But despite his effort atbeing present, anxious thoughts zap through his mind.
No matter what he told his landlady, he is scared to go to the Allards’.
If what Tori Price implied is true, if Van murdered Autumn and they gave Tori money to keep quiet, then that means Jo and Daniel are willing to go to any lengths to protect their son.
Outside the Allards’ house, he pauses to take out his cellphone, debating the merits of Paula’s plan. He knows that Aziz would be furious if he knew what he was about to do. Even Paula thought it was a terrible idea. And maybe it is. But his desperation to know the truth is overpowering. He can’t back off now, not when he is so close to an answer.
He dials Paula’s number. She answers but doesn’t say a word, all according to plan. Holding the phone in one hand, he walks up the path to the front door and knocks. “Here we go,” he says.
Jo answers the door looking cool and relaxed in a fitted black tank top and flowy pants. As soon as he steps inside, he notices the suitcases in the foyer.
“You leaving tonight?” he asks.
“Come in, Finn. Let me get you a cold drink. You look like you could use one.”
He follows her, catching a glimpse of himself in the foyer’s gilded mirror. She’s right. He’s pink and blotchy, and he can see an actual droplet of sweat caught in his beard. Moments like this still startle him sometimes, seeing his face fully his own. He wipes the sweat away with the back of his hand.
In the kitchen, Jo waves him over to an oval table and offers him a glass of what looks like lemonade. He takes it and gulps it greedily. Only when the glass is half empty does he remember that Caren’s drink was spiked at this woman’s party.Too late, he thinks, as he takes a seat. But he is careful to put the phone on top of the table, face down, the microphone pointed toward Jo, who sits across from him. Just in case. If he hits the ground with a thud, Paula will hear it. If he stops speaking altogether, Paula will notice the silence. What she will do, he’s not sure. But he feels better knowing she is listening.
“Thanks. I needed that,” Finn says.
“It’s ghastly, isn’t it? Tomorrow is supposed to go up to ninety-seven, and it’s only June. We’re leaving at the perfect time. Summer in Washington is dreadful.”
Finn nods as if he agrees, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate the heat, as long as the air-conditioning at the library works. And he loves the way the DC area empties out in the summer, with all the rich people going to their vacation homes. “Where are you off to?”
“The south of France. We have a house there.”
For the first time, Finn realizes there is something off about the kitchen. His eyes travel from the bookcase behind Jo’s head around the room. It’s the same room, but dramatically stripped down. Only a handful of books remain on the shelves, and all appliances are off the counter. He turns to peer back at the mudroom. Even from here he can see that the giant black-and-white photo of the Allard family is gone. It doesn’t look like the Allards are taking a trip; it looks like they’re making a move.
He turns back to Jo. “How long do you plan to be away?”
She smiles. “Well, that depends on you, Finn.”
Finn stares at her. Her face betrays nothing. She is still, her eyes locked with his. The room is entirely silent.
“Meaning what exactly?” he asks, straining to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? We both know why you took this dog-sitting job. I was as curious to meet you as you were to meet me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” His leg begins to jiggle under the table.
“Don’t you?” She tilts her head, a faint smile on her lips.“You’re Autumn’s friend. You’re the one that puts the posters up around the neighborhood. I admire you. You’ve played the long game.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“Isn’t it? Haven’t you learned yet? Life is a game, Finn. There are winners and losers. Which category do you want to belong to?”
“I know about Van. I know he had an affair with Tori Price. And I called the detective on Autumn’s case and told him everything. It’s only a matter of time until he comes to talk to Van.”
She waves her arm at the empty shelves behind her. “Look around. We’re in the process of leaving. Van’s already out of the country,” she says. “Out of reach of some cut-rate county detective. Now whether he goes to Stanford or moves abroad permanently is entirely up to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you care. I don’t mean this as an insult to your friend, but if it weren’t for you, her death would be a footnote in the lore of Eastbrook. Just a terrible thing that happened one summer day. But you’re keeping the investigation alive. Let it go, Finn. We’ll make it worth your while.”
There it is. The heart of the matter. Why he’s sitting here in her pristine kitchen. It’s so naked, her belief that money trumps everything, that he almost laughs.
“You can’t buy your way out of everything.”