“Oh, Kelsey,” Lauren said, pushing the cinnamon roll plate away as she stepped back from the kitchen island. “What did you do? What did you go and do?”
“It was just a joke.”
“A joke?” Lauren was glaring at Kelsey as if she had kicked a kitten.
“I mean, we all cracked up when you wrote it. You said yourself you’d do anything to make someone laugh.”
“Oh, don’t you even think about putting this on me,” Lauren said. “I wrote that for two sets of eyes only—yours and May’s. You told us you were going to put them in a scrapbook. Were you lying?”
Kelsey raised her palms in the air. “No, I swear. I promise. It was spur-of-the-moment after you guys left for the bookstore. I walked out and their car was still there. Imagine coming back to your car and finding a note like that. They deserved it after the stunt they pulled.”
Lauren rubbed her temples. “Jesus, they may not have even seen us waiting.”
“You guys said she was gloating with a big smirk on her face.”
“I only said that because May did.”
May was replaying the moment in her head. Is it possible she had jumped to conclusions again? “Now I’m not sure…”
“Well, you sounded sure at the time. I thought it would be funny and a little bit of karmic justice.”
“If it was so damn hilarious to wonder what would happen when they got back to the car, how come you didn’t tell us?” Lauren’s voice was ice-cold.
Kelsey was blinking back tears. “Lauren, I’m sorry. It was a stupid, impulsive thing, and I was in my cups.”
“No, no, no. Don’t blame it on drinking. You’re the one who swore up and down you were fine to drive. You didn’t tell us because you knew we’d be pissed. You walk around practically disguised to avoid being recognized, but then you do something stupid like that.”
May had been silent, relieved on some level to have Lauren’s ire aimed at Kelsey instead of her. But the full import of Kelsey’s admission was sinking in. May had learned years ago how an anonymous note could spiral into unintended consequences. They had to do something.
“Don’t you see, now we really do have to call the police. We can’t just do nothing.” May’s tone was more scolding than she had intended. “Think about it, Kelsey. You said it was fun to wonder what would happen when they found the note. What exactly were you imagining?” When she did not respond, May answered her own question. “The whole reason the note was perfect was because it sounded so authoritative. Not only is he cheating, but he always does. The voice of someone who knows with certainty. How could he just explain that away? It was sure to start an argument. We have to tell the police.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Lauren said, slapping her palms against the countertop. “If they did see us, they probably figured out right away it was us trying to fuck with them.”
“Or they got into a fight that escalated,” May said, “and now his body’s at the bottom of the Long Island Sound. Or he got mad at her for not believing him, and her body’s in the Sound, and he’s on the run.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” Kelsey said, her voice shaking. “No one’s body is in the Sound. Maybe they got into a fight and he stormed off, and now she reported him missing because he’s ghosting her.”
“Or more likely,” Lauren said, looking directly at May, “it has nothing to do with that stupid note.”
“There’s two numbers here,” May said. “The East Hampton police department and this other number with a 401 area code. It’s probably for the family. We can call them instead.”
“And they’ll immediately give that information to the police,” Lauren said. “And then that many more people will know about the immature stupid shit we pulled.”
May’s gut was telling her the note and David Smith’s disappearance had to be connected. She tried a different tack. “We could make an anonymous phone call saying we saw the couple bickering near their car in Sag Harbor on Friday.”
“And how are you going to make an anonymous call to the police?” Lauren asked. “They can trace everything these days.”
“I don’t know. I can find a pay phone.”
“Where?” Kelsey asked. “In 1997? That’s not going to happen, May.”
“You don’t have to insult me, Kelsey. You’re the one who did this.”
Lauren shook her head emphatically. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “But Kelsey and I are right. We don’t actually know anything that would help the police. And calling them is just going to put us in the spotlight all over again. Think about how embarrassing that will be—three grown women starting some Crank Yankers bullshit with a couple of strangers over a parking spot. You want your students and your fellow faculty members thinking of you as petty like that?”
May could feel her head beginning to prevail over her instincts. The reality was that they had no proof that this David Smith was in danger or that his current whereabouts were related to the note Kelsey had left on the car. They had all been through so much, and the last thing they needed was to be in the public eye again. She had dodged the bullet once, when Fordham decided not to revoke her offer at the law school after the subway incident.
Something like this would surely derail her when she came up for contract renewal next year. Not to mention the repercussions to Lauren, who had written the note, and to Kelsey, who had left it.
Kelsey literally jumped when a chirp sounded from her cell phone. She picked it up from the kitchen island and looked at the screen.
“Shit. It’s Nate. His train is almost here. I need to go get him from the station.” She grabbed her keys and walked out the front door, taking May’s phone and car keys with her.