A Noise Downstairs(67)
Paul’s phone rang. He dug it out of his jacket, saw the caller’s name, and frowned.
“What does she want?” he said, more to himself than Anna.
“Who is it?” Anna asked.
Paul put the phone to his ear. “Hailey, is everything okay? Is Josh—what . . . Charlotte came to your office and what . . . yes, I have had a hard time, but . . . I know Josh has a key. Why would she . . . okay, okay . . . okay. Thanks for telling me . . . okay . . . good-bye.”
He held the phone, made no effort to put it back into his jacket.
“That was weird,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“What’s happened?”
“Charlotte said she was going to see her mother but she went to see Hailey, supposedly because she was worried about me, and wanted to get Hailey’s take. But then there was something about Josh’s key, and . . .”
“What is it, Paul?”
He shook his head, as if that might make things come clear. “Something I’ll have to talk to Charlotte about when I get home.”
Anna decided not to push it. “Okay.”
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ANNA PULLED INTO HER DRIVEWAY NEXT TO PAUL’S CAR AND TURNED off the engine. She glanced up at her father’s bedroom window, noticed that the light was on.
“Thanks again for everything,” Paul said, pulling on the handle of the passenger door.
“You’re welcome. Thank you. It was quite a day.”
Paul held his position. He looked at Anna and knew, at that moment, what he wanted to do. Something he couldn’t. Something he wouldn’t.
“Time to go, Paul.” She smiled. “See you at our next session.”
“Right, of course,” he said.
He got out, closed the door, found his keys, and unlocked his car. Anna waited until he was out of the driveway and heading up the street before she got out and went into her house.
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DRIVING HOME, PAUL FELT AWASH IN GUILT.
He’d done nothing wrong, he hadn’t acted on his feelings, but the fact he’d had them made him remorseful. Just when Charlotte was being so supportive, sticking by him, helping him through the worst crisis of his life, he finds himself attracted to another woman.
He’d spent so much time lately with Anna. He could tell her things he could tell no one else. She listened.
Of course, you idiot. It’s her job.
At an intellectual level, Paul knew that. Her concern for him was rooted in professionalism. He’d be a fool to think she felt anything for him that went beyond that.
Except it didn’t change how he felt.
He had to push her out of his mind. Any other kind of relationship with Anna White was a nonstarter.
If there was anything Paul needed to work on, to reward and nourish, it was his life with Charlotte.
Don’t make a complicated life even more complicated.
So he struggled to replace thoughts of Anna with a review of his meeting with Kenneth Hoffman.
Had the encounter been helpful? Was Anna right, that if nothing else, seeing Kenneth face-to-face had diminished his stature? He was, indeed, a broken man. Paul thought the days and weeks ahead would be the test of whether seeing Kenneth was a good thing. Would the nightmares fade? Would he stop hearing Kenneth in his head?
He hit the turn signal indicator, turned down his street, then pulled into the driveway behind Charlotte’s car.
Well, there was some good news. He actually remembered driving here.
As he wearily got out of his car, it occurred to him he’d had nothing to eat in hours. On the way up, he and Anna had joked about dining on prison food, but once they were inside, they pretty much lost their appetites. He figured Charlotte was home from New York by now. Maybe she’d made dinner and set aside a plate for—
Oh God.
The front door was wide open.
Forty-One
Paul charged into the house, shouting, “Charlotte!”
He threw the door closed behind him and took the stairs up to the kitchen two steps at a time. As he reached the top, Charlotte came around the kitchen island, her face full of alarm.
“What?” she asked.
He put on the brakes. “The door was open. I was worried. I didn’t know—”
“I left it open,” she said, cutting him off. “You know how you were asking about a surveillance system, getting the locks changed? Well, I found a guy and took the first step today. I’d set up an appointment for late in the day, after I was back from the city. We’ve got new locks. I’d left the door open a crack so you’d be able to get in. I guess the wind blew it all the way open. God, you’re a nervous wreck.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing back down to the front door to be sure it was closed. “I’ll close it now.” He scurried down the flight, turned the dead bolt, and returned. Charlotte was standing by the island.
“Give me your keys,” she said.
He handed her his set. On the granite countertop was a single key that looked, at a glance, identical to Paul’s house key. Charlotte picked up his set and worked the house key off the ring, then replaced it with the new one. She took his old key and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans.
“You did this because of Hailey?” Paul asked.
“What about Hailey?” Charlotte asked, looking nervous.