Chapter 23

23

It’s my turn to pick the twins up today. The moment I turn into the driveway, I know that the news has hit the school. Parents stand in clumps, talking animatedly. Many of them are shaking their heads. As I slide into a parking spot, one of the moms, Pamela, spots my car and strides over.

“Oh crap,” I mutter. I get out, keeping the windows open, as Sabine is still inside her car seat. “Hi, Pamela.”

“Aspen, oh my god, you must be crushed,” Pamela says. “I actually started crying when I watched your video.”

“I…yeah. Thank you for the kind words.”

The rest of the group has joined her now, crowding around me like a pack of hyenas.

“Do the police have any idea where she is?” someone says.

I shake my head. “I know about as much as you all do, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t believe it,” someone else says. A mom named Marla. She’s always hated me, but now she’s pouting at me in sympathy. “Your best friend. Oh, is there anything I can do?”

Leaving me the hell alone would be nice , I think. “Try to get the message out. The more people we have looking for Meredith, the better.”

They all nod. “Of course, yes,” Marla says.

“Did you hear what her sister said, though?” Pamela says. “Apparently, she sent a text message? Saying she was sick of everything, right? I mean, is there a possibility that she decided to leave? You know her best, Aspen; what do you think?”

I think you are all a bunch of vultures who don’t deserve a shred of my time. I take a deep breath. “Ah—I don’t know. Maybe? It’s possible.”

Pamela leans closer, like a predator sensing blood. “But surely you know something. You two were so close. Best friends. Like sisters, even. She must’ve told you something?” Her eyes glitter with barely concealed glee.

The familiar fear rises up within me, its jagged edges slicing into me. Do they know? Are they just toying with me the way a cat plays with a wounded mouse?

“I really don’t know much.” God, someone get me out of here. But there’s no one. No help. If I want to get out of this unscathed, I need to rely on my own wits. And haven’t I been doing that for years? My resolve hardens, and I look Pamela in the eye. “But here’s what I know: Motherhood is so tough. So much tougher than I thought it would be.”

There is a round of nods and mh-mm s.

“And she’s a single mom, so it’s even harder on her. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away. Don’t we all, at some point? I mean, I don’t know about you ladies, but sometimes I feel so overwhelmed I just want to go on a retreat, you know? I hope that Mer is at some beautiful resort, sipping a margarita. The alternative is…” I gulp and shake my head, and everyone murmurs their agreement.

The bell rings then, and I scan the kids streaming out of the school and—thank god—spot the twins. “Girls, over here!” I call out, barely able to keep the relief out of my voice. “Excuse me, ladies.” With a few meaningful glances at one another, the group of moms disperses, and I hold out my arms to hug Elea and Noemie. Thank god I got through that.

I half expect Elea to duck underneath my arms the way she usually does, but to my surprise, both girls fling themselves at me and hug me tight. Then it hits me. Of course. They must’ve heard too. A couple of the kids in their class already have their own phones. By now, Meredith’s disappearance would’ve gone so viral that it would be impossible to be in the dark. The realization slams into me with ruthless force. Of all the people I’d hoped to keep out of this whole mess, it’s the kids. It’s always been about protecting the kids. But now, here they are, singed by the fire I’ve created.

“Is it true? Was Aunt Mer kidnapped?” Elea whimpers, looking up at me with wide eyes. I’m not used to my little firebrand looking so vulnerable, and the sight of it cracks my heart wide open.

Noemie doesn’t say anything, just hides her face in my leg. I go down on my knees and hug them tight. “I’m so sorry, pumpkins. Aunt Mer is missing, but you know what? It probably wasn’t a kidnapping or anything like that. I think that maybe she needed some time to herself.”

“But why did you beg her kidnapper to let her go in your video?” Noemie says.

Well, shit. “I…” Nope, I can’t think of a single answer that would allay their suspicions. “You’re right. I don’t know. Maybe she was kidnapped. Maybe she left to discover herself.”

“So she could be tied up in a dungeon right now?” Elea says, her eyes wide.

