She Lies Alone: An utterly compelling psychological suspense novel, page 13
I watched after him, his shoulders slumping as he walked away. Amy Granger’s eager face sparked in my mind, and I wondered what the rest of her story was. Then again, what teenager didn’t think their mom was a bitch at least a third of the time? The kids got away with one today, and I felt okay with saving Amy from one more slice of heartache. The only person who could have a beef with me was Albright, and, hopefully, he wouldn’t find out.
I ducked into my car and reversed out of the parking space. I eased on the brake and pulled forward, circling toward the far exit. A glimpse of Rowan reflected in my rearview mirror, and I hit the brake. He lounged against Elena’s neon-blue car in the far corner of the staff lot, her black-and-white bumper sticker peeking out from behind his legs. I Read Banned Books. Rowan’s legs were crossed at the ankles, hips resting against the back bumper, head tipped back, and eyes closed as if in some sort of meditation. A car waited behind me, edging too close. I looked forward and kept driving.
Rowan’s deadened eyes lodged in my head as I traveled down the two-lane road. My lips tightened, annoyed with my overwhelming need to categorize him as a good kid or a bad kid. Weren’t we all both? I couldn’t believe Elena had planned to meet him in the parking lot. She must have known that wouldn’t look good, especially now that she was on Albright’s radar, especially now that Jefferson was waiting to catch her next mistake before it fell onto his bony shoulders.
My throat constricted, chest sinking. I should have gone back inside and alerted her to Rowan’s stalking. What a crappy friend I was. Not at all like Rowan was to Phoebe. My car squealed to a stop at a red light while I debated whether to text Elena a warning. Maybe I’d wait and ask her about it first thing in the morning, assuming she wasn’t chopped up into a thousand pieces and crammed into a suitcase by then. The light turned green, and I swerved across the yellow line, pulling a U-turn. If anything bad happened, I’d never forgive myself.
Four minutes later, I turned into Ravenswood’s side driveway and zoomed toward the spot where Elena’s car was parked. The car was still there, but Rowan was gone. I inhaled a deep breath, my car creeping along the perimeter of the lot while my eyes searched for Elena or Rowan. In the distance, soccer players ran sprints on the low-lying field. A social studies teacher exited the double doors at the side of the building. A boy wearing headphones and athletic shorts strode in the direction of the track. Two artsy kids ambled toward their bikes. They dressed in similar clothes to Rowan and Phoebe, except they radiated a happier vibe. They quipped back and forth to each other, eyes shining with hope, chins thrown back in laughter.
Movement in my peripheral vision drew my eyes to the side. A slumped figure in a heavy coat trudged over the grass, head tipped down. Not Rowan, but Phoebe. Apparently, she hadn’t left the school grounds after ignoring my order to visit the office.
I inched my car closer, watching. She plodded across the uneven grass toward the woods. When she reached the edge of the trees, two more people came into focus: Elena and Rowan. They sat a few feet into the wooded area, crouched in the shadows. Phoebe hovered near them.
My eyes squinted, but it was impossible to make out any detail. I swallowed the dread that rose inside me, wondering what they were doing. Elena was under so much scrutiny. She must have gotten permission for a meeting with students outside of school hours. Maybe the meeting was an extra-credit activity for the poetry club, an extracurricular to the extracurricular. I snickered at my own joke and drove home.
At last my car squeaked into my side of the garage. I left the day behind, entering the sanctuary of my house. Moose bounded toward me as I opened the back door.
“Hi, boy!”
His paws landed on my shoulders, his cold nose sniffing around my mouth. This was the undying loyalty I’d been craving.
“Hi, hon!” Craig’s voice echoed up from his basement workstation.
“Hey!”
I walked down the hall where the doorway to the second bedroom stood open. I stopped and stared, amazed at the transformation. Craig had cleared out the boxes and bags that we’d been collecting for donation. The wheat-colored Berber carpet was visible, coffee stains and all. Moose trotted in front of me and sniffed the exposed carpeting.
