Chapter Thirty-Three Maya

Chapter Thirty-Three

Maya

June 2023

After the funeral, Nate, Dani, and I return home to our apartment—a two-bedroom, fourth-story walk-up in Brooklyn. I’m exhausted, body depleted from the lack of food and sleep, the intermittent tears, muscles aching with a dull throb that seems to have started in my head and worked its way down my spine, through my limbs, all the way to my fingertips.

—

Once settled back inside, Nate and I both sink onto the couch in the living room and sit there in silence. Why hadn’t the police searched Margaret’s house? Presumably because Naomi hadn’t lived there for four years…and yet it seems like her high school bedroom would be a logical place to look— if they thought it was a murder, I remind myself. But an accidental drowning, it seemed, required much less investigation.

I’d told Margaret what I suspected about Matthew’s involvement, that I hadn’t trusted him since I was at school, and about the note I’d found in Naomi’s room, and how the police weren’t taking this seriously. “I hate that man with a passion,” she’d said.

—

Margaret knew him well, better than I did in some ways. They were both involved in the Legacy Foundation, and she’d seen through him from the start. “He’s a narcissist, that’s what it is,” she’d said one day, after returning from a board meeting. It was a Friday, a few weeks before my sister’s death, and we were having a glass of wine by the pool. “He cares about nothing but himself, really. I can’t believe he’s managed to find a third woman who wants to marry him.”

I took a sip of my wine. “She must be in love with the lifestyle.”

—

Exhausted, I bury my head in my hands. Normally, I’d be curled against Nate at night once Dani had gone to bed, reading a book while he watched The Daily Show or read The Atlantic. But going through our normal routine feels wrong after my sister’s funeral only a few hours earlier. Nate sets down his phone and stands. “It’s been a long day. I’ll put Dani to bed.”

I give him a grateful smile.

He looks tired too, stubble covering his jaw, the lines around his eyes and forehead deeper than usual. When was the last time I’d looked at Nate? When was the last time we’d kissed? Or worse, had sex? Weeks? Months? God. I’d been so busy with the gallery and Dani’s summer activities before Naomi died, and now I barely have the energy to feed and bathe myself.

—

While Nate helps Dani get ready for bed, I pour myself a glass of wine, hoping it and a bath will numb some of this sharp pain.

In the upstairs bathroom, as eucalyptus-scented steam fills the space, I peel off my clothes: the black sweater that was itching my arms, my too-tight black pants. I unhook my bra and let it fall to the floor. Turning toward the mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself—deep bags under my eyes, lopsided mess of curls, body soft and hollowed out—before the steam fogs up the mirror.

Sighing, I sink into the hot water, inhaling the scent of eucalyptus as the heat seeps into my muscles. Closing my eyes, I sink down lower until my face dips under the surface. If only the water could swallow me whole. One two three, I count, holding my breath, sinking deeper, deeper, until my head rests at the bottom of the tub. I stay there until my lungs burn and instinct sends me lurching to the surface, gasping for air.

After catching my breath, I place an Advil on my tongue and chase it with a sip of wine. Steeling myself, I open Naomi’s notebook and begin to read.

—

My fingers are numb and pruned by the time I finally pull my face back from the page. I have no idea how much time has passed. An hour? Two? Despite the lukewarm water, I feel cold.

Naomi seemed to have been investigating something related to Greystone. She was working with a reporter she calls AL —it couldn’t be Amy, her last name doesn’t start with an L —and she must have been providing them information. There were notes about Greystone alumni, a list of questions for Lila Jones’s brother…and on the last page:

- TREVOR JONES

- NEED HARD EVIDENCE

- SHOW AL WHAT WE FOUND!!

And underlined at the bottom, the most terrifying of all: DONE