Chapter 6
“Why?”
“She wanted me to unlock it.”
“For what?”
“The bank records. Messages. She wanted to know what I had sent anybody.”
“Had you sent anything?”
Lauren looked at him.
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“You.”
Ethan’s throat tightened.
“I never got anything.”
“I sent you a picture of one transfer.”
He took out his phone.
Their message thread ended Monday afternoon with a text from him saying: Need some space tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.
He had muted her after that.
Not blocked.
Muted.
“There’s nothing.”
“I know.”
“Claire deleted it?”
“Maybe. She had my phone.”
Lauren’s eyes stayed on his screen.
“What was the last thing you sent me?”
He showed her.
She read it.
Her mouth tightened.
“Right.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Lauren.”
“Not today.”
He put the phone away.
That was another thing Ethan had to learn: surviving did not erase the fight that came before survival.
The detective returned around noon.
They had recovered Claire’s vehicle from the cemetery. Preliminary examination found traces of blood in the rear cargo area, though whose blood had not yet been determined. They found a prescription bottle in her handbag with a label belonging to their late mother.
Lauren listened without reacting.
“What medication?” she asked.
Reynolds told her.
Lauren looked at Ethan.
“That’s what she gave Mom when she couldn’t sleep.”
Reynolds nodded. “We’ll wait for toxicology before drawing conclusions about what was in your system.”
“What about the woman in the coffin?”
“We have a possible identification.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Who?”
“A woman named Teresa Velez. Forty-one. Lived in Westbridge.”
Lauren’s face changed.
“Does she have family?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know?”
“Detectives are handling that now.”
“Was she in the crash?”
“We believe so.”
Lauren stared at the blanket.
“Did Claire know her?”
“We’re investigating.”
By afternoon they knew more.
Teresa Velez worked night shifts at a packaging plant outside Westbridge. She had left work shortly after ten on Monday night. Her compact sedan went off County Road Twelve near the same turnout where Claire had parked with Lauren.
A traffic camera at a gas station five miles south had captured Claire’s SUV traveling behind Teresa’s car at 10:43 p.m.
At 10:51, a resident reported hearing a crash.
At 11:06, someone called emergency services from a prepaid phone to report a burning vehicle.
The body inside carried Lauren Blake’s driver’s license.
Teresa’s purse, phone, and employee badge were missing.
“Claire hit her,” Ethan said.
Reynolds raised a hand.
“We are not there yet.”
“Her car was behind Teresa’s.”
“That establishes location, not collision.”
“Lauren was drugged in the car.”
“It is evidence. It is not the entire event.”
Ethan hated how careful everyone had become.
He also understood why they had to be.
Teresa deserved the truth too, not merely the version that fit Ethan’s anger.
Lauren was discharged the following evening.
She refused to go home.
The basement had been processed by investigators, but that was not the reason she gave.
“I can smell it from upstairs,” she said.
Ethan did not ask what.
They stayed at Ben’s rented townhouse because Lauren refused to spend another night under Claire’s roof, even though Claire was in jail and the house was sealed for a search.
Ben gave Lauren the bedroom, Noah the couch, and Ethan an inflatable mattress that deflated slowly throughout the night.
At three in the morning Ethan woke with his hip on the floor.
Lauren stood in the kitchen wearing borrowed sweatpants and one of Ben’s oversized T-shirts.
She was drinking water.
Ethan sat up.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He waited.
She leaned against the counter.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I’m not apologizing for not being okay. I’m apologizing because your mattress is leaking.”
He looked down.
“So you stabbed it?”
She gave him a tired look.
“It was hissing for twenty minutes.”
He smiled despite himself.
Lauren’s mouth moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
For a few seconds they existed in a kitchen at three in the morning like two people whose biggest problem might have been a cheap air mattress.
Then she glanced toward the dark hallway.
“I keep hearing the lock.”
Ethan’s smile disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Apologizing for things you didn’t do because it’s easier than talking about things you did.”
He stood slowly.
“Okay.”
Lauren folded her arms.
“You ignored me.”
“I know.”
“You left because we fought.”
“I know.”
“You sent me a message like I was a subcontractor you needed to reschedule.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He nodded.
That irritated her too.
She laughed suddenly.
It was an ugly, exhausted little laugh.
“Oh my God, you’re impossible.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“I thought I was going to die down there.”
Ethan went still.
Lauren’s face changed.
“I had all these stupid thoughts. Not even important things. I kept thinking I never ordered Noah’s new soccer cleats. I kept thinking there was laundry in the washer and it was going to smell.”
Her eyes filled.
“And then I thought about your message.”
Ethan felt the words coming before she spoke them.
We’ll talk tomorrow.
“I thought that might be the last thing you ever said to me.”
He sat on the edge of the couch.
Lauren wiped her face angrily.
“I’m not telling you that so you can punish yourself.”
“Okay.”
“I’m telling you because I need you to understand that when you leave, it doesn’t feel like space to me.”
He nodded once.
“I do understand that now.”
She studied him.
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her more.
They stood quietly.
A refrigerator compressor clicked on.
Somewhere outside, a truck changed gears on the main road.
Lauren finished her water.
“Your mattress is completely flat.”
Ethan looked down.
“So I’ve gathered.”
“You can take the other half of the bed.”
He looked at her.
“For sleeping.”
“I understood.”
“You made a face.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
May you like
He followed her down the hall but stayed on his side of the bed.
Neither of them slept much.
