Confessions on the 7:45(30)

No. There was a cold hollow in her middle.

The boys came tearing down the stairs.

“Aren’t we late? Where’s Geneva?” asked Oliver, always aware of situations. Then to Detective Crowe, a direct, “Who are you?”

“I’m Grady,” he said, easily, offering his hand. Oliver took it and shook. “Nice grip, buddy.”

Oliver seemed pleased by that.

“Running a bit late for school today, boys,” said Graham rising, pushing them back toward the door with a gentle hand on each boy’s back. “Go watch television for a bit.”

They ran off happily. That was a major departure from the no devices, no television before school rule.

“I’ll have to call work,” said Selena. “Let them know I’m running behind.”

Graham seemed about to object, then pressed his mouth closed.

As she went for her phone, she wondered about the videos of Graham and Geneva, which she’d recorded and were saved on her computer for anyone with the password to see. And weren’t they likely in the cloud somewhere, saved by the company that made the camera, designed the app and software?

Even if she deleted them from her computer—weren’t there supposedly all kinds of ways these things could be found? Not that it would come to that. They weren’t going to be searching her computer, of course! That was ridiculous. She’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds in her life. Geneva was going to turn up. Of course she was.

She left a message for Beth, called the school. Then she tried Geneva, but the call just went to voice mail.

She logged into their checking account via the app on her phone. Geneva’s check hadn’t cleared—but if she’d deposited late Friday, it might not have. Sometimes the funds didn’t sweep from her account until Tuesday. Back in the living room, she shared this with Detective Crowe. He nodded, then launched into more questions.

“Did she mention anyone she might be having problems with? Someone following her? Calling too often?”

“No,” said Selena. “Nothing like that.”

But would she have? Beth and some of Selena’s other friends were so close with their childcare employees that they seemed more like part of the family. But she didn’t have that with Geneva, even—before. Again, an ugly flash on Geneva and Graham. Selena’s cheeks went hot, and she wondered if anyone noticed.

“Who employed her before you?”

“The Tuckers,” said Selena. “They live a few streets over.”

Crowe flipped back through his notebook. “Her sister said that there were some problems there, that she left abruptly.”

Selena shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think Mrs. Tucker—Eliza—just wanted to stay home with the kids.”

But she didn’t really know. She didn’t know the Tuckers per se, though they were Facebook friends, the kids all went to the same school. They’d provided a reference via email. Maybe it had seemed a bit terse?

“Something to do with the husband, she thought,” said Crowe. “Unwelcome advances.”

Was the room spinning? She heard the boys turn on the television in the playroom.

“Geneva never said anything about that,” said Selena.

But she wouldn’t, would she? She swallowed hard and it seemed like Detective West noticed. She consciously kept her eyes from drifting to Graham.

“What can we do?” asked Graham, the very image of sincere worry. “For you guys? For Geneva?”

Crowe slid a card across the coffee table. “Let us know if you hear from her. Maybe keep trying to call her. It’s possible that she doesn’t want to talk to her sister, but she’ll answer a call from her employer, you know. Call your bank, see if they have any further information on that check.”

“Of course,” said Graham. “Absolutely.”

There was a moment, just a breath, where silence fell between all of them and Selena saw the eyes of both detectives set on Graham.

“Quite the handyman, huh?” said Detective West to Graham.

“How’s that?” asked Graham.

“Working on that wall Friday,” said West. “Then over to your brother’s place for a home repair project.”

“Oh,” said Graham, with a laugh. He folded his arms across his chest. “I guess? Neither project went very well. But I do try.”

“What were you working on with your brother?”

“Cabinets,” Graham said, clearing his throat. “A cabinet door falling off its hinges.”

“Two-man job, is it?”

“For us, I guess,” said Graham with a grin. “Or maybe just an excuse to spend a little time catching up.”

Again, manly nodding all around. “What time did you get back?”

“On the later side. What would you say, honey?”

“Nine or ten?” she answered. For a second, she wished she was dreaming, that she’d wake up.

The detective asked for Graham’s brother’s name, address, and phone number. Graham provided it without hesitation. For all she knew, he had helped with the cabinet. She hoped for his sake that he had. Or that Joe would know to lie, which he might. Bro code, Graham liked to call it.

“Where’s Geneva?” asked Oliver, slim and small in the doorway, leaning against the wood frame. “What’s wrong?”