The Last Thing She Ever Did(86)

“Hey, Carole. Talked to your husband this afternoon,” Owen said. “He’s a wreck. Restaurant’s empty. Looks bad. Says you won’t call him back.”

“Let it go, Owen,” she said. “I want to keep my focus on what matters to me. Charlie. Not David.” She turned to face them from the doorway to the guest room. “I don’t give a flying fuck about David. I know what he’s about. I always have. That’s my sin in all of this: not choosing a better man when it came time to finally get married and start a family.”

“He loves you, Carole,” Liz said, though deep down she’d doubted it.

Carole looked at the Jarretts. They were a young and beautiful couple. While they had problems, they weren’t insurmountable. They weren’t encumbered by the fight to have everything all at once. The way her husband had been.

The way, she realized, she had been too.

“David loves David,” she said, her voice flat and husky from the wine. “He’s never wanted anything that didn’t move him forward in his dream. A little boy with a mind of his own never fit into his scheme of things. Sometimes I wonder if he was half-glad when Charlie was taken. It sure freed him from a lot of the annoyances that got in his way.”

Carole returned to her room and shut her door.

Liz turned her attention to her husband, still standing where he’d deposited his car keys.

“We are destroying them,” she said.

“Don’t go there,” he said quietly. He raised his hand and motioned for her to stay calm.

Owen always wanted her to be quiet.

“I promise,” he said, moving away from her and to the kitchen. “It will be over soon. Anything to eat around here? You can’t believe the lousy day I had.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

MISSING: TWENTY-FIVE DAYS

Liz could no longer tell if there was something different about Owen or if it was merely the way she’d been processing everything since the accident. He’d told her repeatedly that she was being paranoid and that there was nothing to be done but wait out the police investigation. At night, when she would lie next to him, feeling the slight heaving of the mattress as he breathed in and out, she wondered how he was able to sleep. She couldn’t. At least not at night. In the dark, she’d taken to moving from the bed to the sofa, then back to the bed, then back to the sofa again. Her movements were the manifestations of her guilt. She knew that. She was a nomad in her own home. An unworthy interloper. Each day she hoped for the resolution that her husband had promised.

His words played on an endless loop.

They’ll find him. It will be bone-crushingly sad when they do. But it will be over. And it’ll never lead to us. Not ever.

Liz had agreed to all of it. She knew she couldn’t blame Owen for what she had done. She had been the guilty party. He was only trying to help her.

And still it wasn’t right. In her heart she knew what they had done was every kind of wrong.

“We need to talk,” Liz said one morning while Owen dressed for work.

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, making a face as he noticed a small blemish on his chin. “I need to get to the office.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Liz said. “And, no, I don’t think it can wait. It’s about Charlie.”

Owen drew closer. His face was hard, his lips tight. Although the bedroom door was closed, he looked around to ensure that what he was about to say was heard only by her. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders, a move that was meant to focus attention on his words.

Instead, it hurt.

“Leave it alone,” he said. “Now is not the time.”

“You’re hurting me,” she said, trying to pull away.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.” He relaxed his hands and let go.

He was lying. Liz knew it. Owen’s grip on her shoulder was a reminder that she’d turned over all of the power she’d held in the situation. She’d given in. She’d acquiesced to his plan.

“I think I should tell the police what I did, Owen. I can’t live like this.”

His eyes drilled into hers. “That would be the biggest mistake of your life. Worse than what you did on the day of your bar exam.” He didn’t even want to say the words, didn’t want to name the things they’d done.

“I’ll say that I hid him,” she said. “I’ll leave you out.”

Owen let her words hang in the air. He let out a sigh and then, a little more gently this time, led her to the edge of the bed.

“Sit,” he told her, and that’s just what she did. “We did what we thought was best. I did what I thought was best for you and our future.”

“I know,” she conceded, wanting to believe him. “But you don’t know what it’s like. The only thing that’s keeping Carole alive is the hope that Charlie will be found alive. I can’t keep lying to her. I can’t keep pretending that hope is even possible . . . not when I know it isn’t.”

Owen softened a little. “Look,” he finally said, “I get it. I understand. I hate it too. It’s what we agreed to do. You can’t go changing your mind, Liz. You have to be stronger than that. I need you to stay focused.”

“If I told the police everything, except the part where you helped me—”