Chapter Sixty-Three Maya

Chapter Sixty-Three

Maya

August 2023

I leave Dani with Daisy’s au pair, who takes the girls out of the house, and when I enter the kitchen, Margaret rushes over and grabs my hands. Margaret’s usual sleek black bob is unkempt, on her face a look of barely contained panic.

“I’m going to call my lawyer. Remember, you don’t have to say anything.” A cold sweat breaks out over my brow.

Detective Gary strides into the room. He smiles. “Hello again, Ms. Banks. May I have a word?”

—

Harsh light filters in past the shutters in the upstairs study. Seeing the red leather chair, I suddenly remember how Sara Vail’s hand had gripped it when I saw her and Matthew arguing. Detective Gary takes a seat in one of the chairs and gestures for me to sit across from him.

“Ms. Banks, I want to give you a chance to tell us what really happened last night.”

“What do you mean?” My hands twist in my lap. When I look up, Gary is watching me with interest.

Simmons enters carrying a plastic bag, which she hands to Gary.

Gary turns back to me. “You accused Matthew DuPont of killing your sister,” he says, keeping the bag out of my line of sight. “Correct me if I’m wrong…but it seems you had every motive to want him gone.”

I try to swallow the knot that’s lodged in my throat. It’s true.

Gary holds up the evidence bag so I can see it: my old phone. “We found your cellphone at his house and your footprints at the scene of the crime.”

At the scene of the crime? My heart stops, then flutters rapidly. But how—

“Ms. Banks, were you involved in the murder of Matthew DuPont?”

My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my temples. “No!” I insist. “I lost my phone the night he attacked me. I thought I’d dropped it on the tracks, but maybe he took it off me instead. But—” I force myself to take a breath. “Okay, yes, I was at the edge of the property last night…After the noise woke me up, I went and looked around.”

“You looked around?” Gary repeats, writing this down.

“And I didn’t see anything.” Except Lila Jones’s ghost. I silence the thought. Focus. “So I went back to bed.” I nod, hard, trying to convince myself as much as him. But it’s impossible to push away the memories as they flood in: running past branches, Lila, the blood, so much blood. I clasp my hands tightly in my lap.

“Let me get this straight.” Gary leans forward. “You were in the woods around the time Matthew DuPont was murdered, in the exact location where we found the body…and you didn’t see anything?”

“Right.” I swallow. “It was dark. And I’d taken a sleeping pill and had been drinking, so I was pretty out of it.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret it.

“I see.” Gary looks at Simmons, then back at me. “Ms. Banks, let me lay some things out for you. For months, you’ve been trying to get the police to look into Matthew DuPont regarding your sister’s death, to the point where he felt compelled to lodge complaints. And there’s CCTV footage of you following Sara Vail from Union Square up Park Avenue. Chasing her into the 28th Street station, trying to grab her and stop her from getting on a train. All after calling her repeatedly, and getting her location out of her assistant. Your husband then got into an altercation with Mr. DuPont last night, in full view of scores of witnesses. And now we’ve discovered that you’ve been lying to us about your whereabouts last night. You must see how this looks.” Shit shit shit.

“No.” I shake my head, slowly. “That makes it sound worse than it was.”

“And,” Gary says, a strange expression guarding his face, “your husband was recorded leaving the property last night. Does he drive a blue Ford Explorer?”

My stomach drops. Gary goes on. “A neighbor saw a suspicious-looking man in a hoodie parked on Bedford Road near the location where Mr. DuPont’s body was found. They called the police.” So my husband, simply because he’s a Black man in a hoodie sitting in his car, warranted a call to the police?

“You have to admit, Ms. Banks, this doesn’t look good for either of you.”

Despite feeling like I might pass out, I manage one last sentence: “I want to speak to a lawyer.”

Detective Gary snaps his notepad closed. “Be my guest.”

—

I call Daisy from the pool house. it rings and rings. I know she’s gone to find Marta, but I hoped I’d catch her in time.

Please, Daisy…please pick up… I need to talk to someone about Nate. If he killed Matthew…I don’t know what I’ll do.

Daisy finally answers. “Maya? What’s wrong? Sorry, I was driving. I just got to Marta’s.”

A wave of relief at the sound of her voice. “About last night…”

A long pause. “What about it?”

I take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. Remind myself: I don’t know if he did it. I don’t know anything. I lower my voice. “I woke up around five a.m. and Nate wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean, wasn’t there ?”

“He wasn’t in bed.”