“I—I really hope not. I don’t think so. I don’t know.” I stroke their little faces and straighten up. “Hey, shall we go grab a smoothie?” There is a place nearby that does veggie smoothies, and they are less atrocious for diabetics than fruit smoothies, so it’s okay for Noemie to have them once in a while.

“No,” Noemie says, while Elea shakes her head. “We just want to go home.”

They both look so terrified that I almost burst into tears then and there. I crouch down again and look them in the eyes. “Listen to me. You girls are safe, okay? Mommy isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you.”

They nod and a little bit of the fear leaves their faces, but as I buckle Elea into her car seat, she suddenly grips my hand tight and says, “But how will you stop the bad guy from taking us too? Aunt Mer is a grown-up, and she couldn’t stop the bad guy from taking her.”

My mouth sets into a thin line. “I’m a lot stronger than Aunt Mer. And don’t forget, we’ve got Daddy. So there are two of us looking after all of you.”

The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me. I know how awful it is—the fact that the person my kids are afraid of is me. But what other choice do I have? I can’t say, Don’t worry, kids, I was the one who kidnapped Aunt Mer, and I’m hardly going to do the same to you, am I? Instead, I turn on some music and we drive home without saying another word, letting the music drown out our thoughts.

Once we get home, the twins, as usual, park themselves in front of the TV while I change Sabine’s diaper. But when Elea turns the TV on, the first thing I hear is some announcer’s voice saying, “—has been reported missing. Meredith Lee is a thirty-two-year-old mother and TikTok star. As of this morning, she has over three million followers on TikTok, and one million on Instagram. She was last seen by her sister, Clara Lee, on the night of the fourteenth of last month.”

I hurry over and turn it to a different channel.

“Aww, Mommy!” Elea says. “We were watching that.”

I shake my head at her. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to watch it.”

Surprisingly, the next plea comes from Noemie. “Please, Mommy. Aunt Mer is our godmother. We want to know if she’s okay.”

Forget her! I want to scream. She’s not okay, not at all, and it’s best for everyone if you just pretend like none of this is happening. I never once considered that I would be in this situation, trying to comfort my girls about a murder I committed. “I don’t want you kids to scare yourselves.”

“We won’t,” Noemie says. My sweet, shy girl is being so brave, and I have never hated myself as much as I do right now. “We want to know so that we can help too.”

I know when I’m defeated. I hand the remote control to Noemie. “I—I’ll fix you girls a snack.” As I walk out of the living room, I hear the TV coming back on, but instead of the announcer’s voice, it’s my own voice coming out of it. “Please let her go…” It sounds like a ghost coming out of my TV. I turn around and dart back as Noemie and Elea shout, “Mommy, you’re on TV!”

It’s the video that Liv took of us this morning. My face is crumpled in sorrow and I’m ugly crying. The caption underneath the image says: “Missing woman’s friends make a plea to whoever has her to release her.” Thankfully, it switches to a different video of some other influencer, also crying and begging the fictional kidnapper to let Mer go.

“Wow, Mommy,” Elea says, looking at me in wonderment. “You were on TV.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, and walk out of there in a daze. This has blown way out of proportion. What is going to happen now? Nothing , I tell myself. Nothing will happen, because nothing will be found, and in a week’s time, some other awful piece of news will break, and everyone will forget about Meredith. They’ll assume she’s either on an Eat, Pray, Love –type journey and has found herself on some exotic paradise island or that her kidnapper’s killed and buried her, in which case they’ll probably be looking at people who are most likely to kill attractive women. First, they will look at convicted felons in the area. Then they’ll…I don’t know. Look at the men in Mer’s life? Who knows? The key part is that they won’t look at me. They have no reason to look at me as a suspect.

Still, no matter how many times I repeat it mentally, I can’t quite get my mind to believe that the FBI isn’t about to kick down my door and arrest me. They’ll dig, and dig, and they’ll find something. Our fight. The stolen meetings. A witness that saw me leaving Meredith’s apartment, carrying her dead body. Anxiety crawls through me.

I’m pouring out some baby carrots into a bowl when I hear a key sliding into the front door. Panic flares up my chest, but then the door opens and it’s Ben. Of course it’s Ben.

