Page 59 of Dead Man's Hollow
“Nothing new. They said it wasn’t a big fight because the cops were coming over the hill, a couple of punches were thrown, some shoving. It’s pretty much what Rich already told me.”
“It’s still progress,” Jordana tells her. “I’m going to talk to one of Andre’s teachers later today and we’ll just keep plugging along. Maybe Maisy and Rich will find something useful in Quebec.”
“I hope so.”
Jordana hesitates, then says, “You don’t have to answer right now, but give some thought about how much of this you’re comfortable with us sharing on the podcast.”
“Believe me, I’ve been thinking about nothing else since they left here this morning. I’m tired of the lies. I’m tired of the secrets. You can blow it all wide open.”
“Do you want to talk to Rich first?”
“Screw Rich.” She hopes her distress isn’t evident.
Apparently it is, because Jordana asks, “Do you want me to come over there?”
Amy focuses on not crying. “You’re really sweet to offer, but I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Maybe call one of your sisters to come over?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m in the middle of a cleaning frenzy.”
“My mom does that,” Jordana says. “When she’s upset, she cleans the house from top to bottom. Her house wasspotlessafter I told her I wasn’t going to law school.”
This gets a genuine laugh from her. “I for one am glad you decided not to be a lawyer.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us. Maisy’s going to call me with an update later today. Do you want me to let you know when she checks in?”
“Please do, because I blocked Rich’s number from my phone. I won’t hear about it from him.”
She can tell that Jordana wants to respond, but she also knows that a college student can’t possibly know what to say to someone whose twenty-five-year marriage is falling apart.
“I’m okay, Jordana, honestly.”
She ends the call and returns to her cleaning. Twenty minutes later, she pulls down the bin full of old pool toys and sandbox buckets. The whole thing can just go, and she’s about to set it on the donation pile when she remembers Rich has some of his fishing gear in the box. She takes off the lid to remove the tackle box and then puts the rest of the items aside.
Amy’s on autopilot, opening boxes, and unlatches the tackle box. Then she spots something shiny and white on the bottom tray and a chill runs through her. When she pulls out her sister’s diary, her fragile grip on her emotions slips and she sinks to her knees in the middle of her shed.
ChapterThirty-Two
Maisy hasher hands folded in front of her on the table, waiting patiently while Chloe and Bastian are inside on a call with Chloe’s psychiatrist, discussing the advisability of a trip to Pittsburgh. Rich hasn’t said a word since they saw the photographs of Emilie Tremblay. Despite herself, Maisy is grudgingly impressed that he hasn’t bothered to argue she looks nothing like Heather. Even Rich must realize when reality is going to bite him in the behind.
Her cell phone dings and she glances down at the screen. It’s a message from Jordana.
R was sleeping with H. Amy just found out.
She furrows her brow and stares at the words. She must be misunderstanding. R and H have to mean something other than Rich and Heather. Right? She angles herself away from Rich and thumbs out the question.
Rich was sleeping with her sister?
Yeah. Michelle and Lynn were waiting for her this morning when she got home from the airport.
Maisy’s stomach drops.
How is she?
Not great. She’s cleaning.
It’s what women do, Maisy thinks. They work things out by working.
