Chương 6
Gideon’s car was still in the driveway.
Celina’s was gone.
The front door opened before we reached it.
Gideon stepped outside barefoot, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
He looked exhausted.
For one stupid, treacherous second, he looked like my husband.
The man who made coffee too strong.
The man who sang the wrong lyrics to every song.
The man who once drove forty minutes back to a restaurant because Roger had left the stuffed elephant under a table.
Then he saw the officer and changed.
Not dramatically.
His shoulders straightened.
His face became careful.
“Bernice.”
“I’m getting some things.”
“You brought the police?”
“An officer is here to keep the peace,” Hanley said.
Gideon looked at her badge, then at Nadine.
“This is unnecessary.”
“Probably,” Nadine said.
“Nadine.”
“Gideon.”
Hanley glanced between them.
“Let’s keep this simple.”
Gideon stepped aside.
Our house smelled like stale coffee and Celina’s perfume.
I had bought her that perfume for Christmas.
That detail irritated me more than it should have.
Roger’s backpack was by the stairs.
Packed.
I crouched and opened it.
Elephant pajamas.
Red shirt.
Toothbrush.
Shark book.
Socks.
No underwear.
Exactly as Roger had said.
I took photographs before touching anything.
Gideon watched me.
“What are you doing?”
“Documenting.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Did you pack this?”
“He did.”
“My five-year-old independently planned an interstate visit to your mother?”
“I told him we might go.”
“Without me?”
His jaw tightened.
“You were working.”
“For how long did you plan to be gone?”
“A few days.”
“Your mother says a few weeks.”
That caught him.
Only for a second.
“Did you call her?”
“She called me.”
“Of course she did.”
The bitterness in his voice was immediate.
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
“This is exactly what she does.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
“Warn women about you?”
Hanley shifted slightly.
Gideon noticed.
His face changed again.
“I’m not doing this in front of a cop.”
“Then don’t.”
I lifted the backpack.
“I need my laptop.”
“In the office.”
“My passport.”
“Why?”
I stared at him.
“Interesting response.”
“I’m asking.”
“And I’m getting it.”
He followed us to the office doorway.
Hanley told him to remain in the hall.
My laptop sat on the desk.
The drawer where we kept passports was locked.
I tried the small key taped beneath the desk shelf.
It no longer worked.
“Gideon.”
“What?”
“The drawer.”
“What about it?”
“You changed the lock.”
“No, I didn’t.”
I looked at Hanley.
She did not react.
I tried again.
The key entered but would not turn.
“Open it.”
“I don’t have a key.”
“You installed the lock.”
“It came with the desk.”
“That drawer didn’t have a lock when we bought it.”
Gideon rubbed his face.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“My passport.”
“Why do you need your passport today?”
There it was again.
Not denial.
Interference.
I opened my phone and began recording notes for myself.
“Approximately eight twenty-seven a.m., Gideon Avery is refusing access to the locked desk drawer where our passports are stored.”
“I am not refusing anything.”
“Then open it.”
“I said I don’t have the key.”
Hanley spoke.
“Mr. Avery, is the drawer jointly used?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where the key is?”
“No.”
“You may want to stop arguing about wording and help your wife access her property.”
He looked at her.
Then at me.
Then he walked to the kitchen.
A minute later, he returned with a key from the junk drawer.
He had known exactly where it was.
He did not look embarrassed.
That frightened me more than embarrassment would have.
The drawer opened.
My passport was gone.
Roger’s was gone too.
Gideon’s remained.
I stared at the empty spaces in the document organizer.
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I don’t.”
“Roger’s passport was here last month.”
“Maybe you moved it.”
I looked at Hanley.
She had stopped writing.
“Mr. Avery,” she said, “do you have possession of your wife’s or son’s passports?”
“No.”
“Have you removed them from this residence?”
“No.”
I turned toward the closet.
“What are you doing now?”
Gideon asked.
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“Apparently my own life.”
Nadine followed me upstairs while Hanley remained where she could see the hall.
The bedroom looked normal.
Bed made.
Laundry hamper half full.
My nightstand still held the paperback I had been reading.
For some reason, that book nearly made me cry.
I opened the closet.
My small rolling suitcase was missing.
So was Roger’s.
I went into his room.
Several drawers were open.
Not emptied.
Curated.
Enough clothes remained to make it look normal until you knew what to notice.
His favorite hoodie was gone.
Two pairs of shorts.
Underwear.
Socks.
His swim trunks.
“Bernice,” Nadine said softly.
“I see it.”
I opened the bottom drawer.
His birth certificate folder was missing.
I returned downstairs.
Gideon was speaking quietly to Hanley.
He stopped when he saw me.
“Where are the suitcases?”
“What suitcases?”
“Mine and Roger’s.”
“I don’t know.”
“The passports?”
“I already answered that.”
“His birth certificate?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
I stared at him.
That was the moment something shifted.
Not because I suddenly hated him.
I did not.
Hatred would have been simpler.
I looked at the man I had slept beside for eight years and saw how hard he was working to make ordinary questions sound unreasonable.
It was a technique I knew.
I had simply never given it a name.
“Officer Hanley,” I said, “I would like the missing documents included in my report.”
Gideon’s face reddened.
“This is insane.”
“Maybe.”
“You come home, take my son, call the police, accuse me of stealing, and I’m the problem?”
Nadine made a sound under her breath.
I ignored her.
“You opened debt in Claire’s name.”
His face went perfectly still.
The silence that followed was different from every silence before it.
He looked at Hanley first.
Then me.
“Who told you that?”
May you like
Not what are you talking about.
Not who is Claire.
