“I know. I’m so sorry. It must be so hard. Have they made any progress on finding her?” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I’d just felt my breasts fill up and knew I had only a few minutes before I would need to pump in order to avoid leaking into my dress.
“Well, indeed they did,” he said sarcastically, bitingly. He seemed like a completely different person from the polished, self-possessed man I’d met at their home. “They found her rings. Covered in blood, I should add. So that’s ‘progress,’ I guess.” He threw my choice of word back at me cruelly, gripping his glass and flashing me a bitter, mirthless smile.
“What? No, that’s—that’s awful. Where did they find them?” I felt sick.
“Some mom found them down by the river, on the rocks right by the water. Her kid was exploring, I guess. She noticed the blood and called it in. They’re Isabel’s. So there’s that.” He started to turn away as if the conversation were over. But I couldn’t end it there, obviously.
“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean—I mean, at least it wasn’t, like, a limb,” I said. I was awkward even in pretty standard social situations, let alone conversations about bloody rings and dead wives, but this was a horrifying new low. At least it wasn’t a limb. God.
It didn’t seem to faze Connor. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “But something bad happened. I know Isabel, and she’s just not—” He paused and laughed, rolling his eyes slightly. “She wouldn’t leave. That’s for sure. She’s not the type.” He seemed not to mean this as a compliment, and I felt offended for her. “So now I get to live with my mother-in-law while the search continues.” He rolled his eyes again. “Kill me now.” He slammed the rest of his old-fashioned—probably half the drink—in one long open-mouthed swig, basically pouring it down his throat. In the same motion, he flagged the bartender and signaled for another. The bartender looked at us accusingly, like our association with Connor made us to blame for his behavior.
Tim spoke up. “I’m so sorry about your wife, man. That’s such a bad hand. Really, really sorry.”
He again didn’t even acknowledge Tim, keeping his gaze on me instead. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” He really was wasted. It was our second time meeting, and I’d just explained that I was in the moms’ group. Again. Tim’s grip on my lower back tightened.
“Um, well, yeah. I’m in Isabel’s moms’ group? I came by the other day with Vanessa to drop off some food?” I hoped these clues as to who I was were specific enough for him.
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess that was it.” A fresh drink was placed in front of him begrudgingly by the bartender, who gave us another wary look. Connor took a small sip and glanced around. Maybe he was finally pacing himself.
“Can I ask? Why haven’t there been any . . . missing persons alerts or anything? Maybe someone saw something that could help but they just don’t realize that she’s even missing.” I knew I was overstepping as usual but was emboldened by the cocktails I’d had, and it was clear Connor was drunk, too. Maybe I didn’t have to follow the rules.
“Well, Jenn,” he began condescendingly. “Imagine you’re an investor and you’re thinking of giving me millions of dollars of your money to invest. Would it make you inclined to do so if you knew that I had a missing wife? I’m guessing not. It’s not a great look for me, or my business. Because people always think it’s the goddamn husband. No one would care that I’m a hundred percent cleared. All they’d hear is ‘missing wife,’ and then they’d look at me as at worst a killer, at best, can’t keep my own family safe and in check. Luckily, I’m well enough connected in the media world to keep it quiet. I’ve gotten a lot of calls, but so far, everyone’s been smart enough to give me the privacy I’ve requested. At least for a few days, or until there’s more of a story.” He shook his head in disgust. “Last thing I need.” I was amazed at his ability to make all this about him.
“But . . . what if it could help her be found?” I pressed.
“Guess we’ll never know. Not a risk I can take.” He slammed his drink. Again. Tim gave me a slight but meaningful nudge that said, It’s time to go.
“Okay, well, we have to get home, but . . . I’m so sorry about the ring thing”—Ring thing? What is wrong with me?—“and please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Anything at all.”