The Night Before(68)

People could hide. And hide well. Even the people you love the most.

“Why did you tell Laura?” Rosie asked again. He still hadn’t answered.

It was not easy to look at him when he did.

“I decided to tell Laura first. I couldn’t keep the secret any longer. I knew she’d struggled with your father, and with every other man in her life. This information—it felt important. It made sense why your father always favored you. And why he started cheating on your mother. And why he left.”

“And you didn’t think it was important information for me? I had to live through the affairs. I had to listen to my mother crying. Do you have any idea how much she told us? Knowing we would feel sorry for her? How could you not know this would help me—to find peace with my father leaving us?”

Now she saw it. For the first time since Laura had been home, she saw a trace of guilt.

“I had no idea those things still bothered you.”

“Well then, I guess you don’t really know me. How is that possible?”

Now he was silent. Rosie pushed on.

“So you told Laura because you thought you could help her with her problems?”

“Yes. And I told her first, Rosie. I thought we should make sure before deciding whether to tell you—get a DNA test done, which we did.”

“Why last summer?”

“Because it was unbearable to keep this secret. And because she told you she was talking to a therapist, right? And that she had a boyfriend who loved her. She had support to help her deal with it. I didn’t know if that chance would come again. So I went to the city and I took her to lunch. And I told her.”

“What about all the calls and texts…?”

“She had questions, just like you. And we had to arrange for the DNA test, and then wait for the results, which was hard. She wanted me to tell you. She begged me to tell you, or to give her permission to tell you herself. She wanted to be able to talk to you about it, Rosie. You are the only person she’s ever really trusted. But I was scared of how you might look at me. If it would change things between us. And then Laura fell apart and moved back home and the fear grew—we’ve been holding Laura together for weeks. It didn’t seem like the best time to drop this bombshell too.”

Rosie felt her throat close tight. Goddamn it, she thought. She did not want to cry. She did not want to feel anything but anger for all of them. Her mother for a lifetime of lies, even as she saw her girls suffering. And Joe for keeping this from her. And Laura … she wanted to hate Laura right now. Everything was always about Laura. Poor, sad Laura. Hurt Laura. Broken Laura. And now, missing Laura.

“Does Gabe know?” Rosie asked, suddenly wondering if he was another traitor.

Joe shook his head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him and Laura promised not to.”

“I can’t believe this,” Rosie said. “I can’t believe any of this is happening.”

The door opened. Conway was there now. And Rosie could tell from his demeanor that he did not have good news.

“What? What’s happened?” she demanded.

Conway sat down at the head of the table. He slid a piece of paper, a black-and-white photograph, in between Rosie and Joe.

Joe turned it slightly so he could see what it was.

“Who is that?” he asked.

But Rosie knew. It was Jonathan Fields. Buck or Billy. Or Edward Rittle. Take your pick.

He was in the hallway of his apartment building, stopped in front of his door—the door she had been pounding on. The door she’d walked through, certain she’d find her sister behind it.

In the photo, this man was with a woman.

“That’s not Laura,” Rosie said, looking up from the photograph.

“Exactly,” Conway said. “That’s a still shot from video surveillance in the suspect’s building. Look at the time stamp.”

In the bottom right-hand corner was a date. And a time.

“This can’t be right,” Rosie said. “This was from Thursday night?”

Conway nodded. “This is the suspect and a woman entering the apartment just after ten p.m. There’s footage of her leaving around midnight. He doesn’t leave until the next morning, dressed for work. The cleaning service arrives later that morning. The neighbor drops the mail that afternoon. And then we arrive this morning. That’s it—your sister was never at that apartment.”

Rosie looked at Joe, confused and disoriented. Nothing was what it seemed. Nothing was what she thought.

“I don’t understand,” Joe said, staring at the photograph. “How did he wind up with this woman and not Laura?”

Conway shook his head. “No,” he said. “Laura was never with the suspect. He showed us his account on the dating website. We’ve spoken to his date. They made a plan for Thursday night. They met at that bar by the harbor, like you said—he was there. But he was with this woman. Not with Laura. He never even contacted Laura—never.”

Rosie dropped her head into her hands. “No!” she said. “That can’t be right!”

Conway sighed, hard. “I’m afraid it is.”

“But what about everything else—those women we found who knew things about him…”

“Well, all of that was accurate. He is married. He does lease the apartment under an LLC, a holding company, to hide it from his wife. He works for Eversource—the electric company. Does efficiency checks on houses. Sells new windows on the side. Probably breaching a whole ton of regulations, but that’s for another day. And another cop. But if it makes you feel any better, his wife now knows, so there will be some payback for this asshole.”