Chapter Fifty
When Jane finally got out of bed, the sky was gray and a steady rain fell, bringing the loosest of the leaves, the ones from the unhealthy branches, down with it. She was puttering in her bathrobe, deflated by the failure to find Megan at Howard Borg’s cabin. Her doorbell rang.
“Laura!” Megan’s mother stood on the front steps, hair already dripping from the rain. A green and white cab pulled away from the curb. “Come in! Come in. You’ll catch your death. How did you get here?”
Laura Reeve stepped onto the tile floor of the vestibule, took off her raincoat, and kicked off her flats. “Thanks. I’m sorry to burst in on you like this. I couldn’t stop myself.”
Jane took the raincoat to the kitchen and hung it over the back of a stool. It would be weeks before she would put on the heat, so the kitchen was as chilly and gray as the day outside. “Let me give you something warm to drink. Coffee? Tea?”
“Yes, tea, please.” Laura watched her as Jane put the mug with a tea bag in it into the microwave, the best she could do at short notice. They were both settled at the island, Jane with coffee, before Laura spoke.
“I couldn’t wait out in the Berkshires with so much going on here, the search for Megan, Edwin’s arrest.” She waved her hand indicating it all. “I took the first bus this morning. I was headed to the police station, to that nice Detective Alvarez, but then I thought, ‘I’ll be in the way there. I’ll go to Jane.’ Megan’s house has been in the papers. I knew you lived next door. I only had to guess which house.”
“That’s fine,” Jane reassured her. “Of course you should come here.”
“Have they made any progress? Is there anything I should know?”
“Last night I thought we’d come close to finding Megan, but a promising clue came up empty.” Jane told Laura the Howard Borg story. How different it sounded when she already knew the ending.
“They think Edwin has her. I can tell that from what’s in the papers.”
“The police think that’s the most likely scenario.”
Laura put down her mug and looked Jane in the eye. “But you don’t.”
“I went to see him at the jail.” It felt like a confession. “I thought maybe I could get him to tell me something he hadn’t told the police. The police thought so, too, which is why they allowed it.”
“But he didn’t.” Laura’s voice was too high and brittle, not fully in her control. The emotion she’d managed to hold back since her arrival seeped out.
“No. He didn’t.” Jane had her doubts about saying the rest of it. How much should this woman be asked to bear? But she pushed on. “Not only did he not tell me where Megan is, he convinced me he didn’t take her.”
Laura stared into the bottom of her empty cup. “I don’t believe he took her either.” Laura looked up at Jane. “I can believe Edwin would do many things, terrible things. But he wouldn’t hurt Megan.”
“He might not hurt her physically, but the police are certain of his motive. He stole from Megan’s trust and then tried to convince her she was crazy.”
Laura listened, gray eyes narrowed, as Jane told the story of Edwin’s gaslighting. “I realized it must be him when you described what he did to you. The changing schedule, the rotting food, the mail-ordered merchandise. Same thing, different technology.”
Laura had grown paler throughout the recitation, and Jane feared she might be physically sick. She swallowed loudly and then said in a shaky voice, “When it comes to money, Edwin is greedy and, for a lawyer, not at all persuaded by boundaries. He was the one who convinced my father to leave his money to Megan, with him in control in the first place, skipping over me, not even granting me a seat at the table. My own child. But I do not believe Edwin would hurt her.” Laura shook her head. “Never.”
Did she really believe that, or did she need to believe it? Jane put her hand over Laura’s. “I have to get dressed. Do you mind being alone? I could call Megan’s friend Andy to come over. He could wait with you.”
“Andy?” Laura smiled. “I remember him. I always thought he was a nice guy.”
“He is. And he and Megan have stayed friends. They work at the same firm. He’s been beside himself since she disappeared. It might do you both good to spend time together.”
Laura thought for a moment. “No, thanks. I’m fine on my own. I’ve been moving, on the bus, in the cab, in your horrendous Boston rush hour traffic this morning. It will do me good to sit still for a few minutes.”
Jane went up to her room. As she rifled her closet for something warmer to wear now that the weather had finally changed, picking slacks and a long-sleeved top, she considered their conversation. Laura didn’t believe Edwin had Megan, either. But then, Laura’s judgment wasn’t great where her ex-husband was concerned.
When Jane came back downstairs, Laura was in the living room, looking out the side window toward Megan’s house, her back shaking with silent sobs.
“Laura.” Jane went to her, and together they looked across Megan’s puddle-filled driveway. “I am so sorry.”
Laura turned to her then and put her face on Jane’s shoulder. “I’m the one who is sorry. I ruined my daughter’s life. I drank and acted irresponsibly. I let her father push me away when she was at the age when a daughter needs a mother most. Her memories of life with me were of instability, insecurity, lack of safety. Chaos. A child should never feel unsafe in her own home. When your childhood has been that chaotic, you never get over it.”
“No, no, you misunderstand,” Jane assured her. “Megan wasn’t . . . isn’t an unhappy person. She’s accomplished a lot at a young age, and she’s determined to do more. She has a real vision for her life going forward and is making it happen.”
Laura had pulled away from Jane’s shoulder, but her eyes ran with tears. Jane handed her a tissue from the box still on the end table from Andy’s visit the night before. Her living room had been a place for grief the last twelve hours.
“When she met with me, Megan was about to move forward toward adopting a child,” Jane said. “That’s not something you do if you’ve been so scarred by your childhood you have nothing to give.”
Laura looked out the window again. Wembly picked that moment, the exact right moment, to appear, winding himself around Jane’s feet, meowing for his breakfast. Jane picked him up and offered him to Laura. “This is Megan’s cat. She loves him. She has a lot of love to give. She isn’t a miserable person.”
Laura hugged the cat, pressing him to her. Wembly tolerated it, not squirming or pushing away.
Jane took the cat gently from Laura and set him on the floor. He raced her to the kitchen, where she opened a can of his fancy food. Laura followed them and watched as Jane spooned out the food and set the bowl down.
“Really,” Jane said, “before all this happened, your daughter was happy.” She looped her arm through Laura’s. “Come on. I’ll show you. You’ll feel much better once you’ve seen Megan’s house.”