This Story Might Save Your Life(88)

“Did you find anything else?”

I shake my head.

She deflates.

“Why did you lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You said you hadn’t spoken with her since Tuesday morning.”

“No. I said Xander didn’t know what Joy was planning as of Tuesday morning. I didn’t say that was the last time I spoke with her.”

“Please don’t turn this into an argument over semantics. What else did she tell you? What else do you know?”

She presses her lips together.

“Xander is dead, Luna. And Joy is missing.”

“Right,” she says. “She’s just missing.”

“Just? What the hell? What the actual hell? Is this about us? Because I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? This is dredging up a lot of shit for me too. But Luna, please. What the fuck is going on?”

Sarah’s gaze has been ping-ponging between the two of us, but now it’s fixed on my ex-wife. “Luna,” she says, stepping forward. She kneels beside the wing chair and presses a hand to Luna’s forearm. “I know it’s difficult, but I think you want to tell us.” She tilts her head in, making eye contact. “And I think you should.”

Luna visibly shrinks.

We wait.

“You have to promise you won’t tell anyone,” Luna whispers. “Not the police. Not your lawyer. Not anyone.”

Every nerve in my body is on edge. I brace myself for the worst. “What?”

“I know where Joy is.”





Joy Moore


Day Seven

Waking on the floor of Mitali’s bathroom, I try and fail to get up.

The air is heavy, so heavy my limbs can’t compete. Lights flash behind my eyes, and I wonder if the pain will ever stop.

And then all at once, everything is dark. I’m back in time. The sticky floor of the Echo. The first chords of “Lovesong” pulsing through my veins as I wake and see Benny’s lopsided smile and wild copper curls. “There you are,” he says.





Benny Abbott


Day Seven

My body explodes with adrenaline. “You what?”

Sarah squeezes Luna’s arm. “Is she okay?”

Luna nods. “She’s fine.”

“Oh my god,” I say, nearly collapsing with relief. “Where? Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Luna!”

She winces. “I just thought you’d want to know she’s okay.”

“Are you kidding? Are you fucking kidding?”

“Have you known this whole time?” Sarah asks.

Luna nods miserably.

Sarah sinks to the floor. “Why would you keep this from us?”

“She’s okay?” I ask. “Why hasn’t she told anyone where she is? Are you sure she’s okay?”

“She’s perfectly safe. I was waiting for her to come home and tell you herself.” Luna unfurls her legs and bends over, like she’s trying to keep from fainting. “I thought she would come home sooner.”

I cannot get my head around this. “Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Sarah’s on her knees now. “Why?”

“Just trust me. I can’t.”

I’m too dumbfounded to respond. She wants us to trust her.

“I don’t understand,” Sarah says. “You’re gonna let everyone keep believing she’s dead?”

“Yes. No. I can’t—I can’t tell you. If I say anything else the whole thing falls apart.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Have you been in touch with her?”

She averts her eyes.

I’m struggling to keep from losing it. “How do you know she’s okay?” I remind her that Joy’s health is delicate. That she might run out of medication. When she doesn’t answer, I ask again. “How do you know?”

“There’s a woman checking on her.” She finishes the sentence with an upturn, as if she’s not entirely certain what she’s saying is true. Wringing her hands, she adds, “She would come back if she wasn’t well.”

“Luna.”

“She can leave whenever she wants. No one’s holding her hostage.”

Every blood vessel in my body feels set to burst. Perhaps this is what Sarah sees when she glances up at me because she stands and rubs my back. “He’s not going to let it drop.”

Luna shakes her head. “Even if I told you, they wouldn’t let you inside.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Sarah says.



* * *



WE HAVE TO lose the paparazzi first, so Sarah legs it alone to her car while Luna and I slip through the back door of the detached garage. I hide under a blanket in the cramped cargo area of her Honda, hoping a few photographers will remain put if they believe I’ve stayed behind.

Luna reverses swiftly, then whips into drive, accelerating so rapidly I whack my head against the back door.

“Sorry!” she calls back.

“Is anyone following you?”

“Just one. No, two.” She speeds around a curve and I whack my head again. “Sorry—hold on.” She does this a few more times before we get onto what I’m guessing is Highway 101. “Okay, we’re good,” she says.