Locust Lane(74)

“She’s not who you think she is,” Leander stated.

“She’s a master manipulator,” Jill added.

On Sunday morning, she had a phone conversation with the two reporters from the Herald who’d been the recipients of the information assembled by the white van men. (Oliver explained that the Globe would have carried more editorial weight, but he feared that they might not use the more evocative photos.) For the most part, they simply wanted Celia to confirm the facts about her friendship with Alice and express her belief that she was the author of the anonymous Twitter comments about her son. Only at the end did they ask her to comment on her personal feelings.

“She’s very good at acting the friend, but I now see she always had her own agenda. She’s a very unhappy and disturbed person who has no place in a community like this.”

Whatever doubts Celia initially had about the article, by Sunday evening she couldn’t wait for it to come out. It hadn’t been a good weekend for the Parrishes. Since the Twitter thread posted, there’d been a tectonic shift in public attitudes about the case. If Christopher initially fit the dark preconceptions of a certain segment of the population, then Jack struck a chord with those harboring a more progressive paranoia. Suddenly, people on Twitter and Facebook were casting him as a poster boy for heedless privilege. Someone actually had the nerve to use the term affluenza. Other incidents from Jack’s past were dredged up, presumably by classmates and so-called friends, all writing anonymously. Everybody knows became a refrain. The Lexi incident continued to be blown way out of proportion. And then there were the photos, perfectly normal teenage stuff that now had a sinister aspect. The time had passed for indulging the secret doubts Celia had harbored about her son when this whole thing started. They were after Jack now. There was only one thing to do: protect him.

Most distressing of all was the incident on Saturday night, when somebody came to the house. Celia had been on her way upstairs to go to bed when she happened to glance out the dining room window. A sleek dark sedan was parked out front. A man stood ominously still by the driver’s door. At first she thought he was associated with Oliver’s investigation, but something about him didn’t feel right. The way he just stood there. And there appeared to be someone in his car. A woman. Celia went to tell Oliver in his study. His face immediately stiffened in alarm. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He went to the dining room to look.

“Call the police,” he said.

“What’s happening?”

“Just call.”

As she dialed 911, there was movement out at the car. The man had started to walk toward the house. Oliver stepped into the hall and turned on the front lights. This froze the stranger in his tracks, just beyond the realm of light. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though she couldn’t place it. After what seemed like an endless interval, he turned and got back in his car.

“Oliver, what is this?” Celia asked.

“The price of notoriety.”

A squad car arrived quickly, though the intruder was long gone. The police took a report and promised to keep an eye out. After that, Celia’s anger toward Alice deepened, as did her own sense of guilt. She’d put the family at risk by letting this woman get so close. She’d been duped, no matter how pure her intentions. Because Alice was an impostor. She was evil. She didn’t belong here. She had to go.



* * *



After reading the Herald article, Celia texted Jack and told him to return from his grandmother’s immediately. Oliver was still at home—he wanted to speak to his son before he left for the office. Jack arrived back just after nine. His eyes flickered toward the newspaper spread on the table as he sat across from her.

“You’ve read this, I presume,” Celia asked.

“Yeah. Grandma had like ten copies delivered once she heard.”

Oliver emerged from his study.

“Did you know about this?” he asked his son, nodding to the front-page photo.

“No. I mean, I knew she’s a flake, but I had no idea that she was banging Christopher’s dad.”

“Did you ever talk to her about Lexi?”

“No! God, I’m not stupid.”

“But you talked to Hannah about it?”

Jack’s expression answered the question.

“That was a mistake, Jack.”

“I know. Stupid girl.”

“So she had no idea that this affair was going on, either?”

“God, no. She’s more freaked than anybody.”

“I presume she’s not going to be telling her stepmother anything else.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with an ominous chuckle. “She couldn’t if she wanted, anyway. Hannah’s dad gave her the boot.”

“Well, good riddance,” Celia said. “So what happens now?”

“What happens now is that people will read this and come to their senses,” Oliver said. “They’ll understand that all this nonsense that’s been written about us is just a load of crap and they’ll turn their attention back to the real guilty party here. This is confidential but—talks have opened with Christopher’s attorney about a confession.”

“Thank God,” Celia said.

“It could all be wrapped up by the end of the week.”