A Good Marriage(113)

“But why didn’t she tell me …” Maude’s voice drifted off. “I should have known from the start that there was something more.”

“We all miss things. I just found emails in Zach’s desk drawer from Country Day from weeks ago about some problems with Case. I had no idea he was having trouble at school. We never even responded to schedule the meeting they requested.”

“You found scheduling emails?” Maude asked, eyebrows pinched. “From Brooklyn Country Day?”

“Yeah,” Amanda went on, wishing she could take it back. “They went to Zach, for some reason, though he claims they don’t even have his email.”

“Then how did he get them?” Maude asked.

“I don’t know. But I found the printouts in his office drawer.”

“Printouts.” Maude’s jaw clenched. Amanda knew she shouldn’t have brought it up. It was so silly compared to Sophia’s situation.

“Maude!” Sebe called from the steps out to the backyard. The back door was wide open. “Can you come out here? We need your expert opinion.”

Maude glared in Sebe’s direction. “If Sebe and I survive this mess, it will be a miracle,” she said. “He’s always so calm and rational. It’s the doctor in him. He doesn’t care who’s responsible. He just wants Sophia to be okay. I want that, too. But I also need him to be out for blood, like me.”

“Maude!” Sebe called again with a hangdog look on his face. “Come on. For a second, please!”

Maude looked aggravated. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” She headed out of the open kitchen toward Sebe and the backyard with the pitcher of sangria, then paused and turned back. “Oh, and I want to meet Zach. I’d like to talk to him.”

Amanda looked around until she spotted Zach circling the edge of the crowded living room. Watching everyone. “He’s over there.” Amanda pointed. “I’ll introduce you guys later.” Though Amanda hoped that would never happen. She didn’t love the idea of Zach talking to Maude, not with Maude already so upset.

“Great.” Maude smiled, though it was strained. “Be right back.”

As Maude disappeared into the crowd, Amanda’s phone rang in her clutch. She froze. Come on. Not now. It rang again. She braced herself as she dug it out. A blocked number. She could let the call go straight to voice mail. But he’d just call back, wouldn’t he?

Amanda needed to stop running, once and for all. From everything. And everyone. She clenched her teeth as she answered the phone.

“Hello?” Silence.

“Hello?” Still, nothing.

And then there it was: her spine. So much stronger than she had ever supposed. When she spoke again, her voice was a menacing growl.

“Leave me the fuck alone, you bastard.”





Lizzie





JULY 12, SUNDAY


I went to Maude and Sebe’s house first thing in the morning, hoping to finally get the whole story. A story I was praying would put Sam fully in the clear. Maude wasn’t under any obligation to tell me anything, of course, but she’d already come close. I felt sure that was why she kept showing up. She wanted to come clean. And now I had actual evidence to help convince her that was the right thing to do.

It was only by the grace of God that the juice bottle Maude had drunk from in my office was still there, sitting on the corner of my desk, when I’d raced back to Young & Crane the night before. At my request, Millie had called Halo Diagnostics to ask for that one last comparative test. Rushed, in the middle of the night. On a weekend.

When a disgruntled Halo technician finally emerged, it had been close to 3:00 a.m. He’d been very short and walked with the arm-swinging stride of someone in a military parade. He’d slapped a nine-by-twelve envelope into my hand. “Your sample was a match to the print in the blood on the stair. And the golf bag.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulled his chin back. “Of course. This isn’t DNA. Fingerprints match or they don’t. Period.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“By the way, tell Millie this one is on the house. We’ve all got a soft spot for her, which is why she needs to get better and get her ass back to work, soon.”

Sebe answered the door. He didn’t look happy to see me, but he also did not seem especially surprised. “She’s in the living room,” he said without asking why I’d come.

Maude was sitting on the couch, arms wrapped tight around her. She looked up at me, then down at the folder in my hands with “Halo Diagnostics” written in big bold letters across it.

I held it out toward her. “Your fingerprints were found in Amanda’s blood on one of the stairs in her home and on Zach’s golf club bag. My guess is they’re on the club, too.”

Maude made no move to take the folder.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, and then the tears came, rolling silently down her cheeks at an alarming rate. “I almost told you so many times.”

“I’m not your lawyer,” I said as I sat on the edge of the chair across from her. “I want to make that clear. Nothing you tell me will be privileged. In fact, I could even be obligated to let the police know I found your fingerprints at the scene, to help Zach. He’s my client. But I’m—I read parts of Amanda’s journal. I know the two of you were really good friends. If there’s something I can tell the police that will help explain what happened when I talk to them, I want to do that, too.”