“You’re wearing her dress!”
“I’m not.”
“I know that dress! I know all her clothes. I know everything about her.” He’s close now. The skin beneath his beard is red and blotchy. He’s falling apart.
“I suspect Dior made more than one of these dresses.”
“Bullshit.” He fumbles in his pockets and, with shaking hands, takes out a cigarette. He tries to light it, but can’t keep his hands still, and after a few tries, he tosses the cigarette into the grass and turns his attention back to me. “Bull. Shit. And I know she didn’t commit suicide either. She wouldn’t just walk into the fires. That’s a lie!”
“What do you mean?” I can barely speak. My legs are about to give way.
“She wouldn’t do that. She was making progress on another book, you know. She was so proud of herself.” He turns away from me and yells out. “Suicide! She would never.”
“Bradley said—” I begin, about to explain the medications.
“I don’t give a shit what Bradley said. He killed her. I know it.I know it. And he’s sleeping with you, too.” He’s calmer now, though no less frightening. “Maybe he’s using you, or maybe you did it together. I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
Before I can say another word, he presses his index finger into my sternum and gives me a push.
“And when I do, I won’t call the police. That’s too good for our Bradley. I’ll make him suffer, and then I’ll kill him. And if I find out you were involved, I’ll kill you too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
I spend two hours in a coffee shop waiting for the funeral to finish, only to find out from Bradley that there’s a small reception afterwards at a house rented by Grace’s family.
I don’t want to go back to Pine Ridge alone—or pay for the massive taxi ride—so I find an arthouse theater and buy a ticket to a screening ofRebecca. I try to switch my brain off, but after thirty minutes, I walk out. It’s too stressful. I go to a Mexican restaurant, and while I eat my burrito, I make my way through a carafe of sangria.
By the time I finish, it’s nearly nine. Where is Bradley? I call his phone three times, but there’s no answer. I do laps of the busiest city streets, and eventually get a text.
I’m with family. They won’t let me leave tonight, so you’re on your own, sorry.
I’m annoyed by his tone, but with the alcohol and the emotions of the day, I just want him near me.
I miss you.
There’s no response, so I scrawl another text.
I’m scared. Jesse threatened me.
He was drunk.
What if he comes to Pine Ridge?
Call the police.
The police? That seems like exactly the wrong thing to do, especially as they only just closed their investigation into Grace. I see that he’s typing, so I wait for his next message.
We shouldn’t text.
That explains it. Bradley doesn’t want to write anything incriminating. Fair enough. But we’re still together, aren’t we?
I type out “I love you”, then delete it.
I stand on the street corner staring at my phone until a guy yells out from a passing car. It’s getting late to be walking around the city on my own. I pull up the taxi app and order a ride home. It’ll cost a bomb, but I guess I can afford it now.
In the car, I think about Bradley’s family. How many of them were at the service? Does he have brothers and sisters? Where did he grow up?
I know nothing about him. But don’t I know the most important things? I know how he kisses, how he laughs, how his body feels, how I feel when I’m around him. I know that he’s funny and kind, and that he’ll do anything for me. He’s not showing it right now because he can’t.
