Aimee sighs and continues walking. “Fine, I won’t. But I don’t want you to worry. No one is coming to hurt you. Did he tell the boys the same thing?”
Noa shakes her head. “No, just me. But was it an accident? Or was it on purpose?”
The boys have gone ahead inside the house and left the front door open. Aimee pauses on the stoop, unsure of what to say. Adults are supposed to have all the answers, but she has none. “We’re not sure. The police are trying to figure that out now. But I don’t want you to worry. You’re safe. Okay?”
Noa nods and then steps into the dark house. Aimee follows, moving from room to room and flipping on all the lights. In the kitchen, she cuts up some carrot sticks and apple slices, spoons the shrimp and rice onto plates, and calls everyone to dinner.
“Since Daddy’s not here, can we watch something with dinner?” Noa asks.
The boys instantly chime in, arguing about what show to watch. Aimee relents. She has little energy to enforce screen limits tonight. The kids grab their plates and drinks and head to the family room. Aimee sits at the kitchen table alone, staring out into the blackness of the backyard. The floodlights in Gwen’s yard go on and then off. Maybe she was letting Sababa out. Maybe it was a fox that activated the motion sensers. The distance to Gwen’s house is about thirty feet, but it feels a million miles away. How strange that they are each going through the suburban dinnertime ritual while both their husbands are gone.
Missing. Not gone. Scott will come back.
After dinner the kids drop their dishes in the sink and rush upstairs. Normally, she and Scott do the dishes together. Tidying up the kitchen is their chance to catch up at the end of theday. She thinks of his car, sitting in that barn. How did it get in there? Did he drive it in himself? Was he forced to? The not knowing is unbearable. She’s prioritized stability her whole life, and now she has to accept that she may not really know the person she thought she could count on.
Jon Block’s words come back to mock her.
It never ceases to amaze me. People can be married and sleep together in the same bed for decades and have no idea who the other person is.
Aimee goes upstairs and starts looking through Scott’s drawers. She is not searching for anything in particular, but hopes that some object might trigger a buried memory, activate some dormant knowledge. But Scott has no secrets in his sock drawer or tucked under his neatly folded sweaters. In his bedside table she finds a stack of cards from his recent birthday. One from her, homemade ones from the kids, and one in a yellow envelope, return address North Carolina, where his Aunt Kay lives. Aimee opens the card and reads it. It’s a standard Hallmark card—his aunt has signed her name and that’s all. She’s the only family Scott has left, a fact that now strikes her as meaningful. With her three stepbrothers, her dad, and Deb, Aimee has people. Holidays are always spent up in Baltimore, and since she married Scott, he has always gone along, happy to be part of a big boisterous family. She loved having him with her at these gatherings. He got along with everyone and, in an odd way, he made her feel like she belonged in her own family. But now she wonders about Aunt Kay.
Aimee glances at the clock; it’s only just after nine. Not too late to call. Not when it’s something important like this.
She’s nervous calling. She’s never had reason to pick up the phone and dial Scott’s aunt before. She only has the number in her phone because they were traveling through North Carolina a few years ago, and they stopped by and had a quick lunch with her.
Aunt Kay answers right away. They chat for a few minutes andAimee is reminded that, despite how bright Kay is, she’s a mathematics instructor at a local community college, and she lacks many social graces.
“I’m actually calling because I have some difficult news.”
“I hope you don’t need money,” Kay says. “I don’t have any. In fact, I’ve taken in a boarder.”
“No, we don’t need money. It’s about Scott.”
“He’s not in trouble again, is he?”
Aimee’s heart gallops. “What do you mean, again?”
“Never mind, hurry up and tell me what you want. I have papers to grade.”
“Scott’s missing, Aunt Kay. The police are looking for him. I’m very worried about him.” She pauses, but Kay says nothing. “I think he was being blackmailed. Do you have any idea what that might be about?”
“I don’t want any trouble.” Aimee can hear papers shuffling in the background.
“Of course not,” Aimee says. “Neither do I.” What did Kay mean by that? It didn’t sound like simply the skittishness of an older woman who was used to a solitary life. There was an edge to her voice. Where was her concern for her nephew?
“I was happy to take him and help him finish high school, get him on his feet. I gave him a roof over his head and food to eat.”
“I know you did. And he was always very grateful.”
“But that’s the end of it for me. I’m not getting mixed up in anything. I wish you good luck, but I can’t be of any help. Please don’t call here again.”
Aimee gasps, unable to control her surprise. “Aunt Kay, you can’t mean that.”
“I do. And if I were you, I’d get myself a good lawyer.”
36
THIS PAST SPRING