“Marianne Gillespie was staying at the Travelodge in Livingston. She was supposed to check out this morning. We also have a hotel staff member who saw Marianne take a man back to her room.”
“When?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was four, five days ago, around the time she first checked in.”
Muse nodded. “This is huge.”
Cope kept his eyes on the monitor. “Maybe we should hold a news conference. Blow up the image of that woman in the surveillance photo. See if anyone can identify her.”
“Maybe. I hate to open it up to the public if we don’t have to.”
Cope kept studying the husband on the TV monitor. Muse wondered what he was thinking. Cope had known so much damn tragedy, including the death of his first wife. Muse glanced about the office. There were five new iPods, still in the boxes, sitting on the table. “What’s this?” she asked.
“iPods.”
“I know that. I mean, what are they for?”
Cope’s gaze never left Cordova’s. “I’m almost hoping he did it.”
“Cordova? He didn’t.”
“I know. You can almost feel the hurt coming off him.”
Silence.
“The iPods are for the bridesmaids,” Cope said.
“Sweet.”
“Maybe I should talk to him.”
“Cordova?”
Cope nodded.
“That might help,” she said.
“Lucy loves sad songs,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Though a bridesmaid, Muse hadn’t known Lucy all that long or, in many ways, all that well. She nodded anyway, but Cope was still staring at the monitor.
“Every month I make her a new CD. It’s corny, I know. But she loves it. So every month I scour for the absolute saddest songs I can find. Total heartbreakers. Like this month-I have ‘Congratulations’ by Blue October, and ‘Seed’ by Angie Aparo.”
“I never heard of either of those.”
He smiled. “Oh, you will. That’s the gift. You’re getting all those playlists preloaded into the iPod.”
“Great idea,” she said. Muse felt the stab. Cope made CDs for the woman he loved. How lucky was she?
“I used to wonder why Lucy liked those songs so much. You know what I mean? She sits in the dark and listens and cries. Music does that to her. I didn’t get it. And like last month? I had this song from Missy Higgins. Do you know her?”
“No.”
“She’s great. Her music is a total killer. This one song she talks about an ex-love and how she can’t stand the thought of another hand upon him, even though she knows she should.”
“Sad.”
“Exactly. And Lucy is happy now, right? I mean, we are so good. We finally found each other, and we’re getting married. So why does she still listen to the heartbreakers?”
“You’re asking me?”
“No, Muse, I’m explaining something to you. I didn’t understand for a long time. But I do now. The sad songs are a safe hurt. It’s a diversion. It’s controlled. And maybe it helps you imagine that real pain will be like that. But it’s not. Lucy knows that, of course. You can’t prepare for real pain. You just have to let it rip you apart.”
His phone buzzed. Cope finally pulled away his gaze and answered the phone. “Copeland,” he said. Then he looked up at Muse. “They found Marianne Gillespie’s next of kin. You better go.”
30
AS soon as the two girls were alone in the bedroom, Yasmin started crying.
“What’s wrong?” Jill asked.
Yasmin pointed at her computer and sat. “People are so horrible.”
“What happened?’
“I’ll show you. It’s so mean.”
Jill pulled the chair and sat next to her friend. She bit down on a fingernail.
“Yasmin?”
“What?”
“I’m worried about my brother. And something happened to my dad too. That’s why Mom dropped me back off here.”
“Did you ask your mom about it?”
“She won’t tell me.”
Yasmin wiped her tears, still typing. “They always want to protect us, don’t they?”
Jill wondered if Yasmin was being sarcastic or serious or maybe a little of both. Yasmin’s eyes were back on the monitor. She pointed.
“Wait, here it is. Take a look.”
It was a MySpace page entitled
But the worst part was the default picture-a school photograph of Yasmin with a beard drawn over the face.
Jill whispered, “I can’t believe it.”
Yasmin started crying again.
“How did you find this?”
“Marie Alexandra, that bitch, sent me the link. She copied in half the class.”
“Who made it up?”
“I don’t know. I bet she did. She sent it like she was all concerned but I could almost hear her giggling, you know?”
“And she copied other people in?”
“Yes. Heidi and Annie and…”
Jill shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
Jill said nothing.
Yasmin’s face turned red. “Someone has to pay for this.”
Jill looked at her friend. Yasmin used to be so gentle. She used to love to play the piano and dance and laugh at dumb movies. Now all Jill could see was the rage. It scared her. So much had gone wrong in the past few days. Her brother had run away, her father was in some kind of trouble, and now Yasmin was angrier than ever.
“Girls?”
It was Mr. Novak calling from downstairs. Yasmin wiped the tears off her face. She opened the door and called out, “Yes, Daddy?”
“I made some popcorn.”
“We’ll be down in a minute.”
“Beth and I were thinking about taking you guys to the mall. We can see a movie or maybe you two can play at the arcade. What do you think?”
“We’ll be down in a second.”
Yasmin closed the door again.
“My dad needs to get out of the house. He’s been freaking.”
“Why?”
“The weirdest thing happened. Mr. Lewiston’s wife showed up.”
“At your house? No way.”
Yasmin nodded, her eyes widened. “I mean, I guess it was her. I’ve never seen her, but she was driving his crappy car.”
“So what happened?”
“They started arguing.”
“Oh my God.”
“I couldn’t hear. But she looked really pissed.”
From downstairs: “Popcorn’s ready!”
The two girls came downstairs. Guy Novak was waiting for them. His smile was strained. “IMAX has the new Spider-Man movie,” he said.
