this photo business. Dr. Fielding said that sometimes you act out, and maybe this is how you ask for help.”
Did I do that? I did do that, didn’t I? I did it. Of course: guess who—that’s how I greet Ed and Livvy. Greeted. guesswhoanna.
“But as for what you saw that night . . .”
I know what I saw that night.
I saw a movie. I saw an old thriller resurrected, brought to bloody Technicolor life. I saw Rear Window; I saw Body Double; I saw Blow-Up. I saw a showreel, archive footage from a hundred peeping-Tom thrillers.
I saw a killing without a killer, without a victim. I saw an empty sitting room, a vacant sofa. I saw what I wanted to see, what I needed to see. Don’t you get lonely up here? Bogey had asked Bacall, asked me.
I was born lonely, she’d answered.
I wasn’t. I was made lonely.
If I’m deranged enough to talk to Ed and Livvy, I can certainly stage a murder in my mind. Especially with some chemical help. And haven’t I been resisting the truth all along? Didn’t I bend and bash and break the facts?
Jane—the real Jane, flesh-and-blood Jane: Of course she is who she says she is.
And of course the earring in David’s room belongs to Katherine, or whomever.
And of course no one came into my house last night.
It crashes through me like a wave. Slams my shores, cleanses them; leaves behind only streaks of silt, pointing like fingers toward the sea.
I was wrong.
More than that: I was deluded.
More than that: I was responsible. Am responsible.
If I dream things when I’m awake, I’m going out of my mind. That was it. Gaslight.
Silence. I can’t even hear Little breathe.
Then:
“So that’s what’s going on.” Alistair is shaking his head, his lips parted. “I—wow. Christ.” He looks at me hard. “I mean, Christ.”
I swallow.
He stares a moment longer, opens his mouth again, closes it. One more shake of the head.
At last he motions to his son, heads for the door. “We’re leaving.”
As Ethan follows him into the hall, he glances up, eyes shining. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice small. I want to cry.
Then he’s gone. The door cracks shut behind them.
Just the four of us now.
David steps forward, speaking to his toes. “So the kid in that picture downstairs—she’s dead?”
I don’t answer.
“And when you wanted me to save those blueprints, those were for a dead guy?”
I don’t answer.
“And . . .” He points to the stepladder braked against the basement door.
I say nothing.
He nods, as though I’ve spoken. Then he hitches his bag farther up his shoulder, turns, and walks out the door.
Norelli watches him leave. “Do we need to talk to him?”
“He bothering you?” Little asks me.
I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says, releasing my hand. “Now. I’m not really . . . qualified to deal with what happens next. My job is to shut all this down and make it safe for everyone to move ahead. Including you. I know that this has been hard for you. Today, I mean. So I want you to give Dr. Fielding a call. I think it’s important.”
I haven’t uttered a word since Norelli’s announcement. Your husband and your daughter are dead. I can’t imagine what my voice might sound like, must sound like, in this new world where that sentence has been spoken, been heard.
Little’s still talking. “I know you’re struggling, and—” He stops for a moment. When he speaks again, he’s hushed. “I know you’re struggling.”
I nod. So does he.
“Seems like I ask this every time we’re here, but are you okay to be left alone?”
I nod again, slowly.
“Anna?” He eyes me. “Dr. Fox?”
We’ve reverted to Dr. Fox. I open my mouth. “Yes.” I hear myself the way you do when you’ve got headphones on—remote, somehow. Muffled.
“In light of—” Norelli begins, but again Little raises a hand, and again she stops. I wonder what she was about to say.
“You’ve got my number,” he reminds me. “Like I said, give Dr. Fielding a call. Please. He’ll want to hear from you. Don’t make us worry. Either one of us.” He gestures to his partner. “That includes Val here. She’s a worrier at heart.”
Norelli watches me.
Little’s walking backward now, as though reluctant to turn away. “And like I said, we’ve got a lot of good people for you to talk to, if you want.” Norelli turns, disappears into the hall. I hear her boots click on the tile. I hear the front door open.