“Oh my God!” said Annette. She picked up her phone. “Who do I call? Oh my God!”
Whitney ran to wake Jules, who entered the living room in rumpled silk pajamas. He was a tall British man with a shoulder-length mane that made him seem distinguished. “OK, OK,” he said, trying to force himself awake.
As they’d built their real estate empire, Jules had begun referring to himself as “The Lion,” as in “Call Whitney and the Lion—for all your real estate needs!” I think he wanted clients to think it was an old prep school nickname, when in reality he’d come home one day and said, “Honey, how about I go byThe Lionfrom now on?” Whitney had called me and we had laughed for ten minutes. What a dork! But he was a savvy businessman—the name had stuck.
“What’s happened?” he said. He looked disheveled, his face showing panic despite the Botox Whitney had confided that they had both received the week before during a realtor open house that featured “Botox and Bubbles.”
“The kids found…somebody on the greenbelt,” I said. For a moment, I felt a flash of fear—this night, this event, would be my downfall. Somehow the horror—the kids found somebody on the greenbelt—would discolor our friendship, making me unwelcome in Whitney’s beautiful home.
“Where’s Roma?” said Jules.
“In her room? I don’t know!” cried Whitney.
“Did you touch the body?” asked Jules.
The boys were silent, looking at each other, deciding something, it seemed.
“Answer me,” said Jules.
His son lifted his chin. “We gave her mouth-to-mouth,” said Xavier. “We tried to save her. That’s what we’ve been trained to do.”
“We tried chest compressions, too,” said Charlie. “But they didn’t work!”
“It’s not our fault,” said Bobcat. His tone was low and pained.
“Oh my God,” said Jules.
“I’m calling 911,” said Annette. “Did you call 911?”
Again, the boys seemed uneasy. “We didn’t know what to do,” said Charlie.
“Our phones didn’t work down there!” said Bobcat, shaking his hands anxiously.
“We didn’t call anyone,” said Xavier, his voice breathless, bordering on hysterical. “We just came home!”
“Come out back. All of you. Leave your phones,” said Jules.
Something in his tone made us obey. I was relieved to follow his lead. Even as an adult, I sometimes wondered, “Who’s in charge of this situation?” before realizing it might have to be me.
In the far corner of the Brownsons’ yard, fireflies flaring against a black sky, the boys talked and we listened. The Texas heat pressed on us, a living thing.
What choice did we have? We promised we believed them.
-1-
Salvatore
AT APPROXIMATELY 6:45 A.M.,Allie informed her father, Austin Police Detective Salvatore Revello, that she didnot,in fact, want to be a cat for Dress Up Day but, instead, Dora the Explorer. “Or,” she said, crossing her arms across her skinny chest, “I’ll be the Incredible Hulk. But definitely nota cat.”
Where had a seven-year-old learned to speak with such contempt? And what the hell was wrong with Allie’s cat costume, which Salvatore had ordered on Amazon Prime the night before, the cost totaling thirty-eight dollars after paying for the two-hour delivery fee and tipping the hapless millennial who’d shown up at his door at 11:00p.m.? His goddamn wife, Jacquie, had always made their costumes.By hand.
“Allie, you’re being immature,” noted Allie’s brother, Joe. Joe was twelve. He’d wanted to be his favorite basketball player, Steph Curry, for Dress Up Day at summer camp, because Joe was a crafty little demon and knew he could request the Chinese New Year Warriors jersey, call it a “costume,” and get some cred at middle school, even among the preppy littlecretins who wore Vineyard Vines and Supreme T-shirts that cost seventy-five dollars apiece.
Joe trolled eBay, Craigslist, and the thrift stores near their ranch house in a sprawling development of identical beige homes called Whisper Valley. He was on an endless quest for shoes and clothing that could make him seem rich. When he’d won an Alexa smart speaker at the school Wellness Fair and Salvatore had told him he could not plug in the spying device (oh my God, the things he’d learned about people from their Alexa smart speakers), Joe had sold it on eBay within hours and bought a pair of gently used Adidas Human Race NMDs just a few sizes too big for him.
Salvatore was proud of his kid.
“That’s true,” said Salvatore, smiling at Allie. “Youarebeing immature.”