“It looks so much better in here. Did you take the stuff to Goodwill?” I asked from the top of the stairs.
“Yep.”
“Thanks.”
Craig climbed up the stairs. I pulled out my phone, finding a missed message from an unknown number.
“There’s no way we won’t get a baby now,” he said, giving me a hug. “Especially because I’m about to invent the biggest app to ever hit the app market.”
“No doubt. Still working on the parking one?”
“No. Turns out that one had already been done.” Craig dropped his head, but then raised it again, his eyes brightening. “This one helps people organize their houses. It’s going to be life-changing.”
“I guess you were inspired.” I glanced toward the cleared-out bedroom, hitting the speaker and playing the message.
Hi, Jane. This is Mia Huang-Jeffries from the Cross Pacific Adoption Agency, said a bubbly, high-pitched voice. This is just a quick call to confirm our in-home visit next Friday at 6 p.m. As we discussed during our last phone call, I’ll meet with you and your husband in your home. The meeting should take about forty-five minutes. Please call me back if you need to reschedule or if you have any other questions. Thank you, and I look forward to the visit.
I grabbed Craig’s hand, a seed of joy bursting in my chest. After all of the written testimony we’d submitted, the background checks performed by the agency, and the weeks of phone calls seeking references from friends and family, this was really happening. We were only one in-home visit away from being approved as parents.
“It’s all set,” I said.
Craig’s eyes shone. Moose wove in between us, tail wagging. Craig patted our needy dog on the head. “You’re going to be a big brother soon, buddy.”
“Maybe we should paint the nursery before she comes over. I was thinking light blue?”
The furrow in Craig’s brow deepened. “What if our baby is a girl?”
“What does that mean? Girls love blue, you sexist pig!”
“That’s me. I’m about as sexist as they come.” Craig made a face, and laughter burst from my mouth as I remembered the way he’d hiked across town a half-step behind me at the last Women’s March.
He studied the walls. “We can buy the paint this weekend. We should get the carpet cleaned, too.”
We wandered into the colorless room, staring at the blank walls and worn flooring, envisioning a fresh coat of paint, a shampooed carpet, and a crib against the far wall with our baby laying in it. The next chapter of our lives was about to begin. Hopefully, the best chapter. The drama with Phoebe and Rowan and Elena and Nick had been sucking up too much of my energy. My focus needed to be on my own family, on adopting this baby. I had plenty of important issues of my own to worry about. Everyone else could deal with theirs.
Fourteen
Amy
At five minutes past five, a silver Toyota Camry rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway. Phoebe should have been home from school over two hours ago, each agonizing minute and unanswered text fueling Amy’s anger and bolstering her resolve. She watched from the corner of the living room window, bracing for a confrontation. The Gothic version of her daughter emerged from the passenger-side door a moment before the car sped off. Phoebe’s black boots clomped forward as she climbed the driveway, head tipped down, the spikes of her hair stabbing into the air with every step.
Amy slid from the window and positioned herself in front of the door with her hands on her hips. A line had been crossed. This was where Phoebe’s nonsense ended.
The door swung open, Phoebe’s kohl-rimmed eyes stared blankly. Amy looked her daughter up and down, narrowing her eyes.
“Where were you?”
Phoebe shrugged. “School.”
“Who was that?”
“Rowan.”
Dread prickled over Amy’s skin, her worst fears confirmed. Rowan from the poetry club. Rowan from the watch list. She stepped toward Phoebe and threw her hands in the air. “What have you done to your hair? And your nose? You look like a devil worshiper!”
Phoebe turned her head toward the living room, giving her mom a clear view of the silver nose ring. “I’m sorry you don’t like the way I look.”
“Get in the car.”
“What?”
Amy pointed toward the back door. “Get in the car! I’m taking you directly to the hair salon. I already called Shelly. She said she can get you back to your natural color. Then you can start growing it out.” Amy motioned toward Phoebe’s face. “And take that ridiculous ring out of your nose.”
Phoebe’s eyes darkened, her mouth turning down. “No.”
