On an oppressively hot afternoon, as summer neared, Alex prepared the lunch she would bring to the lake. It was the first time the women who resided on the cul-de-sac—Alex, Emily, Willow, Mandy, and Brooke—would all get together since the funerals. It had been a difficult time for all, but Alex reserved most of her sympathy and heartache for Dylan and Riley.
She cut a tuna sandwich in half, thinking of Evan and Ken. Each had made fateful choices that led to their tragic ends, but the children were victimized. When Riley came to mind, Alex sliced a carrot with extra force, letting some of her anger out. She had been too young and naive to have been a consenting partner for Ken. Poor Dylan might never recover from his father’s betrayal or from the confusing grief he was enduring.
Alex couldn’t believe Dylan hadn’t come forward when he found incriminating evidence about his father on Riley’s phone. Perhaps he felt too much shame, didn’t know how to process it all. At least he was in therapy, opening up to his family more. Despite the long road ahead, Alex felt optimistic that he’d get through this trauma.
Thankfully, the police did not release any motive, so social media was in the dark about Ken and Riley, and the same was true with the news. Nobody on Alton Road who was in the know whispered a word of it, either. There were no charges of abuse to levy, no crimes to be adjudicated, so Riley and Dylan were free to live their lives outside of the glaring media spotlight.
As always, Alex was concerned for her sister. As she finished packing the lunch, she wondered what would have happened if those involved had been more honest. Enough secrets for two lifetimes, Willow had said.
What if Riley had come forward about Ken? What if Dylan had told his mother what he’d seen on Riley’s phone? What if Brooke had been more forthcoming about her stalker or confided to someone—a therapist, a friend—that her marriage to Jerry had been a nightmare? What if Willow had opened up to Riley about her birth father years earlier? Would that have altered the trajectory of her daughter’s life or even that of the Wookiee’s?
Alex was no saint herself, she knew. She’d hid her drinking, while Lettie did the same with her petty revenge plot against Riley. How much heartache could have been lessened, lives saved, if people owned up to their hard truths?
Outside, the lawn mower puttered by the kitchen window, with Nick riding atop like a king surveying his lands. He waved as he drove past. Alex returned a smile. She could not be more grateful for his steadfast support these past few weeks. He’d listened to Alex patiently and without judgment, knowing when to give her the peace and quiet of companionable silence. He was also a rock for Lettie and Emily as they tried to wrap their heads around their suffering and grief.
To Alex’s relief, Emily was doing far better than she could have imagined. It wasn’t long ago, over afternoon tea (and it was only tea these days), that Alex finally came clean with the secret she’d been keeping about her brother-in-law—two secrets, in fact.
“I knew about Ken looking at Brooke’s photos before you did, and I didn’t tell you,” Alex had said.
“What do you mean?” Emily set her teacup down with a clatter.
“You know how the guys shared the pictures at poker night? Well, long story, but I found one picture on Nick’s phone and asked him about it. He told me he got it from Ken.”
Emily sat very still. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Your marriage was so strained already, I didn’t want that to push it over the edge. Then you found out yourself, and I thought it didn’t matter anymore. But I should have told you. And that’s not the only secret I’ve been keeping.”
“What else?” Emily asked, her eyes betraying a deep worry.
Alex drained her tea, buying herself one last moment. “I just wanted to protect you, and I feel sick about it. It’s been a year now, and it’s weighed on my mind the whole time. But we’ve all seen the damage secrets can cause—so no more of them for me.”
Emily braced herself, eyes locked on Alex, jaw set tight in anticipation. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
With an apologetic frown, Alex began. “Not long after the Kumars moved in, I saw Ken leaving Mandy’s house early one morning. He seemed to be sneaking away, and it was odd—suspicious, even, but I didn’t know what to make of it.”
“Last summer? And you’re just telling me this now?”
A pang of guilt twinged in Alex’s chest. “You were already worried,” she continued, “and I didn’t have anything concrete to go on. I’m sorry … all of this was done out of love, but you have every right to be angry at me. I’m angry at myself. I’m so sorry, Em.”
