Chapter Thirty-Five
THIRTY-FIVE
As soon as the large clock on the wall at Tatte reads ten to six, Finn packs his messenger bag.
He stops at the counter for a quick goodbye to Ellis, then walks out into the heat.
The sun is still high in the sky, nightfall won’t be for a few hours, and the swamp-like humidity shows no hint of abating.
His breathing becomes labored as he climbs the steep hill of Massachusetts Avenue toward Eastbrook, sweat drenching his back. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to hew to the edge of the sidewalk where the dappled shade provides some relief from the heat.
But despite his effort at being present, anxious thoughts zap through his mind.
No matter what he told his landlady, he is scared to go to the Allards’.
If what Tori Price implied is true, if Van murdered Autumn and they gave Tori money to keep quiet, then that means Jo and Daniel are willing to go to any lengths to protect their son.
Outside the Allards’ house, he pauses to take out his cell phone, debating the merits of Paula’s plan.
He knows that Aziz would be furious if he knew what he was about to do.
Even Paula thought it was a terrible idea.
And maybe it is. But his desperation to know the truth is overpowering.
He can’t back off now, not when he is so close to an answer.
He dials Paula’s number. She answers but doesn’t say a word, all according to plan. Holding the phone in one hand, he walks up the path to the front door and knocks. “Here we go,” he says.
Jo answers the door looking cool and relaxed in a fitted black tank top and flowy pants. As soon as he steps inside, he notices the suitcases in the foyer.
“You leaving tonight?” he asks.
“Come in, Finn. Let me get you a cold drink. You look like you could use one.”
He follows her, catching a glimpse of himself in the foyer’s gilded mirror.
She’s right. He’s pink and blotchy, and he can see an actual droplet of sweat caught in his beard.
Moments like this still startle him sometimes, seeing his face fully his own.
He wipes the sweat away with the back of his hand.
In the kitchen, Jo waves him over to an oval table and offers him a glass of what looks like lemonade.
He takes it and gulps it greedily. Only when the glass is half empty does he remember that Caren’s drink was spiked at this woman’s party.
Too late, he thinks, as he takes a seat.
But he is careful to put the phone on top of the table, face down, the microphone pointed toward Jo, who sits across from him.
Just in case. If he hits the ground with a thud, Paula will hear it.
If he stops speaking altogether, Paula will notice the silence.
What she will do, he’s not sure. But he feels better knowing she is listening.
“Thanks. I needed that,” Finn says.
“It’s ghastly, isn’t it? Tomorrow is supposed to go up to ninety-seven, and it’s only June. We’re leaving at the perfect time. Summer in Washington is dreadful.”
Finn nods as if he agrees, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate the heat, as long as the air-conditioning at the library works. And he loves the way the DC area empties out in the summer, with all the rich people going to their vacation homes. “Where are you off to?”
“The south of France. We have a house there.”
For the first time, Finn realizes there is something off about the kitchen.
His eyes travel from the bookcase behind Jo’s head around the room.
It’s the same room, but dramatically stripped down.
Only a handful of books remain on the shelves, and all appliances are off the counter.
He turns to peer back at the mudroom. Even from here he can see that the giant black-and-white photo of the Allard family is gone.
It doesn’t look like the Allards are taking a trip; it looks like they’re making a move.
He turns back to Jo. “How long do you plan to be away?”
She smiles. “Well, that depends on you, Finn.”
Finn stares at her. Her face betrays nothing. She is still, her eyes locked with his. The room is entirely silent.
“Meaning what exactly?” he asks, straining to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? We both know why you took this dog-sitting job. I was as curious to meet you as you were to meet me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” His leg begins to jiggle under the table.
“Don’t you?” She tilts her head, a faint smile on her lips. “You’re Autumn’s friend. You’re the one that puts the posters up around the neighborhood. I admire you. You’ve played the long game.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“Isn’t it? Haven’t you learned yet? Life is a game, Finn. There are winners and losers. Which category do you want to belong to?”
“I know about Van. I know he had an affair with Tori Price. And I called the detective on Autumn’s case and told him everything. It’s only a matter of time until he comes to talk to Van.”
She waves her arm at the empty shelves behind her. “Look around. We’re in the process of leaving. Van’s already out of the country,” she says. “Out of reach of some cut-rate county detective. Now whether he goes to Stanford or moves abroad permanently is entirely up to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you care. I don’t mean this as an insult to your friend, but if it weren’t for you, her death would be a footnote in the lore of Eastbrook. Just a terrible thing that happened one summer day. But you’re keeping the investigation alive. Let it go, Finn. We’ll make it worth your while.”
There it is. The heart of the matter. Why he’s sitting here in her pristine kitchen. It’s so naked, her belief that money trumps everything, that he almost laughs.
“You can’t buy your way out of everything.”
She raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“Can’t I though? Open your mind, Finn, expand your imagination.
What could you do with, say, a million dollars?
You could give five hundred thousand to your mother.
She might be able to finally retire, to buy that condo she’s been eyeing for years in Carolina Beach.