“What?”
“No.”
Amy tossed back her head. “So help me God, Phoebe. Enough is enough! I’m not going to stand by and watch you ruin your life.”
“I’m not ruining my life. I’m living my life.”
“Not like this, you aren’t.” Amy lunged for her purse. She’d wrestle Phoebe into the car if she had to.
“Fine.” Phoebe fastened her stare onto her mom. “Then I’ll go live with Dad.”
Amy froze, feeling as if a thick layer of ice was hardening inside her, blocking her airway. The walls of her chest began to collapse, her daughter’s words threatening to extinguish her last remaining glimmer of hope. She stumbled backward, grateful to find the arm of the couch to support her weight.
“No.”
She couldn’t lose her kids. That would be the end of her. She especially would not lose her kids to him and her. Scott was a selfish prick who didn’t deserve to be their dad, and the young, smug, and self-reliant Cece had no business pretending to be their mom.
Phoebe kicked at the floor. “I was thinking about it. Dad has plenty of room at his condo.”
“Don’t be silly. This is your home.” Amy fluttered her eyelashes, whisking away the tears that had suddenly appeared.
“But Dad said—”
“Dad doesn’t want you there.”
Phoebe’s mouth dropped open, a twinge in her lips.
“At least not full-time.” Amy softened her voice, backpedaling. “I want you here. No matter what you look like.”
Phoebe shifted, mouth closing. Her eyes bounced up from the floor as she gave a barely perceptible nod. “You need to stop hovering over me all the time. You have to take me as I am.”
Amy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Phoebe, you have to understand, people are cruel. They’ll judge you based on your appearance, whether it’s fair or not. Don’t you care about what our friends and neighbors think of you?”
“Not really.”
Lacing her fingers together, Amy remembered the blog posts about teenage rebellion. The two articles she’d read had reached the same conclusion—a phase is a phase is a phase. The less parents reacted, the faster it would pass. She stretched her shoulders up. “Okay. I get it. You’re entitled to some self-expression. I’m still your mother, though.”
Phoebe ogled her mom suspiciously.
“You’ll need to keep your grades up, and there will be zero tolerance for drugs. Your dad and I agree on that.”
Phoebe scowled. “I don’t do drugs.”
Amy nodded, her breath returning. She reached for her daughter. “I love you. We can work this out.” Amy wrapped her arms around the multiple layers of black clothing, deciding to ignore the tufts of unkempt hair stabbing into her cheeks. She’d been prepared to prohibit Phoebe from spending time with Rowan, too, but that demand seemed too risky now. There was too much to lose.
Phoebe’s bony arms pressed against Amy’s sides. “Love you, too.”
They pulled apart, eyeing each other. Amy motioned toward the kitchen. “I was thinking of making my famous taco casserole tonight. Want to help?”
Phoebe stared into space. “I don’t know. I have a lot of homework.”
“You can do your homework at the table while I chop.”
“Okay.”
They ambled into the kitchen where Phoebe plopped her backpack on the table, unzipped it, and removed a stack of folders. Amy paused in front of the refrigerator, observing her unrecognizable daughter. Phoebe wasn’t exactly the teenage girl Amy had envisioned having, but she was still hers. Amy would do her part to make their relationship work.
Amy set down her knitting, exchanging the unwieldy needles for her phone. At 11 p.m., she’d normally be in bed, but the day’s events had left her with an unusual mix of excitement and jitters, as if she’d narrowly missed being run over by a train. She touched the pad of her finger to the Instagram icon, revealing a series of photos. First, a caribou emerging from the mist, then a stack of fluffy pancakes surrounded by glistening grapes and orange slices, followed by an eight-week-old golden retriever puppy. Scrolling further down, her eyes stopped at an image of her friend, Valerie, arms raised as she surged across the finish line of a race, impossibly red-orange mountains rising up behind her and a handsome, athletic man splashing water toward her in celebration.
