The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh

Sixty-Eight

Frankie

When I refuse to go to the police station to meet up with Andre and have him come with me to Gledhill, Ruston insists on driving me. I’m resistant but he’s adamant and in a way I’m glad. It would’ve been difficult concentrating on the road when my mind is mush and the adrenaline coursing through my body is making me tremble intermittently.

He doesn’t ask why I don’t want Andre to accompany us, though when I initially yelled at him for suggesting it he cast me a knowing look. That’s when I remember that scene between him and Saylor, and how Celeste had said Ruston had fathered her baby. If so, why was she pointing the finger at Andre? Not that it makes me any less angry; Saylor has admitted they’ve slept together, so whether Andre is the father of her child or not is irrelevant. He’s cheated on me, again.

When I first figured out Celeste is Walt’s Julia, I wondered if Andre might be Violette’s father and that’s why he warned me against befriending Celeste initially. What I’d thought of as a huge coincidence at the time he confessed, his first one-night stand being in Hartford where I’d once lived with Walt, could be significant as it’s also where Celeste/Julia resided as it turns out. And if Saylor’s unborn child is Andre’s too, my seemingly devoted husband has fathered two illegitimate children.

Appalled at the thought, my throat constricts. And while it won’t change anything if Andre isn’t the father of Saylor’s baby—I still hate him for betraying me again—I must ask, “Did you have an affair with Saylor?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road but his hands clench the steering wheel tighter. “Where did that come from?”

“When you found me having a meltdown on my front steps, I’d just learned my husband is the father of Saylor’s baby.”

He’s silent but his knuckles are now so prominent they appear translucent in the dimness of the car. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you two have an affair?”

It’s stupid, that even now when Saylor’s shattered my trust in my husband, a small part of me hopes her baby isn’t Andre’s, and that if she slept with Ruston too, maybe there’s a chance it’s his?

“No, she’s my ex-girlfriend. We’ve been on and off for years, broke up last year. I didn’t know she was married let alone pregnant, so when she turned up in Hambridge Heights I wondered if she’d followed me. She’s always been a tad obsessed.”

He hesitates, as if unsure whether to tell me more, and gut instinct tells me what he has to say has to do with my husband.

“Go on,” I prompt, needing to hear it all, no matter how hard it’ll be.

“About six months ago I bumped into her at a job. Later that night at the wrap party she went a little nuts when she saw me with another woman. Next thing I know, she was all over your husband.”

I’m stunned. I had no idea Andre had worked with Saylor and Ruston. “So you were on an advertising job with them?”

“Yeah. One of the big marketing firms was doing a shoot for designer watches. I was doing the photography, Andre the graphic design, and Saylor coordinated the shoot.”

I don’t know what to say at yet another example of my husband’s treachery, and Ruston shoots me a sideways glance. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“Sorry, Frankie. When Saylor asked me to keep our connection a secret I didn’t realize it’d affect you too.”

“It’s not your fault.” It’s Andre and Saylor I blame and I’m sick to my stomach.

Saylor repulses me. She wouldn’t have been married for long when she slept with my husband because she was infatuated with her ex and wanted to make him jealous?

But it’s nothing on my abhorrence for Andre, who I learned to trust again after he first cheated on me six years ago, only to discover he’s betrayed me a second time.

“I didn’t mention she’s my ex because I actually feel sorry for her.” He shrugs. “I told her once she should come clean to her husband as we had nothing to hide, and she lost it.”

I realize that must’ve been the argument Celeste and I witnessed that day in the park, when we’d wrongly assumed Ruston could be the father of her baby. Now I know the truth, how I wish that was true.

“The thing is, I understand why she acts out. Her parents are religious zealots and have high expectations. She always felt pressured by them to be perfect and I get the feeling she rushed into marriage on the rebound, got pregnant, and has no idea how to deal with any of it.”

I don’t want to sympathize with Saylor for a second, but I think Ruston’s right. I’m a textbook example of someone dealing with the pressures of faking perfection. Not that I want to excuse Saylor, far from it, but she’s young and if anyone knows the silly decisions one can make in their early twenties, I do.

I don’t want to talk about Saylor but it’s providing a welcome distraction from the stomach-churning panic of wondering if Luna is okay. I can’t see Celeste hurting her; from observing their interactions she’s been nothing but sweet and caring with my daughter. I keep telling myself this to stave off the disabling terror that threatens to strangle me with every passing minute as I try to figure out why the hell she’s doing this.

