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

partner in every way.’
I looked up into the crowd and, like magic, spotted
Andie, a disgusted look on her face, and I quickly glanced
back at my notes.
‘Amy is the woman I want to grow old with, and I know
this will happen.’
PAUSE. BREATHE. NO SMILE. Go had actually
written the words on my index card. 
Happen happen

---

happen
. My voice echoed out through the speakers, rolling
toward the river.
‘We ask you to contact us with any information. We
light candles tonight in the hope she comes home soon and
safely. I love you, Amy.’
I kept my eyes moving anywhere but Andie. The park
sparkled with candles. A moment of silence was supposed
to be observed, but babies were crying, and one stumbling
homeless man kept asking loudly, ‘Hey, what is this about?
What’s it for?,’ and someone would whisper Amy’s name,
and the guy would say louder, ‘What? It’s for 
what
?’
From the middle of the crowd, Noelle Hawthorne
began moving forward, her triplets affixed, one on a hip, the
other two clinging to her skirt, all looking ludicrously tiny to a
man who spent no time around children. Noelle forced the
crowd to part for her and the children, marching right to the
edge of the podium, where she looked up at me. I glared at
her – the woman had maligned me – and then I noticed for
the first time the swell in her belly and realized she was
pregnant again. For one second, my mouth dropped – four
kids under four, sweet Jesus! – and later, that look would
be analyzed and debated, most people believing it was a
one-two punch of anger and fear.
‘ He y, 
Nick
.’ Her voice caught in the half-raised
microphone and boomed out to the audience.
I started to fumble with the mike, but couldn’t find the
off switch.
‘I just wanted to see your face,’ she said, and burst into
tears. A wet sob rolled out over the audience, everyone
rapt. ‘Where is she? What have you done with Amy? What
have you done with your wife!’

---

Wife, wife
, her voice echoed. Two of her alarmed
children began to wail.
Noelle couldn’t talk for a second, she was crying so
hard, she was wild, furious, and she grabbed the
microphone stand and yanked the whole thing down to her
level. I debated grabbing it back but 
knew
I could do nothing
toward this woman in the maternity dress with the three
toddlers. I scanned the crowd for Mike Hawthorne – 
control
your wife
– but he was nowhere. Noelle turned to address
the crowd.
‘I am Amy’s best friend!’ 
Friend friend friend
. The
words boomed out all over the park along with her
children’s keening. ‘Despite my best efforts, the police
don’t seem to be taking me seriously. So I’m taking our
cause to this town, this town that Amy loved, that loved her
back! This man, Nick Dunne, needs to answer some
questions. He needs to tell us what he did to his wife!’
Boney darted from the side of the stage to reach her,
and Noelle turned, and the two locked eyes. Boney made a
frantic chopping motion at her throat: 
Stop talking!
‘His 
pregnant
wife!’
And no one could see the candles anymore, because
the flashbulbs were going berserk. Next to me, Rand made
a noise like a balloon squeak. Down below me, Boney put
her fingers between her eyebrows as if stanching a
headache. I was seeing everyone in frantic strobe shots
that matched my pulse.
I looked out into the crowd for Andie, saw her staring at
me, her face pink and twisted, her cheeks damp, and as
we caught each other’s eyes, she mouthed, ‘Asshole!’ and
stumbled back away through the crowd.

---

‘We should go.’ My sister, suddenly beside me,
whispering in my ear, tugging at my arm. The cameras
flashing at me as I stood like some Frankenstein’s monster,
fearful and agitated by the villager torches. 
Flash, flash
. We
started moving, breaking into two parts: my sister and I
fleeing toward Go’s car, the Elliotts standing with jaws
agape, on the platform, left behind, save yourselves. The
reporters pelted the question over and over at me. 
Nick,
was Amy pregnant? Nick, were you upset Amy was
pregnant?
Me, streaking out of the park, ducking like I was
caught in hail: 
Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant
, the word
pulsing in the summer night in time to the cicadas.

---