Chapter 36

When Rich pullsinto his driveway, he’s glad that the house—his house, he reminds himself—is already full of people. It means Amy doesn’t argue when he walks through the front door like he owns the place—which he does. Instead, she smiles tightly and allows him to kiss her cheek. After he makes the rounds, saying hi to his sisters-in-law and their husbands and grabbing a donut from the tray in the kitchen, he rounds up the kids and herds them down to the basement. He has an old arcade game down there. Amy bought it from a bar’s going out of business sale for his thirtieth birthday. It hasn’t been plugged in for close to a decade, but when he inserts the plug into the outlet, it lights up and the music plays.

The kids cluster around, and Evan explains how to play. For a moment, Rich stands off to the side and watches them clamor for their turns, jumping and laughing. Then he stretches, placing his hands on the small of his back and bending backward to work out the kinks. He groans softly. Brett’s pullout couch is not back-friendly. He needs to talk his way back into his own bed, and fast.

He’s about to head back upstairs to see if he can grab Amy for a quick conversation when Ava shouts for him. “Dad! Come play against me!”

He can’t pass up the invitation. He cracks his knuckles and grins. “Get ready to lose, sucker.”

Maisy swivelsher head toward the door with a grumpy, bleary-eyed look as Jordana unlocks it and walks in, a travel mug in each hand.

“Good morning!” the younger woman chirps.

Maisy grunts and holds out her hand. Jordana places one of the mugs in it.

“Your liquid dessert, milord.”

She takes a swig of Jake’s finest caramel mocha latte and shakes her head. “It’s milady, Jordana. How many times do we have to go over this?”

“My bad,” Jordana giggles as she sips what Maisy knows is bitter black coffee. If only she’d gotten to the girl before Sasha brainwashed her.

Jordana’s gaze falls on Heather Ryan’s diary. “So?!”

Maisy shakes her head. “Typical teenager piffle. It doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

“In English, please?”

Maisy sighs heavily, unwilling to be jollied out of her mood. “It’s silly. She uses some personal shorthand, so none of the names make sense. But even if they did, you’d want to stick a fork in your eye rather than read it.”

Jordana holds out her hand. “Let me see.”

Maisy slaps the diary into it. “Knock yourself out. In the meantime, I’m gonna drink this beautiful beverage and put on my face.”

Jordana drops the book. “No, let me.”

Maisy turns toward her. “What?”

The younger woman raises both hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, you had a makeup artist and a hairdresser for years at the station. Now, your hair is gorgeous, no question. But your makeup tricks … Maisy, they’re dated.”

Maisy huffs so hard that she wonders for a moment if actual flames shoot from her nostrils. But since Jordana doesn’t scream and take cover, she assumes not. “Fine.”

She’ll indulge Jordana. She can always wipe it off and start over.

Ten minutes later, she’s staring slack-jawed at her reflection. “Girl, you’re a magician. What’s your secret?”

“YouTube makeup tutorials,” Jordana says without looking up from Heather Ryan’s diary. “Hey listen to this: ‘fishy w/R b4 music note heart.’”

Maisy gives her a long look. “And that means what?”

“Heather was drinking with Rich before band practice. And possibly, you know …”

Maisy wishes she didn’t. “Anything in there about what might have gone down in the woods?”

“Maaaaybe. Four days before she vanished, she wrote ‘R being lame. Clingy much? Won’t ditch J. Gonna trade up at DMH.’”

“And once more, in grownup this time?”

“Rich is being possessive even though he won’t break up with Julia. Heather doesn’t like it and is going to look for his replacement at the party at Dead Man’s Hollow.”

“Who knew you spoke ‘90s? Toss me the keys.”

“You’re driving?”

“I’m driving,” Maisy confirms. “You’re translating this insipid relic from another era.”

During the drive to Amy’s house, Maisy softens considerably toward the sixteen-year-old version of Heather Ryan. As Jordana reads aloud and interprets the slang, Maisy is reminded of her own high school years and all the attendant poor decisions, ill-advised risks, and lucky breaks that went along with that era. She also takes into account that the adult Chloe Tremblay is kind, considerate, and capable. The kid turned out all right in the end.

As Maisy turns on to the Marinos’ cul-de-sac, she says, “We should return the diary to Chloe.”

Jordana asks, “You don’t want to hang on to it in case there’s something we can use for the podcast?”

“Good gravy, no. Would you want your diary to be streamed to thousands of people?”

Jordana shudders. “No way.”

“Exactly. Although I wonder if it’s a good idea to give it to Chloe right now. I’ll ask Dr. Marchand when we have our call.”

Chloe’s neuropsychologist has agreed to be interviewed for the podcast. She’ll explain the condition in broad strokes but will only discuss details of Chloe’s case to the extent her patient wants her to do so. It’s also possible Chloe herself will sit for an interview. If not, Bastian will pinch hit. Either way, Maisy and Jordana know the episode will go viral, and this only makes them more eager to resolve the remaining unanswered questions.

But not today. Today is for reuniting the Ryan sisters. Maisy and Jordana will take some photos for the website and record a handful of brief statements from the various family members, but it won’t be their focus, and they’ll remain as unobtrusive as possible.

Maisy parks in front of the Marinos’ house and kills the engine.

Jordana points to an SUV in the driveway. “Isn’t that Rich’s car?”

“Well, look at that. It sure is.”

“Do you think Amy changed her mind? Already?”

She has no idea. What she does know is that marriage seems to involve a series of compromises and tradeoffs. If Amy’s made this one, Maisy’ll be surprised. But human beings are nothing if not unpredictable.

Jordana checks her recording equipment. “Better make sure I’m fully charged. This could get interesting.”

