Chương 6
Margaret made a sound.
Small.
Embarrassing.
She covered her mouth.
Daniel looked away from her.
On screen, Evelyn crossed the lobby.
She entered the elevator.
At 7:48 she returned.
Alone.
She stopped near the revolving door.
Then turned.
For several seconds she looked directly toward the lobby camera.
Not accidentally.
Directly.
Margaret leaned closer.
Evelyn reached into her coat.
Removed a small envelope.
Walked to the concierge desk.
Handed it to the attendant.
Then left.
Margaret straightened.
“The envelope.”
Daniel paused the video.
Claire said, “Who was at the desk?”
Daniel checked.
“Luis.”
Margaret was already moving.
They found Luis in the luggage room.
He remembered the woman.
“Yes,” he said. “She left an envelope.”
“For whom?”
He looked at Margaret.
“You.”
Richard swore softly.
Margaret stared.
“Where is it?”
Luis opened a locked drawer.
The envelope was white.
Her name was written across the front.
MARGARET VALE.
The handwriting was Evelyn’s.
Margaret knew before touching it.
Her knees nearly failed again.
She took the envelope.
It was heavier than paper alone.
Inside was a key.
And a note.
Magpie—
If you’re reading this, Richard failed at the one thing I asked him to do, which is so consistent it’s almost comforting.
I’m at 218 Wythe Avenue, apartment 4C.
Come alone.
Please.
E.
Margaret read it twice.
Then a third time.
Richard said, “What does it say?”
Margaret folded the note.
Claire watched her.
“Where is she?”
Margaret put the key in her pocket.
“Brooklyn.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Margaret.”
“She asked me to come alone.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“She’s unstable.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Interesting choice of word.”
“You don’t know what condition she’s in.”
“You do?”
“No.”
“Then stay here.”
Claire said, “I’m going home.”
Richard turned.
“Claire.”
She looked at him.
“I don’t know who you are.”
He flinched.
Claire put the receipt into her purse.
Richard said, “Please don’t leave like this.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I need a chance to explain.”
“You’ve explained enough for one evening.”
She walked toward the lobby.
Richard watched her go.
Margaret watched him watching her.
“You should go after her,” she said.
He looked at Margaret.
“Evelyn—”
“Will still be my sister when you finish ruining your second marriage.”
He shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“I understand that you lied to my family for twelve years. I understand that you remarried without telling your wife you had already buried another one. I understand that you have been in contact with Evelyn while my mother died believing her youngest daughter was in the ground.”
Richard looked down.
Margaret’s voice tightened.
“My mother died calling Evelyn’s name.”
He closed his eyes.
“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t understand.”
Margaret left him there.
Outside, the rain had softened to a hard drizzle.
She stood beneath the hotel awning and stared at her phone.
The obvious thing was to call the police.
She almost did.
Then she imagined officers reaching Evelyn before she did.
Questions.
Handcuffs.
Procedure.
A sister she had mourned for twelve years becoming evidence before becoming human again.
Margaret put the phone away.
She took a cab to Brooklyn.
The driver complained about traffic on the Williamsburg Bridge.
Margaret listened without hearing.
At one point he asked whether the rain was supposed to continue tomorrow.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“App says morning only.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
Ordinary life continued.
People checked weather.
People ordered dinner.
People forgot umbrellas.
People’s dead sisters waited in apartments.
At 8:53 P.M., Margaret stood outside 218 Wythe Avenue.
The building was modern, expensive, anonymous.
She used the key.
Apartment 4C was at the end of the hallway.
Margaret knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
“Evelyn.”
Silence.
Margaret unlocked the door.
The apartment smelled faintly of tea and something medicinal.
A lamp glowed beside the sofa.
There were moving boxes against one wall.
A pair of women’s shoes sat near the door.
Margaret stepped inside.
“Evelyn?”
A voice came from the kitchen.
“You still knock like the police.”
Margaret stopped.
Evelyn stepped into the doorway.
For twelve years, Margaret had carried one frozen version of her sister.
Fifty-three.
Blond-brown hair.
Full cheeks.
Laugh lines.
The woman before her was sixty-five and looked older.
Her hair had gone mostly gray.
She was thin enough that her sweater hung from her shoulders.
A pale scar climbed from her right wrist beneath the sleeve.
But the eyes were Evelyn’s.
Hazel.
Slightly too close together.
Margaret stared.
Evelyn stared back.
Then Evelyn said, “Hi, Magpie.”
Margaret crossed the room and struck her.
The second slap of the night hurt Margaret’s hand more.
Evelyn staggered.
She touched her cheek.
Margaret began crying.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
The sound tore out of her.
She grabbed Evelyn by the shoulders.
For one terrible second Evelyn flinched as though expecting another blow.
Then Margaret pulled her forward.
They collided.
Evelyn’s body felt frighteningly light.
Margaret held her.
Hit her shoulder once with a closed fist.
Then again.
Evelyn whispered, “I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“I know.”
“You let us bury you.”
“I know.”
“You let Mom—”
Margaret couldn’t finish.
Evelyn’s hands tightened around her back.
“I know.”
Margaret pushed her away.
“No. Stop saying that.”
Evelyn wiped her face.
“All right.”
“You don’t get to say you know.”
“All right.”
“You don’t get to agree with me either.”
A tiny, broken smile moved across Evelyn’s mouth.
“That’s going to make conversation difficult.”
Margaret laughed.
Then hated herself for laughing.
Then cried harder.
Evelyn sat on the sofa.
Margaret remained standing.
On the coffee table was a mug, three prescription bottles, a bowl containing two tangerines, and a stack of unopened mail addressed to ELENA MORRIS.
Margaret looked at the name.
“That you?”
“Currently.”
Margaret stared.
“How many names?”
“Four.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Right.”
Margaret sat in the chair across from her.
For a while neither spoke.
May you like
Rain tapped the windows.
A radiator clicked despite the building being too new for Margaret to understand why it sounded old.