Alex saw only a quick flash of fury, extinguished almost as soon as it surged. The sisters held each other’s gaze a moment longer, but Emily’s expression softened and Alex breathed easier.
“I’m stronger than you think,” Emily said. “I can take a punch, or two, or twenty—whatever. I can take it because I have you, and Dylan and Logan, and my friends, and Mom, and faith in myself, too. I want you to have faith in me as well, Alex.”
“I do. So much I can’t even tell you.”
When they embraced, arms wrapped tightly around each other, Emily’s tears began to fall, and soon after, so did Alex’s.
All was forgiven.
The memory faded and Alex returned to packing up. She went outside wearing her backpack, a hat, and sunglasses to keep out the glare along with long pants and a long-sleeved jersey to keep the ticks away. She saw Emily standing in front of Mandy Kumar’s house with the rest of the women already gathered.
Zoe barked in greeting before rearing up to place her front paws on Brooke’s perfectly muscular legs. There was no hiding from the ticks in Brooke’s revealing attire. The hike was Brooke’s idea, and she’d done the organizing, evidently with a purpose, although she was a bit cagey about what that might be.
“We need a cleansing,” Brooke had said. “A group cleanse—a different kind of detox.”
Alex wondered if it had something to do with the planned swim, as everyone was instructed to bring bathing suits. But was Brooke going to lead some kind of a ceremony?
There were hugs all around, but no tears were shed. At least for today, the crying was over and done with. In its place fell an uncertain weightiness, one that hung over the women like storm clouds, thick as the humid air. It was a reminder for Alex that the days could change, the seasons, too, but this heaviness would always be clinging to them.
They set off on the march to the lake, with Zoe trotting happily alongside Alex. There was muted chatter, the women pairing into smaller groups as they traversed the narrow path. As they approached the clearing, Alex found herself walking with Mandy, which gave her a chance to ask something that had been on her mind. She wasn’t about to broach the topic of the cruise ship, which felt too confrontational and honestly a bit too dangerous, but something else had been nagging at her for weeks.
“I’m just curious,” Alex said. “That day at the block party. Lettie told me you’d come up from the basement stairs. I’ve been wondering—what were you doing in the basement of Ken and Emily’s house?”
It had been an open-and-shut case, with two witnesses hearing Evan’s confession before watching his self-inflicted fatal gunshot wound. Police took statements from Alex and Brooke, took Riley’s phone for evidence, and asked questions of Lettie and Mandy about what they had overheard, but it was hardly an extensive inquiry, as the facts of the case appeared equally evident and undeniable.
Mandy looked away for a moment. “Let’s just say that I had a change of heart about something important, so I went to the house to set things right.”
Alex knew that was all she was going to get. In some ways, Mandy would always be an enigma.
Alex glanced up from the trail to see the lake, and it was a good thing, too. The hot day and the long walk made her extremely happy that they were going for a swim. Alex wore her suit underneath her clothing, but Brooke changed freely in front of everyone, as did Mandy Kumar.
“You’ve inspired me to be a lot less self-conscious about my body,” Mandy said.
Brooke gave her an approving smile. “This is the first phase of our cleanse,” she said. “Last one in the water has to carry the cooler on the walk back!”
It was a sprint into the lake, and unclear who was last, but nobody really cared. The water was so refreshing it felt like a reset of mind, body, and spirit—a chance to start anew.
After the swim, the women took seats around a rustic picnic table shaded by a grouping of pine trees. Alex unpacked the sandwiches she had carefully wrapped, while Willow poured wine for everyone. As was her routine now, Alex brought a bottle of chilled sparkling water. Alcohol abstinence was a daily choice she made each morning. It was as simple and as hard as that.
For a time, the women ate and sipped their beverages, enjoying the company and the peace of their surroundings. Though they were in the shade, the hot day quickly dried everyone off—including Zoe, who had enjoyed her swim as well.
