Fool Me Once

There was nothing more to mine here. Not yet anyway. Maya had to dig more, get more information. She was still missing too many pieces of the puzzle.

“I better go.”

“Maya?”

She waited.

“Caroline isn’t the only one who may need rest. She isn’t the only one who wants so badly she may start seeing things that aren’t there.”

Maya nodded. “Subtle, Judith.”

“I wish you’d let Mary or me help you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. We both know that. We both know the truth, don’t we?”

“What truth is that, Judith?”

“My boys have been hurt enough,” Judith said with an edge in her voice. “Don’t make the mistake of hurting them more.”

Chapter 22

Lily was out in the front yard playing some kind of tag game with her uncle Eddie when Maya turned the corner. Maya slowed the car down and pulled to the curb. For a few moments, she just sat and watched. Alexa came out the front door and joined the festivities, both she and her father faking as though they couldn’t quite tag Lily, dramatically falling to the ground when they reached out and missed, and even from that distance, even with Maya’s window closed, she could hear Lily’s shrieks of laughter.

Mawkish to think of it so plainly, but was there any sound as joyful as the undiluted laughter of a child? The irony between the sounds-this one that rang far too rarely in Maya’s ears versus the ones that haunted her nights without mercy-did not escape her, but then again, there was no point in dwelling. She put the car back in drive, forced a smile onto her face, and cruised to the front of Claire and Eddie’s house.

Maya gave the horn a little honk and waved. Eddie turned, his face flushed from happy exertion, and raised his hand in return. Maya got out of the car. Alexa stood upright too. Lily didn’t like that-Eddie and Alexa ending the game-so she kept tapping them on the leg, daring them to start the chase anew.

Alexa came over and gave her aunt a hug. Eddie kissed her on the cheek. Lily crossed her arms and pouted.

“I stay!” Lily demanded.

“We can play tag when we get home,” Maya told her.

Not surprisingly, this did nothing to appease Lily.

Eddie put his hand on Maya’s arm. “Do you have a second? I wanted to show you something.” He turned to his daughter. “Alexa, do you mind watching Lily for a few more minutes?”

“Sure.”

That made Lily smile. Maya could hear the laughter start up again as she headed inside with Eddie.

“I checked Claire’s E-Z Pass records,” he said. “From what I could see, she visited that Douglass guy twice within a week.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Maya said.

“I didn’t think it would. But where she went after the second time might.” He had printed out the records. He handed her a sheet and pointed to the first highlighted section.

“So a week before the murder,” Eddie continued, “Claire travels down to Livingston. See the time stamp?”

Maya nodded: 8:46 A.M.

“Now if you follow it, she got on the Parkway at nine thirty-three instead of the Turnpike. See the next few lines?”

“Yes.”

“She didn’t head back home,” Eddie said. “She traveled south instead. At Exit 129 she moved from the Parkway back to the New Jersey Turnpike and got off at Exit 6.”

It was on the bottom of the page. Exit 6, Maya knew, was the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

“Anything after that?” Maya asked.

“Right over here. She took Interstate 476 south.”

“Toward Philadelphia,” Maya said.

“Or the Philadelphia area at least,” Eddie said.

Maya handed him back the sheets. “Any reason Claire would be down there that day?”

“None.”

Maya didn’t bother asking him about friends Claire could have visited or shopping she might have done or even if she might have suddenly fancied a trip to Independence Hall. Claire hadn’t gone there for any of that. Claire had spoken to Tom Douglass. She had learned something from him. And that something had taken her to Philadelphia.

Maya closed her eyes.

“Not to make a stupid Liberty Bell joke,” Eddie said, “but is any of this ringing any bells?”

Maya had no choice, so she told Eddie yet another lie. “No,” she said. “No bells at all.”

* * *

It rang bells, albeit distant ones.

As Caroline had reminded her, when Andrew died, he and Joe had both still been in high school. A boarding school, to be more exact. An upper-crust, old-money prep school called Franklin Biddle Academy.

Located right outside Philadelphia.

Eileen called her on the drive home. “Remember how we used to do Chinese takeout on Wednesday nights?”

“Of course.”

“I’m starting up the tradition again. You home?”

“Just about.”

“Great,” Eileen said with too much enthusiasm. “I’ll get our favorites.”

“Something wrong?”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”