The Couple Next Door

It might even be a good thing that Bruce is dead.

He must tell Rasbach, but how? As he stares at the photograph of the dead man, it comes to him. He will tell the detective that he saw this picture in the paper and recognized the man. He’d seen him hanging around outside the house. He’d forgotten all about it until he saw the picture. They might not believe him, but it’s all he can think of.

He is quite certain that no one ever saw him with Bruce. He doesn’t think anyone can put them together.

He couldn’t live with himself if he doesn’t do everything possible to find Cora.

He will have to tell Anne first. He thinks for another minute, vacillating, and then says, “Anne.”

“What?”

“Look at this.”

She comes and stands over his shoulder looking down at the paper where his finger points. She studies the photo. “What about it?” she says.

“Do you recognize him?”

She looks again. “I don’t think so. Who is it?”

“I’m sure I’ve seen him,” Marco says. “Around.”

“Seen him where?”

“I’m not sure, but he looks familiar. I know I’ve seen him recently, in our neighborhood—around our house.”

Anne looks more closely. “You know, I think I have seen him before, but I don’t know where.”

Even better, Marco thinks.

Before going to the station, Marco gets on his laptop and looks for more information on Derek Honig’s murder, searching all the different newspapers online. He doesn’t want any surprises.

There isn’t much information. The case has attracted little notice. Derek Honig had taken some time off work before his death to stay at his cabin. He’d been found by the woman who cleaned the cabin once a month. He lived alone. Divorced, no kids. Marco feels a chill, reading this. The man he’d known as Bruce had told him he had three kids of his own and knew how to take care of an infant, and Marco had believed him. His own actions now shock him. He’d handed his baby off to someone who turned out to be a total stranger, trusting him to take care of her. How could he have done it?

? ? ?

Anne and Marco show up at the police station unannounced. The Audi had been returned to them the previous afternoon. Marco clutches the newspaper in his hand and asks for Detective Rasbach at the front desk. He’s in, even though it’s Saturday.

“Do you have a minute?” Marco asks Rasbach.

“Of course,” the detective says, and ushers them into the now familiar room. Jennings, right behind him, grabs another chair. The four of them sit, facing one another.

Marco places the newspaper on the table in front of Rasbach and points to the photo of the dead man.

The detective looks at the photo, skims the short article. Then he glances up from the paper and says, “Yes?”

“I recognize him,” Marco says. He knows he appears nervous, even though he’s trying his hardest not to. He looks the detective deliberately in the eyes. “I think I saw him around in the last couple of weeks before Cora was taken.”

“Saw him where?” Rasbach asks.

“That’s the thing,” Marco equivocates. “I’m not sure. But the minute I saw the picture, I knew I’d seen him recently, and more than once. I think it was around our house, in our neighborhood—on our street.”

Rasbach stares steadily at Marco, pursing his lips.

“Anne recognizes him, too,” Marco says, nodding at his wife.

Rasbach turns his attention to Anne.

Anne nods. “I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know where.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods again.

“Wait here a moment,” Rasbach says, and he and Jennings leave the room.

Anne and Marco wait silently. They don’t want to talk to each other with the video camera in the room. Marco has to consciously fight his urge to fidget. He wants to get up and pace around the room but forces himself to stay in his seat.

Finally Rasbach returns. “I’ll go up there myself, today. If there’s anything relevant to your case, I’ll be in touch.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before we hear from you?” Marco asks.

“I don’t know. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” Rasbach promises.

There’s nothing Marco and Anne can do but go home and wait.

TWENTY-THREE

At home, Marco is restless. He paces the house. He gets on Anne’s nerves. They are snapping at each other.

“I think I’ll go to the office,” he says abruptly. “I need to get my mind off things here and get back to some of my clients. Before I don’t have any clients.”

“Good idea,” Anne agrees, wanting him out of the house. She wishes desperately that she could have a long talk with Dr. Lumsden. Lumsden had called her back quickly after the urgent message Anne had left on her voice mail, and although Dr. Lumsden had been genuinely sympathetic and supportive, the conversation had not been nearly enough. Dr. Lumsden had urged her to speak to the doctor who was covering her patients until her return. But Anne does not want to talk to a doctor she doesn’t know.

Anne thinks about confronting Cynthia. She doesn’t think Cynthia took her baby, not today. But she’d like to know what’s going on between Cynthia and her husband. Perhaps Anne is focusing on what might be going on between her husband and Cynthia because it’s not as painful as thinking about what has happened to her baby.

Anne knows Cynthia is at home. She can hear her occasionally on the other side of their shared wall. Anne knows Graham is away again—she saw him getting into a black airport limo with his bags earlier that morning, from her bedroom window. She could go over there, tell Cynthia off, and tell her to keep away from her husband. Anne stops her pacing and stares at the shared wall of the living room, trying to decide what to do. Cynthia is just on the other side of that wall.

But Anne doesn’t have the nerve. She is too distraught. She’s told the detective what she overheard, but she hasn’t yet confronted Marco about it. And Marco hasn’t said anything about it to her. They seem to have a new pattern of not speaking about difficult things. They used to share everything—well, almost everything. But since the baby, things have been different.

Her depression made her lose interest in everything. At first Marco brought her flowers, chocolates, did little things to lift her mood, but none of it worked, not really. He stopped telling her about his day, about how his business was doing. She couldn’t talk about her own work, because she didn’t work anymore. They didn’t have much to talk about at all, except the baby. Maybe Marco was right. Maybe she should have gone back to work.

She must talk to him, must make him promise that he’ll have nothing more to do with Cynthia. She is not to be trusted. Their friendship with the Stillwells is over. If Anne confronts Marco with what she knows, tells him what she overheard from the top of the stairs, he will feel terrible. He already feels terrible. She has no doubt he’ll stay away from Cynthia now. There’s nothing to worry about on that score.

If they survive this, she will have to talk to Marco about Cynthia, and she will have to talk to him about the business. They will have to start being more honest with each other again.

Anne needs to clean something, but the house is already spotless. It’s odd, the energy she feels now, in the middle of the day, fueled by anxiety. When she still had Cora, she would drag herself through the day. Right about now she’d be praying for Cora to go down for a nap. A sob escapes from her.