“You warned me that he’d let me down, Mom. You were right. He hasn’t answered any of my texts. He just left.”

“I know,” I say. “Believe me, honey. I know. But we’re going to be okay. I don’t want you to worry about anything. I’ll take care of us.”

“I know you will. You always have.”

“We will get through this.”

He nods and draws in a long, deep breath. “It’s going to suck.”

“Yeah. A lot,” I tell him, but there is a lightness in the house that hasn’t been here in, if I’m going to be truthful with myself, years.

After dinner, he heads upstairs to sequester himself in his room again. I don’t bother telling him not to read the forums. I finish cleaning up the kitchen. I hop on to my laptop and log in to my Connex account. My page fills with updates from people I never speak to in real life. On a whim, I search for Beth’s name and find her profile, but it hasn’t been updated in weeks. She posted a lot of selfies with duck lips, pictures of her with her daughters, hardly any mention, ever, of her husband. Lisa’s profile has a lot going on, memes and recipes and photos of her and her kids. Her life, according to social media, is happy, fulfilled, and totally without a care.

Why does everyone lie so much?

I check out the forums Eli had been reading, the ones talking about the Playground Killer. Some of them call him the Candyman because he allegedly lures the kids with the promise of candy that turns out to be drugs, and when they pass out he …

I don’t want to read any more of the details.

I close the lid of my laptop and sit back in my chair. I’m nauseated. Detective Anderson didn’t tell me not to try to text or call Ken, she only said that if he got in touch with me, I should let her know. I don’t know if they’re able to track Eli’s or my cell phones without our permission, but she didn’t ask for it. It doesn’t really matter. I’m not going to try to get in touch with him, and if he tries to contact me, I’m not going to protect him.

Ken is gone, and I no longer have to hide anything from him or anyone else.

CHAPTER
37

THE WOMAN ON the phone sounds tired and irritated. “You really should have done this years ago. Didn’t you get the literature they sent out when the project started? Everyone was supposed to be fully informed about the costs and options.”

“It was my parents’ house. I don’t know if they were ever told about it.” The lie slips easily out of my mouth. My parents haven’t been responsible for the house for almost two decades.

“Well, now you can download it from the site. There’s a couple of forms to fill out for the authorization for the work, your application for the grant to cover the cost, all of that. Do you need the link?”