Page 88 of The Wife

I listened to a series of “uh-huhs,” a “Where?,” and a “Do they know anything else?” before he hung up.

He was staring up at the ceiling, absolutely still.

“Is everything okay?”

“That was Olivia. A cop she knows called her. They found Kerry.”

“Where was—” I didn’t finish the question. He was covering his face with his hands.

“She’s dead. Kerry’s dead.”

I joined my mother and son in the kitchen, leaving Jason alone to cry for a woman he had once loved.

After breakfast I asked if anyone wanted to take a walk up to Gerard Point with me, knowing that Jason would want to go for a run, and that Spencer shared my mother’s view that walking was for people who didn’t have cars.

I waited until I had made the turn from Springs Fireplace Road onto Gerard Drive to remove my burner phone and a single Post-it note from my skirt pocket. Sitting on my favorite boulder, a few feet from the water, I called an international number and then used the keypad to follow the automated instructions. As a final step, I entered my eight-digit PIN, already committed to memory.

The computerized system on the other end of the line confirmed that I had a balance of $100. It was official: I had an offshore account. We’d be closing on the carriage house on Tuesday. Our lawyer was planning to take care of the checks for alimony and my half of Jason’s retirement account at the same time.

I looked out over Gardiners Bay, realizing this might be the last time I saw it. I was actually going to miss this place.

56

Corrine leaned close to her bathroom mirror to apply a second coat of mascara and then stepped back to make sure it wasn’t too much. As a final check, she used her compact to inspect the back of her hair, which she sometimes forgot to tend to. Not too shabby. She had a seventh date tonight with a sports producer named Andrew who made specials for ESPN. He was the first man she’d been willing to see that many times since the divorce. Even more surprisingly, he had asked her to go with him next weekend to a wedding in South Carolina, and she hadn’t hesitated. It dawned on her that she—who prided herself on being at least one step ahead of everyone—may have gone and gotten a boyfriend without realizing it.

She was strapping on high-heeled sandals she knew she’d regret later when her cell phone rang. It was a 516 area code—Nassau County. Something in the back of her brain told her what was about to happen.

It was Netter. The body had been found late the night before by two teenagers who had wandered away from a beach party for privacy. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. Been working nonstop. No autopsy yet, obviously, but it was clearly a head injury. You were right about the missing crystal egg.”

She had known she was right the second she inspected Kerry’s living room.

“What beach?”

“Ocean Beach. The task force is on it now, but I’m still lead.” Ocean Beach was at least an hour east of Kerry’s house, in Suffolk County, a two-hour drive from Manhattan with zero traffic.

“Anything new on Tom Fisher?”

“His wife and kids were visiting the grandparents on the Cape the night Kerry was last seen, so if he has an alibi, we don’t know about it. The drive from Kerry’s to the drop site and back to his place is about ninety miles. We’re hoping he had to stop for gas and are checking all the stations off the Meadowbrook. And we’re getting warrants now for his house, car, and office.”

Married ex-boyfriend she was shaking down for money, spotted at the house the last night she was seen. Corrine could imagine a judge signing off on that.

“If you need anything from the NYPD, let me know?”

“Will do.”

“And, hey, thanks for calling. Seriously.”

Corrine made it all the way to dessert before she mentioned the case to Andrew. She could tell from the way he kept looking at his napkin that he would have preferred to discuss anything else, and she knew that he would find a reason that maybe she shouldn’t join him in South Carolina after all.

57

Six days later, the nightmare began again. I was on my way home from Dr. Boyle’s office when my cell phone rang. It was Susanna.

“Are you okay?” She sounded rushed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“You don’t know?”

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