Page 103 of Old Money
“No,”Theo says sharply. “You were not out of it. I wasn’t, and neither were you. Got it?”
He reaches over the desk, waiting for me to look up.
“You were so brave, Alice, I couldn’t believe it. You’d been through this nightmare ordeal, and you managed to report it immediately. You sat there and talked it through. Do you know how rare that is?”
I hate this. I hate the way he’s soothing me with praise—shifting the focus from his lie to my bravery. And I hate how good it feels to hear it.
“So, the cops were taking statements,” I say slowly. “And you approached them, and—just came up with that? On the spot?”
Theo sits up, his hand dragging back across the desk.
“Basically.” He shrugs. “I wish Ihadthought it through more. It came out so fast that afterward, I couldn’t remember exactly what I said. I remember sitting in the car, trying to replay it in my head. I was so damn scared. And then for months, every time the phone rang...”
He sucks air in between his teeth, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm.
“Jesus, I was terrified.”
A dense breeze murmurs through the window, filling the quiet room with the smell of hot pavement and fertilizer.
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
Theo looks up, his face apologetic, bordering on anguished.
“I always thought I would.” His voice crackles. “I just—didn’t. I’m sorry, Alice. It’s inexcusable.”
I stand, my skin unsticking from the seat with a sting I notice but don’t quite feel.
“Well, I’ve got Mr. Brody’s thing. So that’s, um. That’s good.”
“You’re still going to do this, Alice? You’re sure?”
I shrug.
“Wouldn’t you?”
Theo drops his head, smiling sadly into his lap.
I turn for the door with conscious effort, keeping a hand on my chair. My reflexes feel dull and glitchy—my whole body in a brownout.
“Let’s talk when you’re ready, okay?” Theo calls after me. “Maybe family dinner?”
I think of Gordon Fairchild—his ominous reminder:You do have things to lose, Alice. Not much family is better than none. As if I didn’t know already. I knew just how many ways there were to suddenly, brutally lose someone. But now I see how it can happen slowly—how ties aren’t always cut, but sometimes simply start to fray.
“Yeah,” I answer Theo without turning around. “Sounds good.”
I’m not sure yet which is worse: losing someone, or knowing you’re about to.
Chapter Forty-Five
Iwake up at sunrise. The sun gleams off the river, my stuffy hotel room already so warm it feels like midafternoon. If this is what 6:30 a.m. feels like, today is going to be a record-breaker—a brownout day for sure.
Brownout, I think.Theo. Theo lied.
I still can’t make sense of it—any of it: Theo lying, and to me, and aboutthis. Thinking about it feels like trying to walk on my hands.
I check my phone, quickly skimming my inbox for any response from theClub Kidproducers. Nothing yet—thank God. I’m still determined to move forward with the plan, but I need to get my head on straight first. How does Theo’s revelation fit in here? Do I tell them? Do I tell the cops? Does it matter to anyone but me?
I switch on the TV, eager for the idle chatter of morning news. In the bathroom, I peel off my T-shirt and start the shower, letting it warm up (a little, at least), while I brush my teeth. The TV voices drift in, the words unintelligible over the roaring shower. All I can catch are snippets of sentences and the vague tonal variations of different segments: bubbly host patter, the coo and giggle of a viral-video story involving an animal, and then the sudden drop in volume as they pivot to thirty seconds of actual news.
