Lisa Gardner - The Neighbor

All good plans, however, had at least one central flaw. In this case, the family computer contained enough damning evidence to send him to prison for twenty to life. Sure, he employed a decent scrubber software, but any web visit generated far more temp files than one scrubber could cover. Three, four days tops, he decided. Then the forensic specialists would realize that something was wrong with the computer they had seized, and the police would return in earnest.

Assuming they hadn’t already discovered Sandy’s body and were even now standing on his front porch, waiting to arrest him.

Jason got out of bed, too keyed up to return to sleep. His ribs protested when he moved. He couldn’t see out of his left eye. His injuries didn’t matter to him, however. Nothing mattered, except one thing.

He needed to make sure Ree was still sleeping safely in her room, a tiny, curl-topped form with a bright orange cat at her feet.

He padded quietly down the hall, senses alert. The house smelled the same, felt the same. He cracked open the door to Ree’s room, and discovered his daughter lying straight as an arrow in her bed, hands clutching the top of her comforter, big brown eyes staring up at him. She was awake, and, he realized belatedly, she had been crying. Damp lines of moisture smeared her cheeks.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly, coming into the room. “You all right?”

Mr. Smith looked up at him, yawned, stretched out one long orange paw. Ree just stared at him.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed, where he could brush tangles of brown hair off her damp forehead.

“I want Mommy,” she said in a small voice.

“I know.”

“She’s supposed to come home to me.”

“I know.”

“Why doesn’t she come home, Daddy? Why doesn’t she?”

He didn’t have an answer. So he crawled in bed beside his daughter and pulled her into his arms. He smoothed her hair while she cried against his shoulder. He memorized the smell of her Johnson & Johnson skin, the feel of her head pressed against his shoulder, the sound of her tired little sobs.

Ree cried until she could cry no more. Then she spread her hand on top of his, aligning each of her short stubby fingers against his own larger, longer digits.

“We will get through this,” Jason whispered to his daughter.

Slowly, she nodded against his shoulder.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

Another short nod.

“I love you, Ree.”

Breakfast turned out to be more complicated than he’d planned. Eggs were gone. Same with the loaf of bread, the majority of fresh fruit. Milk was low, but he thought he could eke out two bowls of cereal. The Cheerios box was suspiciously light, so he went with Rice Crispies. Ree liked the talking cereal and he always made a big show of deciphering what the crackling crisps said:

“What, you want me to buy my daughter a pony? Oh no, you want me to buy myself a Corvette. Ooooh, that makes much more sense.”

Jason got Ree to smile, then got her to giggle, and felt both of them relax.

He finished his bowl of cereal. Ree ate half of hers, then began creating floating patterns in the milk with the remaining rice puffs. It kept her amused and gave him time to think.

His body hurt. When he sat, when he walked, when he stood up. He wondered how the other guys looked. Then again, they’d jumped him from behind-he’d never seen them coming-so chances were, they looked pretty good.

He was getting sloppy in his old age, he decided. First getting taken out by a thirteen-year-old kid, then this. Hell, with these kinds of fighting skills, he wasn’t gonna last a week in prison. A cheerful thought for the day.

“Daddy, what happened to your face?” Ree asked, as he pushed away from the countertop, standing up to clear dishes.

“I fell down.”

“Ow, Daddy.”

“No kidding.” He set the dishes in the sink, then opened the refrigerator to eye their lunch options. No milk, leaving them with a six-pack of Sandy’s prized Dr Pepper, four light yogurts, and some wilted lettuce. Second cheerful thought of the day Just because you were public enemy number one didn’t mean you got out of grocery shopping. If they planned on eating again today, they were going to have to hit the store.

He wondered if he should wear a bandana over his face. Or wear a T-shirt with the word “Innocent” scrawled on the front, and the word “Guilty” scrawled on the back. That could be fun.

“Hey, Ree,” he asked casually, closing the refrigerator and eyeing his daughter. “What do you say to some quality time at the grocery store?”

Ree brightened immediately. She loved grocery shopping. It was an official Daddy-daughter chore, done at least one afternoon a week while they waited for Sandy to come home. He would strive to stick with the official wife-prepared grocery list. Ree would work to convince him to stray for such urgent purchases as Barbie Island Princess Pop-Tarts, or maple frosted doughnuts.

He generally shaved for the outing, while Ree preferred donning a full ball gown and a rhinestone tiara. There was no point in touring twenty aisles of food if you couldn’t make a production out of it.

This morning, she bolted upstairs to brush her teeth, then returned to the kitchen wearing a blue-flowered dress with rainbow fairy wings and pink sequined shoes. She handed him some pink gauzy hair thing, and requested a ponytail. He did his best.

Jason wrote the grocery list, then made an attempt at general hygiene. Shaving his beard revealed an ugly bruise. Combing back his hair emphasized the shiner on his eye. No doubt about it, he looked like hell. Or more precisely, like an ax murderer. Third cheerful thought for the day.

He gave up on grooming and returned downstairs, where Ree was waiting eagerly by the front door, yellow daffodil purse in hand.

“You remember the reporters?” he asked her. “The people with cameras and microphones gathered across the street?”

Ree nodded solemnly.

“Well, they’re still there, honey. And when we open that door, they’re probably going to start shouting a ton of questions and taking pictures. They’re just trying to do their job, okay? They’re gonna be all crazy-like. And you and I are going to calmly walk to our car, and drive to the grocery store. Okay?”

“It’s okay, Daddy. I saw them when I went upstairs. That’s why I put on my fairy wings. So if they yell too much, I can fly right over them.”

“You are a very smart girl,” he told her, and then, because there was no time like the present, he opened the front door.

The screaming started with the first glimpse of his shoe.

“Jason, Jason, any news of Sandy?”

“Will you be talking to the police today?”

“When can we expect a formal briefing?”

He ushered Ree out, keeping her close to his side as he closed the door behind them, locking it. His hands were shaking. He tried to keep his movements slow and measured. No rush, no guilty sprints. Grieving husband, taking his little girl to purchase badly needed milk and bread.

“Will you be assisting with the search efforts, Jason? How many volunteers have turned out to find Sandy?”

“Love your wings, honey! Are you an angel?”

That comment caught his attention, made him look up sharply. He was resigned to them shouting at him, but he didn’t want the pack of vultures going after Ree.

“Daddy?” his daughter whispered beside him, and he looked down to see the anxiety scribbled across her face.

“We’re going to the car, we’re driving to the grocery store,” he repeated levelly “We’re okay, Ree. They’re the ones behaving badly, not us.”

She took his hand, keeping her body pressed tightly against his legs as they walked down the front steps, made their way across the lawn, headed toward the car parked on the driveway. He counted six vans today, up from four yesterday. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the station call letters. He’d have to check it out later, see if they’d broken onto the national stage.