Page 34 of She Didn't See It Coming
“You didn’t know?” the detective asks her.
“No,” Alice says.
Derek says, “She just woke up. But I saw it on the news this morning, when I turned on my computer.”
The female detective looks Alice in the eye and says, “She was murdered and left in the basement in her condominium building.”
“That’s terrible,” Alice says. “But what does that have to do with us?”
“Your husband knew her,” Detective Salter says.
“I told you, I didn’t actually know her,” Derek protests in a reasonable voice. “We only met twice—at the accident, and later when she paid me for the damage. That was the extent of my involvement with her.”
“Yes, that’s what you told me yesterday,” Detective Salter says and waits a beat. Then she leans forward and says, “But now we have information that you did know her, quite well, in fact.”
Alice turns and stares at her husband. She sees him flush just slightly beneath his day-old stubble. Can the detectives see it too? Alice is suddenly very angry, at the detectives and at her husband. But mostly at her husband. What has he done? What has he been up to, and not telling her about? They agreed no more secrets. He promised her no more secrets. No more misbehavior. And now this.
“What information?” Derek demands. “There can’t be any information, because I’m telling you the truth.” He sounds perfectly in control of himself, but she can see the vein pulsing in his temple. It does that when he’s angry.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station to answer a few questions,” the detective says.
“And what if I refuse?” Derek asks.
“That’s your choice. But if you don’t come willingly, we will arrest you and bring you in for questioning.”
Alice watches him stare at them. He’s furious now, she can tell. They don’t realize what they’ve done.
“This is outrageous. I’m not going anywhere until I call my attorney,” Derek says calmly.
“Fine,” the detective says. “We’ll wait.”
21
Once the detectives have gone, Paige makes herself a cup of tea and sits on the sofa staring blankly at the wall, going over the interview again in her mind. She is not going in to work today. Who would expect someone to come to work when their best friend has been murdered? It’s splashed all over the headlines. They have let her take some personal time. They’ve told her she can take vacation time too, if she needs it.
Those detectives had put her on the spot; Paige hadn’t realized she’d been so transparent when they spoke to her in Bryden’s condo yesterday. Whatever happens now is out of her control. She wishes this was a book she could put down; she doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen next.
•••
Sam, Lizzie, and Claraare back at the apartment. Detective Salter had called Sam and told him the forensics people had finished, that they could return.
Sam finds he is uncomfortable now around Lizzie. She bustles around, trying to entertain Clara. He’s grateful for her help, but at the same time, he feels watched somehow. Perhaps he said too much last night.
He tells himself that she’s on his side. At least she says she is, but does she have doubts? Does she think he might have killed Bryden, despite her protestations? He’s caught her looking at him speculatively. It makes him think that she knows some secret about Bryden that she hasn’t shared with him. What isshekeeping back? And then it occurs to him, the possibility of betrayal—has she told the detectives something she hasn’t told him?
The easy trust that existed between them when Bryden first went missing changed somehow when her body was discovered. It looks bad—his suitcase, the storage room, to which he has keys. His having no alibi. But what they haven’t come up with, so far, is a motive. That’s what everyone is looking for, he can feel it. The detectives terrify him. In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, he saw himself convicted and sent to prison.
Before he can think any more about that, there’s a buzz on the intercom. It’s his mother-and father-in-law, wanting in. When they arrive at the door moments later, he lets them in without a word. They have got themselves here by Uber.
Lizzie fusses, getting them coffee, while Sam watches, numb. Rather than being more rested after the night, everyone seems more exhausted, more depleted, more distressed. All hope gone. Except Lizzie, who seems to thrive on being needed, and appears to be running on adrenaline. She is constantly checking her phone. In a bizarre way, Lizzie almost seems to want credit for the discovery of the body. She has twice mentioned that she’s glad she pushed the detectives to get the K-9 unit to search the building—that if she hadn’t done that, perhaps they would still be looking.
Sam is lost in his own thoughts this morning, barely interacting with his wife’s family. Still, he slowly becomes aware of his mother-in-law’s eyes on him. He looks back at her and she quickly looks away. She’s speculating too, Sam thinks, like Lizzie.Does Donna think he killed Bryden?He feels a wave of fear and sickness go through him. Have they talked about him, the three of them? They might have discussed him in Lizzie’s apartment last night, before she left for the hotel, reeling from the shock of the discovery of Bryden’s body. What are they thinking about him? What are they saying to the detectives? He doesn’t trust them. Is this just paranoia, or is he right not to trust them? Sam realizes he must be careful what he says now, how he acts, in front of them. They are watching him. Suddenly he wants them all to leave. He wishes he could get high, just to escape all this for a while, but he doesn’t have anything in the house. Perhaps he will suggest they all take Clara to the park so he can have a moment to himself. If he could just have a moment maybe he could think straight. But no one leaves, and he continues to brood.
Paige soon arrives, and this time Sam lets Lizzie answer the door. He must find out what Paige said to the detectives yesterday. She knew his wife best; if Bryden had secrets, Paige would know.
Lizzie fetches a cup of coffee for Paige, then settles Clara in the den, and they all sit awkwardly in the living room talking in low voices about Bryden, their memories of her, and about Clara, how this will affect her, and about the murder investigation. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience for Sam. He is so distraught and sleep-deprived that none of it seems quite real. More like a dream. He feels uncomfortably warm, feels himself sweating. Can they tell? He didn’t shower again this morning. He should have.
He surveys the people around him; he has never been less able to read a room.
