Bricks raised his eyebrows but backed away. The group walked slowly toward their cars. But they didn’t leave. The unmarked car remained on the street; Officer Fraize spoke to the detective through the window.
“Inside,” Everett said, motioning for all of us to follow him. “And you are . . . ?” he asked as the door shut behind him.
“Tyler Ellison.” The silence that followed was long and excruciating, until Daniel started pacing, pulling Everett’s focus.
“They’re not leaving,” I said.
“They’re waiting for a warrant to come through, and in the meantime, they’re making sure you don’t ditch anything. Jesus Christ,” Everett said, dropping his bags near the door. “Care to fill me in on what started this shit storm? I just left, for fuck’s sake.” The prescriptions were unopened on the table, and I saw him taking that in, and my wet hair, Tyler’s bare feet.
“They found Annaleise’s body,” I said. “She was shot.” I saw Daniel tense. “And she had a letter. Accusing us in Corinne’s disappearance.”
“Accusing who?” he asked. “Your dad? Or all of you?”
“It’s complicated, Everett.”
“Try me,” he said.
I couldn’t look at his face. I could tell he wanted to understand. I could tell he was still hoping.
But you have to pay your debts.
I turned to Daniel, who was standing against the wall. “You should go home. You should check on Laura,” I said. I wondered if he knew. If he suspected. He must know the key was missing from his desk; maybe he just assumed Laura found it and took it, silently punishing him. She’d been out that night, after all. I wondered if he’d ask. Or if he’d go home and check his gun. If he’d say anything at all.
I walked over and hugged him. “Thank you for coming,” I said. And then, with my mouth pressed close to his ear: “You went home after the bar. Laura was there. You were together.” He moved his hands to my back, pressing his head closer to my shoulder to show he was listening. “Make sure Dad’s gun is never found.”
I felt Daniel’s whole body change in that moment of understanding. He didn’t look at me, kept his head down, ran his hand through his hair as he walked slowly out the front door.
I watched him go, watched Officer Fraize put his hand out as Daniel approached his car. Watched as Daniel slowly spread his arms out from his sides.
“What are they doing to him?” I pressed my palms to the window as Officer Fraize patted his hands up and down Daniel’s body before stepping back and nodding.
“Looks like maybe the warrant is for a weapon,” Everett said. “They’re making sure he didn’t leave with it.” He paused. “Are there any weapons here, Nicolette?”
“What?” I turned to face him. “No, there aren’t any weapons here, Everett.”
He looked out the window again, squinting against the sun. “Time to tell me what the fuck is happening here.”
I stepped away and turned to Tyler, who was sitting on the couch in silence. “You should go home, too,” I said.
He shook his head, glanced from me to Everett, and said, “I’ll be out front.” The screen door banged shut behind him, and I saw him sitting on the bottom step, chin in his hands.
Everett followed as I walked into the kitchen. He was too close when I turned around.
“Okay. Here’s what’s happening. Annaleise Carter is dead,” I said, “and she’s trying to bring us down with her. She left some note that said the police should look into me about what happened to Corinne. The note said Corinne’s body might be here.”
“And why would Annaleise want to do that? Why would she make something like that up?”
“Because she’s fucked up. The world is full of fucked-up people, Everett. Do you know how many I see a day? And those are just the ones I can see.”
“But Annaleise is dead, Nicolette. Somebody killed her with that note on her. Do you see how that looks?”
“Oh, I see. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“They’re getting a warrant. A warrant. What do they think they’ll find?”
“I don’t know!” I said.
Everett got closer, and I backed up. “What was your father saying? Why did you need the cops to stay away from him? Why do you need him silent?”
“Back up,” I said, my hand on his chest. I opened the fridge, grabbed a soda, buying myself time, clarity.
He paused, hands hanging at his sides. “Okay, let me put it to you this way,” he said. “You’re called up on the stand. A lawyer asks, ‘What happened to Corinne . . .’”
“Prescott,” I said.
“‘ What happened to Corinne Prescott?’ What would you say, under oath, on the stand?”
I tipped the can of soda to my mouth, but he didn’t back away. The carbonation fizzed against my lips. “Well,” I said, “I guess I’d plead the Fifth.”
“This isn’t some cop show, Nicolette. And the Fifth Amendment is only admissible to protect yourself.”
I looked out the back window, lowered my voice. “Everett? You’re bound by oath, right? This is confidential?” I put the drink on the table, eyes on his, and hated the way he was staring at me, his head tilted to the side. What was he looking for? What would he see?
He staggered back, or maybe I’d pushed him—my hand was charged, numb, and I couldn’t tell.
“What did you do, Nicolette?” he whispered.
Everett lived in a world that didn’t touch mine. In a place where he saw the injustices elsewhere—somewhere lesser than his place in life. His moral compass did not falter. His world was black and white. He could not look into the darkness, or take it home with him, or love it. He’d never welcome the monster into his heart. Would he hide a body for his daughter? Move one for his sister? Everett’s world was all on paper, because he’d never been tested. What was it he’d told me? The terribly dark thing that nobody else knew about him?
He’d seen someone die.
And what had I done? he wanted to know. So many things. I’d killed Corinne—it was the only explanation remaining, no matter whose fault it had been. Abandoned her on the side of the road. Lied to the police then and now. Lived with her underneath my house. Run away from Tyler and home because of it. Left them all to pick up the pieces.
But I didn’t owe Everett that truth.
Pay your debts, she insisted. Pay them all.
I thought of my apartment with the painted furniture and the desk with my nameplate, waking up and feeling for Everett beside me in his darkened room.
“I slept with Tyler,” I said.
Everything about Everett hardened, and I realized this was a blindside. Not something he’d anticipated. I waited for seconds, moments, as it sank in.
“Tell me again,” he said.
I backed up, felt the cold, impersonal wall. “I slept with Tyler,” I said again, my heart pounding, my skin tingling.
Tyler was outside, and it was just us now. I waited to see what Everett might do. If he was going to rush out front and hit Tyler. Grab my shoulders and shake me. Call me words that would burn in my memory. But he closed his eyes and lowered his head as he backed away. Everett wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t kill, or move a body, or lie to take the heat or blame. He was a better person than the rest of us.
“I’m going to be sick,” he said.
Let us both believe it was because I’d been unfaithful.
* * *
HE CALLED A CAB—HAD to ask for my phone because he didn’t have a signal—and even speaking those words seemed to kill him. He didn’t look at me during the wait, didn’t speak to me as I sat across the table from him, drumming my fingers.
We heard the car pull up. He grabbed his luggage, headed for the entrance, didn’t look at Tyler as he walked through the door. Not a violent bone in his body.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I stood at the top of the porch beside the screen door.
No, I was wrong. As he was leaving, he took my upper arm in his hand and whispered in my ear, something about how he had really loved me, and something more, like How could you or I hope you’re happy—some empty platitude—but I couldn’t hear him clearly because I was focused on his fingers, digging and digging into my skin, grinding into the tendons, pinching a nerve, my knees giving slightly as my mouth opened in silent pain.
He left, and the bruise was already forming.
* * *