The Accomplice(71)

Luna returned his texts that morning, agreeing to meet him at the diner across from her motel. Luna found a booth in the back of the Lunch Chalet and ordered a coffee. When Owen arrived, Luna thought he seemed different. Older, tired. It had been only a week since they’d had that drink at the Halfway House and talked about Owen’s “no one.”

Owen immediately felt a chill coming off Luna. It didn’t seem right, when she was the one holding out on him. The waitress breezed by, warmed Luna’s coffee, and poured a fresh cup for Owen. Luna wasn’t eating, so Owen ordered waffles—it seemed rude to take up a booth just for coffee. The waitress forced a smile, which came off as sinister. Luna busied herself doctoring her coffee, polishing a spoon.

“I went to your house. Late last night,” Owen said, after the waitress had moved on.

Luna glanced up from her shiny spoon. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Owen would be in Sam’s orbit before she could tell Owen.

“Shit. He told you?” Luna said.

“He did.”

“I’m sorry,” she said flatly, without conviction. “You should have heard it from me.”

“Why didn’t I?”

“You weren’t around,” Luna said. “I tried to find you yesterday. Maya answered your door.”

“How’d you find out? Or when? I guess I’d like to know both things.”

“Mason found a phone in the guest room. He left it charging and it started ringing when I was—after he left,” Luna said, editing out the detail about Griff being in her home. “I answered the phone and it was Detective Goldman. Apparently, Irene had been calling that number over the last several months. They’d been trying to find the owner. It was one of those pay-as-you-go phones.”

“Sam had a burner just for Irene? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Luna said.

“It’s pretty fucking suspicious, don’t you think?” Owen said.

“They were having an affair and she was murdered. I’m not sure there’s causality there. You should understand that more than anyone.”

“Right,” Owen said. His brain snagged on something Luna had mentioned a few moments before. “What time did you come to my house yesterday?”

“Around one or two.”

“Are you sure?”

“It was definitely after one,” Luna said.

In light of everything that had happened, she thought it was a strange detail to lock on.

“And Maya was still there?”

“Yes,” Luna said. “Where were you?”

Luna could hear Owen’s heel tapping under the table. His eyes darted back and forth without any focus.

“I just drove around,” Owen said. “The point is, I left no later than eleven. What was Maya doing in my house for more than two hours?”

“I think she said she was cleaning,” Luna said. “Who gives a fuck?”

“I do,” Owen said. “She wasn’t cleaning. I don’t know what she was doing.”

Owen was sure that Maya’s behavior meant something, although he had no working theory. He wanted Luna to join in the brainstorming, to help him figure it out, but she seemed uninterested. He also wanted to tell Luna about Amy and how strange she had been, how he thought she might have been trying to trap him in a confession. He didn’t say any of that because Luna’s thermostat had shifted from icebox to sauna in no time at all.

“You want to tell me who you’re mad at?” Owen asked.

“All of you,” she said.

Luna wanted to leave. She wasn’t hungry and the coffee was crap. She felt like no one was who she thought they were or who they were supposed to be. Learning about Sam and Irene was bad enough. Being angry at the person whose death you’re currently grieving didn’t cancel out either emotion. It somehow managed to heighten them both.

“I think Maya was searching my house,” Owen said. “Isn’t that weird?”

Luna, lost in thought, didn’t answer. Owen waved his hand in front of her to wake her up.

“Did you hear me?”

“Why are you going on about Maya?”

“She’s making me nervous. I’d kind of like to know what she was looking for.”

“Remember when we installed an app on our phones so we could find each other?” Luna said.

Owen nodded, though he’d actually forgotten about the app.

“I couldn’t reach you yesterday, so I checked the app to make sure you were okay,” Luna said.

“Your husband was fucking my dead wife and you’re angry that I went to see Amy?”

“Owen, they think you did it. It’s almost always the husband. I guarantee, they’re locked on you. Everything you’re doing now, they’re watching. They’re going to keep watching you until they’ve got something to use against you. And they’re probably going to keep watching me, because I found the body and I’m your friend. When you visit your mistress, you look guilty. There’s only so much I can do to defend you, to be a witness to your character. I don’t think you killed Irene. But from an outsider’s perspective, I’m not the best judge. I lied for a murderer once; some people think I did it twice. I can’t vouch for you this time. I can’t help you. I’m not your alibi.”