So Andrew gave them my laptop. Even though he and I agreed we’d cooperate, I can’t help feeling disappointed. And not just in my husband. I should have known a glass or two of wine wouldn’t permanently erase a hard drive.
My father asks, “What do you need?” I can hear the unspoken ending to his question: from us? He and my mother don’t want to be here. They don’t think it’s necessary. And that makes me feel so lonely, because I know they’d act the same way if I were the one missing. Ava and I were only ever duties to be fulfilled.
“Actually,” Detective Davies says, “we’ll need to talk to you all again, together and separately. Just to cover our bases. But at this point we don’t have any evidence of foul play.”
Glenn’s head snaps up. “She’s been missing for four days! She left her phone and her laptop, she missed a meeting with her agent, she didn’t leave a message or—”
Detective Davies raises a hand as if to hold back Glenn’s torrent of words. “I know. And we are investigating. But her wallet is missing. And there have been no demands for ransom or indications of violence. Our team is committed to finding your wife. But we’re just getting started, and we’ll be looking at a number of scenarios and talking with everyone who knew her. We need a solid understanding of her movements and her state of mind.”
Her state of mind. I blurt out, “You think she went missing on purpose?”
“It’s something we have to rule out.” Detective Davies won’t give anything away, but I feel a rush of triumph. “Only a small percentage of disappearances are the result of criminal action.”
Glenn’s mouth twists. “You think she’s just taking a break? Or that this is some kind of stunt? Ava would never do that.”
My instinctive snort is covered when my mother speaks, her voice as clear as if she were addressing a lecture hall. “No history of mental health issues, no tendency toward overwhelm, risk-averse … I don’t see it.”
Dad adds, “She’s always been very confident, but stable. Not prone to reckless or impulsive behavior.”
And there it is. Ava’s not crazy. Not like me. That stings. My parents know, Glenn knows, what Ava did to me. They just don’t think it matters.
I have to say something. “What about her books?”
They all look at me. I can’t meet Glenn’s eyes while I say this. The light glints off my father’s glasses, so I can’t tell what he is thinking. If I look at Detective Davies and see pity or amusement in his face, I will die.
“She always put something about me in them, made me the murderer or the paranoid detective. Or straight-up killed me. It’s why I took off. It’s been three years since she saw me.”
My mother’s tone is professionally neutral as she says, “You think Ava is doing this to you?”
Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but I believe it. And if I back down now, Ava will win all over again. I pull the broken wristwatch out of my pocket, clenching it in my hand. The solid metal is real, proof that something happened last night. “The police know about the text messages and the phone call, they’re checking out those emails, and last night someone tapped on the window and used my daughter’s voice to lure me outside. All I found was this.”
I toss the watch, and it slides clear to the end of the table, right in front of Glenn and Detective Davies.
Glenn picks up the watch, stares at it, and the color drains from his face. “Where did you get this?”
“I told you, I—”
“This is Ava’s watch.”
My breath catches in my throat. I should have kept my mouth shut. But then I think of Ava laughing her ass off, and I’m furious again. “Of course it’s Ava’s watch. That bitch is behind this whole thing. She hates me.”
“You. It’s always about you. Jealous, spiteful—”
My mother interrupts. “You heard voices? That’s why you went outside?” I know what she’s thinking. My daughter is delusional.
Detective Davies pulls a pen from his pocket and lifts the watch out of Glenn’s hand. “You recognize this watch as your wife’s?”
Glenn nods. “There’s a dent on one side. It was always hitting the side of the desk when she typed. She’d take it off, then put it on again. That’s why the clasp is so loose.”
“When was the last time you saw your wife wearing this watch?”
“She puts it on every morning.” Glenn shoots me another suspicious glare. “And you just happened to find it in the middle of the night.”
I grip the edge of the table. “I didn’t just happen to find it. Ava tricked me into coming outside. Ava wanted—”
Glenn slams his hands on the table. “Enough about Ava. She didn’t do this. She’s missing. And if I find out you had anything to do with it, I’ll fucking strangle you myself.”
He shoves past Detective Davies, slamming the door to the conference room on his way out.
As though taking this as a sign that the meeting is adjourned, my mother stands. Looking at Detective Davies, she says, “You’ll contact us with any additional information?”
Without waiting for an answer, she holds out a hand for my father and extends the other to me. “Time to go, Zoe.”
* * *
On the ride home, I stare at the back of my parents’ heads. It’s so strange being an adult under your parents’ care, staying in their house, following their rules. My car, phone, and laptop are all back home in Texas, and my parents don’t even own a television. I know the news is out there, that the world might be hearing something about Ava, about Glenn, about me.
From the back seat, just like the child my parents still think I am, I say loudly, “I need to stop at a drugstore.” Then to forestall any questions, I add, “It’s that time of the month.”
“Ahhh,” my mother says, and I can tell she is ascribing some aspect of the way I’ve behaved over the last twenty-four hours to my hormones rather than my missing sister.
They wait in the car while I sprint inside. I do pick up feminine products to flank my real purchases. Moving on instinct, I grab a top-up card for a cell phone and an extra pair of socks. At the front register I ask the clerk for a disposable cell phone.
When I am settled again in the back seat, I ask casually, “So you’ll both be going in to work this afternoon?”
Silence. I can picture the thought balloons rising over the backs of their heads. Staying at home makes no sense. There is work to be done, and no reason not to do it. I have to believe, on some level, that my parents realize their own analytical reactions aren’t normal. They just don’t care.
“We were discussing it,” my father admits.
My mother half turns in her seat. “You don’t need us at home. The police don’t need us. And we’ll have our phones turned on.”
Dad adds, “Unless …”
She nods. “Or at least we’ll check them for messages. We can get work done and be home this evening.”
Excellent. I nod as if this makes total sense. “I don’t guess you know what Glenn will be doing?”
My mother almost raises an eyebrow. Despite the silver in her hair, her skin is as smooth as if she’s never frowned or worried or been afraid. “Zoe, I expect you to refrain from fixating on Glenn’s animosity toward you. These stressful circumstances have affected him, but neither his scapegoating of you nor your self-victimization are productive.”