“I didn’t mean today. I just meant at some point.”
“What about tomorrow?” Cole asks, tugging at my jacket sleeve.
“Aww, sorry, sweetie.” Tanya bends down so she can look Cole in the eye. “This week is super busy for Oliver.”
“Of course,” I say, but Tanya has already turned her back on us, recompleting the circle.
Cole frowns. “Ask her about next week,” he says.
With some effort, I steer him away from the group, heartbroken for him. My own rejection is hard enough, but it’s far more painful to witness Cole on the receiving end. Before I am forced to make up an excuse as to why I won’t be asking Oliver’s mom about next week, or any week for that matter, Ava comes running up. She takes Cole by the hand, and I watch the two run down the hill until they are safely within the flock of children.
Every other week, Cole comes home with some worksheet on bullying—how to be an upstander instead of a bystander, for example. As if cruelty is some sort of isolated childhood affliction, a gauntlet you must run through on your way to adolescence, that disappears once you hit twenty-one.
I turn and trudge back up the hill, keeping my head down to avoid making eye contact with any of the parents. My stomach is in knots from my argument with Mark. Maybe things will be better once we meet the lawyer later today. We need to be united.
I am lost in thought when I sense someone behind me. Instinctively, my back stiffens. I glance back to see Karen Pearce, the woman I met at Daisy’s, power walking and grimacing, her blond bob stiff and unmoving.
I catch her eye and smile. No acknowledgment from her at all.
I speed up, eager to get to my car before she reaches me. I open the door and toss my bag inside.
“Excuse me.”
I jump. Karen is right behind me, panting from exertion. She wasn’t just power walking; she was chasing me.
“Can I help you?”
She steps in so close to me that I can smell the mix of pungent sweat and fruity deodorant on her.
“Hi. I didn’t want to say this in front of the other moms, but the room parents for Ms. Liu’s class have contacted me as room-parent coordinator.”
“Yes.”
“Right. So I wanted to talk to you about the Halloween class party. I wanted to tell you in person … gosh, this is so awkward.” She sighs and rolls her eyes skyward. “That they won’t be needing you to help set up after all.”
“All right. That’s fine.” I want to get out of here, but she’s not done.
“Eastbrook is a pretty tight-knit community, and Rob Avery was a dear friend to a lot of us. Some of the other moms are just not comfortable with your involvement with everything. I mean, no one’s accusing you of anything. We don’t like to gossip. But we have to think of the children.”
“I see. I won’t help plan the party. Got it.” I climb into my car, my pulse quickening. I need to get away from this woman before I do something that can’t be undone. But when I try to shut the door, she wedges her hip so that I am unable to.
“And it’s probably best for everyone if you didn’t come to the Halloween party. Like, at all.”
“For the record,” I say, “I did not make any of those posts. I’ve been hacked, and someone has created false social media accounts impersonating me. Not that you gossip.”
“Look, don’t get upset. You can still send something in with Cole if you want to help. I think we still need black-and-orange sprinkles for the cupcake-decorating station.”
“Terrific. Will do!” The words fly out of my mouth before I can even process what I am saying. She pivots back toward the playground. Just then, the whoop of a police siren sounds as two marked cars followed by a familiar sedan round the corner.
The three cars pull up in front of my house, effectively blocking me in.
Detective Lopez gets out of the sedan, a folded-up piece of paper in her pocket.
I get out of my car as well, and walk toward her, aware that Karen Pearce is watching from the edge of my peripheral vision.
“Ms. Ross.” She passes me the paper. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
29
“Can you open the door for us, please?”
I nod and walk up the walkway. I open the front door. She holds out her hand. “And we’ll need the keys to your car, too.”
“What? I need my car. I need to go somewhere today.”
“You’re not going anywhere in this car.” Detective Lopez flicks her eyes at the paper in my hand. “That warrant gives us the right to search your house, your garage, and your car.” She holds out her hand. “And your cell phone.”
I take it out. “Can I call my husband first?”
Lopez scowls. “Make it quick.”
The call goes straight to voice mail. I try his office as well, but no luck. With D.C. traffic, he may not even be in yet. “Call me back as soon as you get this,” I whisper into the phone. Before shutting it off and handing it over, I turn my back and make another call.
“Mr. Zucker?” I say into the voice mail, praying that he’s the type who checks his messages compulsively. “This is Allie Ross. We’re supposed to meet this evening. But I need your help. The police are at my house.”
“I’ve called my lawyer,” I say before giving Lopez my phone.
“That’s within your rights.” She hands the phone over to a squat, uniformed officer behind her. I watch as he jogs off with my phone, wondering what he plans to do with it.
“Don’t you have to wait for my lawyer before you do the search?” I ask.
“No, ma’am, we do not.”
“How long is all this supposed to take?”
The detective shrugs. “We’ll get your cell phone back to you within the
