Page 39 of The Thinnest Air
“Change of plans,” I say to the driver. “Drop me off at Sixty-Four Highland Road.”
A red truck is parked in front of the garage, fresh mud on its tires. The house looks just like the one on the assessor page, except maybe some of the bushes have grown. There’s a light on, and a dog barks from behind a cedar privacy fence in the backyard.
I ask the cabdriver to keep the meter running, telling him I won’t be long.
Rapping on the thin glass storm door, I catch what sounds like footsteps on the other side that come to an abrupt stop. I’m sure he’s peering through his peephole, debating whether or not to let me in, but I’m not going to unstick my thorn from his side until I find out why the hell he was placed on leave.
The door opens a few seconds later.
This all-American Boy Scout looks like he’s seen better days. His hair is disheveled, his white T-shirt wrinkled, and his once rigid posture slightly slumped, defeated.
“What the hell happened?” I fold my arms across my chest.
He exhales, widening the door and letting me in. His other hand falls, hitting against his side.
“It’s a long story,” he says.
“I bet.”
Taking a seat on the edge of his plaid sofa, I fold my hands in my lap, cross my legs tight, and give him my undivided attention despite the annoyingly distracting dog out back that won’t shut the fuck up for two seconds.
He glances outside once more before closing the door and taking a spot on the chair across from me. Resting his elbows on his knees, he drags his hands down his tired face before releasing a hard breath.
“Your sister,” he says, “and I ... we had this thing. On the side. This secret thing. Nobody knew about it.”
I’m straddling the line between comprehending what he’s saying and trying to imagine my lovestruck sister straying from her “happy” marriage.
This bombshell is heavier than the last one, weighing down my shoulders, slowing my breath, and busying my mind.
I didn’t know her.
I didn’t know her at all—at least not the person she’d become.
“Forensics was able to analyze her cell phone records and linked her to me. I knew it was going to happen, just didn’t know it’d be this soon,” he says. “The department’s placed me on paid administrative leave. Conflict of interest and all that. And they have to rule me out as a suspect now that they know we were ... romantically involved.”
I study Ronan as if I’m seeing him for the first time all over again, trying to recall little moments, red flags, anything that would so much as hint that he had anything to do with this.
“Why didn’t you come forward right away?” I ask. “That alone seems like it might have some insinuations, don’t you think?”
“I know how this looks.” He buries his face in his hands again. “But there’s so much you don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” I lean forward. “What are you talking about? What haven’t you told me?”
My questions launch at him, one after another, and he lifts a hand in protest.
“I’ll tell you everything,” he says, though now I’m not sure if I can believe anything he says.
“Go on.” I wave my hand at him, sitting up straighter.
“I didn’t come forward right away because I wanted to be on this case. I wanted to find your sister. I wanted to be as close to all the developments and evidence as possible because I knew her well. I knew who she hung out with and where she went and what she liked to do. I thought that’d give me an advantage, help me find her quicker. And being the lead on the investigation meant I’d be able to keep a close eye on Andrew.”
My head cocks. “So you think it was Andrew?”
“There’s no solid evidence yet,” he says. “But based on what I know? Based on everything Meredith’s told me over the last couple of years? He’s the only one with a motive.”
“And what might that be?”
“For starters, she was pregnant,” he says. “And Andrew didn’t want her to have kids—not yet. First time she was pregnant, she said he freaked out on her.”
