Page 28 of You Know Why

I open the app and debate deleting the account but decide to hold off. Until I know exactly what’s going on, I want to leave at least one lifeline open.

Please reach out, I send to the ether. Please call and tell me what’s happening.

“All right, kids. Let’s go. We’re staying with Miss Eden tonight after all.”

They are slightly cheered at the prospect of pizza and ice cream, chattering happily as I get us a cab and head back toward the airport.

Dream a Little Dream

Eden

Home.

Empty, barren. I spend as much time away as I can. I’m a road warrior, traveling weekly. I’m not in Atlanta more than seven or eight days a month, and even that is too much. My boss loves me for this.

And while I enjoy the life I’ve built for myself, I’m treading water, and have been for years. Traveling allows me an escape. Alone on my still-not-broken-in couch, I have too much time to think. To worry. To wonder. To plan and plot and drive myself mad with what-ifs.

And yes, to search for Andrew. To dream of the day he reappears in my life.

To dream of today.

I imagined a hundred different scenarios, him and me, and yes, he died in them all. But when I was finally face-to-face with that monster, what happened? I lost my composure and bungled my lines. Instead of attacking, I let him walk away.

I slap my face. “You’re weak. You’re nothing. You’re a loser.” Slap, slap, slap, until my eyes sting and my cheeks are flaming, and fury courses through me like a cleansing fire.

There. That’s better. Now I can think again.

Andrew disappeared ten years ago. The day they dropped the charges, he slipped away into the fabric of the universe. No one has seen or heard from him since, including his parents.

Enough. I don’t want to think. I want to act. So, once I dump my gear, I open a bottle of wine, pour a full glass, quaff half of it, then call Detective Theresa Lee.

The phone rings so many times I assume Lee is sending me to voicemail, but finally, she answers, her tone low and exasperated. “Hello, Eden.”

“Hello, Detective. I’m calling—”

“For an update, yes, and I don’t have one for you. I’ve told you several times, Eden, if something comes up, I’ll call you.”

“Well, something has come up, Theresa. Are you sitting down?”

The voice is slightly less sharp now. “Actually, yes. I’m at my desk. What’s going on?”

“I found him.”

“Andrew? Where?”

“He was on my plane from Nashville to Atlanta today. With his family. His new family.”

I hear no response, but I can imagine the scene: Theresa with her feet up on her desk after a long day doing nothing, just existing in that tiny town’s police station until she finally retires, the stink of failure clinging to her like fresh mulch. It doesn’t matter how many cases you solve; when you have a young, pregnant mother murdered, and it’s a cold case, that’s all anyone remembers.

My news has shocked Theresa, certainly. Her breathing is ragged. I bet her mouth is gaping unbecomingly, her eyes wide and staring. I smile. After all this time, it’s nice to finally have the upper hand. Though she plays it cool, Detective Lee is as obsessed with finding my sister’s murderer as I am. Maybe even more so, if only to force the confession we all know he was holding back. She wants to close the murder case and ride off into the sunset.

“You still there?”

“I’m here,” Theresa says, softly now. “You’re sure it was him?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt. He goes by Trey now. His wife, Brooklyn Thomas Locke, is a photographer of some note and works for a food magazine. They have two very nice kids. They were heading to Italy.”

“You spoke to him?”