For once, Maisy hopes not. “For land’s sake, let these women have one day to revel in being reunited. Just one day.”

“Are you getting soft on me, Maisy?”

“Bite your tongue.”

They exit the car and head for the house. Amy’s middle son sees them coming up the walkway and opens the door for them.

“Thanks, Owen.” Maisy smiles at him.

“Sure thing, Ms. Farley. Mom and my aunts are in the kitchen.”

He walks down the hallway with them before opening the door to the basement and descending the stairs. Judging by the cacophony of laughter and shouting, that’s where all the kids are.

After barely beatingAva at a game he’s been playing since before she was born, Rich begs off a rematch and tells the kids to have fun. As Owen organizes a tournament and Ava and Emilie put their heads together, giggling, Rich makes his way upstairs. He bypasses the crowd in the kitchen and makes a beeline for the second floor and the main bedroom.

He heads straight to the attached bathroom, scoops up an armload of toiletries to add to his dopp kit, and returns to the bedroom. As he crosses the room to get a change of clothes from his dresser, he glances out the window and down into the backyard. A woman stands by the fence. It takes him a moment to realize it’s Chloe. She’s alone in the garden, walking through the flowers, stopping to inspect the blooms. He watches as she inhales the fragrant scent of a patch of sweet lavender. She turns her face to the sun. Her eyes are closed and a smile creases her lips.

This might be his best chance to get her to understand what’s at stake. He abandons his bag to race down the stairs and through the front door. He circles around to the backyard. As he approaches Chloe, he rolls his shoulders and reminds himself he has the upper ground: he remembers every interaction they’ve ever had. She remembers nothing.

“Hey,” he says, drawing near.

She turns, surprised. “Rich, I didn’t realize you were here.”

There’s no reason to pretend with her. She must know he didn’t spend the night.

“I just came back to get some things before I go to work.”

“Oh.” She grimaces, discomfited, and hurries to change the subject. “This garden is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I guess you and Amy both got your mom’s green thumb.”

A look crosses her face. He’s not sure if it’s grief, curiosity, or something else entirely. Once upon a time, he could read Heather’s emotions, but that was a long time ago.

Despite his uncertainty, he senses an opening and seizes it. “Have you been by your old house?”

“No, not yet. Isn’t it occupied?”

“Yeah, but you can see the outside. I’ll take you before I go to work.”

“Oh, I don’t?—”

“It might be good for you to see it,” he interrupts. “You know, it might bring some things back.”

“Oh, I ... maybe.” She’s flustered, but also curious. She takes a breath. “Yes, I’d like that. Let me go get Bastian and Emelie.”

“It’s a short drive. You don’t need to bring your husband along, and Emelie’s playing a game with her cousins. I can’t stay long anyway because I have to get to work. I’ll just run you over to see the house and bring you back quick as a flash.”

She wrings her hands, hesitating, and he thinks she’s going to refuse.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she squares her shoulders and gives a brisk nod. “Sure, okay.”

He puts his hand on the small of her back to hurry her out to his car before anyone comes outside or she changes her mind.

“Oh, I don’t have my phone,” she says as they reach the SUV.

He glances at his watch. “We really need to go right now.”

“It’s really only a few minutes away?”

“Yes, really.”

She frowns but deposits herself in the passenger seat. He races around to the driver’s side and starts the car, fastening his seatbelt one-handed as he backs out of the driveway.

Maisy and Jordanabump into Diana as soon as they walk into the kitchen. She gestures toward the island, laden with trays of bagels, donuts, and muffins, bowls of fruit, and at least two coffee cakes. Pitchers of ice water and orange juice and a carafe of coffee complete the spread. “Help yourselves.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for bringing her home,” Diana says. The doorbell rings. “Oh, that’ll be my girls! Excuse me.”

As she hurries to the front of the house, Maisy and Jordana skirt the breakfast food and wind their way through the kitchen to find Amy, who’s deep in conversation with Kristy and Nick. Amy’s eyes are bleary and ringed with purple half-circles.

“Late night,” she tells them by way of greeting.

“Late night and a bottle of wine,” Kristy corrects her sister. “She and Chloe both look like something the cat dragged in.”

“It was so nice to spend that time with her, but, whew, am I paying for it today,” Amy admits.

Jordana asks Kristy and her husband if they’re willing to say a few words about how it feels to know Heather is alive, and they follow her into the sitting room, where it’s slightly less noisy.

“I saw Rich’s car out front,” Maisy says as soon as the others begin to walk away.

Amy sighs. “He wanted to come by and get some clothes and toiletries. And the kids don’t know I asked him to leave. Neither do Diana and Kristy. I’m not even sure what I want to do. There’s so much going on right now. It was easier to tell him he could have breakfast with us. He won’t be here long, anyway. He works today.”

She sounds so defeated and worn down that Maisy itches to give her a hug. Before she can offer any comfort, Bastian comes in from the patio.

“Have you seen Chloe?” he asks Amy in a casual tone that’s at odds with the deep furrows creasing his brow and the stiffness of his posture.

“She’s in the yard checking out the gardens.”

“She’s not,” he tells her.

“Sure she is,” Amy insists.

“She was. I saw her through the window admiring your peonies and hydrangeas. But when I went out to join her, she was gone.”

Amy waves her hand in a vague circle. “She’s around here somewhere.”

Bastian locks eyes with Maisy. They’re thinking the same thing: Unless she’s not.

It’s possible the emotional weight of learning who she is, traveling across the border to meet her three sisters and their families, and finding out that her parents are both dead has triggered another episode of dissociative amnesia. Maisy can easily imagine Chloe slipping out of the busy house without anyone noticing. She could be miles away by now.