Her One Mistake(40)
“I think so,” he says. “She’s fast asleep though.”
“Go check on her,” I tell him. “If she feels hot, the thermometer’s in the bathroom.”
“Charlotte, I know where the thermometer is,” he says. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s just taking longer than I thought it would.”
“You’re still at the station?” He sounds surprised. “I thought you’d be on your way home by now.”
“Hopefully I won’t be much longer. Obviously they have a lot they need to get straight,” I say.
“But they’re not, you know, suspecting you of anything?” he asks cagily. “I mean, they don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, do they?”
“No.” I feign a laugh. “Of course not. Like I told you earlier, I’m here to help them, that’s all. It’s better I get it done now and then hopefully they won’t need to speak to me again.”
“Yeah, of course. It just feels like you’ve been there a really long time.”
“I have, Tom, it’s been nearly four hours,” I say, glancing at my watch.
“Right.” I can tell he’s trying to figure out what is really going on, wondering if there is anything I’m not telling him. But then Tom thinks I tell him everything. Just as the clever detective pointed out—people like me tell everyone what’s going on in their lives.
“And is there any other news?” he asks. “You know—about—”
“No,” I say as I rest my head against the wall. “Not that I’ve been told.” I don’t know if they would tell me anyway.
“Okay, well, look after yourself.” I guess he’s ready to go back to sleep. “Call me when you’re out.”
“I will. Thank you,” I add, hoping he won’t ask me what for, but I’m grateful he is there for me, caring for me in a way I no longer expect anyone else to.
Soon after Jack was born I remember Tom saying something to me that hadn’t had much resonance at the time. “You’ll always be the mother of my children now,” he’d told me. “Whatever happens, I’ll never stop caring for you.”
I had brushed him off then, but now I know he meant it, and as reassuring as that is, it makes the distance between me and my family stretch unbearably further apart.
When I hang up I head back into the station, my heart feeling as heavy as my legs as I drag myself to the vending machine for another coffee. As I wait for the cup to fill, I catch sight of Detective Rawlings at the far end of the hallway, ushering someone inside through the front door. As the detective steps to one side and the bright lights flood the front entrance, I realize she’s speaking to Hayes, who must have just arrived. And while I should be relieved to see a familiar face, I can’t help but feel my heart sink a little lower.
BEFORE
HARRIET
On Sunday morning, eight days after Alice had disappeared, Harriet woke at 6 a.m. and walked out of the house. She had checked first to make sure Brian was still sleeping. He was, which was no surprise as he’d been scratching around downstairs for most of the night, only coming to bed in the early hours of the morning.
She noticed his sleeping patterns had changed in the last week. The previous day he’d taken himself fishing, but only an hour had passed before he’d come home to be with Harriet. And while she’d always been the first to bed, Brian usually followed shortly after. But this past week Harriet had lain in bed alone, barely sleeping while Brian stayed up until 2 or 3 a.m., prowling around beneath her. What he was doing she had no idea.
Harriet had crept downstairs, slipped on the shoes that were tucked under the coat pegs, and carefully opened and closed the front door behind her so she wouldn’t wake her sleeping husband. She was grateful there were no waiting journalists this early as she took a deep breath of the morning air and climbed into her car.
As she drove along the nearest stretch of coastline, she glanced out at the cliffs. They were high and jagged with sheer drops to the sea below that would crash into the rocks when the wind picked up. The unlit road could be dangerous at night and there had been a few occasions where a speeding car had driven over the edge. A dented barrier ran parallel to the road, a sobering reminder in the daylight.
Harriet drove for another five minutes until she reached a sharp turn where she pulled off and headed down a stony track to a car park.
She loved it here. The beach itself was tiny and very pebbly. Alice always complained that she didn’t like walking over the stones to the sea because they hurt her feet, but Harriet thought it was beautiful. The water was as clear as glass and she could sit at the edge and wiggle her toes while Alice filled up her bucket with stones.
Harriet opened the trunk, pulled out a small bag from under the picnic blanket, and walked to the beach. It looked so peaceful, she thought, as she pulled off her dress and laid it on the stones. Fiddling with the straps of her red swimming costume, she walked into the water one tentative step at a time, keeping her eyes on the horizon. The cold didn’t bother her. It numbed her, and she needed to not be able to feel anything, even just for a moment.
With each pull of the tide, the water gradually built up over her body, as inch by inch it devoured her. It crept up her thighs and lapped around her waist, slowly edging up to her armpits until the rest of her body was submerged. Harriet plunged her head under and held it there as long as she could before she needed air. The release was instant. She felt anesthetized and it was a glorious feeling, but one that never lasted long enough.