She swallowed her anger and rearranged her mouth into a pleasant smile before turning to face him. Hers was a delicate operation. Yes, Lisa hoped to drive a wedge between Aimee and Scott, punish him for his misdeeds, but she had to be careful not to leave a trail that could be traced back to her. That would defeat the whole purpose. Anton’s recklessness scared her. He was intoxicated by the secrets he was discovering. Like a young girl drunk on her first taste of champagne, Anton’s inhibitions had loosened, and he was taking unnecessary risks.
“That wasn’t the plan.” Lisa sat on his side of the bed and caressed his arm when what she really wanted to do was smack him upside the head. He was being stupid, careless. “The plan was we were going to get some money. Remember? So we could start over?”
“Oh, sure,” he said in a dreamy way. “That’s still the plan, but why not get a book out of it as well?”
Because the more you dig, the deeper the hole gets. And we might fall in.
Lisa stewed over this development for the next few weeks. And not just because what Anton was doing endangered them both, but because she was beginning to feel used. Several times he declined dates with her, saying he was writing and didn’t want to interrupt his flow.
The last weekend of August before school started was a scorching-hot day. After soccer practice, Lisa took Kai down to the neighborhood pool, where she found Aimee and Gwen near the diving well in the shade.
She joined them and spent an afternoon like so many others before, watching the kids, taking a dip, returning to her seat to chat.It’s lovely, she thought,to have this stability. Gwen pulled out watermelon chunks from her cooler and passed them around and Lisa found her dissatisfaction with life momentarily abating.
She almost had a panic attack earlier in the summer when Aimee casually dropped that she was going to use Gwen as her emergency contact. “Oh, Lisa, I put Gwen down as the kids’ emergency contact since you don’t drive to elementary school anymore.”
But today, baking under the sun, surrounded by the familiar rhythms of a suburban summer, Lisa felt reassured of her place in the world. Even Gwen wasn’t bugging her as much as usual. Sleeping with Anton had satisfied something in her. She knew she could take him away, and that felt like enough. Who cared if she was never going to be a size four, or if her hair, unlike Gwen’s, frizzed in the humidity? All she had to do when she felt insecure was remember being on her knees in front of Anton as he begged her to suck him off. She liked to make him literally beg. That could be enough. She could make some kind of internal peace with Gwen.
But she should never have told Anton about Scott. What were the odds that he would keep his mouth shut? He was writing a goddamn book about it. What a selfish, entitled little prick. He had claimed he was in love with her and wanted to start life anew. He jettisoned that dream pretty quickly once he smelled a book. She wasn’t hurt that Anton didn’t really love her, or that he wouldn’t really leave Gwen for her. She never wanted that. But she was scared. Anton would want everyone to know abouthis genius. His desire for validation would outweigh his instinct for self-preservation.
They would both end up in jail.
She felt her face grow warm. Gwen would paint her as some kind of psycho. She’d control the narrative. Lisa wouldn’t just lose Aimee forever. She’d lose Marcus and Kai, her standing in this community, and everything she’d worked to build. She might lose her actual freedom. She’d been so stupid, so blinded by hate, and so focused on revenge that she’d endangered herself.
“Is everything okay, Lisa?” Aimee asked. “You’re kind of red. Do you need sunscreen?”
“I’m fine,” Lisa choked out, bringing her hand to her face. She was burning hot. “I think I just need some water.”
Gwen passed her a canister of Evian. Lisa took her glasses off and sprayed the mist over her hot face. The relief was instant. It had been a terrible mistake to involve Anton, one that she couldn’t undo. She’d once viewed him as the solution to her woes, but he had become her biggest problem.
Lisa put her sunglasses back on and leaned back in her chaise, letting the sounds of splashing water and children’s happy screams wash over her. A single thought occupied her mind—what was she going to do about Anton?
44
NOW
“Yourson?”
The word seems to ricochet off the walls of the small kitchen and lodge inside Aimee’s head, where it cracks apart the image of Scott she has held since she’s known him. He lost his mother young, just like she did. It was one of the things that had bonded them. Now this woman is claiming it was a lie.
“I don’t understand,” Aimee says, a clash of nausea and heartbreak spreading in her belly. “Scott’s mom died when he was in college.”
“Is that what he told you?” Cathy’s gaze is steel-eyed and steady. “No, I didn’t die. After Michael left California, he cut off contact with me. Cut me out completely. That’s when he changed his name to Scott.”
“Why? Because he killed Dexter Kohl?” Gwen asks.
Cathy turns to look at Gwen, amusement in her eyes. “Someone’s been talking to Dexter’s mom. I assume that’s where you got that nonsense.”
“I don’t think it’s nonsense,” Gwen says, pulling out Anton’s black notebook from her bag. “My husband was the one who talked to Dexter Kohl’s mom. She told him her name was Cathy Stocker.”
Cathy walks over and grabs the notebook. She opens it up, flipping through the pages.
“Cathy is Dexter’s mom. I’m not Cathy Stocker.” She looks at Aimee. “My name is Jen. Jen Finch.”
“So why were you using her name?” Aimee asks, incredulous.
“Well, she’s not using it anymore,” she says dryly. Jen Finchputs the notebook on the counter behind her and picks up the mug of tea. “Cathy is dead. The generator outside her trailer blew up about a month ago, right before I came here. She’s the one who booked this Airbnb. She was planning to come out here and see for herself if it was really Michael. So I came instead. I mean, it was already paid for. Would be a waste for someone to not use it.”
“She’s dead,” Aimee says, more to herself than anyone else. “You say her generator blew up? Was it an accident?”
