I FEEL GOOD THIS MORNING.
Seth and I had a really nice night together. After Round Two, we ordered in Chinese food, then watched TV together on the couch. Back when he was still with Melinda, there was always a sense of urgency. He could never stay too late, because she would get suspicious. I liked more laid-back Seth, who was happy to cuddle up with me on the couch indefinitely.
I did send him packing before midnight. Even though we had already slept together, I felt like it would be a betrayal to Caleb for him to spend the night. Well, more of a betrayal. I recognize what I did last night doesn’t exactly make me girlfriend of the year. But it’s been a stressful couple of days, and Caleb was acting distant yesterday when I needed him the most. He lost a lot of boyfriend points for the way he acted yesterday.
Anyway, I got a great night of sleep after the activities of the evening. I woke up bright and early this morning, downed a cup of coffee, and now I am doing my morning run. My blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, my Spotify playlist is blasting pop hits in my earbuds, and I’ve got on a T-shirt and leggings. When I left my house, it was a brisk forty-degree November
morning and I was freezing when my feet first hit the pavement, but now it feels perfect.
I’m glad to see that taking a break for a few days hasn’t affected my stamina. The 5K is in only two days, and it would be embarrassing if I wasn’t one of the front runners, considering I’m the one who organized it.
The endorphins are flowing through my bloodstream. I could climb a tree or even a mountain. I feel the best I felt in days.
That is, until I see Detective Santoro leaning against a gray Volvo parked in front of my house.
Before I went to bed last night, I checked a local news site on my phone to see if there were any updates about Dawn. The most recent article mentioned that the police were still looking for her. It didn’t seem like the police had made much progress. Dawn was still hopelessly missing, as of last night.
And if the detective is here to see me, it doesn’t seem likely that Dawn has turned up alive and well.
I stop short, not sure what to do. For a moment, I consider doing an about-face and putting in another mile or two. But that won’t do me much good. The detective doesn’t look like he’s planning on going anywhere until he talks to me. And it’s not like I can go to work in my T-shirt and leggings, covered in a layer of sweat.
And anyway, I think he sees me.
Sure enough, the detective straightens up and waves at me. I grimace, wishing I didn’t have to talk to him in my sweaty running clothes. Well, I wish I didn’t have to talk to him at all, but my attire doesn’t make the situation better.
“Miss Farrell!” He waves again. “You got a minute?”
I don’t find his Boston accent even slightly endearing anymore.
I walk the last half a block to my house. Detective Santoro looks me up and down with his shrewd dark eyes. “Get in a nice run?”
“Yes…”
He squints up at the sky. “Nice weather for it. And it’s supposed to be a nice day when you’ve got that race on Saturday.”
Of course, he knows all about my agenda for the week. “It’s not exactly a race. It’s more like a fun run for charity.”
He nods like he couldn’t possibly care less. “Would you mind if we went inside?”
“Did you find Dawn yet?”
He doesn’t answer me but instead jerks his head in the direction of my front door. “I just have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”
I should agree. I have nothing to hide. Yet I find my jaw clenching. I didn’t do anything wrong, and it’s like this detective has it out for me. It’s not fair. “I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know.”
“So it should be real quick then.”
Santoro’s black eyes are leveled at me, and it’s unnerving. I squirm in my sneakers, wishing I could hit the shower before having a conversation with him. I’ve got pit stains, after all. But it seems like I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“Fine,” I say. “But I have to get to work soon.”
“This won’t take long,” he says. “If you want, I’ll write you a note.”
I bristle at the idea of this man writing me a note, like I’m some teenager and he is my dad excusing me from school. I don’t dignify his offer with a response. Instead, I start up the walkway to my front door. I unlock the door and he comes in behind me.
Santoro lingers in my foyer. “Mind if we sit down?”
“Actually, I do mind.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Like I said, I don’t have a lot of time. So what do you need to know?”
He gives me a look like he is surprised by my nerve, but I don’t back down. I’m not going to let this detective push me around.
“So I just want to get more of a sense of your relationship with Dawn,” he says.
My right eyelid twitches. “I told you, we were coworkers. We were friendly, but not really friends. Is that all?”
“What do you mean by ‘friendly’?”
