know he would miss us.”
Dr. Wilcox smiled wanly at the bittersweet sentiment, her right hand jotting something down. “She thought he had drowned?”
“We all did,” Nina said, pausing before adding, “Some of us still do.”
“Connor?” Dr. Wilcox remembered.
“Yes, Connor for sure,” said Nina. “He thinks his father is dead.”
“And you?”
“Jury is out. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he just wanted to start over. Fake his death and begin anew without the burden of child support and alimony. People snap, you know.”
Dr. Wilcox’s eyes glimmered ever so briefly. “What happened during the search?”
“I tried to redirect my energy to my kids and the volunteers,” Nina said. “But I kept seeing those pictures in my head, Glen kissing that woman, his eyes glowing with lust—with love, maybe?
“At first I was paralyzed. I had no idea what to do,” Nina went on. “I didn’t tell anybody but the police about the pictures.”
“So the search went on and nobody, not even your close friends, knew about the affair?”
“That’s right. I think there were at least a hundred people out looking for him. I manned the volunteer tent, feeling like I was deceiving every last one of them.”
“Why’s that?”
“They weren’t looking for Glen, the loving husband and devoted family man. They were searching for an adulterer, a man with secrets as hidden as he was.”
Nina recounted how groups of volunteers, arms linked, headed out into the woods by the boat launch and returned cold and soaking wet, without any leads. Coffee couldn’t warm them, and she sensed the mood shift late that day. By then, the enthusiasm for the search, so infectious in the morning, had fatigued, along with the searchers themselves.
It had been painful to think of spending another day thanking people for their kindness and sacrifice, hugging them, presenting a face of grief while she ignored the other feelings invading her bones. But that’s exactly what she did the next day, too: she lied to herself and to others.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I knew eventually the truth would come out one way or another. But that wasn’t the only thing upsetting me.”
Nina took a moment to collect her thoughts and let the painful memories resurface.
“During the search I noticed that nobody from Glen’s work was there,” she began.
“He worked for—?” Dr. Wilcox let the question hang, prompting Nina to fill in the blanks.
“Center Street Bank. He was a senior financial advisor in the consumer banking division.”
“I see. Is that what brought him to Carson?”
“I thought maybe, yes,” said Nina. “Maybe he went there to scout a location for a branch, and got it on with a waitress while blowing off steam. But Glen didn’t work in the retail side, so he’d have no reason to help open new bank branches.”
“Got it.” Dr. Wilcox took another note.
“While I thought it was odd that Glen would have even gone to Carson, it was even odder that nobody from the bank bothered to contact me. I mean, he was all over the news, but I didn’t receive one phone call, no emails even.”
“Why do you think?”
“I didn’t know,” said Nina. “So when I got home from the search I called his office.”
“And?”
And …
Nina relived those moments in detail, letting them unfold for Dr. Wilcox as they had unfolded for her.
* * *
SHE DIALED the main number and asked for Human Resources. A pleasant-sounding man with a nasal voice answered the phone after a few rings.
“Dan Kastner. May I help you?”
Nina had to take a deep breath before she could speak. “Yes, hello. My name is Nina Garrity.”
She expected to hear a gasp, a heavy sigh, some weighty noise that preceded expressions of sincere sympathy, but no. There was only silence.
“Yes? What can I do for you, Ms. Garrity?”
“Um—” Nina cleared her throat. “I’m Glen Garrity’s wife, Nina.”
“Glen … Garrity?”
“Yes,” said Nina. “He’s the boater from Seabury, New Hampshire, who’s gone missing. Surely you’ve seen the news…?”
“Oh yes, yes, of course. Of course, I have. I’m truly sorry, Ms. Garrity. What is it I can do for you?”
Do for me? Dan’s response had baffled Nina. He’s your employee, she thought. Where have you been? Why hasn’t anyone called? It was more than a strange choice of words—Nina struggled to come up with something Dan could actually do for her. By this point, after days without recovering a body, she, along with the police, had all assumed that Glen was dead.
“Well—um, I’m curious about health insurance, first,” Nina said, stammering a bit. “Our daughter Maggie has