Lovely Girls(61)

“I heard she collapsed when the police went to her house to notify her,” Joe said sadly.

It was hard to picture that. Ingrid was always so cool, so unruffled by life. But, of course, any parent would be knocked sideways by such terrible news.

“I would reach out to her, but I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to hear from.” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine how awful it would be to lose a child. Maybe it’s even worse if it’s the result of a crime.”

“Oh, I’d be surprised if this was a crime.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“My guess is that it was probably an accidental drowning. It happens more often than it should. Kids drink and go swimming when they shouldn’t. The riptides in the ocean can be brutal. Even experienced swimmers can get caught in one and find themselves in serious trouble. It’s probably even more dangerous at night, when there’s no one around to help.”

“I wonder what she was doing out there in the middle of the night,” I said. Had Ingrid, like me, checked her daughter’s room to find her gone? But unlike Alex, Callie hadn’t returned.

“I have no idea. But unfortunately, until the medical examiner comes out and officially states that it was an accident, people are going to assume the worst. The way some people talk . . .” Joe shook his head and exhaled deeply. “I think they almost hope she did get murdered, because it would make for a better story.”

“What is it about Shoreham and gossip?” I asked, shaking my head in disgust. “It’s like the official pastime in this town.”

“I don’t think it’s any worse here than anywhere else,” Joe said mildly. “It’s just what people do. I suppose it’s easier to focus on other people’s problems than deal with your own.”

“I’m just really worried,” I admitted. “I know Alex wouldn’t hurt anyone, but it looks bad for her that she was out that night and her whereabouts are unaccounted for. How do you prove a negative? That she didn’t do something she was accused of?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. She hasn’t been accused yet.”

“Someone gave Alex’s name to the police. They didn’t just happen to show up on our doorstep the day after Callie’s body was found. From what I heard, Daphne bullied a lot of kids. Why did they focus on Alex so quickly?” I shook my head in disgust. “And I know exactly who told them she was involved.”

“You’re going to say Genevieve.”

I nodded grimly. “I’m sure of it. I don’t know why she has this vendetta against Alex. Maybe it started with Alex taking Daphne’s spot on the tennis team lineup. But it’s gone way beyond that. I don’t think she’ll be happy until Alex’s life is ruined.”

“I know Genevieve can be high drama, but I don’t think she’s evil.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

And then I remembered sitting in my car, wishing that something terrible would happen to Genevieve, to Emma . . . to Ingrid. I had wished for it. And now it had come true. Shock coursed through me.

“It’s my fault,” I said out loud, before I could stop myself.

Joe shifted in his seat so that he was looking right at me, ready to listen attentively. I realized how rare that was in my life. For someone to set everything aside just for me.

“How could it possibly be your fault?” he asked.

“Because I wished for this. They were all so awful to Alex, the girls and their mothers, and I was so angry. I wanted something bad to happen to them. And now it has.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Joe plucked the wineglass from my hand and set it on the table. Then he folded my hands in his. His touch calmed me, but that made me feel even worse. I didn’t deserve to be comforted.

“Everyone has bad thoughts,” Joe said. “I certainly do. It’s part of the human condition.”

“My bad thoughts have a way of coming true. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“Kate.” Joe shook my hand gently. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re under a tremendous amount of stress. Go easy on yourself. You’re a good person and a good mom.”

I looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze.

And I knew I didn’t deserve his kindness.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX




* * *





KATE

When my phone rang on Sunday afternoon and I saw my mother’s picture pop up on the caller ID, I thought about rejecting her call. My mother was incapable of empathy or kindness. She had never been someone I could lean on for support. But I thought talking to her might distract me from the worries playing on a loop in my head, so I picked up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Kate. Do you have your calendar?”

“I use the calendar on my phone.”

“No, I mean your real calendar,” my mother said, enunciating the words very slowly as if I were very stupid.

“What do you need, Mom?” Thirty seconds in, and I was already regretting answering her call.

“Your father and I are going to come visit,” she announced, as if this were the best treat anyone could possibly hope for.