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As Olivia walks rapidly down the street, she sees something in front of the Pierce house. There’s a crowd of people standing around, gazing at the white house with the bay window and black shutters.
The house is unremarkable, like any number of houses on the street. But the usually peaceful scene is quite different now. There are police cars parked along the street, and a white police van. A reporter is interviewing one of the neighbours on the pavement. Olivia doesn’t want to be one of those ghoulish people who feast on the pain of others, but she can’t deny she’s curious. From here, she can’t see anything of what’s going on inside, except the occasional figure passing in front of one of the windows.
Olivia moves on quickly. She thinks about the people on the street, gossiping, speculating. She knows what they’re saying. They’re saying that he probably killed her.
Olivia thinks about Robert Pierce, inside his house right now with the police, people outside watching. He has forfeited his right to privacy because his wife has been murdered, and he might not have had anything to do with it.
She finds herself hoping, selfishly, that the renewed interest in Amanda Pierce will make people forget all about the break-ins and anonymous letters.
Chapter Ten
BECKY HARRIS LOOKS out her daughter’s bedroom window at the side of the house, obscured by the curtain. From here she can see the street below, and the Pierce house next door. She spots Olivia out for a walk, making her way past the little crowd on the street. Becky tears nervously at the skin around her nails, an old habit she’d quit years ago, but that has recently resurfaced. She turns her attention back to the Pierce house.
She wonders what they’ve found, if anything.
Two people come out of the house. A man and a woman, both in dark suits. She remembers seeing the same two people yesterday, bringing Robert home. Detectives, she thinks. They must be. They stand in front of the house for a moment speaking to one another. She watches as the man’s eyes sweep up and down the street. His partner nods in agreement, and they start off down the driveway.
It’s obvious they’re going to start questioning the neighbours.
Jeannette observes the detectives from behind the window. She knows they will be at her house soon. She tries to ignore how anxious she feels. She doesn’t want to talk to the police.
When the knock finally comes, she jumps a little, even though she has been expecting it. She walks to the front door. The two detectives loom on her front step – beyond them she has a perfect view of the Pierce house, directly across the street. Her eyes flit nervously away from the detectives.
The man shows his badge. ‘I’m Detective Webb, and this is Detective Moen. We’re investigating the murder of Amanda Pierce, who lived across the street from you. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘Okay,’ she says, a little nervously.
‘Your name?’
‘Jeannette Bauroth.’
Webb asks, ‘How well do you know Robert and Amanda Pierce?’ he asks.
She shakes her head. ‘Not at all, really. I only know them to see them,’ she says. ‘They just moved in a little over a year ago. They kept to themselves, mostly.’
‘Did you ever see them arguing, or overhear them arguing?’ She shakes her head. ‘Ever see any bruises on Amanda Pierce, a black eye, perhaps?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ Jeannette says.
‘Did you happen to notice Robert Pierce coming or going on the weekend of September twenty-ninth, the weekend his wife disappeared?’
She doesn’t remember seeing Robert at all that weekend. ‘No.’
‘Did you ever see anyone else coming or going from their house?’ Moen asks.
She has to answer. She doesn’t want to. She bites her lip nervously and says, ‘I don’t want to cause anyone any trouble.’
‘You’re not causing trouble, Mrs Bauroth,’ Detective Webb assures her, his voice quiet but firm. ‘You’re cooperating in a police investigation, and if you know something, you must share it with us.’
She sighs and says, ‘Yes, I saw someone. Their next-door neighbour, Becky Harris. I saw her coming out their front door, in the middle of the night. I’d got up to have a glass of milk – sometimes I have trouble sleeping – and happened to look out my window. And I saw her.’
‘When was this?’ Webb asks.
She doesn’t want to answer, but she really has no choice. ‘It was very late Saturday night, the weekend that Amanda disappeared.’ The detectives share a look.
‘Are you absolutely sure of the date?’ Webb asks.
‘Yes,’ she says miserably. ‘I’m certain of it. Because by Tuesday, there was a rumour going around that Amanda hadn’t come home and he’d reported her missing.’ She adds, ‘Becky’s husband is away on business a lot. I think he was away that weekend. The kids are off at college.’
‘Thank you,’ Webb says. ‘You have been very helpful.’
She looks back at him, feeling sick at heart. ‘I never would have said anything, except you’re the police. You won’t tell her where you heard it from, will you? We’re neighbours.’
The detective nods goodbye at her as he turns to go, but doesn’t answer her question.
Jeannette retreats inside the house, closing the door with an unhappy frown. She hadn’t told anyone what she saw. If Becky wants to cheat on her husband, that’s her business. But the police, that’s different. You have to tell them the truth.
She remembers Amanda at the neighbourhood party, her big wide eyes, her perfect skin, the way she flipped her hair back when she laughed, mesmerizing all the men. She remembers Robert, too, just as handsome, but quietly watching his wife. He could have any woman he wanted, if he wanted.
So what does he see in Becky Harris?
Raleigh wrenches his locker open after his last class. He just wants to grab his stuff and go home. He’s had a crap day. He screwed up a maths test. He smiled at a cute girl and she looked right through him, like he wasn’t there. All part of his crap life.
‘Hey,’ Mark says, appearing suddenly behind him.
‘Hey,’ Raleigh says, without enthusiasm.
Mark leans in closer and says, ‘Where were you after school yesterday?’
Raleigh looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is listening. ‘My mom picked me up – I had to go see the lawyer.’
‘That was fast,’ Mark says, surprised. ‘So, what did he say?’
Raleigh answers in a low voice, ‘He said if I ever get caught I’ll go to juvie.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Pretty much.’
Mark snorts. ‘How much did your parents pay for that?’
‘I don’t know, and this isn’t funny, Mark.’ He looks him in the eye and says, ‘I’m done. I’m not going to do it any more. It was fun for a while, but I’m not going to jail.’
‘Sure, I get it,’ Mark says.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I gotta go,’ Raleigh says.
When the knock comes, Becky jumps out of her skin. She’s standing in the kitchen, shoulders tensed, waiting for them.
