“You know how her house is kind of higher up?” Bonnie asks, clearly relishing having everyone’s full attention. “And she’s always on that back porch? I was visiting her once, this was about a year ago, right beforeithappened, and we saw a whole group of kids run from Allan Road through the Allards’ backyard, duck through their hedge and through the yard of the cement house onto Earlston. She said all the neighborhood kids used it as a cut-through to the pool, and then she said, I remember this, she winked and said, ‘Some adults too.’”
The table is silent for a few excruciating moments as everyone waits for Paula to discard. Finn can feel his pulse pound in his ears. The Allards’ backyard. The Prison House. All familiar territory in his pursuit of Autumn’s killer.
“And I said to her, that’s funny, I’ve never seen any man come and go from that house. The cement one.” Bonnie picks up a tile and drops it immediately. “North wind. And she said that’s because he only comes at night and goes straight into the basement apartment entrance. That’s where the nanny lived.”
Finn stares straight ahead, trying not to breathe. He doesn’t know what this means, he’s sure Autumn was not seeing anyone, but it has to mean something.
“Huh, look at that,” Paula says with surprise. “Mah-jongg again!”
TWENTY
Late in the evening, I am sitting in bed listening to an audiobook, because reading still gives me a headache, when I hear the front door open. Suddenly, the quiet house is filled with domestic noise. Kugel starts barking, Miguel calls out to me, and I can hear Rachel fuss over the dog. Those sounds of a family home calm me better than any medication ever could.
I go to the landing and catch Rachel in a hug just as she bounds up the stairs. I hug her with desperate intensity as if she might vanish if I don’t hold her tight enough.
“Welcome home, baby!”
“Careful, I’m stinky,” she says.
I pull back to examine her, taking in every detail. She looks more like me as she gets older except that she’s a few inches taller and has Miguel’s nose. Her dark hair is streaked with gold from the sun, and she’s tan and scruffy looking—as she should be after spending ten days in the outdoors. She practically glows with happiness. The sight of her fills me with relief. She’s here, she’s safe, and she’s untouched by whatever darkness has been circling me the past few days.
“Mom, it was amazing.” She immediately launches into a retelling of the trip, words tumbling out in excited bursts. “So Aida’s aunt lives in Burlington, and she picked us up at the airport, and we spent one night there, and oh my God, Burlington is so cool, and then the next morning she drove us and all our gear to Brandon Gap…”
I pull her into my bedroom by her hand, and we sit on the edge of my bed, where I let her talk nonstop for about twenty minutes. Miguel comes in and folds laundry, listening and watching. Even Kugel joins us, curling up at Rachel’s feet. For a moment, all seems right with the world. I’ve missed this so much I feel like I might cry, the pressure building between my eyes as I struggle to focus only on now, trying to push away the swirling questions that have plagued me.
“You sure you want to turn around and go away in a couple of days?” I say once she has stopped for breath, attempting to mask the desperation in my voice with humor. “You can stay in Bethesda for the summer, get a job at Ledo’s.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Funny. I already have a job, remember?”
I nod. I know this. She’s going to be a junior counselor at a tennis camp she’s attended since she was little. “I can match their salary,” I say, hoping it comes off as a joke, but I can feel tears welling in my eyes.
Rachel makes a face, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay, that’s just weird. Are you all right, Mom?”
Miguel clears his throat. “See any bears in Vermont?”
“Oh, so many bears. Let me show you. Let me get my phone.”
As soon as she rushes out of the room, Miguel walks in front of me, his eyes boring into me. “What was that all about?”
“What? I was joking.”
“Only it wasn’t funny. And it looked like you were about to cry.”
“I guess I like having her home. That’s not so weird, is it?” I drop my legs over the edge of the bed and let my bare feet land on Kugel’s back. The handout from the hospital says that big emotional swings can be one of the effects of a concussion, and that’s what this feels like. Like I’m strapped to some giant pendulum, swinging from despair to nostalgia and back again.
“No. But we don’t want to upset her. We agreed on that.” He stretches out the wordagreedfor emphasis.
Just then my phone rings and I grab it, grateful for the interruption. It’s Kenya. Finally.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. I was at mah-jongg. What’s going on? How can I help?” Though her voice is casual, it sounds forced to me.
“I had a weird conversation with that Holly Stone woman this afternoon. We bumped into each other at Wagshal’s.” I can feel Miguel’s eyes on me, and I turn my body slightly, my back stiffening under his scrutiny.
“What happened?” Kenya’s voice goes up a notch. “I thought Miguel returned her bracelet.”
“Yes, he did. But she claimed that she contacted us several times about the bracelet. I only got the one email. Did you get any messages from her? Maybe a DM on Facebook?” A pause follows, and I close my eyes tight as I wait for her answer. It feels like forever until she speaks again, although I know it’s only a few seconds.
“Oh, right. I did see that she had contacted us through Facebook.”