They all looked at each other. Nick’s hand stroked lower down Jane’s back. She felt a flush of heat work its way up her neck and into her face. She hated when he did this sort of thing in front of Andrew.
Nick said, “I feel like we should be touching the sides of our noses like they did in The Sting.”
“This is real life.” Andrew’s tone was strident. They were all terrified that the house was bugged. The last few days had been like tiptoeing around the sharp end of a needle. “Our father has been murdered. A woman has been kidnapped. You need to take this seriously.”
“I’ll at least take it cleanly.” Nick bit Jane’s shoulder before marching into the bathroom.
Jane pulled the sheets tighter around her neck. She stared at the closed bathroom door. She wanted to go after him, to beg him to listen to Andrew, but she had always lacked the ability to tell Nick that he was wrong about anything.
Andrew said, “Jane—”
She motioned for him to turn around so she could get dressed.
He obliged, saying, “Mother was asking for you.”
Jane rolled on a pair of pantyhose. The waist felt tight when she stood. “Was that Ellis-Anne you were on the phone with this morning?”
Andrew did not answer. The subject of his ex-girlfriend was somehow off limits now.
Still, she tried, “You were together for two years. She’s just—”
“Jane,” Andrew repeated, his voice low. He’d been trying to talk to her about Martin since they got home, but Jane was too afraid that speaking to him would open something inside of her that could not be closed.
She told him, “You should go to the doctor.” Her fingers fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. She yanked a pair of slacks off the hanger.
“I feel—” His head slowly moved from side to side. “I feel like something is missing inside of me. Like an organ has been taken away. Is that strange?”
Jane tried to zip up the side of her slacks. Her fingers felt clumsy. She had to wipe the sweat off her hands. The pants were tight. Everything was tight because she was pregnant and they had killed their father and they were probably going to kill more people by the time this was over.
“Andy, I can’t—” her words were cut off by a sob.
I can’t talk to you. I can’t listen to you. I can’t be around you because you’re going to say what I’ve been thinking and it will end up tearing us to shreds.
How had Laura Juneau done it?
Not the physical act—Jane had been there, she had witnessed every single detail of the actual murder and suicide—but how had Laura flipped that switch inside of herself that turned her into a cold-blooded killer? How could the kind, interesting woman whom Jane had smoked with in the conference center bar be the same woman who had taken a gun from her purse and murdered a man, then herself?
Jane kept coming back to the expression of absolute serenity on Laura Juneau’s face. It was the slight smile on the woman’s lips that had given her away. Clearly, Laura had been totally at peace with her actions. There was no hesitation. Not a moment of second thought or doubt. When Laura’s hand had reached into her purse to find the revolver, she might as well have been looking for a pack of chewing gum.
“Jinx?” Andrew had turned back around. There were tears in his eyes, which made Jane cry even harder. “Let me help with this.”
She watched him tug up the zipper on the side of her slacks. His breath had a sickly smell. His skin looked clammy. She said, “You’ve lost weight.”
“Here it is.” He playfully pinched the new roll of fat ringing her waist. “Nick said we’ll get through this, right? And Nick’s always right, isn’t he?”
They smiled, but neither one of them laughed out loud, because they didn’t know whether or not Nick was listening on the other side of the door.
“We should try to pull ourselves together.” Jane found some tissue. She handed it to Andrew, then took some for herself. They both blew their noses. Andrew coughed. The rattle in his chest was like marbles clicking together.
She put her hand to his forehead. “You need to go to the doctor.”
He shrugged, asking, “When?”
The bathroom door opened. Nick came out, naked, toweling his hair dry. “What’d I miss?”
Andrew offered, “I’ll go downstairs before Jasper comes looking for us.”
“You go, too,” Nick told Jane. “Wear the boots. They’re more intimidating.”