The Night Before - Wendy Walker Page 0,59

my fingertips, they brush against something cool and stiff. A piece of paper, and a horrible thought rushes through me. A note?

He grabs my hips and spins me around. His mouth finds mine. I suddenly know nothing of the paper in the purse or the scrape from the zipper, as my hand is now free, reaching beneath his shirt to touch his body.

Both hands find his shoulders, then his head, sweeping through his hair.

Walk away, I try to tell that woman. But she won’t listen. She never listens.

She deserves what’s coming.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Rosie. Present Day. Saturday, 10 a.m. Branston, CT.

Gabe sat across from Rosie at the same diner where she’d met the woman from the bar. She’d sent Joe a quick text: Still in NY. Call if you hear anything. Then she’d turned off her phone.

She showed Gabe the notes and told him about New York. He was with her every step, not missing a beat.

“So the boyfriend was the shrink—the one she said she’d been seeing?” Gabe asked. He looked as tired as Rosie felt, cradling a ceramic coffee mug between two palms.

“It would be just like her to seduce her therapist,” Rosie said, then wished she could take it back. “God, that’s horrible, isn’t it? How can I say things about her when she’s in this much trouble?”

Gabe reached over and grabbed her hand. His skin was warm, comforting, and it suddenly occurred to her that she and Joe never held hands anymore.

“Rosie—nothing you do or say right now is going to be judged. Not by me, at least. It is like Laura to do something like that. She always went for the highest climb—the guys who seemed impossible to conquer, even if it was just because they were assholes.”

“Like Mitch Adler,” Rosie blurted out.

Gabe didn’t flinch even though she expected it. “Yes. Like Mitch Adler. And this man, Kevin Brody, he was off-limits for every possible reason. He was older. He was married. He had kids. And he was her shrink. That’s Mount Everest right there.”

“Christ, Gabe. I can see her, you know? Sitting in his office, being vulnerable but clever. She probably cried.”

“I know. I can see it too. Walking past him a little too close. Brushing his shoulder as she passed by, looking up with soft eyes.”

Rosie thought about that picture on her computer. Somewhere along the way, Laura had learned that sadness and longing didn’t get her what she needed. So she’d become sexual. Irresistible.

“She doesn’t know she’s doing it,” Gabe said. “I truly believe that. It just kicks in like a car shifting gears.”

“And now he’s dead.” Rosie pressed her hands to her face.

Gabe leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Wait a minute—you don’t think she had anything to do with that, do you? It was a robbery.…” He grabbed his phone and pulled up the article Rosie had sent him. “Okay … here—he was struck with something from behind. Knocked to the ground, where he hit his head a second time against the cement. It took over an hour for him to die.”

“Struck with something … knocked to the ground. Is it really that crazy? You’re the one who told us about that story with your brother—at the fort, remember? How she hit him with a stick? Looked like a wild animal?”

“Rosie…” Gabe stopped himself. Rosie could see that he knew—he couldn’t deny any of it. Laura had a history of violence going back to her early childhood.

“She could be more psychotic than we know, Gabe. I love her, but sometimes you can love someone, think you know them, and then suddenly you find something out and your eyes open to a different world.”

His name was Joe. Rosie could still hear Kathleen saying those words.

“Let’s just back up,” Gabe said. “Step one—find Laura. That’s it. That’s all we have to do. Then we can figure out what’s been going on with her.”

“Okay,” Rosie said, pulling herself back. She wanted to tell Gabe about Laura and Joe, but she didn’t even know what there was to tell. Was it an affair? A flirtation? Why the hell was her husband calling her sister? Why had he gone to her apartment weeks before she’d come back home? If it was anything other than an affair, if Joe was helping her, counseling her somehow, maybe for the murder of her boyfriend, he would have told Rosie. Nothing would have been worth the fallout if he kept it from her—the fallout that was now upon them.

“The way I see it,”