The Neighbor

“Sounds like who you are here,” D.D. said dryly. “Don’t need to log on to the web for that.”

“Which would be exactly why I didn’t tell Sandra. Are you kidding? She works all day, then watches Ree every evening while I cover local events for Boston Daily. Last thing she wants to hear is that her husband returns home at night to mess around with a computer game. Trust me, not the kind of spousal conversation that’s gonna go over well.”

“So, you felt a need to keep it secret,” D.D. stated.

“I didn’t mention it,” Jason hedged.

“Oh yeah? So secret you purged the browser history every time you went online?”

Damn, Ethan and the computer guy had taught Sandra well. “I do that as a reporter,” Jason answered smoothly. It occurred to him that he lied just as easily as Maxwell Black. Is that why Sandra had married him? Because he reminded her of her father?

“Excuse me?”

“I purge the browser history to protect my sources,” Jason said again. “It’s something I learned in journalism school, class on ethics in the computer age. In theory, I’m supposed to work only on my laptop, but the family desktop is more comfortable. So I have a tendency to do my online research there, then transfer over the information. ’Course, my family computer isn’t protected from search and seizure”-he gave them a look-“so I purge the history files as standard operating protocol.”

“You’re lying.” D.D. was scowling, looking deeply frustrated and about five seconds away from hitting something. Probably him.

He shrugged, as if to say there was nothing else he could do for her.

“What journalism school?” she asked abruptly.

“What school?”

“Where’d you take this ethics class?” She made “ethics” sound like a dirty word.

“Oh, that was years ago. Online course.”

“Give me the name,” she pressed. “Even online colleges keep records.”

“I’ll look it up for you.”

She was already shaking her head. “There was no course. Or maybe there was once, but you weren’t Jason Jones back then, were you? From what we can tell, the Jones name only reaches back about five years. Who were you before then? Smith? Brown? And tell me, when you get a new name, does the cat get one, too?”

“Don’t know,” Jason said. “Cat’s only three years old.”

“You’re lying to us, Jason.” D.D. was out of the chair, walking closer, as if proximity would rattle him, make him blurt out answers he didn’t have. “Avatar, my ass. Only second life you have is right here and now. You’re running away from something. Someone. And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to cover your tracks, haven’t you? But Sandra started to figure it out. Something tipped her off. So she brought in Ethan, and Ethan brought in the big guns. Suddenly, you have the state police very interested in your online activities. How badly did that frighten you, Jason? What the hell is so terrible, it’s worth killing your wife and unborn child?”

“Is she really pregnant?” Jason whispered. He didn’t mean to ask that. But he waited for the answer anyway, because he wanted to hear it again. Wanted to feel it again. It was an exquisite pain, like someone filleting his skin with a boning knife.

“You really didn’t know?”

“How long? I mean, she seemed a little under the weather. I thought she had the flu… She never said anything.”

D.D. seemed to be contemplating him. “Can’t tell how long from a pregnancy test, Jason. Though you can be sure we’ll be DNA testing it. I’m curious if you’re the actual father.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because for the first time, he was connecting another dot. “The computer expert-” he began.

D.D. looked at him.

“-did he come to the school?”

“That’s what he says.”

“During school hours?”

“Nah, Thursday night basketball games.”

And he could tell from the look in D.D.’s eye, she was thinking the very same thing-all along, he’d argued Sandra was too busy with Ree to have a lover. But Sandra had found a way to have a rendezvous after all. Thursday nights. Every Thursday night. His wife had gone to the school and met with another man.

“What’s his name?” Jason’s voice ticked up a notch. Another weakness he was helpless to call back.

D.D. shook her head.

Then, out of nowhere, his next random thought for the day “What kind of car does the computer expert drive? Is it state-issued?”

“Tell me your name, Jason Jones. Your real name.”

“Have you spoken with Aidan Brewster? Asked him what he saw Wednesday night? You need to talk to him about the car. Ask him for more details about the car.”

“Tell us what you were doing on the computer, Jason. Tell us what you’re so desperate to hide.”

“I’m not!” he insisted, feeling anxious now, feeling trapped and frantic. He was down to a matter of days, maybe even hours. They needed to listen, they needed to consider. His daughter was at stake. “Look, according to you, a state computer expert has been working with Sandra to examine the family hard drive. Obviously, he didn’t find anything, or you wouldn’t be here pestering me. Ergo, I don’t have anything to hide.”

“What happened to your secret life as an avatar?”

“It’s the state computer guy,” he tried again. “You need to look at the state computer guy. Maybe his relationship with Sandra was more than professional. Maybe he wanted her, and he’s the one who grew jealous when she wouldn’t leave Ree.”

“Don’t you mean when she wouldn’t leave you?”

“I didn’t harm my wife! I wouldn’t take Ree’s mother from her. But this state guy, what would he care? Or Sandra’s father, Maxwell Black. Did you know he just won an ex parte motion to have visitation with Ree? Basically, Max has come all the way up here not to assist with the search efforts for his own daughter, but to begin a custody battle for his granddaughter. He couldn’t do that if Sandra was around. He wouldn’t have grounds. But with Sandy missing, with me as the primary suspect… Don’t you think that’s pretty damn convenient for him? As in maybe too convenient to be purely coincidence?”

D.D. just stared at him. “This is your defense? The one-armed man did it? I thought you had your sights on the local pervert.”

“I’m not sure Sandra knew him.”

“I see. So her own father and the computer expert she enlisted to investigate your online activities make much more sense.”

“And don’t forget Ethan Hastings.” He knew he was digging a hole, but couldn’t seem to help himself. “Thirteen-year-old boys have done worse.”

“Oh really? So which is it, Jason? Aidan Brewster, Ethan Hastings, Wayne Reynolds, Maxwell Black? Or maybe the Tooth Fairy’s guilty.”

“Wayne Reynolds?” he repeated.

D.D. flushed, realizing too late that she’d given away the state computer technician. She clipped out, “You’re lying to us, Jason. You’re lying about your identity, you’re lying about your computer activities, you’re lying about your whole damn life. Then you turn around and claim to love your wife and only want her back. Well, if you really love the woman so badly, start leveling with us. Tell us what’s going on here, Jason. Tell us what the hell happened with your wife.”

Jason gave the only answer he could. “Honestly, Sergeant, I have no idea.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It began with a single meeting at the basketball game. Ethan had an uncle who was a certified