Page 50 of She Didn't See It Coming
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Sam wakes froma heavy sleep to Clara looming over him on the bed.
“Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?”
“Clara, honey,” he says gently, “I told you. Mommy isn’t coming home. She’s in heaven.”
She pouts at him. “Let’s get some breakfast,” he says, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed. He’d finally slept. Not for long though; he’d been up half the night, and looking at the clock now he sees that it’s barely seven a.m. Clara slides off the bed. He takes her by the hand and together they go silently to the kitchen in pajamas and bare feet. He settles her at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and puts on a pot of coffee for himself. But the adrenaline has already started, along with the nonstop voice in his head telling him he’s fucked.
The police know that he abused Bryden. They know he called her office to check up on her. Such a stupid thing to do. Will they find out about Paige too? It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that they had the perfect marriage.
He watches Clara, eating her cereal. If they find out about him and Paige—what would the fallout be? They’d know that he’s a cheater. That he lied to the detectives.
He thinks that if they do find out, if Paige cracks under the pressure and tells them, he’ll tell the truth—that it was meaningless to him. That he didn’t get rid of his wife so that he could be with Paige. He sips his coffee uneasily.
And now Bryden’s parents think he did it, and maybe Lizzie does too. He’s not entirely sure about Lizzie.
“Daddy!” Clara says. “The buzzer.”
He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard it. Now he goes to answer it. It’s Lizzie. He lets her in the parking garage and waits for her to arrive.
“I promised to take Clara to day care this morning,” she says when he opens the door.
“Right.” He’d forgotten. He’s lost all track of what day it is. “Want a coffee? I just made some.”
“Sure,” she says. She greets Clara in the kitchen with a big hug. “You’re going to go back to see your friends today,” she tells the little girl with a gentle smile.
Clara looks listless and doesn’t answer, as if she doesn’t care one way or the other.
“Why don’t you go pick out what you want to wear,” Lizzie says, “while I talk to your dad.”
Clara gets up and trails off to her room, leaving Sam facing Lizzie across the kitchen table. “What are they saying?” Sam asks.
“Who?”
“Donna and Jim. They think I did it, don’t they? I could tell,” he says bitterly. He watches Lizzie take a deep breath.
“They think it’s a possibility,” Lizzie replies carefully.
“What do you think?” Sam asks bluntly.
She looks him in the eye and says, “I don’t think you’re a murderer, Sam.” She puts her cup down carefully on the table. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t look good to the police. If Bryden was having an affair—”
“I didn’t know,” Sam says. She nods as if she believes him. He wonders how long that will last. Will she find out about his call to Bryden’s workplace? About the abuse? She probably will, he realizes. It’s just a matter of time. He feels the walls closing in on him.
“Don’t look so defeated,” she tells him. She lowers her voice. “I can help you.”
He looks at her in disbelief. “How?”
“I know people.”
She says this with a conspiratorial air. And there’s a strange glint in her eyes he’s never seen before. It’s so odd, so unlike Lizzie, that hedoesn’t know what to make of it. “What are you talking about?” he asks, taken aback.
“Never mind.” She sits back and seems like the old Lizzie again. “Just please don’t give up. We’ll find out who murdered Bryden.” She stands. “I’d better help Clara get ready.”
Sam watches her go, wondering if his sister-in-law is losing her grip.
But then, aren’t they all?
