The Night Before(57)

“The ring,” he says suddenly. “The last question, right?”

“For now,” I say. I try to be smug. Self-righteous. But all I’ve got are these baby lies.

“Everything I own is in this apartment building. I can show you the storage unit in the basement—boxes of winter clothes, some pictures and photo albums. Everything I have is from my adult life, and that involved my wife. My childhood things are at my father’s house. So what to do with this…” He twists the ring between his fingers again, and I stare at it with remorse for my rage, and longing for what it represents.

“I couldn’t leave it in the basement. I don’t want it to get stolen. And I don’t have a safe. I read somewhere that a pill bottle was a better place to hide valuables than socks, so that’s where I put it. I wasn’t expecting company—not like this. Not to the point where I caused a headache.”

Now he’s trying to be cute. I don’t know if I like it. I can’t even decide if it’s real.

But something comes through loud and clear.

He wants me to stay. He wants me to believe him.

It would have been so easy to shrug and let me storm off. Maybe he’s afraid he’d have another stalker on his hands. Or maybe he’s afraid of losing whatever it is we’ve begun.

Someone tell me. Please. Someone tell me which it is before I lose my mind. The rage is turning inward, turning on me now because I am so incompetent.

“Laura,” he says. And he walks back to the counter. “I know you probably want to leave. I know some of this sounds too convenient. But will you do me one favor before you go? And then I promise I will walk you to your car.”

I don’t say yes. I don’t say no. The tears are behind my eyes again. The sobs choking my throat. So I stand there like an idiot and shake my head.

“Okay—let me get my laptop from the bedroom. We are going to Google the shit out of me and my ex-wife and my firm—I even have an email from the BMW shop. Will you do that with me? Will you let me show you?”

What is going on here? Somebody tell me.…

The doorbell rings then and I jump back, startled. We look at each other for a second and then his eyes light up, big and wide and bright.

“The pizza!” he says, like a little boy. He claps his hands with excitement.

He walks around the counter, behind where I stand. And opens the door.





THIRTY-THREE


Rosie. Present Day. Saturday, 11 a.m. Branston, CT.

Rosie followed Gabe to Maple Street. Kimmie Taylor had recognized the entrance from the pictures he’d sent, and the ones she’d found on the Internet. Gabe knew which building it was and she was certain of the number—2L. L is for Liar, she’d said.

Joe called three times along the way. But Rosie couldn’t talk to him. Not yet. Not now when they were so close to finding Laura. She sent a text with a lie—I’m stopping by the police station then coming home. If she told him about the apartment, he’d already be here. Only, now she didn’t know if he’d be here for her, or for Laura. A few hours ago, she wouldn’t have minded either way. But everything had changed.

His name was Joe.…

She rushed from her car to catch up with Gabe. He was moving fast.

“I called the police,” he said. “Told them to meet us here.”

Rosie walked beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. “What did they say?”

They got to the front door and stopped. Gabe pulled out his phone and looked at the picture, then back at the door. “This is the one,” he said.

“Are they coming?” Rosie asked. “The police?”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did they say? Did you speak to the officers who came yesterday?”

“Conway. I spoke to Conway. He said to wait outside.”

Gabe looked at her then, inquisitively.

“To hell with that!” Rosie answered.

“Agreed.” Gabe pulled on the door, but it was locked. A panel of black buttons was on the right side of the entrance. Gabe pushed them one at a time until a voice came out of the panel.

“Hello?” a woman said.

“UPS,” he said.

“Amazon?” the woman asked.

“Yeah,” Gabe answered.

Then the buzzer.

Rosie pulled the door open and rushed inside.

“That’s so scary,” she said to Gabe, who followed right behind.

“You have no idea. But I guess that’s why people live here. So they can afford to be trusting.”

Neither of them spoke as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Then down the long hallway, following the letters on the doors. When they got to 2L, Gabe grabbed her arm, stopping her.

He pressed a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.

“What?” Rosie whispered.

“Take a second, okay? You haven’t slept or eaten. We need to think. We should have a plan.”

Rosie knew what she looked like. She’d seen herself in the window of that hotel in New York, and again in the rearview mirror of her car. But Laura could be on the other side of that door, and nothing else mattered until she knew.

Gabe was suddenly in control, the way Joe used to be when they were children. But Joe wasn’t here, so Gabe had stepped in—doing the thinking and the executing of the plan. And thank God, because Rosie didn’t have the ability for either of those now. Nothing was going to stop her from getting inside that apartment and finding her sister.