“Yes, that’s right. I was there.” My voice sounds foreign to my ears, faraway and robotic.
“So, you met Abby. And you met Brad, and saw them together?” His blue eyes trace my face, searching for clues.
I nod.
“What did you think of him? Of them as a couple? Of Abby? Everyone keeps telling me how normal they seemed, how caring and attentive Brad was, but I thought you might have a different perspective. I mean, you haven’tknown them all that long, so you might not be as invested in covering for Brad.”
I’m aware of how pin-drop quiet the rest of the house has become. I can imagine the scene on the other side of the wall: Jack has discarded his empty bowl and padded down the hall toward his room to his iPad. And I can sense Graham standing stock-still in the dining room, straining to hear our conversation.
My hands have taken on a life of their own, and I realize I’ve been twisting the bottom of my camisole with them; Flynn clearly notices, too.
This is yet another chance to part ways with Margot’s script, to tell him all I know. But I can’t. I might be bulldozed for it soon but I can’t be the one driving the bulldozer.
“Honestly, I have to agree with what everyone else is saying. They just seemed like normal teens to me, and yes, Brad did seem genuinely caring toward Abby. So, I’m shocked, of course, at this latest turn.” I raise my eyes to Flynn’s, stare at him unflinchingly.
He exhales so sharply it sounds like a whistle.
“Sophie.” His voice is kind but edged with impatience. “I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not telling me everything. That you’re holding something back. Now whyisthat?”
Because I am.
I swear I can hear the creak of the wooden floorboards in the next room, of Graham shifting his weight in his sneakers. The thought of him absorbing every word of this conversation makes my stomach tighten.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I keep my voice calm and measured. “I wish I could help you more; I really, really do. But I’ve told you all I know, which isn’t much.” I look up at him, risk a brisk smile.
He crosses his arms in front of his toned chest, taps his lips with an index finger. He stands this way for a long, uncomfortable moment and my hands resume their twisting of my shirt.
“Then I guess I ought to leave you alone,” he finally says, “for the time being.”
“Sorry, I really wish I could’ve been of more use.” My hand reaches for the knob on the front door, and when my arm leaves my side, I can feel that my pits are drenched with sweat.
“You’ve got my card, Sophie, if you have second thoughts,” he adds before heading to his vehicle.
I don’t even wait for him to close his car door before I shut the front door and blow out a huge sigh.
I turn around. Graham is standing right in front of me, which causes me to flinch. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” My voice sounds like air hissing from a balloon, spraying all my anxiety from Flynn’s visit all over Graham.
“Sorry,” he says. But he doesn’t look sorry; he looks tense and flustered.
I move to step around him so I can go and check on Jack. Graham touches my arm. “Don’t you think we need to talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird he keeps coming by?” Graham’s voice veers on hysterical.
Yes, I do.“Maybe? But I guess he’s just covering all bases.”
“Areyou hiding something?” His normally soothing hazel eyes dart over my face, scanning it.
“What the hell, Graham,” I practically yell. “Why would you even suggest that?”
“I don’t know.” His shoulders slump as he lets out a huge sigh. “But something feels off. You didn’t sound like yourself when you were talking to that detective.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes and I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s right, of course, but I can’t keep the snippiness out of my voice. “You try talking to the police. It’s nerve-racking as hell!” I storm down the hall toward Jack’s room.
48
Monday, April 23, 2018