It was Willow who eventually broke what had been a stretch of silence. “Not to bring up darker matters, but I got Evan’s toxicology report from the police the other day.”
Everyone turned to Willow.
“And?” asked Emily.
“And he had a high blood alcohol content and amphetamines in his system. They think the combination triggered a seizure.”
“A seizure that saved our lives,” said Brooke.
Nobody toasted that sentiment.
“I guess now is as good a time as any for phase two of my plan,” Brooke said.
“You mean our cleanse,” said Emily, who sounded like she was in on the plan.
“That’s right,” said Brooke. She produced from her backpack a yellowing book that Alex recognized immediately. It was Jerry and Ken’s high school yearbook.
“Now we all know what Ken and Jerry did to Mandy back in high school. And some of you know that I also suffered a lot under Jerry’s abuse, and Emily has suffered from Ken’s lies and deceit. Willow has also been deeply hurt because of Evan and Ken. And Alex, you are our glue in so many ways—you’ve brought us together and held us together, and for that you’ll always be in our hearts.
“So my idea was to have a ceremonial burning of this yearbook—symbolically turning the darkest pages of our history into ash.”
At last, a sentiment that could be toasted all around.
Brooke moved to the nearby fire pit and placed the yearbook in the center. She took a lighter out of her pocket and lit several pages on fire. All the friends gathered around, expecting to see a fireball, but instead watched a few corners burning slightly, a bigger flame failing to catch.
“Shit,” Brooke muttered. “Not exactly the dramatic effect I was going for. Anybody have some lighter fluid?”
Most everyone chuckled at the irony of a small, pitiful flame for a big cleanse—everyone, that is, but Mandy Kumar.
From her bag, Mandy pulled out a quarter-full bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label whisky. “I was actually going to make a symbolic gesture myself today and dump the contents of this bottle into the lake, but I think we can put it to better use.”
She doused the nascent flames with the liquor, which erupted into an intense blaze that engulfed the yearbook. The women stood enraptured as the fireball consumed one page after another, until the book was mostly ash.
Emily gaped at Mandy. “Where did you get that?” she asked.
Mandy looked directly at Emily. “I grabbed it from Ken’s office,” she said matter-of-factly. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to drink this. It’s a little too … potent for anyone.”
Emily stood straighter as her suspicious look gave way to one of understanding. Alex remembered Samir’s desperate quest for Mandy, and his concern that she had vanished with all her medication. Had she poisoned Ken’s prized whisky? Was that why she was in the house? Had she decided against such extreme revenge? Was that her change of heart?
If so, Mandy’s plan had inadvertently saved their lives. Alex doubted that it was a combination of alcohol and amphetamines that caused Evan’s seizure. She believed he consumed Mandy’s missing drugs, which had been mixed in that bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, causing a reaction that led to his self-inflicted gunshot wound. But evidence of that theory had just gone up in flames.
Brooke’s expression darkened. She had heard Samir’s plea and knew about the missing medication, as well as the cruise ship connection. She must have been thinking along the same lines as Alex.
Mandy said, “A few years back I was in a very dark place. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to live. I had unresolved trauma added to the most painful loss a mother could suffer. Samir tried everything to help me find a way out of my depression, but there was no solution. Medications, therapy, nothing was working. And then we took that cruise. I know Samir wanted to rekindle things, but I just didn’t see a way to get us back to normal.
“I was on the upper deck, thinking about jumping overboard and ending my life, when I ran into, of all people, Jerry Bailey. We recognized each other right away, even though he was as drunk as could be. And he was the same as he ever was. He told me in no uncertain terms that I better not get any ideas of dredging up old memories, using the #MeToo movement to come after him. He threatened me with his money and power, telling me I’d best keep my mouth shut. Then he put his hands on me and told me he could still take whatever he wanted.
“I pushed him away, hard, forcefully, and because he was so drunk, he stumbled backward, completely off-balance.
“The railing was about four feet high. He was a tall man, so it didn’t take much to send him right over. There was nobody around, no witnesses, so I snuck away. Five minutes later I reported hearing a splash, but of course I didn’t own up to my involvement. The ship turned around, a search got under way, but … they never found his body.
