Gone Girl

get in touch, I assume?’
    ‘I’ve left a few messages.’
    Bolt scrawled something on a yellow legal pad. ‘Okay, we have to assume this is bad news for us. But you need to track them down. Nowhere public, where some asshole with a cameraphone can film you – we can’t have another Shawna Kelly moment. Or send your sister in, a recon mission, see what’s going on. Actually, do that, that’s better.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘I need you to make a list for me, Nick. Of all the nice things you’ve done for Amy over the years. Romantic things, especially in this past year. You cooked her chicken soup when she was sick, or you sent her love letters while you were on a business trip. Nothing too flashy. I don’t care about jewelry unless you guys picked it out on vacation or something. We need real personal stuff here, romantic-movie stuff.’
    ‘What if I’m not a romantic-movie kind of guy?’
    Tanner tightened his lips, then blew them back out. ‘Come up with something, okay, Nick? You seem like a good guy. I’m sure you did something thoughtful this past year.’
    I couldn’t think of a decent thing I’d done in the past two years. In New York, those first few years of marriage, I’d been desperate to please my wife, to return to those loose-limbed days when she’d run across a drugstore parking lot and leap into my arms, a spontaneous celebration of her hair-spray purchase. Her face pressed up against mine all the time, her bright blue eyes wide and her yellow lashes catching on mine, the heat of her breath just under my nose, the silliness of it. For two years I tried as my old wife slipped away, and I tried so hard – no anger, no arguments, the constant kowtowing, the capitulation, the sitcom-husband version of me: Yes, dear. Of course, sweetheart . The fucking energy leached from my body as my frantic-rabbit thoughts tried to figure out how to make her happy, and each action, each attempt, was met with a rolled eye or a sad little sigh. A you just don’t get it sigh.
    By the time we left for Missouri, I was just pissed. I was ashamed of the memory of me – the scuttling, scraping, hunchbacked toadieof a man I’d turned into. So I wasn’t romantic; I wasn’t even nice.
    ‘Also, I need a list of people who may have harmed Amy, who may have had something against her.’
    ‘I should tell you, it seems Amy tried to buy a gun earlier this year.’
    ‘The cops know?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you know?’
    ‘Not until the guy she tried to buy from told me.’
    He took exactly two seconds to think. ‘Then I bet their theory is she wanted a gun to protect herself from you,’ he said. ‘She was isolated, she was scared. She wanted to believe in you, yet she could feel something was very wrong, so she wanted a gun in case her worst fear was correct.’
    ‘Wow, you’re good.’
    ‘My dad was a cop,’ he said. ‘But I do like the gun idea – now we just need someone to match it to besides you. Nothing is too far out. If she argued with a neighbor constantly over a barking dog, if she was forced to rebuff a flirty guy, whatever you got, I need. What do you know about Tommy O’Hara?’
    ‘Right! I know he called the tip line a few times.’
    ‘He was accused of date-raping Amy in 2005.’
    I felt my mouth open, but I said nothing.
    ‘She was dating him casually. There was a dinner date at his place, things got out of hand, and he raped her, according to my sources.’
    ‘When in 2005?’
    ‘May.’
    It was during the eight months when I’d lost Amy – the time between our New Year’s meeting and my finding her again on Seventh Avenue.
    Tanner tightened his tie, twisted a diamond-studded wedding band, assessing me. ‘She never told you.’
    ‘I haven’t heard a single thing about this,’ I said. ‘From anyone. But especially not from Amy.’
    ‘You’d be surprised, the number of women who still find it a stigma. Ashamed.’
    ‘I can’t believe I—’
    ‘I try never to show up to one of these meetings without new information for my client,’ he said. ‘I want to show you how serious I am about your case. And how much you need me.’
    ‘This guy could be a suspect?’
    ‘Sure, why not,’ Tanner said too breezily. ‘He has a violent history with your wife.’
    ‘Did he go to prison?’
    ‘She dropped the charges. Didn’t want to testify, I assume. If you and I decide to work together, I’ll have him checked out. In the meantime, think of anyone who took an interest in your