How to Keep a Secret

The way Mack sighed you would have thought Lauren had asked her to donate a kidney.

“Can’t you and Dad do it?”

“Dad isn’t home yet.” How could he be late tonight of all nights? As she kept listening for the sound of his key in the door, her irritation became tinged with anxiety. It wasn’t like him to be late when there was a reason to be home, and it wasn’t like him not to answer his phone, but so far he hadn’t responded to a single one of her texts. Maybe his battery had died. “I’d appreciate help.”

“Sure. That would be awesome, Mom.”

Lauren winced. Gwen hated mom, and her daughter knew it.

There was a gleam in Mack’s eyes and for a moment it felt like old times when they’d shared a joke.

And then the doorbell rang, announcing the first of their guests, and the moment was gone. Lauren opened the door to their neighbors who were armed with bottles of champagne and balloons with the number forty emblazoned in swirling writing.

The rest of the guests arrived in a steady stream. The string quartet fought valiantly to be heard above the sound of laughter and conversation. Champagne flutes clinked together and sparkled under the lights. The house hummed with celebration. Only one thing was missing.

Ed.

By nine o’clock irritation had given way to anxiety.

She’d left eight messages on Ed’s phone, each one more desperate. Their conversation of that morning kept going round in her head.

She’s not the problem.

Did the “problem” have something to do with the reason he was late?

An image inserted itself into her head. Ed, with his pants down, pumping into an unknown girl on his desk. Why did she have to think of that now? She pressed her fingers to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut to block it out.

She was wondering about the etiquette of cutting a birthday cake when the birthday boy wasn’t present, when the doorbell rang again.

All the guests had arrived, so it had to be Ed.

Weak with relief, she tugged open the door and saw two police officers standing there.

Now what?

There had been a spate of car vandalism in the street, and the Wright family, who lived four doors down, had been burgled the summer before, but generally this was a quiet, safe area of London loved by residents and tourists alike. She’d certainly never had anyone in uniform standing on her doorstep. “Mrs. Hudson?”

“Yes.” Lauren smiled her best hostess smile. “How can I help?”

The younger of the two officers looked sick, as if he was suddenly wishing he’d picked any job except this one, and she knew then that this wasn’t about a neighborhood crime.

Her legs turned to liquid. “What has happened?”

The older policewoman took charge, her eyes kind. “Do you have somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Quiet? Lauren gave a hysterical laugh. “I have thirty guests in the house, all celebrating my husband’s birthday, so no, not really. I’m waiting for him to come home.”

One look at their faces told her everything she needed to know.

Ed wouldn’t be c

oming home tonight, or any other night. He wasn’t going to eat his cake, nor toast his birthday with champagne.

Ed wasn’t late.

He was gone.

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