Grateful to have completed my third half-marathon yesterday. Couldn’t have done it without my supportive family. On to the next adventure! #victory #teamvalerie #runnersofinstagram
Amy tried to remember the last time she’d spoken to Valerie, but couldn’t. It had to have been over a year ago. It would be good to catch up with her old friend, to unburden herself of some of her problems to a nonjudgmental confidante. Valerie had endured a divorce and could relate to Amy’s issues. The time was three hours earlier in Arizona. Not too late to call.
She found Valerie’s name in her contacts list and pressed her number. After two rings, a familiar voice answered.
“Amy?”
“Hi. I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you.” The rapid thumping of her own heart surprised her.
“This is a perfect time. I just got home from dinner with a friend, and the girls are watching a movie.”
“Congratulations on your half-marathon. That’s amazing.”
“Thanks. I guess you’ve been on Instagram. My legs are feeling it today.” A few dishes clattered in the background. “It’s so good to hear your voice. What’s new with you?”
“Oh, you know. Keeping busy.” Amy swallowed. “I started a part-time job at the high school. Light accounting and that sort of thing.”
“Good for you. You can always move up from there.”
Amy rolled back her shoulders, unsure if she’d just been insulted. “And I’ve joined a knitting group. We make blankets and hats for different groups who need them.”
“Wonderful. You used to knit when we were kids, didn’t you?” Valerie muttered to someone nearby. “How’s your mom, by the way?”
“Oh. Not good. She’s still in the nursing home.”
“Ugh. I’m sorry. That’s so hard. Do you get to see her much?”
“No. Not really.”
Muffled voices whispered away from the phone. “Sorry, Amy. Tim is here. Remember I told you about Tim, my boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he lives with me now. He’s so great. I can’t believe the universe brought us together.”
Amy blinked her eyes, replacing the image of her invalid mother with one of Valerie’s handsome boyfriend. “Do he and the kids get along?”
“Oh, my gosh. Yes. They love him. He’s the fun one, of course. Anyway, he just got promoted to Vice President of his consulting company, so we’re going out to a French bistro tomorrow to celebrate.”
Amy’s fingers tightened around the phone. “That’s great. I’m so happy everything has worked out for you.”
“Tim and I agree that success in life is a decision. Don’t you think?”
Amy leaned into the couch, eyes searching the empty room. “To some extent, I guess.”
“How have you been holding up since the divorce? Do you have much contact with Scott?”
“Not really, thankfully. Just the every-other-weekend pickup and drop off. He brought his horrible girlfriend with him last time.”
Valerie sighed dramatically. “Let it roll off your back, Amy. The world is round. You know what I mean?”
“I know.”
The world probably was round for someone like Valerie. Amy felt as if her friend would happily shove her off the side of a cliff just to not have to listen to her problems anymore. The conversation was making her feel worse, not better.
Amy perched forward, deciding two could play at Valerie’s game. “Sometimes, I think the divorce was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Valerie gasped. “I feel the same. I wouldn’t have grown into the person I am today if I was still with John.” A cupboard opened and closed. “It’s much better for kids to grow up in a home where parents aren’t constantly arguing. Speaking of kids, how are Ben and Phoebe?”
“Ben is good. He’s playing soccer. He’s doing well in school and has lots of friends.”
“Of course he does. Such a cutie! How about Phoebe? Is she still the perfect daughter with straight As and the star of the tennis team?”
Amy stammered, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. She’d stick to her cover story rather than allow her friend to pour salt into an open wound. “Um, yeah. She’s great. She made varsity this year. First singles.”
Valerie sucked in a breath. “No way! First singles as a junior? College scholarships, here we come.” Valerie giggled. “What, hon?” she whispered to someone else. “Amy?”
“Yep.”
“Hey. I’m so sorry, but Amanda needs me to get her leotard ready for her gymnastics meet tomorrow. Can I call you this weekend?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Amy exhaled, knowing Valerie would be too busy to call. She laid her phone on the table and rolled onto her side, her vision blurred and eyelids growing heavy. She was a failure, disconnected from everyone, even her oldest friend.
