“My laptop was on my desk and everything else seemed the same. Hang on, let me check upstairs.”
Marissa holds her breath as she hears Matthew’s quick footsteps thudding. “Nothing looks different in the bedroom. Your jewelry is still in the drawer. I’ll check the rest of the house just in case.”
“I’m coming home.”
Polly is staring at Marissa, clearly riveted by the half of the conversation she can overhear. Marissa slams down the receiver to the store phone and doesn’t bother bidding Polly goodbye; Marissa runs straight out the door.
She dials Matthew from her car. “Matthew, that guy who assaulted you—could it be him?”
“No way,” Matthew says firmly.
Marissa slams on the brakes as she approaches a red light. She’s driving too fast; she needs to get herself under control.
“Why? Why couldn’t it be him?”
“C’mon, Marissa. The police said it was probably a random attack. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Marissa’s breathing sounds ragged even to her own ears. “But he didn’t mug you. And whoever broke in didn’t take anything. Someone is obviously after something!”
“We’re safe, babe. No one messes with me or my family.”
The steel of his voice grounds her. Matthew is a fighter, she reminds herself. “Where’s Bennett?”
“He’s in the kitchen. He’s fine.”
Marissa blinks hard against the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Almost there,” she whispers.
Marissa holds on to the vision of Matthew and Bennett together, looking at pictures of dinosaurs, for the rest of her short drive.
She hurries into the house and finds them together at the kitchen island, just as she’d imagined.
“Mom’s home!” Matthew shouts, his voice surprisingly joyful. He must be trying to normalize things for Bennett. Marissa gives them each a quick, hard hug, then bends down to get a closer look at the image Bennett is considering on the laptop.
“It’s a Coelophysis,” he explains. “They were in the Triassic.”
“He looks fierce.”
Bennett nods. “He’s a carnivore.”
The kitchen seems exactly as she left it. Surely if someone had broken in, she’d be able to sense an intrusion?
But maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. She misjudges people all the time. She underestimated Natalie’s animosity toward her, and she still can’t get a handle on Polly. And she never thought Skip would become so—she shies away from the word, but it’s the correct one—obsessive.
Bennett is looking up at Marissa with a solemn expression. Her intuitive son probably senses her stress.
Even though Matthew assured her nothing was taken, Marissa wants to see for herself. “I’m just going to run upstairs for a second. Be right back.”
She checks the bedroom first, then her office and the guest rooms. Bennett’s room is last.
Everything is as it should be: one of his dresser drawers is open—Bennett never remembers to shut them—and his blue comforter is stretched neatly across his race-car bed.
At the far end of the room, the closet door is shut. Marissa stares at it, feeling goose bumps rise on her arms.
Surely when Matthew made sure nothing had been taken, he also ensured no one was still inside the house. He said he’d check.
He must have looked in all the closets.
A thought enters her mind. It’s irrational, yet she can’t ignore it: What if Matthew somehow overlooked this one?
She’s tempted to call downstairs to ask him, but their home is solidly built, and noise doesn’t travel easily between the floors. Plus her mouth is now so dry it feels as if it would be difficult to form words.
She could run downstairs and ask Matthew to check with her. But that seems like an overreaction.
She steps farther into the room, her feet sinking into the thick carpeting.
She reaches the door and puts her hand on the knob, but she can’t bring herself to turn it.
So many horrible, jarring things have happened to them lately.
She can’t help but think she set this all in motion; their lives were so simple before she cheated on Matthew with Skip.
No one messes with me or my family, Matthew had vowed. Marissa is certain he meant those words with everything he had.
The thought gives her the strength to fling open the door.
The sudden motion makes a few of Bennett’s shirts flutter on their hangers, but otherwise everything is exactly as it should be.
The rush of relief she feels is so intense that Marissa wants to sink to the floor, but she forces herself to head back downstairs.
Bennett and Matthew are just as she left them, their two blond heads side-by-side, now considering different dinosaurs from the Jurassic era.
“C’mon, nothing beats the king!” Matthew is saying. “The T. rex could crush a car in its jaws!”
“I still like the Brachiosaurus the best.” Bennett’s voice is small.
“Which one is the Brachiosaurus?”
Bennett turns the screen so Marissa can view it. “His neck is really long, like a giraffe’s. It was tough for them because they’re so big, but they were herbivores. They probably had to spend almost all of their time finding food. And they couldn’t defend themselves well.”
Of course her sensitive boy would tilt toward an equally gentle creature.
“Marissa, we’ve got a few cardboard boxes in the basement, right?” Matthew pushes back his stool. “I’ll go grab one for your diorama base.”
Marissa takes a glass from a cabinet and fills it with water, then gulps it down.
When she turns around, Bennett is back to studying the computer screen, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as he always does when he is concentrating. Then he sticks his left hand, the one without the bandage, into the pocket of his jeans. He pops a small object into his mouth.
Marissa looks more closely at her son. Bennett isn’t chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What are you eating, sweetie?”
He ducks his head.
“C’mon, silly. I saw you.” Marissa sticks out her tongue.
Bennett laughs and does the same. A round, white candy is on his little tongue.
Bennett already had ice cream today; he knows a second sugary treat is against the rules. Plus, where would he even get candy?
As if to answer her unspoken question, he pulls a roll of Life Savers out of his pocket. Wintergreen Life Savers, the kind Skip has carried around ever since she’s known him.
Marissa stares at it for a beat. “Did Uncle Skip give those to you last night?”
It’s exactly the kind of thing Skip would do; he’s always been kind to Bennett. And people without kids don’t always think about the effects of sugar on young children.
Bennett shakes his head. “I found them.”
“Bennett!” Marissa stretches out her hand, and Bennett puts the half-eaten roll in her palm. “Where? At the park?”
“No, Dad’s office.”
Matthew comes into the kitchen, holding a big cardboard box. “What’s going on?”
“Bennett found these.” Marissa holds up the candy.
Matthew shrugs. “Guess Skip dropped them last night.”
Marissa forces a smile, even though the sound of Skip’s name makes her stomach clench.