Page 20 of Two Couples

“The back passenger side window was smashed.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I went for a walk. I was only gone twenty or thirty minutes. When I walked up the driveway, there was glass all over.”

“You called the police?! You shouldn’t have done that,” Keith said. “We don’t need them. It’s extremely unlikely they’ll be able to figure out who did it.”

“Is that your approach to everything?” Patrick asked. “Never call the cops because either they won’t believe you or won’t help you?”

“Pretty much.” Keith returned to studying his laptop screen. He was seated on a chair near the open back doors, catching up on email.

My hope that Patrick would notice the tenderness and attention that Emily and Keith had between them was dissolving. Maybe it was already gone, whisked away as cleanly as the body had been spirited away from beside our pool. All Patrick could think about was murder, calling the police, and showing his disdain for our feelings. Now that he’d developed a deep disrespect for Emily and Keith, he would never look at their marriage as a glittering example.

“Did anyone hear it break?” Patrick asked.

“If we had, we would have gone out there,” Emily said.

“Just checking.” Patrick left the room. A moment later I heard the front door close. I couldn’t believe he planned to sit on the front porch for an hour or two, waiting for the police. His desire to get away from us, from me, must have been intense.

“He’s destroying our enjoyment of our new home,” Emily said.

I felt a pinch of anger. Upset as I was at Patrick, I didn’t like hearing him criticized. None of this was his fault. “I don’t think Patrick’s destroying our enjoyment. It was seriously damaged the minute we looked at our pool yesterday.”

“Calling the cops is going to cause big problems,” Keith said.

“He’s only reporting the broken window.”

“You don’t know that,” Keith shot back.

“I trust him. And he’s not stupid. He knows as well as we do that reporting it now would make us all look even more suspect, if not crazy.”

“I don’t trust him,” Emily said. “He’s so wound up about this.”

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right. You have to respect that, even if we disagree with him.” I hated being in the middle of our friends and my husband, constantly trying to explain the behavior of others. Patrick saw it as taking sides against him. But I couldn’t lose them! They were our best friends. And Emily was such a permanent part of my life, I would feel like I’d lost an arm if she was gone.

“Cops have a way of getting information you didn’t plan to give them,” Emily said. “The cop might ask why Patrick thinks the car was vandalized. Way out here? Someone drove down that narrow road just to smash your car window?”

“I don’t think he’ll say anything,” I said.

“But you don’t know. You should go out there with him.”

“Maybe. When they get here.”

“You won’t know if they’re here. They won’t come with sirens.” She laughed. “Patrick needs a chaperone.”

“He won’t like it if he thinks I’m trying to censor him.”

Emily stood. “I’m going to keep an eye on things from the kitchen.” She left the room. A minute later I heard her in the kitchen, pulling bowls out of the cabinet, opening the fridge. This was followed by the sound of water running, then a knife hitting a cutting board as she presumably chopped vegetables.

I went into the kitchen. “Can I help you with anything?”

“You can watch over your husband. But I don’t need help making a salsa for the tortilla chips.”

“We bought salsa.”

“Homemade is better. You just have to put forth a little effort.” She continued chopping, moving the knife with expert ease through the onion.

Her comment felt like a dig, but I tried to ignore the hurt. As if our heads were drawn by a single cord, we both turned toward the picture window overlooking the front porch. Patrick stood at the railing, his back straight, his head lifted slightly as he scanned the front of our property.