Page 30 of Everyone Here Is Lying
He doesn’t want the detectives to connect him to Nora. He must protect her, and she must believe he is innocent, even if no one else does.
He dials Nora’s secret phone, grateful that he remembers the number, and holds his breath. He hopes she has her phone on her; he knows she keeps it turned off and hidden when she’s not alone, but she keeps it with her when she’s home by herself. Or maybe she’s thrown it away.
Perhaps she won’t answer. And he won’t know whether it’s because someone else is there or because she thinks he’s a murderer and never wants to speak to him again. But she picks up.
He finds himself hesitating. There’s a long pause—long enough that he wonders who is on the other end of the line. Has her husband found her phone? Her son? Whoever it is doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s Nora andshe’swondering who’s on the other end of the line. Would the police phone the number to see who answers? All this goes through his mind in a flash. “Nora?” he says at last, risking all.
“Yes.”
He takes a deep breath, which catches on a sob. “Nora,” he gasps.
“What’s happening?” she asks, and he can hear the wariness in her voice.
He knows they can’t talk long; he feels so conspicuous at this pay phone. “They found my other phone. I want you to know—I had to tell them I was having an affair, but I kept your name out of it. I will never tell them it was you I was seeing. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she says. She sounds deeply relieved.
He knows how worried she must have been; she would knowthey’d find his hidden phone. William says, “I could never do anything to hurt you, Nora.”
There’s a silence. He rushes to fill it. “I didn’t do anything to Avery. You can’t believe the news, the police,” he says urgently. “I didn’t hurt her, I swear. Someone has taken her.”
“I know,” she whispers.
His heart lifts, just a little. “The detectives—they always think it’s the parents. They’ve got us under a microscope,” he says bitterly.
“It’s not just you,” she says, her voice unnatural, strained. “They’re looking at my son.”
“What?” He doesn’t think he heard her correctly. “What did you say?”
“Someone called in an anonymous tip that they saw Avery getting into Ryan’s car that afternoon. But it’s not true. Who would do something like that?”
He feels a clutch at his heart. Is she accusing him? Of having someone call in a false tip, just to take the heat off him? He would never do that. But if he did, the last person he would point the finger at is Nora’s son. He could never hurt her.
“Who would make up a malicious lie like that?” she repeats.
“I don’t know,” he says. He tries to think. He doesn’t know anything about Nora’s son, except that he’s eighteen and didn’t go off to college this year like he was supposed to—something to do with community service he has to complete because of a drug charge. She’d let that slip one day.
“I should go,” she says.
“No—not yet,” he pleads.
They stay on the line, breathing together, saying nothing. Unsure of each other.
Finally, William says, “I know it’s impossible, but I wish I could see you.”
“It’s impossible,” she agrees dully.
He’s suddenly swamped by despair. He’s lost everything. And the police are probably going to charge him with murder.
“I think Al suspects us,” she says.
“How would he know?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he followed me one day. Or maybe somebody at the hospital suspects something and told him. He’s being weird.”
“No, we’ve been so careful,” William protests.
Her voice catches. “He’s convinced you killed Avery.”
