Call It What You Want(83)

Nothing happens. I try again.

Again, the lock doesn’t release. Red flash. Beep beep.

He changed the code. My blood freezes in my veins. This is because of me. He changed the code because of me.

My breathing has accelerated. I need to talk myself off this ledge.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to leave these earrings by the hot tub. I can leave them anywhere. In the family room, down in the cushions. In the kitchen on the windowsill. In the powder room next to the soap dish. Anywhere.

A memory comes to me. Connor and I were fifteen. We were sacked out on the sofa, talking lacrosse. His mom came home from some luncheon, telling Connor he needed to get his room ready for inspection that night. Connor hauled himself off the couch with a heavy sigh and asked me to help him—which I did, of course.

His mother took out her earrings and dropped them in a glass bowl on a table by the staircase. I remember it because she said, “Be glad you boys don’t have to wear these wretched things. Nothing gives me a headache faster.”

My eyes find the table by the staircase. The bowl is still there.

I want to run across the family room and fling them down, but I need to be quiet. Every step seems to take an hour. When I get to the bowl, I meticulously place the earrings against the glass so they don’t rattle.

And then it’s done. The earrings are no longer in my possession. I’m not a thief.

The weight that drops off my shoulders is almost tangible. I need to get out of here.

“… is talking to Rob again,” says a woman’s voice.

I freeze. The voice is muffled, coming from above. Mrs. Tunstall.

“What’s that about?”

Mr. Tunstall.

“He said they’re making up,” says Mrs. Tunstall. “That there was a misunderstanding.” She pauses. “I’m glad. You know, I’ve said before that it was a shame for them to—”

“It wasn’t a shame. That needed to end. I know you’ve tried to be there for Carolyn, but we need to distance ourselves from that family.”

Carolyn. My mother, who lost more than anyone and deserves nothing but kindness. I bristle, frozen in place at the bottom of the stairs. “I need to be there,” says Mrs. Tunstall. “We need to make sure she’s not going to change her mind.”

Change her mind. About what?

“She won’t change her mind,” says Bill. “Not if she knows what’s good for her. She needs to ride out the lawsuits and then she can put it all behind her. We can’t be seen associating with that family. It’s not good for business.”

He’s such an asshole.

“It’ll be fine,” says Bill. “A few more months. You’ll see. But I don’t want you to encourage Connor to rekindle this friendship. We need a clean break.”

A clean break from what?

“I do feel badly for young Rob,” says Mrs. Tunstall. “He was such a good boy.”

“Oh, please. He knew. He had to know. He’s lucky he’s walking around without an ankle bracelet. I knew it was a mistake when Robbie Senior was bringing him in to help out on the weekends. A kid could bring the whole thing down around us—and look what happened.”

Wait. Wait.

“It’s not his fault,” says Mrs. Tunstall.

“I probably owe the guy a drink for pulling the trigger.” A darkly amused chuckle.

My hands form fists.

A phone rings throughout the house, and I jump, bumping the table. It cracks against the wall and the bowl rattles.

“Hello?” says Bill from upstairs.

“Did you hear something?” says his wife.

“The alarm company is on the phone—a bad code was input after the front door opened.”

The alarm company.

He changed the panel by the hallway. Of course he changed the front door code.

“I knew I heard something downstairs!” Panic in hers.

“Mom?” Connor’s sleepy voice. “Is something going on?”

“They’ve sent a patrol car,” says Mr. Tunstall, and now there’s alarm in his voice.

A patrol car. Shit.

I tear across the living room and throw open the front door, making no effort to be quiet.

I’m instantaneously lit up with spotlights.

“Freeze!” yells a voice. “Put your hands on your head. Put your hands on your head!”

I put my hands on my head. Breath escapes my mouth in fast, panicked bursts. I don’t know what to do. I hadn’t planned for this.

Cops are screaming at me. “Do you have any weapons? Lie down on the ground! Lie down on the ground NOW!”

A knee lands in my back when I comply. Handcuffs slam onto my wrists, and they haul me upright. The front of the house flickers with emergency lights. Everything is spinning. I can’t breathe.

My eyes find Connor, standing on the front porch with his parents. He’s in boxers and a T-shirt. His father looks furious. His mother looks shocked.

Connor looks confused. “Rob? What—what are you doing?”

“He was in on it,” I call to him, and my voice breaks. “Your dad. He was in on it.”

Then I’m shoved into a police car, and the door is slammed.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX