Chapter 21 Lindy
Lindy
Typically, Lindy went into David’s Cranston home office only to vacuum, so it was a bit strange to be in the room at all,
let alone with Eli sitting in the big leather chair at David’s PC, clicking the mouse to peruse David’s internet search history,
and Emma on her knees digging through files in the bottom desk drawer.
David hadn’t had a password on the computer, so they’d been able to get right in. That had to be a good sign, right? That
he wasn’t trying to hide anything?
“What are we looking for here, Mom?” Eli said.
Lindy didn’t know. She thought of Tiffany in that gold dress, the warm smile up at David. “Well, I know he hasn’t used our
joint credit card or our debit card in the last few days.” She had called again about both this morning, and there were still
no new charges. “Let’s see if we can find out if he has another credit card that I don’t know about.”
As Eli clicked through screens, Lindy noted absently that the room’s maroon walls and faux wood blinds felt dated and dark, and the Persian-style rug was threadbare.
How had she let it go for so long? She was always tackling different rooms in the house; she liked to think she’d mastered low-budget “complete updates.” She’d throw on a fresh
shade of paint, pick out new curtains, rugs, lamps, throw pillows, “artwork” from the bins at TJ Maxx. “And voila!” she’d
tell her family.
A couple months ago, when Lindy had hosted book club, her friend Samantha had so loved what Lindy had done in every room that
she’d offered to create a job for her at the interior design studio she owned. They’d chatted about it for a while in the
corner of the crowded kitchen as they sipped wine. Lindy had confessed wistfully about the hours she’d spent in the period
rooms at the Met as a teenager, about her love for color, for the stroke of a pencil against paper, and for the satisfying
feel of a pile of fabric swatches in her hand. But, she’d told Samantha, there was simply no way she could take on a job.
She was far too busy with her family, and especially with planning the summer’s events.
Now it seemed she should have been putting at least some of her recent time and energy into updating David’s office. It was
jarring to realize that, in her quest to create the perfect home, she had neglected her husband’s space entirely. Had it been
that she just hadn’t wanted to horn in? Or was it symptomatic of a larger neglect—her overall failure to focus on him?
She hated to think it. Even more than that, she hated to think: Would David ever be back in this room again?
Ten minutes later, Eli found it in the history: David had visited a site for Chase Bank. “That has to be it,” Lindy said.
She knew nothing about any Chase card. “Em, is there a file for Chase Bank in that drawer?”
Emma, cross-legged on the floor with a pile of files in her lap, flipped through them. “No.”
“Does he have his passwords written down somewhere?” Eli asked.
“I don’t know,” Lindy said, feeling foolish. How could she be so disconnected from her own life? So ignorant of its details? Had she imagined that nothing would ever happen to David, that he would just take care of this side of life forever?
If she had, it had been the epitome of wishful thinking.
Eli lifted the keyboard to peer underneath it. Nothing. He opened Excel and found that only one spreadsheet had been recently
accessed, one titled “Movies We’ve Watched.” (Lindy hadn’t known David kept a record of that.) Eli opened Word and searched
for a document called “passwords,” but nothing came up.
“He’d probably write them down on paper,” Lindy guessed. “Not on the computer.” She opened the top desk drawer in front of
her. A wooden insert kept the contents neatly organized: pens and pencils, paper clips, Post-its, batteries of various sizes,
old phone cords and chargers bound with twist ties, a tiny tape measure. She lifted the insert, but there was nothing underneath
except a blue Post-it with 32843 written on it. Could that be a passcode? If so, for what? She peeled the Post-it off the drawer’s bottom and replaced the
insert.
Eli was searching the middle drawer. It was less organized, a jumble of opened mail, takeout menus, brochures and maps of
places they’d been. “Let me look at that stuff,” Lindy said, and Eli gathered it up and handed the loose pile to her. On top
was a car insurance statement and an envelope from Lifespan. A bill? Which one of the family had been to the doctor lately?
Lindy couldn’t remember any recent appointments—
“Here,” Eli said. From the small drawer above where Emma was searching, he held up a tiny purple notebook. “This is it.” He
flipped through. “They’re not in any order. Like he just jots them down when he opens a new account.”
