Rating: ★★★★☆ Tags: Mystery Detective, General, Fiction

part, because Amy’s money had financed The Bar. She
basically owned it, she would certainly take it back. And I
couldn’t bear to look at my twin trying to be brave as she
lost another couple years of her life. So I let myself drift on
in the miserable situation, assuming that at some point
Amy would take charge, Amy would demand a divorce, and
then I would get to be the good guy.
This desire – to escape the situation without blame –
was despicable. The more despicable I became, the more I
craved Andie, who knew that I wasn’t as bad as I seemed,
if my story were published in the paper for strangers to
read. 
Amy will divorce you
, I kept thinking. 
She can’t let it
linger on much longer
. But as spring faded away and
summer came, then fall, then winter, and I became a
cheating man of all seasons – a cheat with a pleasantly
impatient mistress – it became clear that something would
have to be done.
‘I mean, I love you, Nick,’ Andie said, here, surreally, on
my sister’s sofa. ‘No matter what happens. I don’t really
know what else to say, I feel pretty …’ She threw her hands
up. ‘Stupid.’
‘Don’t feel stupid,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what to say
either. There’s nothing to say.’
‘You can say that you love me no matter what
happens.’
I thought: 
I can’t say that out loud anymore
. I’d said it

---

once or twice, a spitty mumble against her neck, homesick
for something. But the words were out there, and so was a
lot more. I thought then of the trail we’d left, our busy, semi-
hidden love affair that I hadn’t worried enough about. If her
building had a security camera, I was on it. I’d bought a
disposable phone just for her calls, but those voice mails
and texts went to her very permanent cell. I’d written her a
dirty valentine that I could already see splashed across the
news, me rhyming 
besot
with 
twat
. And more: Andie was
twenty-three. I assumed my words, voice, even photos of
me were captured on various electronica. I’d flipped
through the photos on her phone one night, jealous,
possessive, curious, and seen plenty of shots of an ex or
two smiling proudly in her bed, and I assumed at one point
I’d join the club – I kind of 
wanted
to join the club – and for
some reason that hadn’t worried me, even though it could
be downloaded and sent to a million people in the space of
a vengeful second.
‘This is an extremely weird situation, Andie. I just need
you to be patient.’
She pulled back from me. ‘You can’t say you love me,
no matter what happens?’
‘I love you, Andie. I do.’ I held her eyes. Saying 
I love
you
was dangerous right now, but so was not saying it.
‘Fuck me, then,’ she whispered. She began tugging at
my belt.
‘We have to be real careful right now. I … It’s a bad,
bad place for me if the police find out about us. It looks
beyond bad.’
‘That’s what you’re worried about?’
‘I’m a man with a missing wife and a secret …

---

girlfriend. Yeah, it looks bad. It looks criminal.’
‘That makes it sound sleazy.’ Her breasts were still out.
‘People don’t know us, Andie. They 
will
think it’s
sleazy.’
‘God, it’s like some bad noir movie.’
I smiled. I’d introduced Andie to noir – to Bogart and
The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity
, all the classics. It was
one of the things I liked best about us, that I could show her
things.
‘Why don’t we just tell the police?’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t
that be better—’
‘No. Andie, don’t even think about it. No.’
‘They’re going to find out—’
‘Why? Why would they? Have you told anyone about
us, sweetheart?’
She gave me a twitchy look. I felt bad: This was not
how she thought the night would go. She had been excited
to see me, she had been imagining a lusty reunion,
physical reassurance, and I was busy covering my ass.
‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I just need to know,’ I said.
‘Not by name.’
‘What do you mean, not by name?’
‘I mean,’ she said, pulling up her dress finally, ‘my
friends, my mom, they know I’m seeing someone, but not by
name.’
‘And not by any kind of description, right?’ I said it
more urgently than I wanted to, feeling like I was holding up
a collapsing ceiling. ‘Two people know about this, Andie.
You and me. If you help me, if you love me, it will just be us
knowing, and then the police will never find out.’
She traced a finger along my jawline. ‘And what if – if

---

they never find Amy?’
‘You and I, Andie, we’ll be together no matter what
happens. But 
only
if we’re careful. If we’re not careful, it’s
possible – It looks bad enough that I could go to prison.’
‘Maybe she ran off with someone,’ she said, leaning
her cheek against my shoulder. ‘Maybe—’
I could feel her girl-brain buzzing, turning Amy’s
disappearance into a frothy, scandalous romance, ignoring
any reality that didn’t suit the narrative.
‘She didn’t run off. It’s much more serious than that.’ I
put a finger under her chin so she looked at me. ‘Andie? I
need you to take this very seriously, okay?’
‘Of course I’m taking it seriously. But I need to be able
to talk to you more often. To see you. I’m freaking out, Nick.’
‘We just need to sit tight for now.’ I gripped both her
shoulders so she had to look at me. ‘My wife is missing,
Andie.’
‘But you don’t even—’
I knew what she was about to say – 
you don’t even
love her
– but she was smart enough to stop.
She put her arms around me. ‘Look, I don’t want to
fight. I know you care about Amy, and I know you must be
really worried. I am too. I know you are under … I can’t
imagine the pressure. So I’m fine keeping an even lower
profile than I did before, if that’s possible. But remember,
this affects me, too. I need to hear from you. Once a day.
Just call when you can, even if it’s only for a few seconds,
so I can hear your voice. Once a day, Nick. Every single
day. I’ll go crazy otherwise. I’ll go crazy.’
She smiled at me, whispered, ‘Now kiss me.’
I kissed her very softly.

---

‘I love you,’ she said, and I kissed her neck and
mumbled my reply. We sat in silence, the TV flickering.
I let my eyes close. 
Now kiss me
, who had said that?
I lurched awake just after five a.m. Go was up, I could hear
her down the hall, running water in the bathroom. I shook
Andie – 
It’s five a.m., it’s five a.m. –
and with promises of
love and phone calls, I hustled her toward the door like a
shameful one-nighter.
‘Remember, call every day,’ Andie whispered.
I heard the bathroom door open.
‘Every day,’ I said, and ducked behind the door as I
opened it and Andie left.
When I turned back around, Go was standing in the
living room. Her mouth had dropped open, stunned, but the
rest of her body was in full fury: hands on hips, eyebrows
V’ed.
‘Nick. You fucking idiot.’

---