She tried going out at night. She crept out of her own house like a criminal, getting in her car and driving around Claire Lake as it slept. But even at night she was noticeable, her big Cadillac gliding through the silent streets. Ever since the night with Detective Black, the police had almost always been on her tail, and even during her night drives, she’d see headlights behind her. So she gave up and went home.
She’d gone last night, not getting home until almost four. The tension was going to kill her; alcohol was the only thing that killed it. She was lying on the sofa, halfway through a bottle of wine and blearily watching TV with all of the curtains closed at two in the afternoon when the phone rang. She reached a hand to the end table and picked it up. “Hello?”
There was the sound of breathing on the other end of the line. In the background, wind and traffic, as if the call was coming from a roadside phone booth.
And just like that, she knew who it was. She knew what voice would be on the other end, even though she hadn’t heard it in two years. The voice she’d been searching for. The voice she hated. The haziness of the wine started to drain away.
“Lily,” Beth said.
The voice on the other end was beloved and terrifying, strange and also as familiar as her own. “They’re coming for you,” Lily said.
The police. She was talking about the police. “They’re coming now?”
“Yes, they are.”
“How do you know?”
“They think they’re so discreet.” The voice was disgusted. “Honestly. I could see them from the road.”
Beth sat up. If Lily was talking about the road, then she was near the house.
No, she couldn’t be. But she’d driven past. While Beth had been sitting on this sofa, drinking and waiting, Lily had driven past before finding a phone booth. How many times had she done that, when Beth had been looking for her for so many days?
“You bitch,” Beth said.
“Maybe, but I’m sitting here while you’re about to be arrested. This is all your fault, Beth. You could have stopped it.”
She wasn’t drunk now, not at all. Panic tried to climb up her throat. “I didn’t do all of this. You did.”
“Only because you made me.” Lily sighed into the phone. “I even left a note. Did you read it?”
Of course she had. The note had been in all the papers. Am I bitter or am I sweet? Ladies can be either.
Which one are you today? Mariana would say when they were little girls. Are you bitter, or are you sweet?
And the girls would have to choose. Lily always chose bitter, which would make Mariana laugh and shake her head.
Beth would say she was sweet. Mariana never laughed at that. She’d just nod and say, “How nice.”
“Why are you calling?” Beth asked Lily now, listening to her breathe on the other end of the line.
“I want to know what you’ll do,” Lily said. “Whether you’ll run. Whether you’ll break. Whether you’ll talk.”
“I could tell them everything.”
“Will you tell them how you could have stopped it?” Lily asked. “You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? Driving the streets, searching. Too bad you didn’t find me. You should have looked harder.”
She should have. She knew that now. She’d been panicked and half-drunk, and for some reason she’d thought she’d have more time. But now she was out of time.
Was that the crunch of gravel, the low hum of a motor? More than one? There wasn’t a lot of traffic in Arlen Heights, especially in the middle of the day. The police were coming, and Beth’s time was up.