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As she walks past the Pierce residence, she stares hard at the house. The blinds are all drawn, giving the house the look of a blank stare. She wonders if Robert Pierce is in there, behind the blinds. Suddenly she hates him, and Amanda, too, for coming into their quiet neighbourhood and rocking it to the foundations. He probably killed his wife, she thinks bitterly, and they are all suffering for it.
As she walks up the driveway and to the front door of the Harrises’ place – a cute house with dormer windows – she has a bad moment when she realizes that Larry might be home. He won’t be at the office on the weekend. She doesn’t want to see him.
She rings the doorbell and waits nervously. Finally she hears footsteps and the door opens. It’s Becky. She’s obviously not expecting visitors; she’s wearing yoga pants and a long T-shirt that she looks like she might have slept in.
‘Hey,’ Olivia says. Becky doesn’t say anything. ‘Can I come in?’
Becky seems to be considering it, then pulls the door wide. Olivia enters the house, her nerves flaring. ‘Is Larry here?’ she asks.
‘Did you want to talk to him?’ Becky asks in surprise.
‘No,’ Olivia says. ‘I just want to know if we’re alone.’
‘He’s not here.’
Olivia nods, sits down at the kitchen table. Becky doesn’t offer to make coffee. She just stands there, her arms folded in front of her.
‘We need to talk,’ Olivia begins. Becky just stares at her and waits. ‘I need to know if you’ve told me everything.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You implied Paul might be having an affair with Amanda. You saw him in her car.’
Becky nods. ‘That’s true, I swear.’
‘Is there anything else that you know, or saw, that you’re not telling me? Is there anything else you told the police? I need to know,’ she says.
Becky takes a deep breath and exhales. ‘Olivia, we’ve been friends for a long time. I’ve always been honest with you. That’s all I saw. Just that night, the two of them in the car, arguing. I assumed they were having an affair, because why else would they be there, at that time of night? And you know what a – a siren she was. Maybe I was wrong. That’s all I know. And that’s all I told the detectives.’
Olivia exhales loudly, puts her hands over her eyes, feels herself tearing up. She nods.
‘You want coffee?’ Becky asks.
Olivia sniffs and looks up and nods again, suddenly unable to speak. She’s so glad that they aren’t going to be enemies. As Becky prepares the coffee, Olivia wipes her eyes with her hands and asks, ‘Have you heard anything more about the investigation? Do you know what’s going on?’ She doesn’t want to ask directly about Larry. She waits to see if Becky will confide in her.
Becky finishes with the coffee machine and turns around and leans against the counter. She shakes her head. ‘No, I don’t know anything. They’re not saying much, are they? There’s nothing in the news either.’
‘I hope they figure it out soon,’ Olivia says. ‘And that this will all be over.’
Becky pours the coffee and carries the mugs to the kitchen table and sits down. ‘Olivia, I’m not trying to convince the detectives there was something going on between Paul and Amanda. I told them what I saw. It’s up to the detectives to find out the truth. I’m not out to destroy your life to protect my own. I wouldn’t do that.’
Olivia looks at her gratefully.
‘Why are you so worried about Paul?’ Becky asks.
Olivia flushes slightly and says, ‘They were over at the house this morning, those two detectives.’
‘Really?’
Olivia nods. ‘They wanted to know if Paul had an alibi.’
Becky stares back at her. ‘And does he?’
‘No, not really,’ Olivia admits. ‘He was visiting his elderly aunt – and there’s no way she’ll remember it and be able to vouch for him.’ Olivia adds nervously, ‘She’s got dementia.’ She doesn’t mention that Paul’s cell phone was turned off that Friday night.
‘Looks like we’re kind of in the same boat,’ Becky says. ‘Larry doesn’t have much of an alibi either.’ Olivia looks at her, expecting more. ‘He was at a conference at the Deerfields Resort that weekend.’ She hesitates and then says, ‘You know where that is?’ Olivia nods. ‘But that Friday he went up to his room and did some work and then fell asleep and missed most of the reception. So he doesn’t have anyone to vouch for him either.’
Robert Pierce paces restlessly around the house as evening closes in.
He thinks about Larry Harris, next door. Does he miss Amanda the way Robert does? He feels a cold, hard hatred for Larry Harris. He wonders how Larry felt when he found out that his wife had been sleeping with his next-door neighbour. Robert already knows how that feels. He wonders how Larry feels now, with the police snooping around, asking questions. Robert knows what that feels like, too.
Robert thinks, too, about the other man that Amanda was seeing. Have the police found out about him yet?
And he thinks about this kid who broke into his house. Worries about whether Carmine will, in fact, go to the police about it.
Next door, Becky has the local TV news on in the kitchen while she prepares supper. She hears the name Amanda Pierce and realizes that her shoulders are hunched up around her neck; she’s holding her entire body so tightly that it aches. She takes a deep breath and consciously lowers her shoulders. This can’t go on. She mutes the TV.
She has changed over the last few days. She thinks of herself a week ago, how silly she was – with her girlish fantasies about her next-door neighbour. She’s not silly any more. Amanda is dead, viciously murdered, and as far as she can see, the two most likely suspects are Robert Pierce, and her own husband, Larry.
The infatuation she’d had for Robert Pierce has fallen away since he’d grown cold to her, and since she realized she might have been used – that Robert might only have slept with her to get back at Larry. Had he known? And if so, how? Had Amanda told him? Had she taunted him with it? Or had he followed her and seen her with Larry? Was Robert ever attracted to her at all?
Now when she thinks about Robert, she doesn’t think of his sexy smile at her over the fence, or of how he was in bed with her. Instead, she remembers how he spoke to her that last time, over the fence – how smoothly he told her that he hadn’t suspected Amanda was having an affair. But he was lying, and they both know it. He knew Amanda was having an affair. And she thinks the crafty bastard knew exactly whom she was having an affair with. He just wanted to be sure she wouldn’t tell the police. Maybe she should.
She has too much to lose if her husband is hauled through the criminal justice system. She has her children to think of. She can’t let this destroy them all.
Saturday night, the usual strife. Glenda rattles around the house, feeling like she’s jumping out of her skin. She’d tried to get Adam to stay home, and not go out tonight. She’s worried he’ll drink too much again, do something impulsive, something they’ll all regret.
She’d enlisted Keith’s help, but he’d been just as ineffective as she was. Adam doesn’t listen to either one of them any more. Keith avoids her, and she wanders around the silent house, waiting anxiously for Adam to come home.
