Blake knew I was looking for him—how could he not? Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he didn’t want to talk to me.
Or Samantha.
So I drove home. It was after eleven when I pulled into the alley that led to our driveway, and I expected to see a darkened house, Amanda long asleep with the baby monitor on the bedside table.
What I saw instead made me slam on my brakes.
Every room on the first floor of the house glowed, casting yellow light out onto the lawn and against the trunks of the trees in the yard. The same was true in every room upstairs, except for Henry’s, which was dark, the blinds closed.
And a police car sat in the driveway, blocking my way.
I froze in place behind the wheel, my thoughts swirling like a swarm of insects.
Amanda. Henry. What had happened?
I parked at the curb and jumped out, starting for the house and slamming the driver’s-side door behind me. I forgot everything that had happened, driven forward only by my desire to know that Amanda and Henry were okay.
I ran across the lawn, the dew cold and wet kicking up against my shins, and I yanked open the back door and went into the brightly lit kitchen, where Amanda was leaning against the counter, wearing a light jacket over her sweatshirt and yoga pants as though she was about to go somewhere. She’d exchanged the flip-flops for running shoes.
“What’s happening?” I asked. “Are you okay? Is Henry?”
“It’s about time you got here,” she said. “The police were just leaving.”
“The police?”
I’d been so intently focused on Amanda that I hadn’t looked around the kitchen to see the two uniformed cops standing on the other side of the room. I turned to them, and they both looked back, their faces solemn, their silver badges glinting under the lights.
I faced the cops but asked Amanda, “Is Henry okay?”
“He’s fine,” she said, calm as anything. The eye of the storm. “We’re both fine. You can relax.”
“Then why . . . ?”
My mind raced to another place, somewhere it hadn’t gone since I pulled up behind the house. Were the police there for me? Had they learned I was in Jennifer’s house earlier? Had Blake told them something?
My heart, which had been a block of ice since I’d pulled up, started beating again. I didn’t care. Better me than Amanda or Henry. As long as they were okay, I didn’t care.
“I called them,” Amanda said.
“To find me?”
“No.” She moved to the window above the kitchen sink and turned that light off. She pressed her face against the glass. “What did you see out there?”
“Out where?”
“In the yard.” She pointed out, her face still against the glass. “I heard someone out there. Just ten or fifteen minutes ago. That’s why all the lights are on. That’s why I’m up. And dressed. I thought I might have to grab Henry and run. That’s when I called them and they came. It’s crazy.”
“What did you hear?”
“Sir?” one of the cops said. He was tall, with a goatee, and had razor burn along his neck. “Your wife called us because she thought she heard someone outside. A possible burglar.”
Amanda backed away from the window and unzipped her jacket. But she left it on. She folded her arms across her chest. “Something bumped against the garbage cans. I heard them knock together. And it’s not really that windy tonight. Not enough to rattle the cans like that.”
“Maybe it was a cat. Or those raccoons we saw last week. Once they find a food source, they’re going to come back.”
“Of course I thought of that, Ryan. And if that was all that happened, I wouldn’t be worried. But then I heard the back door rattle.” She pointed to the door I had just come through, the one we used the most to enter and exit the house, the one that led right out to the driveway and the detached garage. “Ryan, someone was trying to get in here. I swear. They pulled on this door handle a few times.”
Every nerve and fiber in my body was pulled as tight as an overtuned guitar string. I’d expected to find peace and quiet at home. Not more craziness.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Amanda gave me a withering look. Her head cocked to one side, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “You know I don’t get riled up over stuff like this, Ryan. I’m not a scaredy-cat like some people we know.”
She was right. Amanda had a friend named Jane who had called the police three different times when her boyfriend was out of town and she thought someone was breaking into her house. Once it was a branch rubbing against the roof. Once a cat. And once she called the police because a piece of siding had come loose and fallen into the backyard. She no longer stayed home alone when her boyfriend went out of town. She spent those nights sleeping in her childhood bedroom just down the hall from her parents.
“We looked around outside,” the cop said, the one with the razor burn. “We saw some tracks out there, ones that went along the back of the house. Was there any reason for someone to be out there?”
“I don’t know. Who knows when the tracks were made?”
“It’s been raining a lot lately,” the cop said. “They must be pretty new. Did you see anything just now, when you were coming in?”
“I ran in. I saw your car, and I thought the worst.”
“Have you seen or heard anything unusual recently? Anything at all?”
Had I seen anything unusual? Yes, I wanted to say. A dead woman. On the floor of her bedroom. A dead woman who sent me a ghostly Facebook friend request.
Stone dead.
“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.”
“No one suspicious hanging around? No property missing or signs of a break-in?”
I felt every breath I took. My heart rate slowed ever so slightly. Dawn Steiner. She was suspicious and odd. But she’d never been to the house. Not as far as I knew. But her deadline loomed . . . two days away. Had she grown impatient and come by to force the issue?
“Sir?”
“No. Nothing like that. It’s safe here.”
“You haven’t had any problems like this any other night?” the cop asked.
“Nothing at all,” I said.
Both cops considered me without speaking. They were big men—like linebackers with gleaming badges—and younger than I was. They looked eminently capable and smart, which set me on edge.
“Well,” the only cop who had spoken said, “we can file a report, and we’ll be sure to mention the fresh tracks. If anything else happens, feel free to call us. We’ll be patrolling all night.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I hope this wasn’t a wild-goose chase for you all. I know you’re busy.”
“No problem, ma’am,” the second cop said, finally speaking. He had a thick head of hair perfectly sculpted into place. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Your wife said you were at a basketball game tonight,” the first cop said.
“What’s that?”
“You were at a basketball game, right? At the Y?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said.
“Must be the Thursday night league,” he said. “My brother plays in that.”
“That’s right.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
My eyes moved between them. They both kept the serious looks on their faces.
“What happened?” the second cop asked.
My throat went dry. I looked at Amanda, who was watching me.
I tried to swallow and couldn’t. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Both the cops smiled.
“At the game,” the first one said. “Your wife says you’re not very good. How did it go?”
Then they were both laughing. And so was Amanda.
And I tried to laugh too, although it felt like coughing up rocks.
“She’s right,” I said. “I’m not very good.”
The cops moved forward, and the second one clapped me on the shoulder.
“Like we said, if you need anything else, just call. We’ll be around.”