Savage Lane (27 page)

O
WEN WOKE
up, happy and hopeful, still fantasizing about Karen. He loved that it was so quiet and dark in the room, the thick curtains blocking the light, because the darkness made his fantasies more intense which made him feel closer to Karen, made his future life with her seem more real. He didn’t want his fantasies to ever stop—it was the opposite, he wanted to fuckin’
live
them—but he turned on the TV, just to see if anything was going on with Deb. He didn’t expect there to be—not yet anyway. The police were probably seriously looking for her by now, but he doubted a woman who’d been missing—what, a little over a day?—would be a big news story. He flipped around, past sports and sitcoms and talk show shit, and stopped on a news station.

He was watching, bored, about some new war breaking out in the Middle East, and then there was suddenly a picture of Deb on TV. Owen was surprised and said out loud, “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

It was so weird seeing Deb on TV he seriously thought he was dreaming. He blinked hard a couple times and now there was a whole news story about Deb—this definitely wasn’t a dream. A reporter was holding a mike, talking in front of the Bedford Hills Police Station, and then there was a shot of Deb Berman’s house. It was hard to focus, so many thoughts were hitting Owen at once, but he heard the reporter say that the police had found Deb’s car in the John Jay High parking lot and that the police already had a “person of interest” in the case. A person of interest already? How was that possible? Owen’s heart was thumping like there was a gerbil trapped in his chest. How could the cops have found out about him already? Did he leave something at the parking lot, some CSI shit? Or did somebody see him, somebody in that other car that showed up?

But, wait, now a reporter, a blonde, was saying something about a woman Deborah Berman was arguing with at the Oak Ridge Country Club earlier in the day on Saturday. Then they showed some footage of Deb and Karen fighting, taken on somebody’s phone. It was so funny, Owen had to laugh. Was Karen really the person of interest?

The news report ended, sports came on, and Owen was still laughing. It made sense that the cops thought Karen did it. Everybody at the club always saw Karen and Mark hanging out together, and were talking about them behind their backs. One time Owen heard guys talking in the men’s room about how Karen and Mark were screwing. Even Deb was suspicious, telling Owen a couple of times how she didn’t like how Karen was flirting all the time with her husband. Obviously the cops thought Karen was jealous so she went out and killed Deb.

Owen continued laughing for a long time, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. Man, this couldn’t be working out any better for him. If the cops thought Karen did it that meant they wouldn’t think anyone else did. It also meant that Karen would be upset, feeling alone and needy, which meant she’d want a man to come along and comfort her. Not just any man, though—a
young
handsome man, somebody pure and innocent who was—wait for it—
caring
, and really
got her
in a way no older man could, and Owen knew that he was that man. He was actually the only man in the world who could help her now, give her what she needed. Was this the luckiest break or what? He’d thought it would take weeks, or months, to get Karen to love him the way Deb had, but now it would only take a few days or, fuck, a few hours. Karen was going to be desperate, she’d need support, and he’d be there, ready to give her everything she needed.

Oh, yeah baby, this was gonna be perfect.

K
AREN WAS
happiest in a routine. On days when her life went according to a predictable schedule—waking up, going for a run, doing yoga, getting the kids off to school, going to work, coming home, making the kids dinner, helping them with their homework, then getting them to bed and unwinding reading or watching TV, she felt the most at peace. Since her divorce, life had become more unpredictable, with many new responsibilities and concerns, and it had become more challenging to establish a routine, but she strove to find regularity in her life and cherished the times when she did.

So when she woke up, she decided that to counter all of the recent chaos in her life, she would try to make today, the beginning of a new work week, as simple and normal as possible. Her itching had subsided and she was apparently crab-free so, hallelujah, she already had one thing to be grateful for. After a nice Mark-less run around the beautiful misty lake, she did some light yoga, and then she made sure that Elana and Matthew were up. In the kitchen she made the kids’ lunches and fixed her usual morning cup of green tea. The first sip felt warm and relaxing in her throat and she felt energetic and optimistic and ready to take on the day.

Then she heard voices. Not in her head—yes, she’d been stressed lately but, no, she wasn’t totally whacko—there were voices, real voices, definitely coming from the direction of her living room. She figured it was the TV—was Matthew watching Pokémon when he was supposed to be getting ready for school? She went toward the living room, and said, “Matthew, what’re you…” and then realized the voices were actually coming from outside.

Outside
? That was weird. This was the suburbs; there were never a lot of people outside, unless some sort of party was going on. But how could there be a party at around eight o’clock on a Monday morning? Then she peeked past the window shade and saw all the reporters and news trucks and she was even more confused.
What the hell
? She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with
her
, but it had to be something major.

Fearing that someone had gotten hurt, God forbid a child, she opened the front door. Several reporters rushed toward her, shouting questions, and she was so confused she couldn’t absorb or make sense of anything they were saying. Finally she heard something she understood: “Deborah Berman.”
Deb
? This was seriously about
her
? Though Karen still couldn’t process what any of this was about, hearing that name again irritated, making her think,
Will this ever stop
?
Are the Bermans going to make my life hell forever
?

