legs. Alex and Ruth, their heads together, sit on the sofa. Their conversation ceases when they see me and Alex rises.
“I thought you were going to stay, Emma?”
“I really think it’s better that I get going.”
“Please. Stay awhile longer. Let me take those for you.” Alex crosses the floor. He reaches out and grabs my suitcases.
“Yes, Emma,” Ruth says, joining us in the foyer. “Your father needs you now. He needs all of us.”
Ruth and Alex exchange a look.
“Why? I don’t see how I can be of any help.”
Alex clears his throat. “Let’s sit. Please.” We sit in the front room. Me on the sofa, Alex and Ruth in the armchairs across from me.
Ruth straightens in her chair. “The police believe that something happened to Carol here. That she never left Cheshire Lake.”
Alex chews his thumbnail and takes furtive glances at Ruth.
“Maybe she did drown,” I say. “They just haven’t found her yet.”
“Of course that’s what happened,” Ruth says, her voice firm. She leans forward. “But here’s where you can help your father.”
Alex drops his hand to his lap and his eyes look at me imploringly. “You were here the same day that Carol was here, Emma, you and your mom.”
The room falls silent. My heartbeat ratchets up. “Really?” I try to inject surprise into my squeaky voice.
“Yes,” Alex says. “I didn’t say anything before. I wondered if you’d remember on your own. But now I might need you to remember.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I twine my hands together.
“What do you remember, Emma?” Ruth says. Her brow is puckered. She reminds me of a grim middle school teacher I had years ago. “That day. You must’ve seen Carol here.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember seeing her. I was really young. I barely remember anything about that day.”
Alex stands and walks to one of the tall windows. “I googled ‘what do people remember at three years old.’ Most people have some memories at that age,” he says. He turns in my direction. “You could save the day here, Emma. You could make this whole thing go away.”
I swallow. “How?”
“Tell the detectives that you remember Carol leaving this house and driving away.”
I can’t catch my breath. “But I don’t, Alex. I’m sorry.”
Ruth stands over me. “Your father needs you. It’s a small thing.” She shakes her head as if asking for a minor favor. “He’s done so much for you.” She fixes me with a stern stare. “And he’s prepared to help you in any way he can. You’re a Spencer now, don’t forget. You’re family.”
Jeffrey lurks at the doorway to the foyer. I hadn’t noticed he was in the house. His eyes follow Ruth.
Despite the chilly room, I’m sweating. I pull at the collar of my blouse.
My mind churns with swirling thoughts. An ominous fear pricks my chest. Is this what they wanted all along?
To find out what I remembered about that day.
Was I set up from the beginning from the time I contacted Alex through his website?
Did he summon me here to find out if I remembered that day so long ago?
Was I just a potential alibi should the investigation into Carol’s disappearance ever be revived?
And all my father’s care and concern for me, was it just an act?
Just a way to pull me into this family, get me on his side and in his debt.
… That thought fills my head and I feel dizzy.
I try to tamp down my feelings, pull myself together.
“I don’t see how I can help. If I tell them that I was here that day and saw Carol leave, they’ll question me closely and I’m not sure I can convince them of something I never saw.
” I hear Carol’s screams in my head. My temples pound with a rising headache.
“I mean, I want to help, but I’m not sure I can. ”
I stand. “I really think it’s best that I go to Portland now.” I walk toward the foyer. Jeffrey shrinks back as I pick up my suitcases. Alex darts to my side and I fear he’s going to rip them from my hands.
“Please, Emma. Just think about it. Stay and think about it.” He grabs my arm. “Maybe you don’t say that you saw Carol drive away, but, at the very least, you can tell them that you were here that day and everything was fine. Right?” He squeezes my upper arm. “Right?”
I drop my suitcases with a thud and try to swallow my fear.
“I didn’t see anything amiss that day, not that I remember, Alex,” I say quietly, blink away tears.
My mind whirls in a hundred different directions.
My thoughts are like scattered birds. I need to leave, to get out of here, away from these people.
My father’s face is close to mine. “You’ll tell them that, Emma? You’ll do that for me?”
My throat feels like it’s closing up. “Yes, of course,” I say. But I won’t. I won’t stay here and talk to the police or anybody else. I just want Alex to back off, leave me alone.
Ruth stands at my other side. She pats my shoulder. “Let’s go over to my place. I’ve got a fresh blueberry pie. We’ll have tea.” Her voice is suddenly soothing; the sweet grandmother is back.
Alex drops my arm and stands back. “Yes. Let’s all calm down and think this through, okay?” He smiles, a shadow of that famous author smile.
I feel penned in, caught like a rabbit in a trap. I’ll go and have tea, try to reassure them that all is well. That I’ll do what he asks. Then I’ll get into my car and leave.
We march next door. Alex is suddenly animated and talking about his book event for the following week. He seems able to turn his emotions off and on like throwing a switch.
Ruth buzzes around the kitchen taking out her fancy tea things like it’s a special occasion. Larry comes in through the back door, his hands dirty. Ruth runs him out of her kitchen. Admonishing him. Telling him to wash in the cellar bathroom.
I sit at the table. Out the window I see Jeffrey heading for the garage.
“So, Emma. Is your manuscript ready to send to Barry?” Alex asks, sipping his tea.
“Almost,” I croak. That’s the last thing on my mind.
“Well, let me know when you finish. I can read it over before you send it to him. See if I can give you any pointers, but from what I’ve already read, you don’t need my help.
” His smile crinkles up his eyes. His good humor seems to be completely restored.
The possibility of having me free him from blame in Carol’s disappearance seems to have turned me into the golden child.
But the swing in emotions in the last ten minutes leaves me reeling.
I make it through tea and pie, listening to Alex talk about his career, the famous people he knows and can introduce me to. Nothing he says penetrates my thoughts, which are all about Carol and what happened to her that day.
Finally, Alex stands, thanks Ruth for the tea, and he and I head back to Spencer House. Alex then retreats to his office, while I head back upstairs, pretending I’m going to work on my novel.
From Mary’s room I listen at the door. All is quiet downstairs.
I tiptoe down the staircase and hear Alex talking on his phone behind his closed office door.
This is my chance. I leave a note on the foyer table.
Sling my laptop bag over my shoulder, pick up my suitcases, and quietly head out the door.
A smudge of dirt is on the handle of my car door.
Strange. I open the back seat door and set my suitcases and computer inside.
I slide into the driver’s seat and slowly close the door, trying not to make too much noise.
I place my keys in the cupholder, glance up at the houses.
Ruth’s place looks quiet, and Spencer House sits still in the light rain.
I push the ignition button. Nothing happens.
I take my foot off the brake, try again. Nothing.
I glance up and see Alex in the front room window.
Tears catch in my throat. I’m stuck here.
I start to panic, my heart hammering so hard I think it will burst. He did this.
He did something to my car. And now I’m stuck here with him.
I wipe tears from my face and look back up at the window.
Alex is gone. The front door opens and he’s striding toward my car, his expression unreadable.
I close my eyes, frightened of what he’ll do next.