Page 94 of The Night the Lights Went Out
There were dozens of photos of her at the beginning of the school party at Heather’s lake house, at various school functions, assemblies, and class trips, and at the gala party—all of them with Dan. The last one was of them dancing, her hand on his shoulder and his at her waist, their foreheads almost touching as they talked and smiled, close so they could hear each other on the crowded dance floor. At least that’s what she remembered. But the angles of these photos were much more... intimate. It embarrassed her to look at them, to know them for the lie they were, but she was still unable to glance away. There were photos, too, at the Pilates group class. She remembered several people taking photos with the disposable cameras Heather had handed out at the beginning of the year. But she didn’t remember any of these being taken—especially the one of her on her back where she was doing some horrendous ab exercise. The photo was cropped to concentrate on her pained expression. Merilee wondered for a moment why this one had been posted, then realized to her horror it appeared she was in the throes of passion. There were more of her in the carpool line wearing a private smile that looked more like a smirk, and on the school trip to the dairy farm, where Dan had also been a chaperone. A photo of the two of them looking under a cow at each other. She’d remembered that, recalled that Dan had said something funny about nice calves, and she’d laughed. But in the photo, it appeared to be two people flirting.
“Dear Lord,” she said, pushing the laptop toward Lindi, unable to look at any more. “Who would have done this?”
“I’d like to say some random person hacked into your account, but I think it’s clear it’s someone who knows you. Who knows you well. Do you remember someone snapping pictures of you?”
Merilee shook her head, still stunned. “Heather gave all of us moms disposable cameras at the beginning of the year, remember? We were supposed to take pictures at every event and then give her the cameras so she would have the photos for the end-of-year albums she makes for the children and the teachers. I think my first camera is still in the car because I always forgot to use it. It’s enough I remember my purse and my phone and don’t leave a child in the car. But everybody was always snapping pictures. I just never noticed anybody taking pictures of... me.”
Lindi was studying her closely. “Who else knew your Facebook password?”
“No one. I mean, I had no reason to give it out—I barely remembered that I had an account. Except...” The thought was so bizarre that she held back.
“Except what?”
Merilee focused on the girls, now practicing backbends and walkovers, and tried to clear her mind. To clarify if what she was about to say was the truth.
“Heather. Heather knows my account password because she’s the one who set up my page. She told me I should change my password to keep it private, but I didn’t. I hate passwords because I never remember them.”
“Heather knew that, too, I bet.”
Merilee jerked her attention back to Lindi. “What are you getting at?”
“Don’t you find all of this a little too... coincidental? I mean, think about it. Heather knew your Facebook password. If you didn’t post these photos, then who else?” She glanced back down at her notebook. “And these texts that you don’t remember sending or receiving—did Heather ever have access to your phone? Would she have known that password, too?”
Merilee thought she might be suffocating. She was breathing in but no air seemed to be going into her lungs.
“And of course she had access to Dan’s phone, too,” Lindi added.
Merilee remembered giving Heather her phone to hold when she was trying on gowns for the gala. And all the other times—at committee meetings and coffee meetings at Cups where she’d left her purse and phone in plain view. Even at the Pilates class. It never occurred to her that she should have kept them both more secure.
“But anybody could have taken my phone without me knowing.”
“But does anybody else know your password?” Lindi said steadily.
“I don’t understand. My phone never showed me receiving any texts from Dan. Surely I would notice if I had a number next to my ‘message’ button on my screen.”
Lindi picked up her phone, used her thumbprint to unlock it, and then showed Merilee her screen. Clicking on the “message” button, she pulled up a message, then swiped her thumb to the left, and then hit the big “delete” button. “Pretty easy, huh? And if she had Dan’s phone, she could do the same.”
“But that’s crazy. Why on earth would she—or anyone, for that matter—do that? What could they possibly hope to gain? Especially Heather. There is nothing that I have that she could possibly want. Nothing.”
Lindi studied Merilee carefully. “Don’t sell yourself so short. I don’t think any of us really know Heather or what it is she really wants. Or thinks she wants.” She thumped her pencil against the pad again. “What about Michael and his girlfriend? Was it an amicable divorce? Are you fighting for custody and he wants to discredit you?”
“As much as I’d like to paint Michael as the villain, he wouldn’t do that. He’s done a lot of crappy things to me, but he’d never do something like this. We had a pretty civil divorce and we split custody—very amicably. Besides, his brain appears to be located below his belt. If that’s not what’s guiding him, then I see no connection to any of this.”
“Did he have one of Heather’s cameras?” Lindi asked.
Merilee thought for a moment, remembered Lily bringing home two cameras and saying she was giving one to Michael. “Yes, but...”
Lindi raised her eyebrows. “Being in the business I am, I’ve seen seemingly normal people do out-of-character and outrageous things for the pettiest of reasons. Nothing would surprise me.” She was silent for a moment, her pencil tapping out a regular rhythm on the notepad. “Is there anything since you met Heather at the beginning of the school year that sticks out as something she might be upset about?”
Merilee shook her head.
“All right. Then is there any chance you might have met Heather in the past? Maybe said something to her that she might have taken offense to?”
“No,” Merilee answered quickly, sure of her answer. “I’d remember Heather. She’d be pretty hard to forget, don’t you think?”
“True,” Lindi said slowly, tapping the pencil in a furious motion. Merilee reached out and placed her hand on the pencil to get her to stop. “Sorry,” Lindi said. “It helps me think. Not now, apparently, because it looks like we have lots of roads on the map, but none of them seem to intersect.” She paused and met Merilee’s gaze. “Were you having an affair with Dan Blackford?”
Merilee pulled back. “Absolutely not. I could never do that—you know my feelings about infidelity. Do you think Heather thinks I was? And that’s why she’s not talking to me?” She put her head in her hands. “Is that what everyone’s saying?”