“Deb Berman?” she asked. “What about Deb Berman?”

“You didn’t hear?” a reporter, a young guy with a beard, asked.

“Hear what?”

“She’s missing.”

Karen absorbed this, but she still didn’t get it, said, “Missing? What do you mean,
missing
?”

A female reporter with short dark hair and thick glasses explained that Deb’s car had been discovered in the parking lot at John Jay High School. Karen remembered how crazed, how irrational, Deb had been behaving yesterday at the country club and how Mark had said they were divorcing. Karen should have been upset, but her naturally empathetic nature took over and she wasn’t angry with Deb at all anymore—she was just worried.

“Oh my God,” Karen said, thinking about Mark and the kids. Despite how inappropriate he’d been lately, he was still a friend, and he had to be worried sick right now. She had an urge to call him, give him her support.

But now the reporter with the beard was asking, “Can you tell us about the fight you had with Deborah on Saturday?”

This was strange; why were they asking her about
that
?

“I don’t understand,” Karen said.

“We understand she attacked you,” the woman with the thick glasses said.

Oh, okay, Karen got it now—well, thought she got it. Maybe they were trying to determine if Deb was unstable on Saturday or unstable in general.

“Her behavior was very odd, yes,” Karen said. “I don’t know what she was upset about exactly, but I was concerned about her when I left. I really hope she’s okay.”

“Did you have another argument with her after you left the club?” an older male reporter who hadn’t said anything yet asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Karen said. “Why do you…” She stopped herself. She didn’t get why they kept harping on this, but she feared that it wasn’t appropriate to be answering these questions about Deb at all. After all, the most important thing right now was that Deb was safe and okay, not whether or not she was stable. So Karen added quickly, “I have to go, I’m sorry, thank you,” and went inside and shut the door.

Well, so much for a routine, relaxing morning. Karen was aware of how tight and stressed out her whole body was. She thought she’d gotten through the worst of it and now something else had come along to knock her down.

She needed to relax, do more yoga, but she was running late now and was too scattered to focus. Somehow, within a few minutes, she showered and dressed and got the kids out the door. The reporters were still outside and had more questions about Deb and the incident at the club on Saturday. What was up with this? Why wouldn’t they let up? The kids wanted to know what was going on, but Karen wanted to be careful; she didn’t want to frighten them and make them think something bad had happened, but she didn’t want to lie to them either.

In the car, turning off Savage Lane, Karen said, “The police are looking for Deb, but she’s going to be fine. She’s probably just away, staying with a friend or something.”

“Why would the police be looking for her if she’s at a friend’s?” Elana asked.

“Because that’s what the police do,” Karen said. “They have to look for her and ask questions, even when nothing’s wrong.”

“How come the people were asking you about a fight you had with her?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah,” Elana said. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Karen said, regretting she’d started this conversation. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Deb is going to be fine.”

“Why are you acting so weird?” Elana asked. “Why won’t you tell us what’s going on?”

Glaring at Elana in the rearview, right at her daughter’s eyes, Karen didn’t say anything but got the message across.

No one said anything for the next maybe ten minutes.

At Elana’s school, Karen pulled over where she usually pulled over, down the street from the school because Elana didn’t want to be seen exiting a car that had her mom and brother in it, as if she wanted her friends to believe that she was a homeless orphan and had been magically teleported to school.

“Have a nice day,” Karen said.

Elana mumbled something that may have been, “Thanks,” as she let the door slam.

Next, Karen dropped Matthew at his school. Matthew was young enough to not be snotty and said, “Goodbye” and “I love you” to Karen before he went into the building.

Finally on her way to work, Karen was exhausted, the way she usually felt at the end of the workday, not the beginning. She still couldn’t figure out why the reporters had kept asking her about the fight with Deb. Had Deb said something to Mark about it? Was there something Karen didn’t know? She knew they couldn’t have been suggesting that Karen had something to do with Deb’s disappearance. That couldn’t be it; that would be absolutely insane.

Karen put on the speakerphone and said “Mark,” and the call connected.

Mark picked up and in an excited tone said, “Hey, how are you?”

Shit, Karen had assumed that Mark would be in a worried, grieving state, but he still had that
tone
, as if he thought he was in love with her. What would it take for him to get past his obsession with her?

Mark’s behavior was annoying and pathetic but, focusing on the reason she’d called, she said, “I heard the news. I’m so sorry, but I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

“The police aren’t sure,” Mark said. “They seem seriously concerned.”

“Look, you have to stay positive right now. Just think good, positive thoughts.”

“I saw the reporters near your house,” Mark said. “Did they ask you about Saturday at the country club?”

“Yes, and I don’t understand why,” Karen said. “The focus should be on finding Deb, not about some stupid thing that didn’t mean anything.”

“I just want you to know.” Mark sounded serious, somber. “I don’t believe what they’re saying.”

“Saying?” Karen asked. “Saying about what?”

“About you,” Mark said. “I mean, I know Deb was upset, and I got you in the middle of our bullshit, and I’m sorry for that, but I know you’d never do anything to hurt Deb.”