Another five hundred for you would not only pay for graduate school but a place of your own, even leave a nice little cushion to take the anxiety away. ”
“How do you know about my mother?” The condo at the beach is her if I win the lottery dream.
Sometimes she’d send real estate listings to him, pointing out which bedroom would be his, where they would put the jigsaw puzzle table.
It repulses him to hear Jo talk about his mother’s most private desires.
“I know all about you,” she says. “I know that you encouraged Autumn to keep going with her little book about goblins even when she was ready to give up, that your mother has a penchant for misfit dogs, that your dream is to be a children’s librarian, preferably at the Noyes Library in Kensington, which you think looks like an English cottage. ”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I have Autumn’s laptop.” She stares at him as it sinks in, the meaning behind the words.
Only the person who killed Autumn could have her laptop.
It was one of the items supposedly stolen in the robbery.
“I have all the messages and emails you’ve sent back and forth for the past five years.
And I have all her creative writing, her short stories, her videos, her photos.
I have the digital embodiment of her life and soul. ”
“I want that laptop back. It doesn’t belong to you.”
“I know you want it back. That’s why I reached out to you. To make you an offer. Take the money. Take the laptop. And move on.”
“Move on? Your son killed someone. You don’t move on from that,” Finn says.
Jo flinches slightly. “Tell me, what good would it do to see a young man’s life ruined?
Will it bring back Autumn?” She shakes her head.
“Are you familiar with the term ‘blood money’? It’s the practice of offering the families of victims financial restitution for their loss.
They are given a choice of retaliation or restitution. I’m giving you that choice.”
“You’re trying to buy your way out.”
“I was like you once too, believe it or not. I also was the first in my family to go to college. Not just college, but law school. I believed in right and wrong, good and evil. Things were black and white. But then I got married, had children. Life is gray, Finn. Nuanced. That woman—” She tapped one finger on the table emphasizing each word.
“That woman Tori Price manipulated my son. She seduced him, toyed with him. Do you think it’s appropriate for a woman her age, a therapist no less, to sexually target a high school boy? ”
“No, of course not.”
“And do you know why she did it?” She leaned forward, and Finn was surprised to see dampness forming at her hairline. A crack in Jo’s perfect facade.
He shakes his head no.
“Because my husband rebuffed her advances. It was revenge, pure and simple. She wanted to destroy this family.”
“And that justifies murdering an innocent person? You’re insane. Your son killed someone.”
Jo stands up and smooths out her tank top over her midsection.
“We’re leaving. Maybe for the summer. Hopefully not for good, although Daniel thinks America’s best days are behind her.
He’s wanted to move for a long time, but I wanted my kids to go to college in the United States.
I still do. But if we all have to start over in Europe, so be it. ”
“The police will come after him,” Finn says, looking up at her. “Van can be extradited.”
“Unlikely. He’s a dual citizen now, like me.
And France is very protective of its citizens.
They view the American judicial system as barbaric.
They are loath to allow French citizens to be extradited, especially without a conviction.
” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Plus, there’s the matter of whether he’ll even be charged. ”
“The police have a DNA profile.” Finn pushes his chair back and stands up. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Jo sniffs at the air. “Smell the bleach? There’s not a trace of anyone’s DNA left in this house.”
She walks around the table and out of the kitchen. Finn grabs his phone and rushes after her. He catches up to her in the foyer as she is about to open the front door. On either side of her are two suitcases with wheels.
“If you leave, I’ll call the police.”
Jo turns back. “And say what? Have you dialed nine-one-one recently? Interacted with our emergency services personnel? They’ll tell you this is a nonemergency, to call three-one-one. It’s after work hours, but you could leave a message. What will you say, Finn? That a woman is leaving the country?”
“I told you, I know the detective. The one on the case. I can call him. There can’t be that many flights going to France tonight.”
She takes the large round sunglasses that are atop her head and slips them on.
“He has no authority to stop me. No one does. Besides, I’m not stupid.
We aren’t traveling commercially. By the time law enforcement even responds to you, I’ll be lifting a glass of champagne in the air.
” She takes her phone out and taps at it, then slips it back in her bag.
His phone pings.
“I sent you a link to a WhatsApp group. Once you accept, you’ll be able to see some of the select videos that Autumn had on her laptop, as well as the opening chapter of the children’s fantasy novel she was writing.
It’s quite good by the way; she had an eye for detail.
If you want the laptop, if you want the money, all you have to do is say yes. That’s all.”
“I told you, I don’t want your money.”
“You sure? It will be awful for you and your mother to be looking over your shoulders the rest of your lives, always worried that…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. “Well, that kind of stress can kill you.”
She pulls open the door and rolls the two suitcases out.
Muffinhead comes scurrying down the stairs and runs out the door after Jo.
Finn watches her load the suitcases, unsure of what to do.
“What about the dog? Am I supposed to watch him?”
Jo lowers her sunglasses and shoots him a look. “Of course not. He’s coming with me, aren’t you, Monsieur Muffinhead?” She snaps her fingers and he jumps into the back row of the SUV. “You think I’d leave my dog behind? What kind of monster do you think I am?”