“Try toward the end, then.”
He finally found it—Crustacean25—and typed it in. The Chase site opened. “Okay, this card has been open for about three months, looks like. It’s got an intro
zero-percent rate for twelve months and a balance of fifty-two-hundred dollars.”
“Fifty-two hundred dollars?” Lindy’s mouth was dry. That was almost as much as David made in a month, as far as she knew.
“In three months? What are the charges?”
Though she didn’t really want to look, she glanced over Eli’s shoulder and saw that most of the charges were wedding-related. And then, she read the last, thrilling charge: “Thirty-two nineteen at the Kennebunkport rest area on Saturday, July twenty-fourth!”
“He stopped for gas in Kennebunkport!” Eli looked up, eyes bright. It was the first clue they’d found in all these hours and
days that David was even still alive.
“Really?” Emma stood to look, a sheaf of papers in her hands.
“It means he definitely was heading for The Cove, and he definitely made it safely that far!” Lindy said.
“So, like, what does this mean?” Emma said. “Do we need to get back to Maine and keep looking up there?”
“We’re here now,” Lindy said. “Let’s keep looking!”
But as Eli clicked through more screens and Emma sat back down to continue sifting through files, Lindy’s excitement began
to fade.
What was David trying to hide? Why did he have this whole separate, secret account?
He’d said not to worry about the wedding expenses, or the expenses for the other parties; to get whatever she and Hailey wanted.
He had it covered, he said.
But if he’d had to open an interest-free account, it seemed that wasn’t true.
What else had he been lying to her about?
Her stomach whirred. She grabbed the Lifespan envelope off the stack from the middle drawer and pulled out the folded paper
from inside.
It was a letter from David’s primary doctor, dated June 25, referring him to a cardiologist for an EKG due to heart palpitations
and shortness of breath. The letter said not to delay, because the symptoms David had been experiencing could be a sign of
a serious heart condition.
Heart palpitations? A serious condition?
David had said nothing about any of this to Lindy. She almost could not believe it could be true, and that she would know
nothing about it.
Had he made a follow-up appointment? Had an EKG? She rifled through the stack from the middle drawer but saw nothing else from Lifespan. Goddamn it, David. She’d gotten several notices in the mail from Lifespan inviting her to set up an online portal to access test results, but
she hadn’t taken the time. She was sure he wouldn’t have set one up for himself, either, given his typical aversion to technology
and his concerns about privacy. Plus, she usually managed that kind of thing for their entire family.
Even so, she asked Eli to pass her the little purple notebook—she didn’t want to tell the kids that there might be reason
to worry about David’s health, too—and scanned through it.
No. Not a single note about Lifespan. That had to mean there was no online portal, no password, no way to tell whether David
had had the EKG or not. Unless he’d signed a form at the office giving her access to his records? She should call and find
out. She knew she was his emergency contact, so she probably did have access to his records.
Although that was a bit beside the point, because what this information actually told her was, if he’d stopped for a hike
on his way up to The Cove, he not only could’ve fallen and hurt himself or injured his bad knee, but he could’ve had a heart
attack somewhere back in the woods.
And if that had happened, and no one had found him by now . . .
She couldn’t finish the thought.
“Hey, Mom,” Emma said, standing with a paper in her hand. “I think you should take a look at this.” Lindy, noticing how pale
Emma looked, wondered again what had happened with Reese last night—what the girl had written in that note, why they’d fought,
and why Reese had left so abruptly. Emma had refused to explain. Now she stepped over to Lindy, holding out a statement that
said Fidelity Investments at the top. Lindy knew enough to know that this was her and David’s primary retirement account. David had assured her that
he had their retirement taken care of, too. At least, she wasn’t to worry about it.
By the time Lindy had finished reading the statement, her hand was shaking.
A month ago, the account had had a balance of just over ninety-eight thousand dollars. Two weeks ago, David had cashed in the entire account. The remaining balance was zero.
The wedding wasn’t going to cost nearly that much.
Where had David gone with ninety-eight thousand dollars?