“Let’s not talk about Saylor anymore—”

“Actually, while I hate what she’s done to my family, talking about this is distracting me from panicking about Luna.” His expression is dubious, but there’s one thing I have to know. “Did Andre come on to her or was it the other way around?”

“You sure you want to hear this?”

Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow and nod.

“After Saylor saw me with that other girl, she targeted him. He resisted at first, but they were both pretty wasted and he ended up flirting back.”

I hate asking questions when I know I won’t like the answers, but the more informed I am, the better I can deal with Andre’s dishonesty when we get Luna back and I confront him. Luna is my priority but the constant nausea plaguing me is a symptom of my disgust at my cheating husband too.

“How wasted were they?”

He’s quiet for a long time and when I glance at him, I can’t discern his expression. But his jaw is clenched so tight it juts.

“It’s the norm for big clients to host a party on the last night of a shoot after it’s a wrap. The brand we were shooting for is huge and they threw a few thousand dollars on a bar tab and left us to it. Everyone who worked on the job stuck around. Most of us got drunk, high, or both. There were hookups all over the place…”

And one of those hookups had been Andre and Saylor. My husband had sex with another woman that night. After the last time, he knows how I feel about sleeping around.

I’m not hypocritical. My one-off had been an aberration, something I’ve regretted every day since. But it looks like my husband is a serial cheater and if I know about two, how many more women have there been?

“So what do you think Celeste wants with your daughter?”

He’s trying to change the subject and I appreciate it. But the thought of Luna god-knows-where with Celeste is so much worse than discussing my husband’s rationale in betraying me.

I know this could be a wild goose chase but I have to do something proactive. I couldn’t sit around at home, waiting for the police to follow procedure and I lose my daughter in the process.

There’s a small chance I’m right about where she is, and if I am I might get to find out what Celeste wants, and hopefully get my daughter back.

“Honestly? I don’t know. From what I’ve seen she’s a good mom and loves Violette. The girls have bonded since she moved in and I’ve encouraged their friendship.” It doesn’t matter if I tell him the rest. It’s going to come out anyway and our close-knit community of Hambridge Heights will be buzzing with this news for years to come. “But it turns out she has ties to my ex-husband and I think he’s Violette’s father.”

“What the… how on earth do you figure that?” Shock deepens his voice.

“My ex is missing. Apparently I’m still listed as his emergency contact so his employer reached out to me. We keep in touch sporadically and he hasn’t been returning my calls either, so I got worried and went looking for him.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.” Ruston’s tone is off, like I’ve been having an affair, and I resent the implication.

“My ex is a good guy but he’s clueless, one of those guys anyone can take advantage of. Last I heard he was vacationing at the beach house we owned so I went there. He wasn’t around but I saw evidence of a child living there. And a photo of Violette and a woman I think is Celeste.”

He makes a low whistling sound. “Okay, you’re right, this is weird…” He pauses. “It still doesn’t explain why she took her…”

I have a theory and I hope it’s wrong.

If Walter had told Celeste about how he thought Luna’s his after our night together, she’ll think our daughters are related. Does she hate me for stealing Walt from her and taking Luna is some kind of warped revenge to get back at me?

My panic rises. In my wilder suppositions, I wonder if Walter is in on this outlandish plan and imagines them being one big happy family. Until I remember he saw the letter and the paternity test result so he knows he isn’t Luna’s father.

“Frankie?” Ruston’s voice is soft, tentative.

“I have no idea why she took her.”

“You’re contacting the police when we get to Gledhill, yeah?”

I’m sure he regrets driving me to Gledhill where I think Celeste might be without the police knowing anything about it. But having the police storm the area where I’m hoping to find my daughter isn’t ideal, especially as I can’t help but remember the alarming things Walter once told me about his ex. If Celeste is unstable, the slightest thing will set her off and Luna may get caught in the crossfire. I want to approach Celeste myself, give her a chance to explain, before the police potentially scare her into doing something rash.

“Yeah, but I want to see if I’m right first, if she’s at the place I think she is. Once I find her, I’ll talk to her and you can call the police—”

“Whoa. What do you mean, you’ll talk to her?”

“I need to make sure Luna’s okay and I’m terrified she’ll do something crazy if cornered by police, so I want to have a face-to-face conversation with her first.”

He mulls this for a minute before grunting in approval. “That makes sense. I’ll be nearby if you need backup.”

I should be reassured but I’m not. Because if Celeste is as unstable as I think she is, all the backup in the world won’t stop her from potentially harming my daughter.