“Then where was he?” she asks, and when I don’t answer, her tone slows as she understands. “What…Maya, what do you think he was doing?” Her voice is shaking.

I swallow the knot in my throat as images flash: Nate with a knife, Matthew covered in blood. I knew it wasn’t a dream.

But why was Matthew still here? “I don’t know. But the two of them got into that argument at the wedding. I’d never seen Nate like that. Do you think he—” I can’t bring myself to say it. “Do you think he could have…?”

“No, Maya, Nate would never—”

“I saw someone out there. I thought it was just the Ambien making me see things, but what if it wasn’t? Oh god, what if Nate did it…what if—” But I stop when I hear someone enter the room behind me. The click of the door closing.

Daisy is still talking as I slowly turn, and standing there, ten feet away, is Nate.

—

I slowly hang up the call and watch Nate approach. My heart thuds a slow, abnormal rhythm. I can’t read the expression on his face.

I gesture to the phone. “It was Daisy—” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. At least, if he knew it was her, someone we could trust, he wouldn’t be upset.

“What did you tell the police?” Nate stares in my direction, but not into my eyes.

Dread twists in the pit of my stomach. Why is he asking me this? What does it matter what I told the detectives? I remember my conversation with Detective Gary, how I’d lied for Nate. How I’d said he was with me when he wasn’t.

“Nate.” My voice shakes, but I force myself to be strong. “Where were you, really?”

I think of our first anniversary after our wedding, the promise we made at a wine bar in Harlem: I’ll never lie to you, Nate had said, as he took my hands in his. We promised we’d get through anything; no matter what, we’d work it out.

And now I want to believe Nate, of course I do, but how can I?

“Where do you think I was?” Nate asks, his voice strangely calm as he approaches, slowly.

In the woods near Bedford Road.

I take a step back until I’m flat against the wall, heart racing, blood whooshing in my ears. “I—I don’t know.”

“I told you. I went for a run.” Now that he’s closer, I notice the bruise under his eye turning purplish black, and what looks like a fresh scrape on his cheek.

“Why aren’t you telling me the truth?” I whisper. I don’t move. My hands stick to my sides. “You—you lied to me, Nate. You said you went on a run. But that’s not true, is it? The police have security footage of your car leaving the property.” Tell me I’m wrong.

The muscles of his jaw work. “Okay,” he says slowly, his face changing, caught in a lie. “I went for a drive.”

“You were drinking.” Nate looks away. His hands are in fists at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me when I asked you this morning?”

He doesn’t respond.

Heat rises up my neck, burns my cheeks. Now it’s my turn to be furious. “I had to cover for you, you know that? I told the detectives you were with me, but they saw you leaving the house in a hoodie and now they think one of us killed Matthew because they caught me lying!”

Nate stares at me. “You didn’t have to lie.”

“Yes I did, Nate. You’re my husband. We’re in this together.” He folds his arms over his chest. He’s shutting down.

“ Where did you go? ”

Nate turns away, refusing to answer.

“Nate, look at me.” I’m pleading now, but I don’t care. I need some kind of explanation. Anything.

But…I can sense there’s something he’s not telling me. “Why did you change the lock on your suitcase?”

“Lost the old one.”

“And the blood on your shirt?”

“The blood?” Nate lets out a strained laugh, but his features harden. “Maya, if you’re so goddamned sure I did it, what are you doing asking me? Go call up your friend, the detective.” I flinch at his words.

“Nate—”

“Go ahead,” he says, throwing the door open so it slams against the wall. I jump. “Go ahead. You want to leave? Leave.”

The room tilts. I place a hand on the wall to steady myself as I draw in a tight breath, the noise in my head growing louder.

Nate swears under his breath and grabs his suitcase.

“Wait—”

He doesn’t turn around. “I need to think.” He stops outside the door, turns around, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I’m going to call AJ to pick me up. I’ll take Dani with me.” He throws the keys onto the bed. “Take the car home.”

—

I stand frozen in place after Nate leaves for what feels like an hour. We haven’t fought like that ever.

Fighting tears, I sink onto the bed and drop my face into my hands, completely and utterly exhausted. It’s as if I’ve been treading water in a rip current, barely able to stay afloat. A loud static fills my head, a knot in my throat that won’t go away. Had Nate killed Matthew? And if he had… then what? What was I supposed to do? As much as I want to know the truth…what good would that do? Because if the truth is that my husband murdered a man, even if that man killed my sister, then my whole world will fall apart.

It’s too hot. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.