Chapter Twenty-Seven
TWENTY-SEVEN
The trill of the doorbell pierces my sleep.
I sit upright, heart racing, my mind swimming in a fog of confusion.
The throbbing in my head that sent me to a darkened room an hour ago has lessened slightly but is not gone.
Fumbling for my phone, I squint at the time—almost six PM.
Two missed calls from Miguel and a text message about takeout.
My fingers hover over the screen as I recall Jo’s words earlier in the day.
I need Miguel to come home.
I need to ask him what Jo meant.
I need to tell him about the blood in the basement.
But instead of telling him that, I text him that takeout sounds good.
When the doorbell rings again, I drag my leaden body to the front door and pull it open to see Finn standing in the early-evening sunlight, his expression unreadable.
“Oh, hi.” I rub my eyes, trying to focus.
“Did I wake you?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“No. Yes. It doesn’t matter. Come on in.” My movements are mechanical as I snatch the mail from the mailbox before shutting the door. In the kitchen, I toss the stack onto the island with a dull slap and stumble toward the sink, desperate for water. “Anything for you?”
“I’m set, thanks.”
His eyes follow me as I gulp down the water. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not sure if I told you, but I got a concussion on Saturday night. It makes me tired.”
“I can come back. I should have texted. I was just on the way home—”
“No, no, I’m glad you’re here.” I sound eager for company, and I realize I am. Especially his. After that conversation with Jo, I just want to talk to someone sympathetic. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m good. I just wanted to tell you that I checked, and Autumn wasn’t home the weekend that Yumi saw someone go to her house. So, whoever it was, they must have been visiting Tori Price.”
“I’m sorry, I just woke up. Walk me through this.”
“No, it’s me, I’m talking fast because I feel like I’m onto something.
” His fingers drum an anxious rhythm on the countertop.
“I have this theory, and it sounds crazy to even say it out loud, but what if she was having an affair with someone in the neighborhood? Tori, I mean. And whoever killed Autumn actually meant to kill Tori that night. Not Autumn. Did I tell you that when Autumn was killed, she was wearing Tori’s robe? ”
My breath catches. “How do you know that? Was that in the police report?”
“I saw her wearing it. I think I told you that I was FaceTiming with her before she answered the door. She told me she’d be right back. That one of the neighbors was at the door.’”
I let this sink in, what it must have been like for Finn to be on a FaceTime call when Autumn was killed. How it must have magnified the whole trauma of losing her a thousandfold. “And you think whoever shot Autumn thought she was Tori,” I say quietly.
He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve always wondered that. And now I can’t help but think, maybe it was an affair gone wrong. And the killer came through the hedge in the yard. So someone who lives in Eastbrook. I mean, who else would know about the hole in the hedge?”
I think of the men who live nearby. Shawn and Daniel, of course. A few other dads. They are all committed family men. “I can’t picture any of the guys I know doing this. But I checked Jo’s Insta and she and Daniel were at a neighborhood party the night Autumn was killed.”
He shakes his head and sits at the counter, accidentally knocking the mail to the floor.
“Sorry,” he says, bending down, hands visibly shaking.
“I’m just nervous.” He scoops up the scattered envelopes and places them back on the counter with unnatural precision.
“That’s why I need to talk to Tori. I need to find out if she was seeing someone and who it was. But I don’t want to go alone.”
“I would go with you,” I say, trying to ignore the warning bells clanging in my head. “But we don’t know where she lives.”
“Actually, I do.” A flash of triumph crosses his face. “I got her address today from a friend. Well, a friend of a friend. She lives in an apartment in Chevy Chase.”
“Wow. Nicely done.” My admiration is genuine despite the unease churning in my gut.
“So you’ll go with me?”
“You don’t mean now, right?” I’m too wiped out tonight to confront a woman about the married man she was sleeping with.
He laughs. “No. I meant tomorrow.”
The front door bursts open and Miguel and Rachel spill into the foyer, their laughter filling the house. Miguel carries a Chipotle bag into the kitchen while Rachel clutches the nub of a burrito wrapped in foil, sauce smeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Hi, Mom! We brought you food, but I ate mine in the car. I was so hungry.” She stops short when she sees Finn, her body language shifting instantly. “Hi.”
“Honey, this is Finn. He lives in the neighborhood.”
“Hi, Finn,” she says in a grown-up voice I haven’t heard her use before. And I remember in a flash—she’s eighteen. A woman. When did that happen? While I was looking the other way. “I’m gonna shower and then I was going to head over to Aida’s, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face. This is her last night here before she heads off to camp for six weeks, and she wants to spend it out with her friends. “Sounds fun.”
“Don’t stay out late,” Miguel says as he unpacks the rest of the food on the counter. “We have a long drive tomorrow.”
“I won’t.” Rachel kisses me on the cheek. “Nice meeting you!” she calls as she rushes out of the room.
Miguel opens the cupboard door and hesitates. “You joining us for dinner? There’s plenty.”
That’s the Miguel I fell in love with, spontaneous and warm.
Finn shakes his head. “I better get going. What time should I come by tomorrow?”
“How about eleven?” I ask. “I’ve been getting started pretty late these days.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Miguel asks.
“Oh, I’m going with Finn to see that woman who used to live in that house behind the Allards. The one where that young nanny was killed.” I shoot Finn a glance.
“Why?”
The word hangs in the air for a moment. It’s a reasonable question, but the look on Miguel’s face makes me think he is gearing up for a fight.
I don’t want to tell him that it’s because Finn asked me to.
For some reason, I feel protective of Finn, and irritated that Miguel thinks I owe him an explanation.
“I think he’d like some company.” It’s an elusive answer. We both know it.
“Yeah, I got that part,” Miguel says. “But why are you going to see her in the first place?”
“Because Finn wants some answers. And you know what? So do I.”
“I think I better get going,” Finn says. “And look, if you can’t come tomorrow, that’s fine—”
“No, I’m coming with you,” I say, more sure than ever. “I have a theory that this is all connected to Van—”
“Van?” Miguel barks out the word. “Now you’re dragging Van into this? Caren, this has to stop.”
I spin to face him. “I’m not dragging Van into anything. He was there. All along.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely going to go.” Finn begins backing out of the kitchen. I’m embarrassed he had to see Miguel and me argue, but I know somehow that he won’t hold it against me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I call after him. “Eleven o’clock.” I hope he can hear the resolve in my voice. Then I turn back to Miguel. “I saw Jo. I asked her about the bracelet. She basically admitted that Van had been breaking into people’s houses. And she was really rude to me.”
“Caren, look—”
“No. Let me finish. When I was talking to Jo, or more like getting yelled at by Jo, she said you could explain it to me.” I pause for breath.
“I know Rachel wasn’t with Van, that she wasn’t sneaking into people’s homes, stealing, but she’s got to be involved somehow.
So tell me, Miguel, because it doesn’t add up. ”
His jaw clenches, a muscle working frantically beneath the skin. “Fine. You’re right. Rachel was involved. But I did what I did because I was trying to protect her.”