Such a Quiet Place: A Novel(73)

I couldn’t tell if anyone was home at Margo and Paul Wellman’s house—there were no cars in the driveway—but I rang the bell, hoping I didn’t wake up a sleeping baby. No one answered. I had just started walking down the front steps when I heard laughter coming from the direction of the pool.

Crossing the street, I could see the bright yellow of Nicholas’s pool float standing out among the greens and browns of the trees.

There was no longer a sign posted at the pool gate, keeping us out. Apparently, the scene of Ruby’s death had been released back to regular use.

Margo was the only person inside, standing in a growing puddle of water on the pool deck and wrapping Nicholas in a towel. She was standing maybe six feet from where Ruby had been found.

“Margo?” I called.

She straightened slowly, pulling up the front scoop of her bathing suit. “Hey,” she said. But she didn’t come closer.

“I don’t have my key. Can you let me in?”

She looked from me to the baby, then placed him in his stroller. “Just a minute,” she said, taking her time buckling him in place, adjusting the shade, pouring Cheerios into the front snack tray. I had started to think she’d forgotten about me until she finally headed my way, though she kept peering back at Nicholas as she walked. She took a step backward at the click of the gate, already turning for the stroller, cinching the towel around her waist.

“I just went by your place,” I began, following her inside.

“Oh?” she said, busying herself with packing up the rest of their gear.

I scanned the pool deck, a chill running through me; I was aware of where I was standing. Where all of us last stood. “I didn’t know the pool was open again.”

She nodded quickly, her hair starting to come loose from the bun on top of her head. “We have to get out,” she said. “I have to keep him busy and stick to routine, and then he’ll take a good afternoon nap. But otherwise?” She shook her head.

“Margo, I’ve been getting letters, too,” I said, and Margo finally stopped moving.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said quietly, still looking down at her pool gear.

“I’m glad you did. I thought it was just me.” But she didn’t respond. “Margo.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Margo,” I repeated, stepping even closer.

“Is it horrible?” she asked, peering up at me, her blue eyes wide and glassy. “The picture? Is it something that could really hurt you?”

I nodded slowly. “It’s pretty bad.” I closed my eyes, saw the image again. “I hid something after the trial,” I said. I understood now—I had to give information to get it in return. And I had nothing left to lose. “It looks really bad.”

She stared at Nicholas again, then leaned closer, the words spilling out. “A few months ago, I needed a break, and I left the baby with Paul. He must’ve gone to run some errands. Two birds, very Paul.” She took a deep breath in. “I was sleeping when he came back, but I heard him. And I didn’t hear the baby.” She took a step closer to the stroller. “Nicholas was in the car, Harper. Paul forgot about him.” Her hand fluttered to her mouth, like she couldn’t believe it. “He was fine. He is fine. It was just a few minutes. We had a huge fight, and he thinks I don’t trust him with the baby anymore, and maybe that’s true—”

I could see her hands were trembling, and I grabbed one to still it. “It’s okay, Margo. You’re right, he’s fine. Nothing happened.”

“No, but someone must’ve…” She trailed off, eyes on the empty road behind me. “Someone must’ve seen him there. Someone took a picture, Harper. A picture of my baby in a car. You know how hot it’s been this year.” A noise escaped her throat. “Do you know what happens to people like that? They have charges brought against them, in the best case. In the worst?”

“Oh, God, Margo, I’m sorry.” Her recent behavior was understandable—a reaction to that fear. Always with the baby, never wanting him out of her sight. The fear, and stress, of knowing someone had witnessed it. That one of us had seen. “We would all vouch for you, you know. You’re a great mom. And you can’t tell from a photo whether it was a minute, or five, or ten. It wouldn’t prove anything.”

A visible shudder rolled through her. “You know what gets me the most?” she asked. “Whoever it was, they didn’t try to help. They didn’t knock on our door to tell us. They just took a picture, Harper. What kind of person does that?”

I felt a chill in the air, even in the heat. A cold sweat breaking out, because I wasn’t sure what kind of person would do that, either. “Maybe they would’ve come back,” I offered. “You said you noticed quickly.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know about anyone here anymore.”

She cleared her throat, took a quick step away from me. I followed her line of sight, out the pool gate. Chase Colby was walking down the sidewalk and changed direction to cross the street when he saw us.

“Don’t say anything,” she said, damp hand on my forearm. “Please.”

“I won’t,” I said, walking beside her as she pushed the stroller out the pool gate.

Chase stopped on the cement square beside us, where grass was starting to push through the gaps. His sunglasses were on, and I couldn’t read his expression. “I was just coming to check on you guys. Make sure everything went okay with the state police.”