Aimee looks up at Gwen as if for approval. Gwen nods. She has no choice. They have to come clean if there’s any chance of finding Scott.
“No, it wasn’t Cathy,” Gwen says. “It was my husband. His name is Anton Khoury, and he was murdered Friday night.”
The officer stares at Gwen for a moment before standing. “Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”
He leaves the room for about ten minutes, during which Gwen can hear his voice low as he talks on the phone. She wonders what he is saying. The whole story is so crazy. Finally, he returns and tells them they can go home.
“I’ve got everything I need from you right now. But a detective will come by your residences later to talk to you both,” he says. “Oh, and I need a current photo of your husband, if you have one.”
When Aimee doesn’t respond right away, Gwen pulls up a photo of Scott and texts it to him. She has plenty to choose from over the past year of shared meals and vacations. Once they are free to go, she takes Aimee outside.
“Do you want me to drive?” Gwen asks.
Aimee shakes her head. “I’m fine, really.”
The ride home is awkward and silent. Gwen pulls her cold, damp feet out of the muddy slippers and tucks them under her. She’ll toss the ruined slippers when she gets home, give Sababa and then herself a long shower. Barb can take care of everything else. Gwen wants to ask Aimee how she’s feeling, but she’s afraid that her friend might take out all of the day’s frustration on her. Aimee is giving offdon’t-talk-to-mevibes, and Gwen wants to respect that. Her mind is cluttered with everything she has learned today and she doesn’t have the bandwidth to sort it out. Like the fact that Anton knew about Cathy. She feels the weight of his guilt pressing down on her. She wasn’t the one blackmailing Scott, but as Anton’s wife, she feels somehow responsible.
She wishes she could reach across the gulf that has opened between her and Aimee, that they could curl up on a couch with a bottle of wine and talk about it all. Together, they have a better chance of figuring things out. But Aimee is shutting her out.
When the truck pulls up in front of Aimee’s house, Gwen snaps out of her thoughts.
“I have to go to Lisa’s and pick up the kids,” Aimee says, getting out.
Gwen slips her feet back into her wet slippers and grabs Sababa’s leash. The late afternoon sun is hidden behind thick white clouds, and the air is heavy with impending rain. “Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Gwen says to Aimee as she locks the truck.
“Thanks,” Aimee says from across the hood.
“Maybe you should ask Lisa about Cathy.”
Aimee frowns. “Lisa? You think she knows something about Cathy?”
“Well, she did freak out when you said Noa was going over there.”
Aimee looks off in the distance. “That is true.”
“And if she was sleeping with Anton, maybe he told her something.”
“Gwen, we don’t know that.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Aimee says, irritated. “And I have enough on my plate right now.”
“Of course. You never want to think badly of anyone.” Gwen turns to her house, pulling Sababa, who has found something dead on the asphalt to smell, behind her. What she really wants to say is,You always wanted to see the best in her, but Lisa is a psycho, and your husband, he has some serious skeletons in his closet. And maybe it’s time you grew up and faced facts.But right now Gwen feels like Aimee is the only friend she has in the world, and she doesn’t want to lose her, so Gwen forces herself to smile. “And that’s one of the things I really love about you, Aimee. Just be careful who you believe.”
35
NOW
Marcus answers the door wearing an apron and envelopes Aimee in a hug. “You doing okay?” He pulls back to look at her face. “Any word on Scott?”
Aimee shakes her head. “No. But we found his car. I’ll tell you about it inside.”
“Gwen all right?” Marcus asks, nodding across the cul-de-sac to where Gwen is still standing on the front stoop of her house.
Aimee turns to watch Gwen disappear inside. “Not exactly.”
Aimee follows Marcus into the brightly lit kitchen, where she is greeted by smells of garlic and butter.