Everyone Here Is Lying(32)

“Does it have video capability?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to see the footage,” the detective says. “We might see something we’ve missed.”

Gwen nods and says, “Adam was outside in the back flying his drone that day, until it started to rain. But if he’d seen anything, he would have said something. And I’ve asked him. He didn’t see anything.”

“I’d still like to have a look.”

Gwen explains, “He doesn’t like anyone to touch his things—especially his drone and his laptop. He has autism; he gets upset.”

“I understand,” Detective Gully says. “But can you bring Adam and his drone and his laptop to the station when he comes home from school today?”

“Okay. Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Gwen watches the detective’s back as she walks to her car, then closes the door.



* * *



? ? ?

Gully drives back up Connaught Street and parks outside the Woolers’ house. She glances across the street at the Seton residence, thinking about Gwen Winter and how different Alice’s and Gwen’s experiences of motherhood have been.

Gully gets out of the car and approaches the Wooler residence. Bledsoe is at the station, directing the investigation. They are both inclined to dismiss as a prank the anonymous claim that Ryan Blanchard picked Avery up in his car. They have no corroboration of it, and his attorney shut them down pretty smartly. The boy seemed frightened, but who wouldn’t have been? Gully’s following up on the “boyfriend” angle. She wants to talk to Michael again. It’s just possible he might know something about this older boy, if he even exists. He might be a figment of Avery’s imagination, or a lie. Gully suspects Michael didn’t go to school today, not when it’s all over the news that his father has been questioned about his sister’s disappearance—and changed his story. Poor kid.

When Gully arrives at the Woolers’ door, Erin answers. Her face is tear-streaked and wild looking. She stands there looking at Gully for a moment as if she’s staring out from the edge of an abyss.

“What is it?” Erin asks. “Do you have any news?”

Of course, Gully thinks, she’s terrified that every time someone comes to her door, it’s to deliver bad news. Gully wonders if there will ever be good news. She says calmly, “No. Not yet. May I come in?”

Erin turns away in despair and walks inside, leaving Gully to enter and close the door behind her.

“I kicked William out,” Erin says. “He told me everything he told you—all of it.”

She looks ghastly, Gully thinks, like a tragic character in a Shakespeare play, beset by too many troubles.

Erin says, “I feel like I don’t know him at all.”

Gully feels terrible for this woman, living through the worst thing that can happen to any parent—a missing child—only to learn that her husband has been lying to her. “What did he tell you?”

Erin says wearily, “He told me he was home, that he saw Avery. That he left her here alone. That he’s been seeing another woman, and that he was with her in a motel. That’s why he wasn’t at work.”

Gully nods sympathetically. They haven’t been able to trace this woman—all they know is she has a pay-as-you-go phone, and she didn’t pick up when they’d called it from William’s burner. They’d like to talk to her, if only to see if she can help them better understand William Wooler and what might have happened that day, but he isn’t talking. After a respectful pause, Gully asks, “You don’t have any idea who it might be?”

Erin shakes her head. “No idea at all,” she says, and seems to shrink, becoming smaller in front of her.

Gully leaves the armchair and comes over to sit beside Erin on the sofa, resting a gentle arm on her shoulder. “You must be strong, Erin.”

Erin looks at her and nods. “I know. I have to think of Michael.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to him. Is he home?”

She nods. “No way he was going to school.”

Gully really wishes she didn’t have to do this. She says gently, “A friend of Avery’s told us that Avery said she had a boyfriend. Someone much older than her.”

Erin looks back at her in surprise. “A boyfriend? Hardly. She’s nine years old!” She asks, “Who told you that? Probably Jenna—Avery doesn’t really have any other friends.”

Gully says carefully, “We’re concerned that Avery may have been taken advantage of by someone older. Jenna said Avery told her they did ‘grown-up things.’ It could be that she was being molested. She was lonely, vulnerable.”

Erin looks back at her in revulsion. “My God,” she cries, “could it get any worse?” Her voice rises in despair. “What else was going on right under my nose?”

“I’m sorry,” Gully says.

“Oh God,” Erin says, “I can’t deal with this.”

“So you don’t have any idea who that might be, if it’s in fact true?”

Erin shakes her head and covers her face with her hands.

“Can I talk to Michael?” Gully asks.