Confessions on the 7:45(28)

He nodded but stayed quiet. They lay like that a moment, then she got up to take a shower before she had to get the boys started.

She liked the water hot, nearly scalding. She let it beat on her skin, fog up the bathroom.

She did her hair, her makeup, dressed in slim black pants and a blush-pink top, heels. By the time she exited the bedroom, Graham had roused the boys from bed. How nice that he chose this morning to finally step up.

“Good morning,” she said on her way downstairs.

Stephen and Oliver groaned at her like sleepy zombies, moving slow, dressing in the uniforms that she’d laid out for them last night.

By the time she came downstairs, Graham had set the table, waffles in the toaster, boys’ lunches packed. If only he behaved like this when their marriage wasn’t imploding. The fact that he was being so on point now only aggravated her more.

She poured herself a cup of coffee while he served the boys.

She hadn’t thought much about the text she’d received on Friday. She’d deleted it from her phone and blocked the number. Likewise, she’d purposely pushed it from her thoughts. Martha was going to get ghosted. That was that. She didn’t need more complications in her life.

When the doorbell rang, Selena startled, nearly spilling her coffee.

Shit. Geneva was early. She’d hoped to be gone with the boys before she arrived. In fact, as much as she had liked and appreciated Geneva before, she’d hoped never to lay eyes on Geneva again. She’d seen far too much of her already.

“Did you forget your key?” she asked, opening the door.

But it wasn’t Geneva.

At the door was a broad, clean-cut man, with dark hair. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but there was something official about him even before he held out his detective’s shield. A black sedan lurked in their driveway, and another man—older, rumpled, climbed out and approached them. The morning was alive with birdsong, the air warmer than it had been in months. Maybe spring would come early. Selena’s heart started to thump for reasons she couldn’t name.

“Mrs. Murphy?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Detective Grady Crowe, and this is my partner Detective West.”

She kept the door partially closed, her body blocking their view into her house. She fought the urge to call for Graham.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Do you employ a woman by the name of Geneva Markson?”

“We do.”

“When is the last time you had contact with her?”

Detective Crowe kept a steady stare on Selena, but West’s eyes were everywhere else—around the stoop, past her into the foyer, inspecting the potted plants, the shrubbery.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Can we come in?”

Her mouth felt terribly dry. Was it just something about cops that made you feel automatically as if you’d done something wrong?

The boys went tearing up the stairs, not interested in who might be at the door. But Graham came up behind her as she let the detectives inside.

The detectives re-introduced themselves to Graham, who instantly slipped into charm mode. He had that way. He put on this certain expression, a kind of wide-open affability, and took control of the situation. He led the cops into the living room, offering coffee, man of the house. He was showered and dressed, hair combed. A small miracle considering the state he’d been in since he lost his job.

“She left here around four o’clock Friday afternoon,” said Selena, sitting on the arm of the couch. “I came home early from work.”

Detective Crowe scribbled in a notebook. The other detective stood by the entry, eyes moving over everything.

“You were both here?” asked Crowe.

“No,” said Graham, rubbing at his eyes. Something he did when he was about to lie. “I was visiting my brother, helping him with a home project.”

Helping with a home project. She nearly laughed. As if. As if Joe would have a home project. As if Graham would be any help at all.

“Where’s that?”

“In Remsen, about fifteen minutes north.”

If she didn’t know he was lying, she’d never suspect it. No one would.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” asked Selena.

“Local police had a call from Ms. Markson’s sister saying that she was concerned not to have heard from her. Apparently, they were meant to meet for breakfast Saturday, but Ms. Markson did not show up. Her car is not in her parking space at her home. Her apartment is empty—her sister apparently has a key.”

“Oh,” said Selena. “That’s odd. She never mentioned a sister.”

Had she?

“What time does she usually show up for work?” asked Detective West.

Selena glanced at the clock. “Right about now.”

“Well,” said Graham easily. He leaned back on the couch, crossed his legs. “She’s young, single. Maybe she took off for the weekend with friends or a boyfriend.”

Selena flashed on the image of Geneva on top of Graham, pushed it away. She sank into one of the chairs, looked out the window.

Their neighbors across the street, the Browns, were pulling out of the drive. They left all together in the morning, taking their twins to school, Jill dropping Bobby off at the train so that he could commute into the city. Selena was usually pulling out at the same time, waving across the street. Have a great day! As Selena watched them disappear, she felt an odd sinking in her middle. That should be us. Off to start another normal day.