Chapter 4
FOUR
A short while later, Gabriel enters the apartment.
His jet-black hair, the same as Sadie’s, is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, thanks to his love for hair gel. As usual, his onyx eyes are slightly narrowed in that familiar way, like he’s studying something up close.
He’s wearing an expensive midnight-blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms, lightly dusted with dark hair, and the Rolex he never takes off, a gift from me two Christmases ago.
He definitely looks like a man who belongs in a courtroom, commanding everyone’s attention.
But when he kisses my lips and folds me in a hug, I think I smell it, the faint scent of alcohol on his breath. I kiss him again to make sure, but no longer smell anything. He gave up drinking three months ago, but I continue being on high alert.
After Sadie disappeared, he found comfort at the bottom of a bottle far more often than in my arms. He even snuck off to bars at night.
“Where’s the photo?” he asks, dropping his black travel bag on the floor.
Scarlett appears in the doorway with Coco at her heels. “What photo?”
I close my eyes briefly, then excuse myself to retrieve it from inside my bedside drawer, leaving the note behind.
Back in the kitchen, I find Gabriel standing in front of the fridge, holding a bottle of wine. I had asked Alice not to buy any alcohol. Seeing that bottle makes my stomach twist. It’s only half full, which suggests it was from the last time we were here, before he had a problem with drinking.
I blow out a slow breath when he quietly pours the wine into the sink.
When he turns, I give him a small smile and place the photo on the counter.
The moment Scarlett sees it, she recoils, clutching her throat. “That can’t be… Sadie?”
“I don’t know, but it looks so much like her. I think—”
“It’s fake.” Gabriel’s voice is firm and decisive, the kind he uses in court when he knows he’s right.
“How can you be so sure?” I pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher on the island and take a sip. My throat is parched.
Scarlett bends forward and studies the photo like evidence from a crime scene. “Where did you get this?”
“In the mail pile. There’s a note on the back.” I flip it over. “It says Sadie is alive, and if we want her to stay that way, we can’t go to the police.”
Scarlett inhales sharply and Gabriel frowns. “Like I said before, it’s obviously fake. It’s easy to photoshop photos these days.”
My pulse spikes. “What if it’s not? What if it’s real, Gabriel? What if Sadie is alive?”
“Don’t.” He slams his fist on the counter so hard my glass of water rattles. “We’ve been through this. She’s gone, Judy.”
Guilt and defiance war inside me. I think of the hidden note that claims he knows more than he’s admitted.
Scarlett’s voice is low but firm when she speaks. “We should at least investigate.”
Gabriel’s laughter is sharp. “No. That camp is backed by wealthy donors, politicians, lawyers. Accusing them could ruin us.” I guess since he’s a lawyer, he should know about this.
He pours himself a glass of water and downs it as though it were wine or something stronger. “You both need to think straight.”
“I’ve never been clearer,” I shoot back. “You’re the one who should think straight.”
He eyes me like I’m a stranger and not his wife. Fear, rage, and grief swirl together until I can’t stand it.
Excusing myself, I turn and flee the apartment, running barefoot down the stairs and out through the glass rotating doors.
The wind has picked up, especially on the beach. It lashes my skin and whips my hair across my face, stinging my eyes.
The waves are loud, crashing the shore with a fury that’s allowed to be unleashed without judgment while I have learned to keep mine contained even though I’d rather burn this world to the ground.
My fists clench and unclench as I march into the surf, clothes soaked in seconds, dragging me down, as the cold water swallows me inch by inch.
I don’t stop until the water reaches my shoulders, my feet barely touching the sandy bottom that starts to shift from under me, like my entire world is doing.
During the three weeks I was here after what happened, I stood in these waters every day, imagining Sadie’s body tossed by these currents, her lungs filling with this same dark water. I’ve visualized the horror a thousand times. It always got my heart racing.
This time it does the opposite. My heartbeat slows to a steady drum, and the usually vivid images in my mind are scattered and fleeting, refusing to assemble into coherence. I try again, squeezing my eyes shut so hard I see stars, but no images come. Only nothingness.
I know what this absence means.
Dragging myself back to shore, I turn to look to my right, while water streams from my soaked clothes. Through wet eyelashes, I spot them, pinpricks of yellow light from Saltspray Cove Youth Camp, glowing against the darkening sky.
My fingers flex beneath the water’s surface. I know why I no longer feel the usual knot of panic when stepping into this ocean.
When I return to the apartment, I find Gabriel waiting for me at the door with two towels. One he uses to wrap around me, and the other to dry my hair. We don’t speak as he holds me tight.
As I bury my face into his neck, I want to tell him what my heart knows, but something stops me.
It’s like I instinctively thought that night on the beach. Sadie didn’t die in those waters.
Maybe she didn’t die at all.