Here She Lies

her there’s no one else here right now, but she said that’s what she wanted. I’m not one to quibble with a paying guest. Had no reason to doubt her until I opened the newspaper over breakfast.”
    “They’re not here now?” It was all I cared about.
    “Like I told the detective, they went out a while ago.” Brook’s voice rose with distress, as if his lack of vigilance, when he had been unaware that it was required, had failed us all. “Didn’t see where exactly. Kicking myself but good, I can tell you.”
    “You couldn’t have known, Leo,” Detective Phipps said. “You got us here — that’s what counts. If we have any more questions, we’ll look for you in the office.”
    Brook nodded, glanced at me and Bobby, then left us with the long, reaching strides of a very tall man who seemed to buckle with every step.
    “All their things are still in one of the rooms,” Phipps said. “My guess is they don’t know they’re missed here and they’ll be back.”
    “But the car,” Bobby said.
    “Left on foot, probably. Leo said there was a stroller parked outside the door this morning, but we can’t find it anywhere. I think they went out for a walk.”
    “A walk?” I looked all around. The compound was nestled in forest and the driveway was long, feeding directly into the main road. It didn’t look like good walking territory, not for a set of wheels unsuited for rough ground. But Lexy must have needed a nap and Julie must have decided to lull her with a ride in the stroller, which often succeeded in calming her when I, and my breasts, were unavailable.
    “Leo gave you a cabin to use while you wait.”Phipps threw Lazare a key. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
    Bobby and I followed Gabe Lazare across the parking lot. The doors of two neighboring cabins were wide open. One must have been ours and the other, directly in front of the blue rental car, must have been Julie’s. Outside the second door a uniformed officer was posted and inside was a moving shadow, someone searching. I paused, longing to enter the cool darkness of their room, to see and smell and feel the place where my baby had only recently been, as if any sensation associated with her might wipe clean my worry. I could see the curved ends of two twin beds with brown-striped mustardy bedspreads. As I neared the cabin a cop shook his head, warning me not to come any closer.
    I turned to Bobby, wondering if he shared my frustration, if he also wanted to get inside that room. But his attention was caught on something else: the car, the trunk of the car, out of which the green-garbed technician unfolded his body to standing. In one gloved hand he held a paper bag and in the other — Julie’s kaleidoscopic sweater.
    Lazare hesitated, glanced at the sweater and nodded at the technician, who slid it into the bag. I wondered if the detective remembered me wearing the sweater to Julie’s the night I arrived. He must have, since he’d commented on it at the time. I remembered being struck that he would notice a piece of clothing when a woman had been killed. I remembered thinking, wearing the bright sweater, how Zara’s blood looked even brighter, how I had not known that an abundance offresh blood could be so vivid, bathed in artificial light. I had forgotten all about the sweater since that night and now wondered how it had gotten into the trunk. For all I knew, Julie had worn it when she took flight with Lexy. I could just see her standing at her closet, deciding what to wear, and I instinctively agreed with her that because this brash garment was impossible to hide in, it was perfect for an escape. Opposite Day, we used to call it as kids, delighting in how easy it was to defy people’s expectations.
    Bobby and I looked at Detective Lazare at the same time. Deflecting our questions with his practiced silence, he put his hand on my lower back and guided us into our waiting cabin.
    It was like a rustic suite with just the basics: a bare-bones living room — nubby couch, upholstered rocking chair, two-seat table, TV — and a small bedroom tucked away at the back. Even on this bright spring day the inside light was gritty and dim, struggling through two meager curtained windows. Lazare sat on the rocking chair and folded his hands over his middle. Bobby and I sat together on the couch. I realized that until our impromptu helicopter ride that morning when the only thing on our minds was zeroing in on Lexy, we hadn’t seen the