Selena drew in and released a rush of breath. The look on her face—bewilderment, disappointment—put a squeeze on Cora’s heart.
“Mom,” she said. Selena put a hand to her forehead. “This woman—Pearl. She approached me on the train. I don’t know why, but I told her—things about my life.”
“What things?”
“About Graham. And since then—she’s been texting me. Now Geneva is missing.”
“Oh,” said Cora, feeling the weight of it. What was the girl capable of? She’d done so much damage already.
A few weeks after she saw the girl, Cora noticed a large sum of money disappear from one of the accounts Doug thought he had hidden from her. But Cora, for all her many failings, wasn’t one of those women who didn’t pay attention to money. Doug wanted to control everything, but she always had access to accounts. She made sure of it, snooping if she had to for account numbers and passwords. She kept records; she was biding her time, hoping to launch the girls, at least to college, before she left.
On a night when Selena was off sleeping over at a girlfriend’s house, Cora confronted Doug—about the money, about the strange, hovering girl. Cora had expected the usual denials, accusations of instability, a furious exit—that was the usual way of things. This time, though, she’d already called a lawyer. She was done.
But he didn’t deny. Instead he started weeping. All his little secrets and lies, they all came out. Pearl. Another family, a woman and two children in Atlanta. A third girlfriend. It was a sickness, he said. He was seeking help.
Could she forgive him?
No. She could not. Not again. Not anymore.
Dominoes. Tip one and they all fall down. That was what happened to their life when Pearl entered. Doug’s daughter from one of his many affairs. Selena and Marisol’s half sister. She didn’t just want money. She wanted revenge. She ruined Doug—it all came out.
Now, Cora told Selena everything that she had tried to hide. All of it.
And when she was done, they sat in silence. There was only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, Selena’s breath.
“I’m sorry,” Cora said when Selena said nothing, her eyes glassy, foot bouncing. “I’m sorry I kept so many secrets from you. I thought it was for the best.”
Her words sounded weak, watery on the air.
“So,” said Selena. “Has she been watching us—watching me—all these years?”
The thought made Cora go cold. Had she?
Cora had let that part of her life fall away. In her new world, the one she built with Paulo, she’d let the past retreat into memory. Doug—his affairs, his nasty controlling ways—they faded into the distance. She rarely thought about him—or about Pearl, the lost girl who wanted to hurt her father and did.
“What does she want?” asked Selena.
“More money maybe,” said Cora. “Your father; I’m not sure he’s managed his assets well. I don’t know what he has left. If he’s been giving her money. I just don’t know.”
But even as she said it, she knew that money wasn’t what Pearl wanted. It was never what she wanted. She was a pain giver. She wanted to hurt people, acting from whatever psychic wound she carried inside. Cora saw that in the girl in the grocery store, the one hovering by the yard. And now, years later, the one on the street in front of Selena’s house. An injured animal, desperate, in pain, dangerous.
Was she stalking Selena? Had she orchestrated the encounter on the train? What did she want from Selena now?
Selena was staring at the picture on Oliver’s iPad.
“She looks like him,” Selena said. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Or I guess on some level, I did. Maybe that’s why I subconsciously hooked in to her. There’s a connection.”
A connection. Yes, Cora had felt it. A pull to that lost girl. Maybe she wanted money. Maybe she wanted to cause harm. But beneath it all, there was something more. She wanted to connect, and this was the only way she knew how.
“We should call the police,” said Cora. “Whatever game she’s running, for whatever reason, it needs to be stopped.”
“No,” said Selena, leaning forward. “Who knows what she’ll do if we call the police?”
“She’s a destroyer,” said Cora. “What if she killed Geneva? What if she wants to hurt you?”
“No,” said Selena again, grabbing at Cora’s hand. “We can’t call the police, not yet.”
“Sweetie,” said Cora. “What do you think you’re going to do, then?”
There was a look her daughter got, a stubborn set to her face.
“I’m going to find out what she wants,” her daughter said, tone cool and practical. “And then I’m going to give it to her and get our life back.”
Her daughter was delusional.
The clock chimed one. Selena wasn’t going to “get her life back.” Surely, she knew that. Her marriage was over at least. The body of a young girl had been discovered. Things weren’t going to go back to the way they were a week ago, even a day ago. And in some ways, Cora was responsible. If she’d told Selena about Pearl, she wouldn’t have been vulnerable to whatever plan the other woman had.
“How?” Cora asked.
“I—I don’t know. But what if I can give this woman what she wants—and this nightmare just goes away? Maybe that’s what she’s been trying to tell me. All of this—maybe it’s just extortion.”
Cora shook her head. Nightmares rarely went away. In Cora’s experience they usually got worse.
“She’s playing with you,” said Cora.
Selena shook her head. “I think it’s more than that.”
Cora didn’t say anything, just watched as Selena rose and took her bag from the back of the chair, still in her running clothes. She was tall, like her father, with his athleticism and strength. Cora and Marisol were petite. Maybe it was something to do with size, it made Selena bolder.
Selena picked up her phone and started to text. Cora walked behind her to see what she was doing.
I know who you are, Pearl.
So just tell me what you want.
They both waited. But no answer came.
Cora’s heart started to thump; she reached for Selena. Selena took her hand. Cora had always felt powerless against the wills of the stronger people in her life. Her throat was dry with anxiety, palms tingling.
“Don’t do this,” said Cora.
“I have to, Mom,” she said. “If you don’t hear from me in two hours, call Will, call the police. Tell them everything.”
She let go of her daughter’s hand and followed her to the door, then watched as the car glided from the drive and disappeared up the road.
THIRTY-SIX
Selena
Selena pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, where her father Doug now lived alone. She remembered once thinking the house was so big, so grand—with its white pillars and big door. But tonight, it seemed smaller. The yard, which her mother had carefully tended, was neglected, grass brown, shrubs anemic, weeds pushing up through the paving stones of the walkway. It was dark, shabby, whereas the other big houses on the block were bright with elaborate landscape lighting, meticulously maintained. Her father, getting older, must be having a hard time keeping things up. Marisol—who was closer to him—had said as much. But Selena had barely listened. Her sister forgave their father for his transgressions. Selena couldn’t—wouldn’t.