214 Palmer Street(47)

He reached over and put his hand over hers. “Sarah,” he said, in a quiet voice, “I’m not sure what Phil thought he saw or heard but I assure you there is nothing going on with me and Clarice. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

That last sentence was the only one that rang true to her. “Let’s just drop it,” she said.

Relieved, he launched into a story about a woman who came into the showroom frustrated because she couldn’t understand her car’s navigational system. “Luis spent the whole afternoon teaching her how it works. I hope she leaves us a good review online.”

“I’m sure she will,” Sarah answered politely, her attention still on Clarice’s outburst at the restaurant. I’ll tell Sarah. What exactly did she mean by that? She was determined to find out.





TWENTY-SIX





HER





After my visit with Maggie Scott, I returned home, but the thought of Sarah Aden going into Kirk’s childhood home never left my mind. I’d spent so much time in that house so many years before. I remembered Kirk’s mother, Judy, hovering around us, offering snacks and making pleasant small talk. She had an incredible, loud, happy laugh, something that embarrassed Kirk, but delighted me. No one laughed at my house. Kirk’s dad, Bert, was one of those lovable curmudgeons, the kind who would order pizzas for us teenagers and as we sat down to eat, he’d bark, “You kids better clean up after yourselves when you’re done,” with a wry smile. Kirk didn’t know how lucky he was to have those two in his corner. He’d won the parent lottery and didn’t even appreciate it.

I spent hours at their house—hanging out in the family room to watch movies or play games, eating in their sunny kitchen, going down into the bomb shelter. Being down below had an otherworldly feeling, like there’d been a catastrophic event and the five of us were the last people on the planet. So much talking and laughing went on below the surface. I loved being included in that circle of friendship. I felt like I mattered.

And then, the unthinkable happened, and just like that all of my memories were tainted.

Knowing what I did about that property, and what I suspected Sarah was doing, it was a certainty I’d be returning. It would have been impossible to stay away.

The next morning, I called in sick to work. When I was done I took a deep breath, ready to lie to a complete stranger. I dialed *67 for anonymity and called the company where Sarah had been employed. When a woman answered in one long rush of words, saying, “Garden Design Landscaping, Britney speaking, how can I help you?”, I was ready.

“Hi, my name is Kerry Jakubowski. Could I speak to Sarah Aden, please?”

Britney hesitated. “Sarah’s on leave right now, but I can connect you with the lady who’s handling her job during her absence.”

I sensed her finger on the button, so I hurriedly said, “Oh, no, that won’t work. This isn’t business. I’m a good friend of Sarah Aden’s. We grew up in the same neighborhood and I’m passing through town. I was hoping to get together with her while I’m here, but I don’t have her phone number.”

Again, she paused, this time longer. “You’re a friend of Sarah’s?”

I laughed lightly. “When we were kids we were best friends. Nothing could keep us apart. After finishing college we only stayed in touch online. You know how that goes. I did know she worked at your company, but for some reason I never got her new number. I’m so mad at myself for not having it. I tried messaging her but haven’t heard back. I figured it would be easiest to just give her a call. Can you help me out with the number?”

And just like that, Britney gave me Sarah’s cell phone number. She even repeated it to make sure I got it right. “Tell her the gang from the office misses her,” she said, before ending the conversation.

“I will,” I promised as I entered Sarah’s number into my list of contacts. When I was finished, I tucked my phone into my bag, and smiled. I’m sure Gavin and Kirk would not have thought me capable of such deception.

After that I climbed into my car and headed back to the old neighborhood, driving down the street just in time to see movement over at Maggie’s house. A white business van was parked on the driveway. Leaving the house and going down the walkway was a young woman pulling a suitcase alongside Maggie, who carried an overnight bag. They chatted in a friendly manner, Maggie with a big smile on her face. While I watched, they loaded up the luggage and got into a white commercial van. Letters on the side of the vehicle said, Royal Transport—Let us take you there in style! Odd. Maggie hadn’t mentioned going anywhere the day before. In fact, she made it sound like she didn’t have much of anything going on. You’d think she’d have mentioned an upcoming trip.

I went to the end of the block and circled back, passing the white van, which had just backed out of the driveway. I turned at the end of the street and made another pass, slowing in front of the Adens’ old house. It didn’t look that different from my childhood days: neat front lawn, white siding, and black shutters. The blinds were down, and the front porch light on, the illumination barely distinguishable in daylight, unless you were looking for it, as I was. I didn’t spot any signs of life inside. No movement at all. Perhaps Sarah Aden knew the new owners and had a legitimate excuse for going inside when they were out of town and only stopped in for a bit? Maybe she was watering their plants or checking on a cat? Possible, but I doubted it. I’d noticed the way she glanced around nervously before disemboweling the garden gnome, freeing the key from inside.