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Mother of All Secrets(80)

Author:Kathleen M. Willett

When the clock struck eleven, I got out of bed and picked up Clara to give her a quick “dream feed,” filling her belly before my departure, buying myself a few all-but-certain hours. I hoped that if Tim woke up while I was gone, whether because of Clara or otherwise, and I wasn’t there, he’d assume I went for another late walk, and that’s exactly what I would tell him if necessary.

As Clara nursed, her eyes closed, I closed mine, too, and said a silent prayer, though I didn’t really know who I was praying to, not being particularly religious. Please let this be the right decision. Please let this be okay. Please let me come back to my daughter and husband.

I put Clara back in her bassinet, still sleeping, and silently changed out of my pajamas into black leggings and a black Under Armour long-sleeved shirt. I crept out of our bedroom as quietly as possible, mouthing “I love you” one more time to both Tim and Clara as I left.

I hated how much it felt like a final goodbye.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Monday, October 12

It wasn’t even midnight, but the quietness of the streets outside made it seem much later, and the fact that all the stores were closed rendered the neighborhood practically unrecognizable to me. I wasn’t used to being out at this hour anymore. New York is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, but Upper West Siders didn’t abide by that rule. There were a few people out, a few bodegas open, but I walked an entire block without passing a soul. I was reminded of Isabel’s cover story about not finding a taxi, not being helped by anyone as she struggled along the street with her bleeding hand; maybe it had been more plausible than it had sounded.

As I neared Isabel’s apartment, I saw Selena approaching from the other direction. She paused, waiting for me to catch up with her so we could walk in together. She was wearing all black, just like me, as we’d agreed. As I got closer, I saw that her eyes were puffy and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.

“You okay?” I asked quietly, looking around. I didn’t want us to be seen going into Isabel’s. We had to be quick.

“I can’t do this, Jenn,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

My stomach dropped. I glanced around again, nervously. “We have to,” I whispered back simply. Who are you? Where is this steady voice coming from? I liked it. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed. “I’ve got you.”

To my surprise, she closed her eyes and nodded, and we ascended the stairs grasping hands. I silently and fervently hoped that I wasn’t steering her wrong.

Vanessa opened the door as we reached the top step. The slender door handle I’d once thought looked so stylish and inviting now appeared ominous and foreboding, like a weapon. We entered without a word and walked into the living room. Isabel and Kira were perched on the edge of the plush white sofa, like Daisy Buchanan and Jordan Baker, except, like me and Selena, they were also in all black. And the murder they would commit would be premeditated.

They looked grave as they nodded at us in greeting. Selena and I stood behind the couch. I squeezed her hand again.

“He should be back soon,” Isabel said solemnly. He was at a work function, and it was unlikely to be one of his hunting nights. Especially with the recent media attention related to Isabel’s disappearance. He was too smart for that.

As if on cue, we heard a key in the door.

He took off his coat and hung it on the rack without even noticing us, though the entryway was visible from the living room. Then he turned around and registered us, but his face didn’t betray him, barely changing.

He looked at Isabel and said, coolly, “What is this?”

She stood up from the couch. Slowly. Calmly. “Connor, I believe you already know my friends, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, eyes passing over us, vague recognition flashing across his eyes. But so far, I would’ve bet we were still just the moms’ group members who’d brought food over. It hadn’t yet hit him how he really knew us. “Kind of late for visitors, no?” he asked Isabel tightly, not bothering to address us.

“It’s just easier,” Isabel said, her voice lilting musically. “The babies are all sleeping, so we can all really talk, you know? No distractions.” Isabel had sent Naomi to her mom’s house, where, of course, she would claim to have been, too, when it was all over. Connor didn’t know that, though. “So you do remember my friends, right?” She raised an eyebrow at Connor. As terrified as I was, I was pleased for Isabel. She was doing well. You go, I thought.

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