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That could be it.
But I never stumbled upon any evidence—bank statements, budget documents—that would support that theory.
Did she resent my going away for the weekend with Greg? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d pushed me to make the trip, urged me to go away with him, which was somewhat out of character. Brie was not Greg’s biggest fan, for reasons I’d mentioned earlier. But she knew he was my closest friend, and understood that hanging out with him for a couple of days would probably reduce my stress level.
So, I had nothing.
If Brie’d had something on her mind that troubled her, I couldn’t guess what it might have been.
That night, we ordered in pizzas. One with the toppings Jayne and I liked, and a second with everything Tyler liked. For a while there, things felt almost normal.
We had dinner together at the kitchen table. There was no talk of the visit the day before from Detective Hardy, no more questions about who I might or might not have murdered. It’s always nice to get through a meal without being quizzed about your possible homicidal background.
I got a call while I was on my second slice. It was Albert’s wife, Dierdre. I’d always had a pretty good relationship with her before Brie’s disappearance, and she’d never quite frozen me out despite Isabel’s efforts. If I ran into her when I was out and about in Milford, she would at least speak to me.
I excused myself from the table and took the call on the back deck. “Hey, Dierdre.”
“I had a feeling no one else might call,” she said, “but we lost Elizabeth today.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Please pass on my condolences to … everyone.”
“I heard that you had been to see her this morning,” she said.
“Yeah. I’m glad I had that chance.”
“Okay, then. You take care.”
It was a short conversation.
By the time I returned to the kitchen, the mood had changed.
“Why not?” Tyler said.
“I just think it’d be better if you stayed in tonight,” Jayne said.
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s a school night.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled. “Hello? Can you remember all the way back to last night? How I went upstairs and did homework and shit? And you made a crack about whether I’d been taken over by a pod or something?”
“I never said that.”
“You made a crack. You said something.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m a prisoner,” Tyler said. “She’s treating me like I’m five.”
“He wants to go out,” Jayne said.
“Out where?” I asked.
“Just out,” Tyler said. “Would you like me to prepare an itinerary? Where I’ll be all night. Like, from eight to eight-fifteen, the 7-Eleven, and from—”
“Stop it,” Jayne said.
“Maybe,” I said, dipping my toe in, “if Tyler promised to be back by ten, because like you said, it is a school night.”
