“Isn’t it possible,” she said, “that Geneva just took off? Maybe she met someone? Got tired of the childcare gig? I mean, there’s no indication that anything happened to her, per se.”
“At this point,” said the detective, “anything is possible. The car is worrisome, though. Why would she leave her car?”
She supposed there were a hundred reasons people did things, reasons that might never occur to people who were grounded in their lives. People who locked their doors and protected their identities, who worked to pay bills, who saved for their children’s educations—who didn’t sleep with other people’s husbands, then blackmailed those men into buying them cars.
Seems like the police should be more interested in the Tucker family than they were in the Murphy family, but she wasn’t going to say that. She wasn’t going to throw another family under the bus to deflect attention from her own. Or would she? If it came to that.
“From what I’m getting,” said Will now, bringing Selena back to the present, “they really don’t have anything to go on. Geneva is missing, but there’s no evidence of foul play. At this point, she might just be your run-of-the-mill con artist. Working her way into families, taking what she can get from them and moving on. Maybe the Tucker woman found out about the car, confronted her. Maybe Geneva figured she might not get much from Graham. It was time to move on.”
The three of them sat there—Graham staring off into space, Will and Selena locking eyes.
“Is anything missing from your place? Jewelry? Cash? Pills?”
Selena shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ll check.”
Will shifted in his seat, tapped his finger on the wood surface of the table.
“My guess is that if no further evidence of foul play falls into their laps, her body doesn’t turn up, they’ll have to move on.”
“Her body turns up?” said Selena, shocked. “What kind of thing is that to say? She’s a person.”
He lifted his palms.
“I’m just saying,” he defended. “Unless that happens, there’s not a whole lot they can do. It’s not a crime to walk away from your life. And as for the blackmail, the car, all that—it’s Tucker’s word against hers. She could say it was a gift.”
“What if they come with a warrant—want to search our computers, or the camera app?” said Graham.
“They likely won’t do that unless we’re talking about a murder investigation—which we’re not at the moment. If that happens, we’ll have to revisit, decide whether we want to come clean about the affair rather than let them discover it in a search and seizure.”
“So then—what?” asked Selena.
“The hardest thing,” said Will. “Go about your business and wait to see what happens next. Unless the sister keeps applying pressure, or the media becomes a factor, or there’s a further development, I’m betting this just goes away.”
She felt a little burst of hope.
Don’t you wish your problems would just go away?
Maybe they did sometimes.
Graham looked like he was going to be sick. Finally, he got up and left the room. Selena heard him flop onto the couch. A second later, the television came on. She looked at Will, those stormy eyes unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
“I should go,” he said finally.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you for this,” she said at his car. “And I’m sorry. Sorry to drag you into the mess of my life.”
The air was cool and the wind blustery, the tall oaks up and down the street whispering. Lights in neighborhood houses glowed, the picture of warmth and security.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” he said, leaning on the hood of his sleek black late-model BMW. “You deserve better than this, Selena. So do the boys.”
She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her middle, not trusting her voice. She looked back at her own house—empty of her children, her cheating husband lying on the couch inside. What had she wanted when she was younger? What had she imagined? Nothing like this.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. His voice was soft and deep.
“I don’t know.”
He put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m here for you,” he said. “You know that. We’ve been friends a long time and that hasn’t changed. It won’t.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
There was still a pull to him; that connection, that attraction, it never went away. She just chose someone else. And that’s all life was—a series of choices and their consequences. What was it about Graham? He was wild, where Will was staid. He connected her to the part of herself that wanted to take risks—like skydiving, and zip-lining. Will had his feet planted firmly on the ground and wanted her to stay there, too. Will had always been the one who pushed her—to do better in school, to get a good night’s sleep, to work out. Graham would party all night—they’d go to clubs, get home in time for a catnap and a shower before heading to work. Life with Graham was fun—last-minute trips to Vegas, lavish dinners, shopping sprees that neither of them could afford. Will was predictable, always did the right thing. He saved, hated debt, only bought what he could afford.
She chose Graham, for reasons that seemed right at the time. Reasons that seemed childish now. She wanted to live on the edge, push the boundaries, walk on the wild side while she was young. She hadn’t been ready to settle into a life where she already knew the beginning, the middle and the end. Graham lit her up. She’d loved him wildly. She’d loved Will, too. It was just—different.
“I met someone the other night,” she said. Will’s expression made her clarify.
“No,” she said. “Not like that. On the train the other night, I met a woman.”
He issued a little laugh. “I’ve heard that one before, too.”
“Stop,” she said with a smile. “She’s been—texting me.”
A frown. “What about?”
She tried to explain the encounter to him, the odd energy, why she felt compelled to tell this stranger about her life, what the woman had revealed to her. How she’d been ignoring the texts that arrived.
“Did you give her your number?”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t. I don’t even remember giving her my last name.”
Will’s frown deepened. “That’s odd.”
“I’m just telling you because—there is someone out there who knows about Graham. Or knows that I suspected him of being unfaithful.”
He nodded carefully. “What was her name?”
“Martha. I didn’t get her last name. I blocked her the first time. But the later texts came from a different number. It was almost like she knew I blocked her.”
She handed Will her phone and he scrolled through the texts.
After a moment, he shrugged.
“Ghost her. Certainly don’t engage.”
“What do you think she wants?”
“Maybe nothing,” said Will. “Maybe she’s just looking for a friend.”