“Okay,” Addie finally said, jutting her lower lip out a little, as though she were a disappointed child. “All I want you to know is that I’m on your side, just like I was on Richard’s side. And that I wanted to meet you, that’s all, and I also wanted to tell you the reason that Richard brought that bomb to that investigator’s office was because he knew everything. He knew about what the two of you did to your husband and that slut he was seeing, but he also knew about other things. Richard told me that Henry Kimball knew all about Kennewick, what you two did at the Windward Resort.”
The woman paused, and Joan tried to keep the surprise and fear off her face. She hadn’t expected to hear anything about Maine. She took a deep breath that she hoped looked like exasperation, and said, “I’m sorry, Addie, but it’s clear that Richard told you a lot of made-up stories. I’m not angry at you for believing them, but just know that I’m telling you the truth. And now I’m going to walk back to my car and go home.”
Joan began to walk, but Addie stayed by her side, saying, “I knew you’d say that. I get it. I really do. But just know that I want to be your friend, that I want to help you. And I know a way I can get rid of Henry Kimball for good.”
Joan spun, her jaw frozen, and finally let herself yell. “Hey, freak,” she said. “Fuck off.” Then she turned and kept walking, and the woman stayed where she was. When Joan was back in the parking lot she got into her car, still in a rage, and began to pull out of the lot, but then stopped in front of the green Subaru, the only other car in the lot. Was this that woman’s car? It was registered in Massachusetts, and there were two bumper stickers on the back, one an obama biden sticker and one that said no farms, no food. The car didn’t exactly fit the woman that Joan had just been talking with. Addie Logan had also not emerged from the woods yet. Had she parked in the other lot? And if so, why?
Joan pulled out on the road and headed for home, her head spinning. She calmed herself by trying to think logically about the situation. What exactly had she learned? One thing was certain and that was that the woman calling herself Addie Logan must have truly known Richard Seddon, and that Richard had confided in her about what they’d done together. How else would she have known about Kennewick and the Windward Resort? For the moment Joan put aside her feelings about that, the hurt she felt that Richard had betrayed her, and concentrated on what he might have told Addie, and if any of it could be proved. Obviously, it could be proved that she and Richard were at the Windward Resort at the same time, there when Duane Wozniak had drowned. But so what? No one could prove they had met, or talked, or planned anything. And it was the same with their time in high school. Richard was friends with James Pursall, and James had killed Joan’s ex-friend Madison. But, again, so what? It was all just speculation.
Joan was more worried about what would happen if the police discovered that it was Richard Seddon who had committed the murders of her husband and Pam O’Neil. Richard had no connection with either of them. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had gone to high school with her husband, and that was a connection. But he’d also gone to high school and elementary school with Joan. And then they’d figure out that they’d been at the Windward Resort together. They’d piece it together.
Back at her house, Joan paced, still wearing her quilted Burberry coat. She told herself to calm down, took the coat off, and got herself a glass of wine. Then she went to her computer and did a search for Addie Logan, along with Addison Logan, not coming up with anything that seemed related to the woman she’d met. But that didn’t mean that Addie Logan wasn’t for real. She was clearly a weirdo, with those creepy tattoos on her thighs, and that haircut. How had she met Richard in the first place? It was probably some sort of gaming thing. Joan imagined that Richard was still into those types of pursuits, and Addie Logan looked like someone who would definitely be into gaming, as well, despite the fact that she was clearly in her thirties. So Richard and this woman had met and became friends, or became more than friends, and Richard told her what he’d done. And the person he’d done it with.
That was the part that was really bothering her, the part that was making her feel like she wanted to peel the skin right off her own body. She always believed that what Richard and she shared was some kind of sacred bond. And it wasn’t just that it put them in danger for either of them to talk about it, it was more than that. It was only between them. And Joan knew that Richard knew that too. So why had he told this woman Addie? Because he trusted her? Because he knew she was like him?
Joan got up and was pacing again. She felt as though everything was coming down around her. First, she’d found out from her sister that someone—obviously Henry Kimball—was asking questions about Kennewick, and now this goth chick showed up out of the blue with the same information. Did Henry have actual evidence? Was that why Richard had felt the need to go to his office with a bomb? And had Richard meant to kill himself, as well? Was it a suicide attack?
There were too many questions that Joan didn’t have an answer for, and she wondered if she even needed the answers. Maybe the smart thing to do was to play dumb and hope for the best. She and Richard had been careful, very careful. She told herself to stop thinking about it.
But that night, lying alone on the king-sized bed in her pitch-black bedroom, Joan kept going over the encounter in the woods. Maybe she should have been nicer to the strange woman, found out everything she knew. She did say that she wanted to be friends, that she wanted to help her. What exactly did that mean?
Joan had learned very early in life that there were exactly two types of people. The ones that were on your side, and the ones that weren’t. Her sister, for example, had never been on her side, probably not from the moment that Joan had been born. Joan had taken Lizzie’s specialness away from her, her position as center of her family, and Lizzie was never going to forgive Joan for that. For a while when Joan was young, her friend Madison had been on her side, someone Joan could tell anything and everything to. There was no judgment. And then, in high school, Joan had overheard some of Madison’s new friends saying how Joan hadn’t gotten her period yet, and knew, instantly, that Madison had betrayed her. And in that moment Joan had written Madison off. It had been coming for a while, to be honest. She knew that Madison was a backstabber, so she shouldn’t have been surprised when she got stabbed herself. And after that she shifted Madison into a new category, and even though they might still talk, or share some things in common, Madison was dead to her, a member of the category of “not on her side.” And by senior year she was dead to everyone else, as well.
It hurt that it turned out Richard had betrayed her. She suspected he had his reasons, but that would never change the facts. But she didn’t want to think about Richard anymore. Now she was interested in Addie Logan, who’d told her she wanted to be a friend. It was interesting. Not that she trusted this person who had come out of nowhere, but not trusting her now didn’t mean that she couldn’t trust her at some point in the future. Maybe she was for real. And if she really wanted to help her out, maybe she’d be dumb to turn that down. Because Joan did have a problem, and that problem was Henry Kimball. She’d been thinking how nice it would be if he never regained consciousness, and now she was wondering if there was a way to ensure that happened, and if Addie Logan might be an asset in that particular situation.