“This is horrible to say, but his death opened something up inside of me. I suddenly felt free of guilt and shame, sorrow and sadness—it was, in a word, empowering. I felt alive again. I got it in my head that revenge would heal me, and I decided to make that my mission in life—to seek justice on my own terms and in my own way. So I found Ken and kept a close watch on him, and when a house on Alton Road came up for sale … I was ready.
“It was tantalizing to torture him for a year—watching him squirm. I kept myself cool, very controlled, very methodical, except for one night, Christmas Eve, when I just snapped. I was spying, because our holidays aren’t very merry—watching Ken through the window of his house, laughing, drinking, like he owned the damn world. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. Instead, I scribbled a note on a piece of scrap paper in my purse, tied it around a rock with a rubber band, and tossed it through that window. I could see that nobody was going to get hurt—I had a clear shot at the table, and it felt damn good to finally channel my anger into something tangible. I got a little release, along with some satisfaction, but the good feelings didn’t last.
“I knew I couldn’t play with him forever. I had to decide how to finish what I started, what I’d come here to do. I remembered that Ken had made such a big deal about his prized whisky, so an idea began to form. When the time came, however—I just couldn’t go through with it.
“You see, I had snuck into your house, Emily, while everyone was setting up for the block party. I found the liquor cabinet easily enough, and poisoned Ken’s bottle with my ground-up medications. Given the concentration of meds I dissolved, I knew it would cause a fatal reaction even if he drank only a few ounces, and since Ken made it a point that he didn’t share the good stuff, I felt safe from harming others. I was safe from a tox screen, too, since the medical examiner would have to specifically test for the drugs I used.”
Mandy’s voice shook, her eyes glassy with unshed ears.
“I came to my senses. What happened with Jerry was an accident. With Ken, it would have been murder. Fantasy is one thing, but reality, well … let’s just say I found my guilty conscience. I knew right then it would be far easier to live with my trauma than the guilt that follows murder. While I waited for Ken to drink, I had time to reflect on what I was doing. I came to the realization that my pain and the relief I felt after Jerry’s death probably had more to do with Asher, channeling my grief into something I could control, rather than what happened to me in high school. I was conflating one heartache with another, and I couldn’t go through with it. So I went back into the house, sneaking up the basement stairs, same as before. Only this time I arrived too late for Ken’s sake—and I guess for Evan’s as well.”
A pall settled over the group as the fire started to dwindle. The charred remains of the yearbook smoldered.
“What do you want us to do with this information?” Willow asked.
“I guess that’s for you to decide,” said Mandy. “I’m ready to own up to what I did—what happened. I’d like to be there for my son, Jay, and be the wife and partner to Samir that he deserves. But maybe I don’t deserve that chance because of what I’ve done.”
“What have you done?” It was Brooke who spoke up. “Jerry grabbed you and you defended yourself, then reported him as going overboard. You didn’t do anything to Ken other than a little vandalism and make him feel uncomfortable—and as for Evan, you heard the tox report. It was amphetamines that caused the seizure.”
Brooke looked over to Willow, who returned a nod. “Amphetamines and alcohol were his usual cocktail,” Willow said. She moved over to Mandy and put an arm around her. If anyone had doubted Willow’s inclination, that gesture dispelled it. “I think the bottle belongs in the lake where you intended to put it.”
A few moments later, the five women and one dog gathered at the shoreline and watched in silence as Mandy threw the whisky bottle as far out as she could. The bottle landed with a splash, floating a moment on the water’s surface before filling up and vanishing into the depths below.
Meadowbrook Online Community Page
Special Announcement from the group moderator.
The post about the tragedy on Alton Road has been permanently deleted.
I started this page as an information resource for the town of Meadowbrook. Bullying and insensitive comments will not be tolerated. If you’re unsure whether your comment is appropriate, please refer to our posted Community Standards, or you will risk getting blocked like Ed Callahan.