A Good Marriage(93)

Amanda should have felt a fresh wave of terror then, but something about what Carolyn was saying didn’t make sense.

“What do you mean, dark?” Carolyn had come by early in the morning the other day. “You were at my house at night also?”

“Whatever, morning then.”

“But you just said it was dark.”

“No, no. I just meant that I couldn’t see his face well. That’s all. Why are you interrogating me? I’m just trying to help.”

Amanda thought back to Officer Carbone: Keep asking yourself how he found you. How did her dad track her down in Brooklyn, and after all this time?

“Yeah, okay,” Amanda said. “Thank you.”

“Listen, I have to go.” Carolyn had sounded annoyed again. “I’ll call you later.”

But that was an hour ago, and Carolyn never had called back. Honestly, Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted her to. Whatever was going on with Carolyn, it was giving Amanda the most unpleasant tightness in the pit of her stomach.

It was past midnight by the time Amanda finally heard Zach’s feet on the stairs. Once in their bedroom, he would undress in their huge closet—as he always did—and then slide ever so quietly into bed so as not to wake her. As though she were a ticking bomb and not a wife. Sure enough, a moment later there he was, opening the door, changing in the shadows, then inching into bed, so careful not to make contact. Forgiveness is a side effect of love. What if that was her problem? What if she needed to try harder to forgive her husband his shortcomings? After all, she had them, too, didn’t she?

Zach, Amanda imagined herself whispering to him. I’m scared.

But then Zach sighed heavily, in that way he so often did. Like he was steeling himself to weather their unbearable nighttime closeness. No, Amanda wouldn’t say that. Her dad was getting closer, though. Zach needed to know. But for that, she’d need some actual time with Zach, to ease into telling him. Such a small thing to demand. A little time.

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. “I need you to do something tomorrow night,” she began, her heart already galloping away in the dark.

“Oh yeah?” Zach asked, like she always asked him to do things in the middle of the night. “What’s that?”

Their marriage wasn’t strong enough to keep her afloat, definitely not. And yet it was all she had. Amanda had no choice but to reach out and grab hold.

“I need you to go somewhere with me.”

Another exhale. This one more annoyed. “Where?”

“A party,” Amanda managed. “At my friend Maude’s house. She’s a friend of Sarah’s, the woman who works at the foundation? It’s uncomfortable that you never come to anything. They’re insulted.”

“That’s absurd,” Zach said, as though this were a scientifically verifiable fact.

“You need to be there. Because I need you to be there.”

And Zach being there would be something. They could walk there together, and that would be a good opportunity to tell him about her dad. Could she just have told him right then? Yes, she could have. She did know that. But also, she couldn’t.

“Who else will be there?” Zach asked.

“Mostly Country Day parents, I think.”

“Ah,” he said. Then he was quiet for an endless moment. “Fine, then. But I won’t be able to stay long. I’ve got a work thing later on.”

And then he turned over on his side and fell fast asleep.





Lizzie





JULY 10, FRIDAY


I got off the Q train at Seventh Avenue near Flatbush and headed toward Sarah’s brownstone on First Street. I had suspicions about Sarah now, though it was hard to imagine someone as petite as her having the physical strength to kill anyone with a golf club. Still, there was a reason she’d lied about the accountant. And it didn’t seem impossible that she and Zach might be in on something together—defrauding the foundation, or maybe even Amanda’s death.

In the end, with no payment forthcoming, I’d left Evidentiary Analytics without Amanda’s file but with a promise from Millie: “I’ll work on Vinnie. I’ll get it to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” I’d said to her, again. And there was so much to apologize for. “I obviously had no idea about Zach’s finances. But I will get you paid. Zach has the brownstone. There has to be some equity there.”

Millie also mentioned that a single print comparison might be an option even Zach could afford. Though it was surely the opposite of what Millie intended, that said to me one thing: if I got a sample from Xavier Lynch, and if that print matched the ones in the blood from the stairs that night, it could exonerate Zach. And I’d be free and clear.

If. If.

There were many problems with this plan. Not the least of which was how speculative it was. I’d also have to go alone to St. Colomb Falls. There was no money to pay Millie’s other investigators now, even if I’d been willing to wait until they were available. And I wasn’t.

As I crossed Seventh Avenue at St. Johns Place, I spotted a standing sign on the opposite side, perfectly chalked, neon-pink rose in its center. “Blooms on the Slope” was written in an arc over the rose, an arrow pointing to the right. Once I crossed the street, I paused and searched through my bag. Sure enough, I had the card from Amanda’s nightstand. I could at least check in to see if anybody at the florist recognized Xavier Lynch as the one who’d sent the flowers. It wouldn’t necessarily get me out of a road trip to see a rapist, but it would be a start.