Vanessa looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, sure, you’re the lawyer, so I guess you know best. But that’s really a risk you want to take? It’s a pretty thin alibi, and when you combine it with the voice memo and the fact that you did all have your own personal motives to kill Connor, it won’t be enough. You don’t really have a choice, do you? You get that, right? I’m talking you through all this as a courtesy, but the only way out for you here is to adapt to the new plan. Isabel killed Connor and then herself. That’s our story.” She turned to Isabel. “Look, I’ll make it painless. I know exactly where on your wrists to cut to make it all go really fast. Just like I helped you with the cut on your hand. Remember? I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
Vanessa had us. Our only way back to our children and our lives was to let her have her way. But I knew that I couldn’t continue with my life knowing that I had stood by and let an innocent woman be murdered.
Isabel gave herself over to begging for her life. “Vanessa, please. Please don’t do this. Don’t do this to my daughter. I know I’m not perfect, but—you’ve helped me so much. You’ve taught me so much about standing up for myself. I’ll be better. Just please let me stay. I don’t want to leave. Please. I need to be with her.”
Selena had been silent for several moments but had not taken her eyes off Vanessa. I saw out of the corner of my eye that she was holding a wine bottle opener that presumably she’d taken from the bar cart. I had no idea when she’d grabbed it. She saw me register it, and our split-second eye contact communicated all we needed it to. As Vanessa slowly approached Isabel, Selena inched toward Vanessa while her back was turned. She started to raise the wine opener.
“Enough talk!” Vanessa said. “This is happening.”
“No, it’s not,” we heard from a new, but familiar, voice. “No.” Louise, Isabel’s mother, had descended the stairs without any of us hearing a thing. She took a small silver pistol out of her leopard fanny pack and aimed it at Vanessa.
“Huh?” Vanessa’s face failed to conceal her shock.
“Mom!” Isabel cried out, a mixture of relief and horror flooding her voice. “You’re supposed to be with Naomi! What are you doing here?”
“She’s at your aunt Joan’s for the night. Don’t worry, she’s fine. I wanted to be available for my daughter tonight, but I knew you’d never let me, so I didn’t ask. I’ve waited as long as I could, to try to let you girls sort this out on your own. As a mom, it can be hard to know when to let live and when to intervene. I regret standing back for as long as I did with Connor, Isabel. And I wasn’t going to do that again.” She glanced our way. “Get out, ladies. I’ll handle this. Just leave. Now, please, girls. That includes you, Isabel. Vanessa, stay just where you are.”
I felt like a high schooler being kicked out of a party by parents who’d returned earlier than expected. It was the unique sense of being both busted and rescued, both ashamed and relieved.
The four of us ran out the front door and down the stairs, not looking back, though I thought I heard Isabel whisper, “Thank you, Mom.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tuesday, October 13
We each speed walked in different directions when we exited Isabel’s house. We knew implicitly that we couldn’t risk convening, being seen as a group by any witnesses.
I had no idea where to go. I was spinning out. I had Connor’s blood on me. My walk turned into a half jog, if only for a way to direct the frenetic energy that was swirling around my body. The streets were still basically empty, and I hoped that to anyone who did happen to be looking, I appeared to be midworkout. It was after 1:00 a.m., but fortunately, in Manhattan, there is no weird time to go for a run.
I jogged over to Riverside Park and all the way down to the Hudson River footpath. There were even a few other runners on the path, which gave me hope that what I was doing appeared normal.
The irony of wandering around the exact spot where Isabel had supposedly gone missing was not lost on me. How did I get here? was what I kept circling back to. I was sure that the same question had dominated Isabel’s thoughts many times over the past week, and probably years—about her situation with Connor, the arrangements she’d made with Vanessa, and of course, now, after everything that had transpired tonight. How did I get here? It wasn’t a new question to me, either. I’d pondered it in bed holding Clara after my encounter with Connor—no, after he raped me—tears running down my face.