The Neighbor's Secret(55)

If she had a slight problem with online shopping, so what? She could afford it. Generosity was hardly a crime.

But in the beginning, in those empty days after Rachel left, Lena would wake up from similar dreams just like this—empty and parched—and not leave her bed for the entire day.

She couldn’t go back to that.

The doorbell rang again, its chime like an electric shock. Another wave of heat crashed through Lena. Little beads of sweat slickened the skin on her nose, upper arms, neck.

She bolted out of bed and to the window.

Annie’s car was parked in Lena’s driveway. Lena watched her hop inside it and zip back down the hill like she didn’t have a care in the world.

She had left something on the doorstep. Lena opened the front door and pulled her cleaned cake carrier inside, read the note on the envelope.

Thank you for coming last night! We loved having you! Hugs!

She ripped open the envelope.

Dear Lena,

Here is the invitation to my graduation. I really hope you can come.

Love,

Laurel

P.S. Thank you for being so nice to me last night.

Lena’s eyes filled with fat tears of relief. Their kindness felt like absolution.

It’s not. Rachel’s voice in her head was sharp as a tack. They have no idea what you are.



We all misjudged the deceased.

I think back to the November book club. I saw someone vulnerable and gentle.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Criminals are masters of deception, but to have been so easily manipulated?

Everyone feels duped. Everyone.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE



“Your car mirror’s gone,” Abe said.

It was a brisk morning, and Jen had forgotten her jacket in their rush out the door. They had both slept too late and had fumbled through the before-school routine, but as the leatherback-turtle study had cleansed Jen’s system, the basketball game had appeared to cleanse Abe’s. He seemed much calmer.

“What?” Jen said.

“Your car mirror is gone.”

She looked up from searching for keys in her bag. He was right. The driver’s side-view mirror was completely gone—two wires reached futilely into the air.

Jen was momentarily breathless. “Who would do this?” she said.

“The vandal.” Abe’s tone was matter-of-fact.

“But the vandal’s never done anything this severe,” Jen objected.

All of these months, Jen had been the one talking down the women of the book club. It’s not personal. It’s property damage.

(Because you thought it might be your son.)

It felt very personal now, though, like she was being punished for something specific.

“Maybe the vandal was mad at you,” Abe said. He took a casual bite of peanut butter toast.

Jen peeled her gaze from her poor car, naked and violated, and fixed it on Abe.

“You think the vandal targeted me?”

“How would I know?” Abe shrugged and took another bite.

“Abe, did you do it?” She’d breathed out the question. “It’s okay if you did. Just tell me.”

“You think I’d smash your car?” His eyes had widened, betrayed.

“No,” Jen said quickly. “But I’m sorry for making you go last night. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“That’s true,” Abe agreed. “But it was actually okay. We talked to a girl who was out running.”

“Who was that?”

“The one who puked all over Colin at Fall Fest.”

“Laurel Perley?”

“We all played this game, horse. Is your car okay to drive?” He looked at Jen’s car. “You really should have parked in the garage.”

There was a tiny white ball in the part of Abe’s hair. Jen plucked it out. They would be finding them forever.

“It’s not okay to ruin things,” she said. “We have to tell Dr. Shapiro about last night.”

Abe shrugged, checked his watch. “Did Dad leave his car here or at the airport?”

“Here. Does Laurel Perley run alone at night a lot?”

“I don’t know. Can we take Dad’s car? I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure,” Jen said.

She thought of Laurel’s messy performance at Fall Fest. She had a rebellious streak. How late was she out running every night?

Not too much of a stretch, Jen speculated, from that to vandalism.

Hey, wake up, Scofield, she thought, it looks like we have another suspect.





CHAPTER THIRTY



“The police don’t care at all,” Janine said. “They really don’t.”

“It’s all been pretty minor.” Deb cast a regretful look at Jen. “With the exception of what happened to your car.”

“I just read an article about how hate crimes are on the rise,” Janine said worriedly. “Is anyone else connecting the dots between this month’s book and what’s happening here?”

“Janine, you can’t compare a popped snowman to genocide.”

“Violence is violence. It starts with broken store windows and curfews and escalates rapidly to something much worse. We need to do something.”