Confessions on the 7:45(31)

The detectives both moved toward the door, and Selena, whose whole body had grown tense, jumped liked a spring to tend to Oliver.

“We’re not sure, honey,” she said, her voice high and way too bright. “Everything’s okay.”

Oliver didn’t look convinced, serious eyes on Selena. She shook her head, just ever so slightly—no one would have noticed but him. And her child knew to be quiet, whatever he was thinking, wanted to ask or say. He knew what his mother wanted him to do, the way all children do without words.

“Go take care of your brother,” said Selena. Oliver disappeared down the hallway.

Graham ushered the detectives into the foyer and out the front door.

“I noticed that you have one of those camera doorbells,” said West on the porch. “Does it turn on with motion? Is it set to record?”

“No. It’s an older one,” said Graham with a regretful wince. “It’s a bit glitchy because our WiFi needs an upgrade. Doesn’t always even work.”

“Technology.”

Was West going to ask to see the app? Would Graham show it to him? Was it set to record? She didn’t even know. What about the other cameras? Were they set to record? They were all visible on the same app.

She knew that they should say no, if they asked to see it. That was their right. She braced herself. What would she say? If they really wanted to help, had nothing to hide, they’d show them the app without question.

But they did want to help. They didn’t have anything to hide. Did they? An affair, no matter how tawdry, wasn’t a crime.

She looked at Graham, who was easily chatting with West now about all the new surveillance technology out there, how it was so cheap, how it made their job a lot easier. People don’t even know. They are eyes everywhere now—these little cameras in their doorbells, in their living rooms, on their phones. They’re everywhere. Privacy. It’s gone. Not taken. But given away.

Selena looked up and down the block. Most people had the camera doorbell now. There was even a neighborhood network. She got the little notices on her phone: Stranger at my door! Package missing! This dog pooping on my lawn!

“We’ll be on the block a while,” said Crowe. “Let us know if you hear from her. Or—you know—if you think of anything else.”

On the block? Asking questions? Talking to neighbors?

“It’s probably nothing, though, right?” asked Selena. “She’s just met someone maybe. Lost track of time.”

“Hard to say,” said Crowe. He looked up at the sky. “It’s one thing to stand your sister up. But I don’t love that she didn’t turn up for work. Someone so responsible.”

It was all there on the tip of her tongue. She imagined it all coming out in a tumble. Confession—it was good for the soul or something. Right? Geneva was sleeping with my husband. I threw something at him; it cut his face. I told him to leave but he came back, late at night. I let him in because of the boys, even though I didn’t want him to come home. I met a strange woman on the train. There were these weird messages on my phone this weekend. The encounter, it was strange. She said something like: Maybe she’ll just disappear.

But it was all so crazy, unrelated to Geneva being missing, right? It was just the chaos of her life at the moment. When had things gotten so out of hand?

“Mrs. Murphy,” said Detective Crowe. “You okay?”

Crowe glanced over at Graham, then back to Selena. She liked the dark honesty of his gaze, the cool seeing of it. Graham’s chuckle rang out over the quiet of the neighborhood, something amusing in his conversation with West. A girl was missing. What the hell was he laughing about? Was her husband really such an accomplished liar?

“I’m just worried,” she said softly, offering the detective a wan smile. “About Geneva. She’s like part of our family.”



TWELVE

Oliver

Grown-ups lied. A lot.

They lied about how things were going to taste. Just try it! It’s yummy.

They lied about how bad shots were going to hurt. Just a little sting. Over before you know it!

Oliver knew he shouldn’t be at the door listening. But he did anyway.

“It’s probably nothing, though, right?” asked his mom. It was her worried voice. “She’s just met someone maybe. Lost track of time.”

“Hard to say,” said the stranger. “It’s one thing to stand your sister up. But I don’t love that she didn’t turn up for work. Someone so responsible.”

Both his mom and dad were frowning. Oliver moved in closer to the door, even though he was supposed to be taking care of Stephen.

“Mrs. Murphy,” said the stranger. “You okay?”

Grown-ups told you things were okay when they weren’t. Mom always said she was fine even when he could see she’d been crying. The Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy. All lies. It was Eli at school who’d told him all this. Eli was a year older than everyone else, even Oliver, who’d started kindergarten late. Eli was left back everyone knew but didn’t dare say because Eli was mean and big, and really good at hurting you fast so that teachers didn’t see. And at first, Oliver didn’t believe it.

Go ahead, said Eli, ask your mom about Santa.

So he did.

People who don’t believe in Santa don’t get presents. That was his mom’s answer. Which even Oliver knew was not an answer.