I dressed quickly upstairs. For all I knew, Blake had left town, fleeing like a thief in the night to avoid whatever trouble he might have found himself in. Given his refusal to answer calls from anyone—the police and me—was I willing or able to shift my opinion of him? Was it possible for me to accept that Blake might very well have killed Jennifer for the reasons Amanda gave?
Was I ready to accept it, Blake as a murderer, even as a remote possibility?
“No,” I said out loud. And pushed the thought away.
But did I push with as much force as I would have once been able to summon?
Once dressed, I went downstairs and stopped in my office. I took the laptop, sliding it into my messenger bag.
I heard Amanda and Henry in the living room. I went in there to get my coat.
Henry was on the floor, squirming around on a blanket. Amanda sat in a chair nearby, trying to read for her book club. I knew she wouldn’t be able to get much reading accomplished. It was tough to read a book with one eye on the kid.
“I guess it would be foolish of me to ask you not to go,” she said. “To just let Blake deal with his own problems with the police and everything else.”
“You know I have to do this.”
“And you know I’m not going to beg,” she said.
“I know that very well.”
I put my coat on. But then I didn’t know what to say or do next. I couldn’t really tell Amanda all the reasons why I needed to go out to try to find Blake. I couldn’t unroll the long scroll of secrets I had kept from her. My presence in Jennifer’s house, my taking of the phone. My role in the accident all those years ago.
And I wasn’t even sure what my involvement would do for Blake.
When the police found him—and I believed they inevitably would—he’d have to tell them the entire story. Which would expose everything I’d already tried to keep under wraps.
So was there any way for this to turn out well for me? Or Blake?
Or Amanda? Or Henry?
A wave of hopelessness descended on me. Was there any way out that would leave my life intact?
“I just . . . Maybe you should do something else today,” I said. “You could go see your parents or something.”
“Why are you telling me to do that?”
“Look, I really don’t know who was sneaking around last night when I wasn’t here. Maybe Blake. He came to the house looking for me and saw you were home or something. But we can’t be sure. We just can’t.”
“Are you saying you think Henry and I are unsafe?” Her voice remained calm. No hysteria. No loss of control for her.
“I doubt it. But . . . we don’t really know what’s going on. Do we?”
“Do you think Blake would come by and hurt us?”
“No,” I said, and I meant it. “Not at all. Not Blake. I guess I don’t know who all he might be mixed up with. If someone hurt Jennifer—”
“Killed her. Not hurt, Ryan. They killed her.”
“Right. If someone killed her, and they know I know her, or they know I know Blake, is it possible they’d come looking for me?”
Amanda put her book on the end table, splayed open to hold her place. Color rushed to her face as she appeared to be processing what I’d told her. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
Amanda stared at Henry on the floor, while I stood there with my coat on and my bag in my hand. I let her have the time to think and absorb the possibilities.
And I kept some of the possibilities to myself. Dawn Steiner. Amanda didn’t know anything about her. And I didn’t want her to. It was my problem to solve, something I hoped to keep her protected from.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll find somewhere to go until you come home.”
“I can drop you off if you want. Your parents . . .”
“No, I’ll go. You’re in a hurry. And I’m not sure I’m even doing the right thing. I feel like a little kid jumping at shadows.”
“It might be best.”
“Are you going to keep in touch while you’re out?” she asked. “I want to know that you’re okay. Even if you are doing something kind of stupid for a person who is definitely stupid.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” I said. “I promise.”
“You know what?” she said.
“What?”
“I have a feeling we’re not going to get to watch that movie tonight either.”