I stare at him. “I mean, we said hello to each other every day. I gave her a ride home once when she needed it. Occasionally we ate lunch together. But that’s about it.”
“Okay, I get it.” He nods. “And was there ever a situation where you fought with Dawn?”
“No,” I say firmly. “Never.” “Did you ever make fun of her?”
“Make fun of her?” I repeat. “What am I—in grade school?”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “from what I hear, Dawn was kind of odd.
When people are different, it might be natural to poke fun at them.”
“Well, I never did.” “Never?”
“No!”
“So you never told anyone that you thought Dawn lost her virginity to a turtle?”
My jaw drops. “I… it… who told you that?”
He lifts one of his dark eyebrows. “A few people, actually.”
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “Okay, look… I mean, yes, I might have said that. As a joke. I didn’t say it to Dawn. I just… I was making a joke. You know, because she liked turtles so much. I didn’t do it to hurt her feelings.” I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand. “It doesn’t make me a terrible person because I made one joke.”
“Of course not.” But there’s something in his voice that makes me think he believes otherwise. “So are there other jokes you made about Dawn?”
“No. I mean, I don’t remember any.” “Did you invite her to office parties?” I blink at him. “Yes, of course I did.”
“Because several people said you deliberately kept her from going to workday parties…”
“I did no such thing!” I burst out. “I always sent out an email to the entire office. I wouldn’t exclude Dawn on purpose.”
“Did she come to the parties?”
“No, but that’s not my fault, is it?” I plant my hands on my hips. “Was I supposed to give her an engraved invitation?” I glare at him. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Several of your coworkers felt you were bullying Dawn Schiff.”
This time my jaw feels like it’s about to become unhinged. “Bullying Dawn? Are you serious? Who said that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. But it wasn’t just one person.”
“They’re lying.” I can feel a fleck of saliva fly out of my mouth as I spit out the words. “I never bullied Dawn. We’re not in school. What does that even mean?”
He frowns. “It means that there was a pattern of cruelty to her perpetrated by you.”
“A pattern of cruelty?” I can’t believe my ears. “Because I made a joke
about her?”
“Because you excluded her from company events. You kept her out of meetings. You damaged her personal property…”
“I… what?” My head is spinning. “I never did anything like that. I was nice to her. Nicer than she deserved.”
“Nicer than she deserved? What does that mean?”
I immediately regret my choice of words. “I just mean Dawn was strange. People didn’t like her. But I tried to be nice to her, okay? Maybe I made a couple of jokes about her behind her back, but so did everyone else. I never bullied her.”
Santoro gives me a look that makes me think he doesn’t believe one word I’m saying. I wonder who told him these terrible things about me. Probably somebody who’s jealous of my sales record.
“Just because Dawn was different,” he says, “you didn’t have to be cruel to her.”
“I wasn’t!” Tears spring to my eyes, and I struggle to keep them from rising to the surface. “Ask my boss. Seth Hoffman. He’ll tell you I was nice to her.”
Santoro’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Seth Hoffman? You mean your married boss who you were sleeping with?”
Okay, now I feel like I’m about to keel over from a heart attack. How does he know about that? I get that he’s a detective, but it seems out of the scope of the investigation into the disappearance of a completely unrelated person. “Did Seth tell you that?”
“No. He only said nice things about you.” “So who told you I was sleeping with him?”
He hesitates a split second. “Dawn wrote about it to a friend in emails we found in her computer.”
Oh God.
Yes, Dawn knew about me and Seth. It wasn’t like I confided in her. She happened to witness Seth’s wife leaving me a threatening note. But she was nice about it. She promised not to tell anyone. God knows who this “friend” is that she told about my exploits. I didn’t even realize she had any friends to blab to.
And it makes me wonder what else she wrote about me.
But what’s the difference? So what if Dawn wrote a few things about me in a couple of stupid emails? She certainly had a unique view of the
world, and it doesn’t mean anything she said was true. None of this is real
evidence of anything.
“This is harassment, Detective.” I grit my teeth. “I’ve got to get to work. And we don’t even know anything bad really happened to Dawn. She probably just took off on a trip without telling anyone.”
A deep crease forms between his eyebrows. “No. She didn’t.” “Well, how do you know?”
“Because,” he says, “we found Dawn’s body early this morning.”
