The Herd(38)

Eleanor’s mirror snapped open when I pushed it, and I stared into her medicine cabinet, the rainbow of products there: toothpaste and cotton balls, facial bleach and pimple patches and antiaging eye cream, plus moist flushable towelettes and vaginal itch cream under the sink. All normal things around which I’d always felt a cloud of shame, and here they were in Eleanor’s bathroom, almost out in the open but for the soft click of a cabinet or mirror. Eleanor was a human, like the rest of us, carefully curating the lacquered shell we all admired. Eleanor was…really missing.

A rush of impropriety and I slammed everything closed. Tears stung my eyes as I made my way into the office. There, my gaze fell on the built-in bookshelf, a custom, complicated mass of oak slabs and copper tubing. A thick book with silver and gold letters on a blue spine looked familiar and I took a step toward it when—

The doorbell chimed, reverberating through the mirrored foyer. I froze, like I’d been caught. The detectives, they were back, and I’d be in trouble.

No, that didn’t make sense; they knew Daniel wasn’t home today. Amazon delivery guy? I padded back through the bedroom and peered out the window.

There he was, in a shiny down coat and sweatpants. He still had sparkly blue eyes and that angular jaw, now bristled with a five o’clock shadow.

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d trotted down the steps and swung open the front door. Cameron took a step back, his eyes wide.

“You heard what happened?” I asked. He squinted and I reached for my heart. “Hana, Eleanor’s friend. Remember me?”

I’d only seen him a handful of times over the last decade; he was at Eleanor’s wedding, and I couldn’t decide whether that was odd or not, and once or twice we’d all hung out while he was in town visiting Ted. He’d remained in Boston when he and Eleanor had broken up right around our graduation, which was also when his life had taken a nosedive. While I was out in L.A., Cameron had flown to Arizona and checked himself into a treatment center for opioid addiction. Afterward, he defaulted on the sprawling condo he’d bought in pricy Beacon Hill and, at his parents’ urging, moved into the renovated cottage in their backyard. Years later, he was working again and looked, with his long blond waves and clear eyes, nothing like a junkie.

“This is Eleanor’s place, right?” he said in his chill, pothead drone.

I nodded. “I…just came to pick something up.” I swallowed. “But Daniel doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Daniel, right.” He nodded, holding my gaze, then looked over my shoulder. “So can I come in?”

“Right! Sorry.” I held the door and he pushed past me, coldness wafting off him, and I realized I’d just invited him into someone else’s home. He unzipped his coat and sauntered into the living room, then plopped down on the sofa.

“I tried calling you last night,” I said.

“You have my number?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You have Eleanor’s address?”

“Ted gave it to me.”

“Funny. He gave me your number.”

“Huh.” He leaned his elbows on his thighs and ran his hand over his chin. I’d settled into an armchair across from him and began to laugh.

“What?” His lips curled into an involuntary half-smile.

“Sorry, I just—we’re casually lounging in Eleanor’s living room, and I keep fighting the urge to offer you something to drink. It’s…oh my God. Eleanor.” The laughter careened into something darker and more hysterical—a mask for my grief. I took a deep breath. “What are you doing here? Did you just get in?”

“Yeah, I talked to the detectives this morning and then got in my car and drove down. I wanna help. Will there be search parties?”

“I don’t know—no one’s organized anything yet. They haven’t announced it publicly.” I leaned forward. “Are you staying with Ted?”

“Probably. Or maybe a hotel. I hadn’t thought that far.”

“Okay.” He hadn’t answered the obvious question, so I gestured around: “And what are you doing…here?”

“I thought Daniel would be home. Where is he?”

“He’s at work.” I shook my head. “Why did you want to see him?”

“To offer my help. Tell him I’m sorry.” His jaw muscles bulged like he was biting down.

The hair on my neck and scalp prickled—something was off. Well, everything was off, but especially Cameron’s presence here. “You didn’t think to call him?”

“I don’t have Daniel’s number. Ted doesn’t either.” He leaned back, draped an arm along the sofa’s back. “So no news yet?”

“Not yet. They searched here last night.”

“Did they.”

I shrugged. “Supposedly they’re working very hard to track her down.”

“Supposedly?”

“To me, they seemed pretty convinced she left of her own accord.”

“Why would they think that?”

I thought about it, but couldn’t see a reason to hold back: “He and Eleanor had just opened up their marriage.”

His sandy-blond eyebrows shot up near his hairline. “Shit. Do you think she took off?”