“I only listened to a few minutes to make sure it worked. I don’t need to invade your privacy, so you can take a listen, and if you find what we need, just mark down the time on the recording,” she says, and Nicola gives a hesitant nod. She stands and walks slowly to the laptop as if it could hurt her. She sits in the chair in front of it and lets out a long, forced breath to prepare herself. Paige follows her in with the baby on her hip. She hands her the connected headphones.
“It’s just Play and Stop here. And you can fast-forward if you want to skim, and since you don’t want to take a hundred and ninety-two hours to do this, I’d try skimming it first.”
“Okay,” Nicola says, putting the headphones on and staring at the screen, which is nothing but squiggly audio lines that look like a heart EKG.
My phone buzzes. It’s a local number calling. It’s probably the police station. They would have taken Finn’s phone. Do they really only let you make one call, or is that a TV-show thing? I don’t know, but I don’t care, and I don’t want to hear what he has to say, so I push Ignore.
Yes, I do care. As soon as I have tapped the dismissal, I feel tears climb my throat. This man I have loved for years and years is in jail, and I am cutting off his lifeline by ignoring him. It’s not fair. I should get to hate him right now and not feel sorry for him. But he has friends, and he has family, I decide. I’m not his safety net anymore. Then I stand and go to the stove and heat water for tea while Paige finds a bright cartoon with colorful ponies that spark Avery’s interest. And we wait.
An hour later, Paige and I watch police pull up to my house. Mia is at the library researching a school project, and I hadn’t thought about someone needing to be there. Did Finn give them keys? Would they break down the door?
“Go,” she says, and I grab a cup of coffee to try to look casual. I walk out Paige’s front door and attempt to walk slowly. I don’t know why I think appearing normal when the police are at my house to search it is the right strategy, but I have never experienced this before. I walk up to the front door where three officers are standing.
“Hey there, officers.” My God, why am I talking like this?
“Is this your property? Are you Mrs. Holmon?” asks the officer with a cliché buzz cut andTop Gunsunglasses.
“Yes, what can I do for you?” I ask, not knowing if I am supposed to feign surprise.
“We have a warrant to search the property,” he says, looking not at me but down at a clipboard. He shows me a sheet of paper that I glance at. I see one officer already behind the house, poking around in the yard. I know we left in plenty of time, but it still makes my heart quicken thinking about what might have happened if Finn hadn’t called Paige.
“Ah, okay. So, do I let you in or...” I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or say.
“That would make it easier on us all, yeah,” says the older cop, who has a beer belly and a graying goatee. And I realize that, in my haste, I hadn’t even locked the door. I turn the knob, push it open, and stand aside. I don’t follow them in. I sit in a rocker recliner on the porch, watching them come in and out.
My home was a sanctuary at one time. When we first got married, I remember feeling like I was living a fairy tale in this big house. Over the years, it became more my own with each room I painted, each carefully placed piece of artwork on the wall, every candle or lamp for which I found a perfect spot. The kitchen I designed when we remodeled. And, especially, every milestone Mia has had. Her soccer trophies that line the mantel, her junior-high dance where she’s pictured in braces standing next to her date, Johnny Algers, in front of the piano, the Christmases she’s buried in wrapping paper at the base of the tree. Now, it all feels violated. My husband has become a stranger, a foe, overnight, and now strangers are invading our safe space like it’s a crime scene.
They don’t take much for all the mess and chaos they cause. Just his precious laptop he accused me of stealing. They already have the files, day planner, and his phone, I’m sure. They don’t tell me if they found anything else they were looking for, and I don’t ask. After less than two hours, they are driving away.
When I go back to Paige’s, she is alone with Avery, feeding her graham crackers on the floor of the living room. Nicola isn’t there.
“What happened? Where is she?” I ask.
“Lying down in the guest room,” Paige says, wiping crumbs from Avery’s cheek with her finger and stroking her wispy hair.
“Did she find it?” I ask, and Paige just nods. A solemn, sad gesture.
“God,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head. “She had you listen, I take it,” I say, and Paige nods. No further elaboration needed. I’ve already heard all the stories. I don’t want to hear them again on the recording. It’s too much.
“Did they find anything at your house?” Paige asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know.”
We sit quietly in the living room, playing with Avery and finding kids’ shows for her until night falls. Then I go to the kitchen and take out a packet of instant rice and put it in the microwave. I find some chicken and heat up a pan to fry it. Nobody has spoken in hours. Nicola is still in bed. It feels like the world has stopped. In the dark kitchen, I make up a few plates and bring them to the table. Paige wakes Nicola up, and we sit around the table, Paige still with Avery attached to her lap. Nobody eats.
“I think we should bring this to the police tomorrow,” Paige says.
“I can take it,” I say. “They don’t have to know where Nicola and Avery are.”
“I should take it,” Paige says. “They already know why I would have found it, that I gather dirt on all the neighbors. Now they are actually taking me seriously.”
“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. And she should stay here, probably. Safer not to move her,” I say.
“So you’re better off here tonight, okay?” she says to Nicola, probably so it doesn’t seem like we’re talking about her like she’s not in the room, which we have been.
“Okay,” she says. She looks smaller and completely defeated now. How could anyone blame her? She stares at a photo of Caleb on the wall, and everything feels so hopeless. The room feels void of oxygen.
