Chapter 29

Michelle Bolandand Lynn Argyle are sitting on Amy’s front porch when she gets home from dropping Rich off at the airport. As Amy pulls into the driveway, she tries to steel herself for the conversation ahead. These women aren’t her friends, have never been her friends, but she needs to appeal to them now.

She grabs her purse from the passenger seat and heads for the door. They both shoot to their feet, dusting off the seats of their pants.

“Been waiting long?” she asks, mainly because she’s not sure what else to say.

“Nope,” Lynn says. “You got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Amy unlocks the door and gestures for them to go inside. The house is quiet. The kids have left for school. She leads the two women to the kitchen and drops her purse on the counter.

“I just got back from dropping Rich off at the airport. I need some more coffee. Interested?” She lifts the carafe and refills the mug she’d left sitting beside it earlier.

They wave her off. Lynn says, “No, we won’t be long. We’ve both got to get to work.”

Amy lifts the mug to her lips and tastes the temperature of the liquid inside. It’s hot enough. She swallows.

“You could have just returned my call.”

Michelle and Lynn exchange a look.

“We thought it would be better to talk in person,” Michelle tells her.

Amy leans against the counter. “Okay. Well, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you because someone sent a tip to the Farley Files about the night Heather disappeared.”

She pauses, and they both regard her coolly.

So she presses on. “I think it was one of you. Actually, I think you did it together.”

Michelle’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Lynn gives a half-laugh.

“Busted,” Lynn says. “How’d you know?”

“The email said ‘we’ not ‘I.’ And you two have been sharing a brain for more than a quarter-century, so it wasn’t the biggest stretch.” She takes another sip of lukewarm coffee.

“Fair,” Michelle tells her. “We thought it was past time to break the silence. But you should know, the reason nobody said anything at the time?—”

“Is because my husband asked you not to,” Amy says wearily. “I know.”

“Yeah, but ’asked’ isn’t the word I’d use. More like ‘ordered’ or ‘threatened.’” Lynn gives her a steady look as she says it.

Amy wishes she were surprised, but she’s not.

“Where’d he go, anyway?”

Amy blinks at Michelle. “What?”

“You said you just took Rich to the airport.”

“Oh, right. Quebec.”

“For hardware store business?”

“No.” She leaves it at that.

“Well, it’s better that he’s not here,” Lynn says.

“Why’s that?”

“Do you want to sit down?” Michelle suggests.

“No.”

The two women exchange another look, then Lynn shrugs.

Michelle clears her throat. “We are going to reach out to Maisy Farley like you want and agree to go on the air. But we wanted to tell you some things first before you hear them on the podcast.”

Amy’s chest tightens and she grips her mug. “Okay. Well, just tell me. I’m tired of not knowing what happened to my sister. Whatever you have to say, it can’t be worse than being in the dark.”

Michelle gives her a look that Amy interprets as ‘be careful what you wish for,’ then says, “Rich was the one who wanted everyone to keep quiet about the fight. He said it was to protect Brett’s cousin, but that’s not the only reason.”

Amy looks at her, waiting.

Michelle takes a breath. “Rich was sleeping with your sister.”

Amy’s not sure what she’s expecting to hear, but this isn’t it. “Excuse me?”

“Rich was cheating on Julia with Heather. He had been for a while. Brett and some of the other guys knew. They covered for him a few times.”

Amy places her mug on the island with great care because her hands are shaking violently. She pushes down her disgust and disappointment at the man she married to focus on learning what happened to her sister.

“Okay. If that’s true, what’s it have to do with what happened in Dead Man’s Hollow?”

“The way I heard it from Brett, Rich was looking for Heather after the cops came,” Michelle begins.

“That’s right. I couldn’t find her. I ran into him, and he said he’d look for her.”

“He said he didn’t find her, but he found that kid she’d been talking to all night. He was with a group of his buddies,” Lynn explains.

“Andre Newport,” Amy tells them.

“What?”

“That’s his name.” She watches their faces, but if they already knew, they don’t let on.

“Oh, I didn’t know who he was. Maisy found him?” Michelle asks.

“She hasn’t talked to him, but she showed me a picture. It’s him.” She doesn’t mention that he’s been missing since that night.

“Well, when she does, he’ll be able to tell her more. But the way we heard it, Rich asked him where Heather was, he mouthed off, and one thing led to another,” Lynn says.

“The fight?”

“Yeah. Some black eyes. Chris had a bloody nose. But nothing major. They were scuffling when the cops came over the hill, and everybody scattered.”

“Including Andre?”

They seem surprised by the question.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. Nobody got arrested, so they must have all run. Right?” Michelle answers.

“I guess,” Amy says noncommittally.

Her mind is racing. Whatever else happened that night, Andre and Heather didn’t leave together.

“In retrospect, we should have told the police everything. Maybe one of the Allderdice kids knew what happened to Heather. But Rich insisted we keep quiet. We shouldn’t have listened to him,” Lynn says.

“And he’s still trying to stop us from talking,” Michelle adds. “Rachel—you know, Andy’s wife? She accosted me at the grocery store and warned me not to talk to Maisy. But this has gone on long enough. We’re both ready to tell Maisy what we know, even though it’s not much.”

Lynn locks eyes with Amy. “The question is, are you ready to deal with the fallout?”

Later, Amy will be surprised at how easily she answers. “Absolutely.”

After she seesMichelle and Lynn out, Amy reheats her coffee in the microwave and sits at the kitchen island, considering her next move. She and Rich weren’t even dating when he was having sex with her sister, so it’s ridiculous to be upset about that.

But.

The fact that he’s kept it from her all these years leaves her seething. And he knows her well enough to know that she’d have understood. She wouldn’t have liked it, but she’d have understood. Rich had a reputation in high school. She knew that. Everyone knew that (except, perhaps, for Julia). No, there’s another reason he’s kept it from her. And that makes her queasy. He’s the father of her children. Does she really think he had anything to do with Heather’s disappearance? She ponders the question for a long time, long after her mug is empty. And when she stands up, she acknowledges that yes, she thinks it’s possible.

She checks the time. It’s almost eight o’clock, late enough to be socially acceptable to call someone, although maybe not a college student. So she texts Jordana instead:

Hey, call me when you get a chance.

Then she cleans. She has to do something that feels productive, that feels like she’s purging the ugliness from her mind. So she purges her house. She would start in the garage, but that’s mainly Rich’s domain, and she doesn’t want to mess his things up, as ridiculous as that sounds, seeing as how she’s thinking about kicking him out of the house. So she tackles the kitchen instead.

Once every surface sparkles, she looks around, trying to decide what to clean next.

‘Fresh air and sunshine.’ Her mother’s words ring in her ears. ‘They make everything better.’

She’ll clean out the shed, then weed the gardens and thin the plants. As she walks through the backyard, the birds sing loudly and the sun’s rays warm her shoulders. She thinks her mother might have been right—if only she’d taken her own advice after Heather disappeared.

Thinking of Heather makes her think of Rich, and the fleeting improvement in her mood evaporates. She flings open the door to the shed and props it open with the wheelbarrow. She surveys the stacks of bins and boxes that line the back wall. Some of this stuff has been here since the kids were toddlers. It’s long past time to donate it or throw it away. She places her phone on the wooden shelf beside her, turns on her playlist of ‘90s music, and loses herself in the task.