The Last Thing She Ever Did(64)

“I asked the detective,” he said. “I asked her what I could do. She told me that I needed to stay focused and clearheaded. That I needed to take care of business.”

“That’s not what she meant. Trust me: no one loses their son and goes to work as if nothing happened.”

“You’re wrong. Charlie’s on my mind all the time. He’s right here,” he said, touching the beer bottle to his chest.

Carole didn’t want to fight. She wanted to save all of her energy for the investigation and, God willing, Charlie’s homecoming. “You have to go,” she said. “Stay at a hotel.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, getting up and standing over her.

Carole stared at him. She’d faced tougher adversaries in the boardroom. She knew how to take the emotion out of her words. A tone of resignation was better than an avalanche of aggression. “Look,” she said, picking her words carefully, “let’s not fight. Let’s not say something that we will never forget or forgive.”

“I want him home too,” he said.

“I need you gone.”

“I won’t go,” David said. “I tell you, I won’t.”

Carole held her tongue. She didn’t tell him to go sleep at his girlfriend’s place. Whoever she was. She didn’t want to make her growing hatred for him be about another person outside of their marriage. This was a family matter. She could see his disinterest in their son from the day that he came home from the hospital. She saw the way he’d always feigned wishing he had more time with Charlie.

But he was too busy.

Too busy with the restaurant.

Too busy having sex with some woman not smart enough to see through his lies.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“Where will you go?” David asked, a response that only confirmed what she’d thought of him all along. He had no capacity for love. He only thought of himself. He didn’t tell her that she should stay: it was her money that had paid for the house, after all. He just asked where she would go.

She went to an overnight bag that she’d already packed. She took her robe and a jacket and uttered not a single word. She simply fought to keep her resolve that when Charlie came home, she’d kick David out the door as fast as she could. She’d pull the credit line from the restaurant and she’d kiss him good-bye.

For good.

“Don’t do this,” he said.

Carole turned the latch on the front door.

“It will look bad, babe,” he said. “It will look like there’s been something going on here. Now’s not the time for this kind of drama. Think about Charlie.”

She spun around and looked hard at her husband.

“David, Charlie is all I think about. I don’t care what other people think. I don’t want to fight and I don’t want to bad-mouth you. I just don’t want to see your face. Not right now.”



It was one in the morning when Owen Jarrett climbed out of bed to answer a tentative but persistent knocking on the door. He fumbled for a pair of sweatpants in the shadowy light and hurriedly put them on. Liz, startled by the commotion, started to get up.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll find out what’s up.”

“It’s the police,” she whispered. “They’ve found me.”

He slipped a T-shirt on. “Be quiet,” he told her. “It is not the police. Someone’s car broke down or something. Or some kids are shit-faced and can’t find their way home. It isn’t the police. Just wait here.”

Liz put her head back down on the pillow and pulled up the covers.

Owen opened the front door.

It was Carole. She stood there with a small suitcase. Owen could instantly see what was going on. She’d left her husband. She looked more embarrassed than upset.

“Owen, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s late. Can I come in? I don’t want to spend another night in that house with David. I just can’t.”

He opened the door wider, and she came inside.

“Sure,” he said.

“I’ll figure out what I’m going to do tomorrow. I mean later this morning.”

“Let me get Liz,” he said.

Carole put her hand up. “No, don’t bother her. Let her sleep.”

A beat later Liz appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Carole, I heard your voice. What happened? What’s going on?”

“She and David had a fight,” Owen said. “She’s crashing here.”

“It wasn’t really a fight,” Carole said. “I’m sorry, Liz. I just can’t stand being in the same room with David. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him anymore.”

Neither of the Jarretts asked why she didn’t trust David. They just let the words hang in the air.

“I’ll make up the bed in the guest room,” Liz said.

“No. I can sleep on the sofa.”

“Don’t be silly. The bed is supercomfortable. I take naps in there sometimes.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. Of course, I know I’ve already been one. It’s so late and I am sorry. The sofa is fine.”

Owen started for the bedroom. “I’m going back to bed while you two figure out the winner of this little battle. Early meeting in”—he looked at the time—“six hours. I should be fresh as a daisy, don’t you think?”