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

Just once, just once, I want a guy who’s not an
asshole
.
‘Yes, just one girl, she’s very—’
‘Don’t say 
girl
, don’t ever say 
girl
,’ Bolt said. ‘Woman.
One woman who is very special to you. Is that what you
were going to say?’
Of course it was.
‘You do know, Nick, special is actually worse than –
okay. How long?’

---

‘A little over a year.’
‘Have you spoken to her since Amy went missing?’
‘Yes, on a disposable cell phone. And in person once.
Twice. But—’
‘In 
person
.’
‘No one has seen us. I can swear to that. Just my
sister.’
He took a breath, looked at the sailboat again. ‘And
what does this—What’s her name?’
‘Andie.’
‘What is her attitude about all this?’
‘She’s been great – until the pregnancy …
announcement. Now I think she’s a little … on edge. Very
on edge. Very, uh … 
needy
is the wrong word …’
‘Say what you need to say, Nick. If she’s needy, then
—’
‘She’s needy. Clingy. Needs lots of reassurance.
She’s a really sweet girl, but she’s young, and it’s, it’s been
hard, obviously.’
Tanner Bolt went to his minibar and pulled out a
Clamato. The entire fridge was filled with Clamato. He
opened the bottle and drank it in three swallows, then
dabbed his lips with a cloth napkin. ‘You will need to cut off,
completely and forever, all contact with Andie,’ he said. I
began to speak, and he aimed a palm at me. ‘Immediately.’
‘I can’t cut it off with her just like that. Out of nowhere.’
‘This isn’t something to debate. 
Nick
. I mean, come
on, buddy, I really got to say this? You cannot date around
while your pregnant wife is missing. You will go to fucking
prison. Now, the issue is to do it without turning her against
us. Without leaving her with a vendetta, an urge to go

---

public, anything but fond memories. Make her believe that
this was the decent thing, make her want to keep you safe.
How are you at breakups?’
I opened my mouth, but he didn’t wait.
‘We’ll prep you for the conversation the same way
we’d prep you for a cross-exam, okay? Now, if you want
me, I’ll fly to Missouri, I’ll set up camp, and we can really get
to work on this. I can be with you as soon as tomorrow if
you want me for your lawyer. Do you?’
‘I do.’
I was back in Carthage before dinnertime. It was strange,
once Tanner swept Andie from the picture – once it
became clear that she simply couldn’t stay – how quickly I
accepted it, how little I mourned her. On that single, two-
hour flight, I transitioned from 
in love with Andie
to 
not in
love with Andie
. Like walking through a door. Our
relationship immediately attained a sepia tone: the past.
How odd, that I ruined my marriage over that little girl with
whom I had nothing in common except that we both liked a
good laugh and a cold beer after sex.
Of course you’re fine with ending it
, Go would say. 
It
got hard
.
But there was a better reason: Amy was blooming
large in my mind. She was gone, and yet she was more
present than anyone else. I’d fallen in love with Amy
because I was the ultimate Nick with her. Loving her made
me superhuman, it made me feel alive. At her easiest, she
was hard, because her brain was always working, working,
working – I had to exert myself just to keep pace with her.
I’d spend an hour crafting a casual e-mail to her, I became

---

a student of arcana so I could keep her interested: the Lake
Poets, the code duello, the French Revolution. Her mind
was both wide and deep, and I got smarter being with her.
And more considerate, and more active, and more alive,
and almost electric, because for Amy, love was like drugs
or booze or porn: There was no plateau. Each exposure
needed to be more intense than the last to achieve the
same result.
Amy made me believe I was exceptional, that I was up
to her level of play. That was both our making and undoing.
Because I couldn’t handle the demands of greatness. I
began craving ease and averageness, and I hated myself
for it, and ultimately, I realized, I punished her for it. I turned
her into the brittle, prickly thing she became. I had
pretended to be one kind of man and revealed myself to be
quite another. Worse, I convinced myself our tragedy was
entirely her making. I spent years working myself into the
very thing I swore she was: a righteous ball of hate.
On the flight home, I’d looked at Clue 4 for so long, I’d
memorized it. I wanted to torture myself. No wonder her
notes were so different this time: My wife was pregnant,
she wanted to start over, return us to our dazzling, happy
aliveness. I could picture her running around town to hide
those sweet notes, eager as a schoolgirl for me to get to
the end – the announcement that she was pregnant with my
child. Wood. It had to be an old-fashioned cradle. I knew my
wife: It had to be an antique cradle. Although the clue wasn’t
quite in an expectant-mother tone.
Picture me: I’m a girl who is very bad
I need to be punished, and by punished, I mean had

---

It’s where you store goodies for anniversary five
Pardon me if this is getting contrived!
A good time was had right here at sunny midday
Then out for a cocktail, all so terribly gay.
So run there right now, full of sweet sighs,
And open the door for your big surprise.
I was almost home when I figured it out. 
Store goodies
for anniversary five
: Goodies would be something made of
wood. To punish is to take someone to the woodshed. It
was the woodshed behind my sister’s house – a place to
stow lawn-mower parts and rusty tools – a decrepit old
outbuilding, like something from a slasher movie where
campers are slowly killed off. Go never went back there;
she’d often joked of burning it down since she moved into
the house. Instead, she’d let it get even more overgrown
and cobwebbed. We’d always joked that it would be a
good place to bury a body.
It couldn’t be.
I drove across town, my face numb, my hands cold.
Go’s car was in the driveway, but I slipped past the glowing
living room window and down the steep downhill slope, and
I was soon out of her sight range, out of sight of anyone.
Very private.
Back to the far back of the yard, on the edge of the
tree line, there was the shed.
I opened the door.
Nonononono
.

---