He strides in without bothering to take off his coat, dropping his briefcase to one side. His expression is stricken, and I know that he’s heard the news too. “Aspen,” he says, “oh my god.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a tight hug. It’s the first real hug we’ve had in a long time, and I close my eyes and let myself fall into the embrace, savoring the solidity of him. “Are you okay?” he murmurs.

I lean back and give him a brave smile. “Yeah. No. Well, I’m about as okay as I can be, I guess.”

Ben sighs and pulls me back into the hug, and now I want to cry because this is what it takes to get my husband to show me some love and concern? A possible kidnapping? Then it strikes me that, no, it’s not quite that. It’s the fact that he can once again take care of me. It’s the fact that I’m in distress, that I’m helpless, and he, big manly Ben, can stride in and finally be the man of the house.

Am I being ungenerous? Maybe. Probably. But I can’t shake the feeling that Ben’s only being affectionate because he thinks I’m flailing. I pull away from him and say, “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

And immediately, his expression cools, just a little. The walls slide back into place. I’m not a broken woman that he can try to fix after all.

I hug myself and shudder. “Honestly, I think I’m kind of in shock.” Ben’s face softens, and now it’s my turn to harden, though I don’t show it. But he’s just proved me right. He’s a man who doesn’t understand how to love a woman who isn’t in need. I let a note of fear bleed into my voice. “What do you think happened to Mer?” I stare at him, wide-eyed, a silly woman waiting for a man to explain his theory to her.

“She must’ve been kidnapped by some guy she knew,” Ben says, with so much conviction that, if I didn’t know better, I would probably believe him. “I read a statistic once that says that most kidnappers are people who are already in the victims’ lives. My money’s on it being some asshole who probably has a crush on her. Maybe her personal trainer…”

Mer’s PT is gay, but I’m not about to ruin Ben’s fun.

“Or maybe even the barista at her local café. Someone who sees her every day and is secretly in love with her.”

I want so badly to believe that this is what everyone will assume. I wrap my arms around myself even tighter and grimace up at him. “My god, that’s horrifying. The thought of it being some guy who’s like, serving her coffee or whatever, secretly plotting to take her…”

Ben nods solemnly before rubbing my arms. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. With all the technology we have today, they’ll catch the sick fuck who did this. They’ll find Mer, and years down the road, this is going to be a story that she will tell at every party.” He actually smiles at this, like he has utter confidence that Mer will be found safe and sound, and this will be behind us within a week—two at the most. Oh, to have the confidence of a mediocre white man. “Listen, I want you to take the rest of the day off, okay?” Ben says. “Don’t worry about fixing dinner; I’ll take care of it.”

“Really?” Now I really am surprised. Ben hasn’t bothered cooking anything in the last three years. Whenever I asked, he’d say something along the lines of, “Are you sure? It’s not going to be ‘Insta-friendly.’?”

“Yeah. You go take a hot bath or something. Go relax.” He steers me out of the kitchen with a bright smile.

“Okay, okay. Thanks, babe.” I kiss him on the cheek and head down to the bathroom. I could use a hot bath. I’m halfway down the hallway when I remember that I was supposed to get the twins a snack. I walk back toward the kitchen and catch a glimpse of Ben with his hands braced against the countertop, his head drooped like a wilted flower. The expression on his face is one of anguish.

That’s right , I recall belatedly. Ben had kissed Meredith. In fact, he’d kissed her the day she was last seen. Surprisingly, jealousy flares up. A weak flare, more like an ember than a flame, but just enough to make me think, fleetingly: Serves him right. I hope he stays worried. I must have made a noise then, because Ben’s head snaps up and he quickly rearranges his features into less tortured ones. I grab the bowl of baby carrots and say, “Just getting these for the twins.” As I head out of the kitchen, I turn around and say, “You okay, babe?”

He nods and smiles.

What must be going through his mind right now? I try putting myself in Ben’s shoes. A woman I kissed is now missing. Confusion. Terror. Disbelief. Fear that someone might have seen us and point to me as the kidnapper. Poor Ben. Despite myself, I feel slightly sorry for him. I know exactly what it feels like to have the weight of a deadly secret bearing down on you.