Ivy could pretend to be afraid. Fear is such a powerful, dangerous emotion. It would make her story more believable.
She loops around a tree, trying to work it out in her mind. Scared is good, but not scared of Wes, specifically. The fear of going to jail is better. She is giving Karen all this information because she doesn’t want to be arrested for withholding it.
Also because Ivy has to think about herself.
Just in case.
In case Wes never contacts her. Because in reality she still hasn’t heard anything from him. It’s making her feel a little crazy.
A week ago, the idea that he would disappear forever was unfathomable. Now it’s become a true possibility in her mind. The fact that he left so suddenly, so dramatically, has rattled her. The more time that passes without hearing from him has brought up a lot of doubts. About what he’s doing, why he didn’t say anything. Doubts about him. No matter how hard she tries to shove those thoughts aside, they keep popping up.
She can cover herself with this story, as well, by acting like she’s on the fence about him and the fact that he ran. Which she is. And now that Wes has disappeared, there’s no one else who really has her back. Not in the same way.
“Ivy?”
She whips around, startled at the voice. The male voice.
“I thought that was you,” he says. He takes a few steps forward, and his face becomes visible.
Milo.
72
Karen pulls over and parks but doesn’t get out of the car. The radio blares out of her speakers, crackling a little, because one of them goes in and out. It’s late for Sheldon Royce to be on the radio, but “given all the local news lately,” he’s added an after-hours version of his daily talk show, The Loud Lounge. It’s a good description of his callers, because they all seem to shout.
What she wants to do is call in and explain how a case like this works, since none of the listeners seem to understand, but she restrains herself. The last thing she needs is another scolding from her sergeant and her captain. She is already on their radar and would prefer to get off it.
Karen stares at Abigail’s house, wondering if she missed something. It was a little weird when Abigail called her a while back, claiming Ivy was the problem. Even weirder when she turned out to be a witness against Wes.
Had they been romantically involved? That’s her first question. When Karen was with Ivy in the drugstore, Karen had implied that Wes and Abigail were involved. It didn’t matter if it was true. Karen just wanted Ivy to think it was. But that was before Abigail came forward with evidence, and before Wes ran.
Does she know more? Her second question.
Wes’s disappearance has changed everything. Can’t put him in prison if he isn’t here. The fact that he ran has made Karen rethink Abigail and what her part in this may be.
Has Wes contacted her? Or has she helped him?
The biggest questions, and the ones Abigail won’t answer honestly. Not if she’s involved.
Which is why Karen is still sitting in front of her house, trying to decide what to do next. Trying to figure out what Wes would do next.
So is everyone on the radio.
“Let’s take predictions on how long it will take for the police to capture Wes Harmon. Call in with your guesses!”
Karen listens for a minute, hearing callers say everything from forty-eight hours to forty years.
She turns the radio off, but the silence makes things worse. Now all she can hear is her own thoughts.
After solving the Joey Fisher case—which should’ve been a highlight of her career—everything has imploded. Wes shouldn’t have been out on bail, not even with an ankle monitor, and the judge is the one responsible for that disaster. Karen had no control over his decision about bail.
Which pisses Karen off even more. No matter how hard she works, there’s always someone with more power, more influence, who can ruin everything. Sometimes it’s the DA, when he decides not to prosecute. Other times it’s her sergeant, when he takes her off one case to work on another. This time it’s the judge.
After a minute of clenching and unclenching her fists, she starts her car. Talking to Abigail right now isn’t a good idea. Not in this mood, not after this day. Questioning someone the wrong way can do more damage than not questioning them at all. And the last thing she wants to do is blow up the case against Wes by pissing off the most important witness they have.
Because Karen will find him and he’ll go on trial. Eventually. He can’t stay hidden forever.
* * *
—
Ivy stares at Milo, trying to understand what’s happening.
“What are you doing here?” she says.
“Taking a walk.” He smiles. It looks more creepy than friendly. His eyes look wild, like he is on something. It isn’t alcohol. “I have a lot of time on my hands these days,” he says.
Ivy takes a step back, toward her car. “Are you . . . are you following me?”
“As I was saying, I have a lot of time. Why? you might ask. Well, let me tell you. I have a lot of time because Clarissa moved out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you? Do you even care what you’ve done?” It sounds like an accusation.
She tries not to show her anger at him for showing up in her life again. She also doesn’t want to show how scared she is. She tells herself to act normal. Act like this isn’t the most bizarre thing that’s happened today. Because in truth, it isn’t.
“Milo, I really am sorry about your relationship. If I had known posting a picture would lead to this, I wouldn’t have done it. I told Clarissa we weren’t involved, that nothing happened. And I never thought—”
“You never thought. That’s the problem today. People don’t think before they post on social media. They just take pictures and put them out there for the whole world to see, tagging whoever might give them some clout. Nobody stops to think about the ramifications. Nobody thinks about the people whose lives are affected by these posts.” Milo spits as he talks, practically foaming at the mouth. His rant sounds like it came from a think piece on the perils of the internet.
Ivy wants to tell him that if he hadn’t cheated on Clarissa before, none of this would be happening. But her self-preservation instinct is stronger, keeping her mouth in check. Ivy wishes she had brought her phone with her. It’s in the car.
She is only a couple feet away from it now.
“I agree—social media sucks,” she says.
“Yet you still use it.” Milo makes a face like he smells something horrible.
“I know, it’s stupid. Anyway, I have to get going.”
She turns and reaches out for the door handle. Behind her, she hears Milo’s footsteps moving closer.
73
Karen pulls up to her house and parks in the driveway. It’s late, and this has been a long day. Unfortunately, not a productive one, because Wes is still missing. So frustrating to work countless hours on a case only to have it screwed up like this. Even if it isn’t her fault.
She walks down to the mailbox, as she does every day, and retrieves the usual stack of bills. She still doesn’t like to bank online. Something about it makes her uncomfortable. Maybe because she’s seen too many people get in trouble due to their online activities. Karen has no social media presence at all. She won’t even join LinkedIn. Another result of being a cop.