The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Sixty-Four
Frankie
Numbness floods my body as I stumble up the steps leading to my house. I barely make it halfway and sit before I fall, my butt landing on a step with a painful thud that jars my spine from my tailbone to the base of my skull. I barely feel it.
My veins have turned to ice, my muscles to liquid and I know I can’t take much more.
Learning my husband has fathered a child with Saylor has taken my already tilted world and flipped it on its axis. I can’t think straight let alone comprehend the enormity of it and what this means for our marriage. But right now, I don’t give a damn. All I care about is Luna.
The police questioned me at the cottage, and I told them everything I know: how Walt’s love of routine makes his disappearance out of character, how our divorce was amicable and we chat occasionally, how confused I am by seeing Violette’s photo as she’s the child of my new neighbor Celeste. Stating facts, answering the police officers’ questions, calmed me, but I couldn’t wait to get back to Hambridge Heights to see for myself what the hell is going on. The police mentioned they’d put out a BOLO on Celeste, but I can’t wait for them to be on the lookout. I need action.
Andre is at the station giving a statement and Saylor doesn’t tell me much more than what she’d told Andre. It had taken every ounce of self-control to listen to her faux concern when all I wanted to do was slap her for turning my world upside down even more.
My eyes are burning but I know that crying isn’t going to help right now. I’m not sure what will at this point. That numbness is invading every cell of my body, making rational thought impossible.
I barely see Ruston until he’s climbed the first two steps in front of me, his brows drawn together in a worried frown. “Frankie, are you okay?”
“No.” The simple act of speaking hurts my throat, tight with regret and recriminations. “Celeste has kidnapped Luna.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, sinking onto the step next to me. “Are you sure?” My glare is scathing and he says, “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to ask. I’m just shocked. You two are pretty close, and your girls are too. Are you sure they’re not off on a play date or something?”
“No, she’s taken her.” I can’t fathom it and the ache in my chest expands like a balloon. “It’s complicated but it looks like a kidnapping, and the police are already involved.”
“Do you need me to take you to the police station?”
I look at this man who I don’t know that well, and I’m so grateful I want to blubber all over him. It was bad enough driving back from New Haven, trying not to break the speed limit to get home and see for myself my baby is gone, but now I’ve also learned about Andre fathering Saylor’s baby, I’m in no fit state to drive. And I can’t depend on my husband; Andre has already gone with the police. Not that I want to be anywhere near my lying, cheating husband after what I just learned. But my devastation over another betrayal must be pushed aside because all I can focus on now is getting Luna back safely.
“Actually, that would be great.”
As I stand and take a step, my legs wobble, and he braces my elbow.
“I’m really sorry you’re going through this, Frankie.”
His sympathy surprises me again and I allow him to lead me down the steps. I studiously avoid glancing left or right. I can’t cope with getting the merest glimpse of Celeste’s or Saylor’s places right now.
“I can’t believe she’d do this,” he says, shaking his head. “She seemed so normal when we spoke at the dinner party.”
I nod, hating how she duped me. “Since I heard she’s kidnapped Luna, I’ve gone over every conversation with Celeste in my head to try and remember if I missed something… a sign…” The guilt in my gut solidifies, that I unwittingly let a monster into our lives and have put Luna in jeopardy because of it. “I know this is a long shot, but did she say anything to you that might help me locate Luna?”
His face screws up, like he’s trying to remember. “We made small talk mostly. About her job, about mine. How she likes the neighborhood. She asked if I had a girlfriend, I asked about her partner.”
I latch onto that. “What did she say?”
“Not much. How Violette liked spending time with her dad at the beach. How they had a favorite spot, how they liked collecting shells, visiting the lighthouse, general stuff.”
My heart sinks. Celeste was talking about the beach house, but there’s no way she’d take the girls there. She knows it’s one of the first places the cops would look.
But there’s no lighthouse anywhere near Walter’s cottage in New Haven. In fact, the only lighthouse I can think of is the one at Montauk on Long Island.
Something niggles at the edge of my conscience, something Walter had said about a favorite spot…
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more than that,” he says, his expression downcast. “Let me take you to the station—”
“I’m not going to the police station.” I break into a run, heading to my car.
“Where are you going?” he yells after me.
“Home.”