“She left here around four o’clock Friday afternoon,” said Selena, sitting on the arm of the couch. “I came home early from work.”
Detective Crowe scribbled in a notebook. The other detective stood by the entry, eyes moving over everything.
“You were both here?” asked Crowe.
“No,” said Graham, rubbing at his eyes. Something he did when he was about to lie. “I was visiting my brother, helping him with a home project.”
Helping with a home project. She nearly laughed. As if. As if Joe would have a home project. As if Graham would be any help at all.
“Where’s that?”
“In Remsen, about fifteen minutes north.”
If she didn’t know he was lying, she’d never suspect it. No one would.
“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” asked Selena.
“Local police had a call from Ms. Markson’s sister saying that she was concerned not to have heard from her. Apparently, they were meant to meet for breakfast Saturday, but Ms. Markson did not show up. Her car is not in her parking space at her home. Her apartment is empty—her sister apparently has a key.”
“Oh,” said Selena. “That’s odd. She never mentioned a sister.”
Had she?
“What time does she usually show up for work?” asked Detective West.
Selena glanced at the clock. “Right about now.”
“Well,” said Graham easily. He leaned back on the couch, crossed his legs. “She’s young, single. Maybe she took off for the weekend with friends or a boyfriend.”
Selena flashed on the image of Geneva on top of Graham, pushed it away. She sank into one of the chairs, looked out the window.
Their neighbors across the street, the Browns, were pulling out of the drive. They left all together in the morning, taking their twins to school, Jill dropping Bobby off at the train so that he could commute into the city. Selena was usually pulling out at the same time, waving across the street. Have a great day! As Selena watched them disappear, she felt an odd sinking in her middle. That should be us. Off to start another normal day.
There was some thumping upstairs, a shout. The boys were up there unsupervised; she rose to go check on them.
“Is it usual for her to be late?” asked Detective Crowe.
“No,” said Selena quickly. “She has never once been late.”
“What happened to your face there?” asked Detective West, pointed to Graham.
While Crowe had seated himself, West had moved over to the bookshelves.
Graham touched the cut on his face. He nodded out the window from where the stone wall, the one he’d been trying to repair, was visible, still in shambles. A year later, he hadn’t finished the project. They all turned to look.
“I was trying to fix that wall on Friday, bent over and cut myself. Not exactly a handyman I guess.”
Wow, he didn’t miss a beat. That self-deprecating smile, the touch of embarrassment. Even Selena almost believed him. He hadn’t touched the thing, refused to call in someone who could do the work. The wall had become one of their go-to arguments—how he started things he didn’t finish, how he made promises he didn’t keep.
Crowe made a note, West nodded, both men smiling in understanding. Home projects could be such a bear.
Of course, Graham had to lie. What else was he going to say?
Oh, during a marriage-ending fight, my wife threw a toy robot at me.
What were you fighting about, sir?
I was caught on camera fucking the nanny. You know, the one you’re here asking about.
“What about her phone?” asked Selena, eager to move away from Graham’s lies. “Can’t you track her that way?”
“Her phone is offline,” said Detective West. “She hasn’t used a known credit card since early last week.”
She thought of Geneva, shuttling the kids back and forth to school, running all the errands—to the grocery store, the dry cleaners, even getting the car serviced. Such intimate work, to run someone’s daily life.
“She’s here every weekday,” said Selena, musing. “She eats her meals at our place and makes a plate to take home for dinner. I give her cash for errands, groceries, whatever. So she probably doesn’t use her card much during the week.”
“That’s what her sister told us,” said Crowe, nodding.
Had Geneva ever mentioned a sister? A sister who was close enough to know her habits, to become concerned enough to call the police because of a missed breakfast date, with a key to her house. It seemed like Selena would have known about a sister. That she should have known.