“What do you think happened?”
I drop my fork, the clatter of metal against glass making Roscoe jump from beneath the table, jolting my chair. I look up at Waylon, at his large eyes staring straight into mine.
“If you had to guess,” he adds.
“I don’t know.” I exhale, trying to steady my hands. They’re shaking, for some reason. A gentle tremor. Maybe it’s the talk of Allison, the unresolved guilt I’ve always felt over her death. Or maybe I’m just hungry; too much caffeine on too empty a stomach. “I guess, if Ihadto make an assumption, I would say accidental.”
I don’t really know if I believe that, but for some reason, it makes me feel better.
“What about Ben?”
“You know, he never actually told me what he thinks,” I say, realizing it for the first time. “We never talked about her much, and of course, I never wanted to ask. But he was torn up about it, obviously.”
“Huh,” Waylon says, looking back down at his plate. I glance up at him, notice the way he’s picking at his food, like he’s trying to dissect it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to bring it up,” I say. “Before you hear it from the neighbors. Or Detective Dozier.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, thanks. That’s good to know.”
“But there wasn’t any foul play suspected or anything like that. I want you to know that, too. It was an open-and-shut case.”
“It’s just…” He stops, seems to consider whether or not he should keep going, finish his thought. Finally, he spits it out. “Doesn’t any part of you think that her death was very… convenient?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, although I know what he means. I just want to hear him say it.
“Just, you know. It looks bad. He was having an affair—”
“It wasn’t an affair.”
“There was another woman. Then his wife dies under suspicious circumstances…”
“It wasn’t suspicious. It was an overdose.”
“… and now hissondisappears under suspicious circumstances, and you two are no longer together…”
“Okay,” I say, placing my fork down with measured control. “Look, I understand it’s your job to ask questions, I do. But Allisonhad an overdose. It happens. And Ben and I separated because our world was ripped apart, okay? We were happy before Mason was taken from us. We werefine.”
I stare at Waylon, daring him to keep pushing it. I can see his lower lip quiver—the threat of retaliation, another question that I can’t answer—but instead, he clenches his jaw, like he has to physically restrain himself from speaking.
“It’s hard for a couple to survive something like this,” I continue, regurgitating the words from Dr. Harris. Like because he said them, it makes it fact. “It’s hard for apersonto survive something like this.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right.”
We eat in silence, the clanking of silverware somehow amplifying the awkward stillness that has settled over the house.
“Tell me something about Mason,” Waylon says at last, changing the subject. It seems intentional, like he wants to pivot away from this sore subject and toward something better, lighter. “Something personal.”
I look down at the table, remembering just yesterday all the equipment that sat here blinking between us. It had reminded me of those first recorded interviews at the police station, the antiquated cassette player with spinning wheels like eyes. Of Detective Dozier on the other side of it, and the way he’d pace, trying to unnerve me.
“Let’s see,” I say, picking up my glass, twisting the stem between my fingers. “He loves dinosaurs. He’s obsessed with them, really. We have this one book—”
“Isabelle,” Waylon interrupts, leaning forward in his chair. “Something personal.”
I bite my tongue, feeling my heart pound in my chest. I’m so used to calculating my statements, trying so hard to please whoever is on the receiving end of them—saying only the right things, thegoodthings—and how, still, it never seems to matter. Waylon appears to see through that, though. He somehow knows when I’m not being entirely truthful. When I have something more to say.
I look up at him again, at the kindness in his eyes, and wonder if this time really could be different.
“Honestly?” I say at last. “He was tough.” The admission feels like a sudden exhale after holding your breath for far too long.