“Really?” I registered the surprise in his voice. “How’d he die?”
“I don’t know. I found the obituary online. It just says that he died unexpectedly. Maybe it was super traumatic and that’s why she was clingy?” I thought of the woman I’d encountered at the lawyer’s office. She’d struck me as a fearful person. “Is there a way to get more information about how the dad died?”
“If the death was suspicious in any way, there might be a police report.”
“Are those public?”
“Not generally,” he answered. “By law, police are expected to provide information that the public has a right to know. But mostly only people directly impacted by an incident are allowed to see a police report.”
“You’re a lawyer. You must know some cops. Is there any way you can find out if there’s a police report and, if so, what’s in it?”
“I guess.” He paused. “Why are you so interested?”
“I want to learn everything there is to know about Ali’s relationship with that woman.”
“Even if what you discover hurts you more?”
“All I know is that I’m going to be obsessed with this until I have all the answers.”
Nasser paused. “OK,” he finally said. “Let me see what I can do.”
Chapter Twenty
Before
When the children were in elementary school, Ali’s old JMU friend group managed to all be in the Washington area at the same time, so they arranged a mini reunion at a downtown bar.
My first inclination was to skip it. Old college friends form an impenetrable clique, having shared intimate formative experiences and frames of reference that outsiders can never truly understand. But Lizzie Martins was part of that friend group. If Ali’s ex was going to be there, then so was I.
I paid a lot of attention to my appearance that night. I’d put on a few pounds from my pregnancies, but when I made an effort, I received appreciative looks from men. I was still young, barely thirty, and, if our active sex life was any indication, Ali seemed to find me as attractive as ever.
We dropped the kids for a sleepover at my parents’ house before driving downtown. As soon as we walked into the bar, I automatically looked around for Lizzie Martins. I didn’t spot her right away, but Nasser was there, and he waved at us before refocusing on a dark-haired girl he was talking to.
“Hey, Abadi, you made it.” Ben Rodriguez came over to greet us. Ben had shared a dorm with Ali and Nasser during their freshman year at JMU. I first met him during our wedding weekend and rememberedhim as an outrageous but harmless flirt. I’d seen very little of him, or any of Ali’s college friends, since our wedding.
Ali shook his hand. “Ben, you remember my wife, Amira.”
“Sure, how are you?” Ben gave me an appreciative once-over. Quick and not leering, but I caught it. And so, apparently, did Ali.
“Watch it,” he said genially. “I can still kick your ass.”
“Whoa.” Ben put up his hands like a surrendering prisoner of war. “Still jealous after, what is it? Ten years of marriage?”
“Eight and a half,” I corrected. “It’s good to see you again, Ben.”
“You too. I see you are as fine as ever. Poor Lizzie never had a chance once Ali hooked up with you.”
“Is Lizzie here?” The dark-haired girl who’d been with Nasser joined us.
“Hi, Sara.” Ali greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. I remembered hearing that Sara Carr and Lizzie were close friends.
“Hell, no, Lizzie’s not here,” Ben told Sara. “After Ali dumped her, she pretty much vanished. Abadi broke her heart.”
Sara shot me a sympathetic look. “Don’t pay any attention to Ben. He’s an asshole most of the time.”
“Do you keep in touch with Lizzie?” Ben asked Sara.
“From time to time,” she said. “Not that often.”
