Confessions on the 7:45(29)

There was some thumping upstairs, a shout. The boys were up there unsupervised; she rose to go check on them.

“Is it usual for her to be late?” asked Detective Crowe.

“No,” said Selena quickly. “She has never once been late.”

“What happened to your face there?” asked Detective West, pointed to Graham.

While Crowe had seated himself, West had moved over to the bookshelves.

Graham touched the cut on his face. He nodded out the window from where the stone wall, the one he’d been trying to repair, was visible, still in shambles. A year later, he hadn’t finished the project. They all turned to look.

“I was trying to fix that wall on Friday, bent over and cut myself. Not exactly a handyman I guess.”

Wow, he didn’t miss a beat. That self-deprecating smile, the touch of embarrassment. Even Selena almost believed him. He hadn’t touched the thing, refused to call in someone who could do the work. The wall had become one of their go-to arguments—how he started things he didn’t finish, how he made promises he didn’t keep.

Crowe made a note, West nodded, both men smiling in understanding. Home projects could be such a bear.

Of course, Graham had to lie. What else was he going to say?

Oh, during a marriage-ending fight, my wife threw a toy robot at me.

What were you fighting about, sir?

I was caught on camera fucking the nanny. You know, the one you’re here asking about.

“What about her phone?” asked Selena, eager to move away from Graham’s lies. “Can’t you track her that way?”

“Her phone is offline,” said Detective West. “She hasn’t used a known credit card since early last week.”

She thought of Geneva, shuttling the kids back and forth to school, running all the errands—to the grocery store, the dry cleaners, even getting the car serviced. Such intimate work, to run someone’s daily life.

“She’s here every weekday,” said Selena, musing. “She eats her meals at our place and makes a plate to take home for dinner. I give her cash for errands, groceries, whatever. So she probably doesn’t use her card much during the week.”

“That’s what her sister told us,” said Crowe, nodding.

Had Geneva ever mentioned a sister? A sister who was close enough to know her habits, to become concerned enough to call the police because of a missed breakfast date, with a key to her house. It seemed like Selena would have known about a sister. That she should have known.

“Did you pay her on Friday?”

“I did,” said Selena. “By check. She usually mobile-deposits it, sometimes even before she leaves.” Another nod, another scribble.

“Can you check your account and see if it came through?” he asked.

A light sheen of sweat sprung up on Selena’s forehead. A glance at the clock told her that the boys would be late for school, that she would miss her train. “Of course.”

“Did she mention any plans for the weekend?” he asked.

“No,” said Selena. “In fact, she told me to text her if we needed any help over the weekend, that she’d be around.”

Not we, me, thought Selena. Because she’d said Graham was away on “a boys’ weekend.” Another lie. This one hers.

“And did you?”

“No,” said Graham.

A shift of his weight, a slight leaning forward. “We had a quiet family weekend at home mostly. Oh, and the park. We went to the park.”

A family weekend. How idyllic. You guys are just too cute. Those boys so grown up. Such a good mom! Nothing more important than time with your family! All the comments on her Instagram posts.

“What about boyfriends?”

Graham looked thoughtful, rubbing at his chin, then shook his head. He looked to Selena in warm inquiry. If anything about this was unsettling to him, it did not show. Even a little. He simply struck the perfect posture of concerned employer.

“Not that she mentioned,” said Selena, shaking her head.

Other than my husband?

Who she was fucking while I was working late, supporting my family?

Not that she mentioned.

Honestly, she and Geneva didn’t talk that much. Their conversations were about the boys, the chores, the errands. Selena left when Geneva arrived, and Geneva left when Selena got home. Shift workers, passing each other by. Did Selena know anything really about Geneva’s life? Very little.

Geneva’s father lived nearby, Selena thought she’d heard the other woman mention. Or had. Had he passed on? Embarrassingly, she couldn’t recall. She didn’t remember a sister, friends, stories about how she spent her off time. There was no mention of a boyfriend. In some real sense, Geneva stopped existing for Selena when she was not caring for Oliver and Stephen. But maybe that’s because Geneva was so quiet, so deferential with Selena. And Selena was just so busy, caught up in the day-to-day of it all. She tried to remember what they talked about on the playground, before Selena had hired her. The Tucker boys mostly, childcare stuff, routines, and device and television rules, organic eating, allergies.

“She’s late now,” said Selena, looking at the clock. “She hasn’t called. That’s never happened.”

She walked to the window, half expecting to see Geneva coming up the drive, moving quickly, flustered for being late. So sorry! I went out of town last minute! Lost my phone!