Open House(56)
When Elliot was an older toddler, Priya knew it was time to put more of herself back into her marriage, but she couldn’t seem to get it right. At music classes she heard the other mothers talk about date nights, but being intimate with Brad again felt like another world, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of. He tried, of course, and sometimes it worked; sometimes she followed him to the bedroom, and they slept together. But those times were few and far between. And then, when Elliot was no longer a toddler—and there was less of an excuse for the exhaustion Priya sometimes feigned—Brad cheated with the woman from the gym.
Priya closed her eyes, trying to forget. She listened to the sounds of Elliot’s breathing and her mother-in-law cleaning up the kitchen, but her mind returned to Brad. If someone cheated in a marriage, did that mean there wasn’t anything worth trying to save? It wasn’t just the cheating—she knew they had other problems. But she thought there was something there still, and not just a shared love of Elliot, but something more—something good. She thought of Brad, held at the station for a crime she knew he didn’t commit.
First things first. Priya slipped from Elliot’s bed, careful not to wake him. She moved to his desk and scooped up her car keys as quietly as possible.
Downstairs, she peeked in on her wide-eyed mother-in-law. “I’ll be right back,” she said, already heading to the garage. “There’s someone I need to see.”
FORTY-SEVEN
Haley
Haley was in the study now, about to do the only thing she could think of. She turned on the desktop, and the seconds it took to buzz to life felt like hours. She tapped against the desk—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—always an odd number. She glanced around the tiny room at the walls, which were bare except for the Yarrow diploma Dean had hung.
Next to Dean’s desk was a porcelain jar full of ballpoint pens. The thing felt too sterile, making Haley think back to the homemade pencil holder she’d seen just yesterday on Rappaport’s desk. She thought about the gaggle of kids the detective probably had, and then she wondered if she was about to lose everything she’d dreamed of having with Dean.
Haley exhaled. The backs of her legs were sweating against the ergonomic chair. Finally the computer found an internet connection, and Haley entered the same password she and Dean used for the joint banking account he’d set up for them to use for any wedding expenses. He’d put seventy-five thousand dollars into it, telling Haley he was a grown man who didn’t feel comfortable with her parents throwing them a wedding. Haley had never seen an account with seventy-five thousand dollars in it. Hers always floated somewhere around three or four thousand dollars, depending on where she was with her student loan payments. When they got married—if they got married—Dean planned to pay all that off, which Haley had always reconciled in her mind by reminding herself she was studying to be a doctor, so obviously the money he spent would pay for itself eventually. How strange marriage was, with its debts and burdens, trade-offs and payoffs.
Haley shook her head, snapping herself back to the moment. She clicked the sign-in button and—voilà! She was in. Would a man hiding an affair really use the same password he’d given his future wife for a shared account?
Dean’s inbox splayed out before her. She tried to scan for anything abnormal, but all she saw was run-of-the-mill emails from work, an alert about a J.Crew sale, and a group email chain Dean was on about a trip to Vail. She opened the Vail email and scanned the names copied, but it was just a group of four guys Dean kept in touch with from Yarrow.
Haley entered Josie’s email address in the search box. There were several emails written to both Haley and Dean about houses. But then she found a chain farther down without a subject line, sent to Dean only, from last week.
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
Hey, Dean. Thanks for meeting with me today. I already feel so much better talking things through with you. Ghosts from the past still have so much power over me, but today I was able to let some of that go. Yours, Josie
Haley stiffened. She certainly wasn’t aware of a time Dean had met with Josie alone. Why would he keep that from her?
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
Hi Josie. No problem. It was nice to meet. I’m always here for you, I know you’ve been through a lot.
Dean
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
I can’t even tell you what that means to me. Thank you! J
Dean hadn’t replied to that one. But two days later, Josie emailed him again.
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
Do you think we can meet again? There’s something I want to discuss with you. We can call it a working lunch if we discuss some properties, too. Haha.
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
Should I have Haley come?
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
No, no. Sorry, shouldn’t have made the real estate joke. I’d like to meet alone.
From [email protected]
To [email protected]
Ok, where?
From [email protected]