Something in the room felt off, like the air itself was too thick to breathe. In all her years of knowing Naomi, it had never been like this.
Pip gave Naomi a reassuring smile and made a passing joke about the amount of dog hair attached to her own leggings. Naomi smiled weakly, twisting the ends of her tawny hair.
They were sitting in Mr. Ward’s study: Pip on the swiveling desk chair, and Naomi across from her in a red leather recliner. Naomi wasn’t looking at Pip; she was staring instead at the three paintings on the far wall. Three giant rainbow-colored canvases of the family: her parents walking in the autumn woods; her dad, Elliot, drinking from a steaming mug; and a young Naomi and Cara on a swing. Their mom had painted them when she was dying, her final mark upon the world. Pip knew how important those paintings were to the Wards, how the family looked to them in their happiest and saddest times. Although she remembered there used to be a couple more displayed in here too. Maybe Mr. Ward was keeping them in storage to give to the girls when they grew up and moved out.
Pip knew Naomi had been going to therapy since her mom died seven years ago. And that she had managed to wade through her anxiety, neck just above the water, to graduate from college. But a few months ago, she’d had a panic attack at her new job in Manhattan and quit to move back in with her dad and sister.
Naomi was fragile, and Pip was trying her hardest not to tread on any cracks. From the corner of her eye she could see the timer scrolling on her voice recorder app.
“So, can you tell me what you were all doing at Max’s that night?” she asked gently.
Naomi shifted, eyes moving down to circle her knees.
“Um, we were just, like, drinking, talking, playing some Xbox—nothing too exciting.”
“And taking pictures? There’s a few on Facebook from that night.”
“Yeah, taking silly pictures. Just messing around, really,” Naomi said.
“There aren’t any pictures of Sal from that night, though.”
“No, well, I guess he left before we started taking them.”
“And was Sal acting strangely before he left?” said Pip.
“Um, I…No, I don’t think he was really.”
“Did he talk about Andie at all?”
“I, um…Yeah, maybe a bit.” Naomi shifted in her seat.
“What did he say about her?” Pip asked.
“Um.” Naomi paused for a moment, picking at a ripped cuticle by her thumb. “He, um…I think maybe they were having a disagreement. Sal said he wasn’t going to talk to her for a bit.”
“Why?”
“I don’t remember specifically. But Andie was…She was kind of a nightmare. She was always trying to pick fights with Sal over the smallest things. Sal preferred to give her the silent treatment rather than argue.”
“What kind of things were these fights about?”
“Like the stupidest things. Like him not texting her back quick enough. Things like that. I…I never said it to him, but I always thought Andie was bad news. If I had said something, I don’t know, maybe everything would have turned out differently.”
Looking at Naomi’s downcast face, at the trembling of her upper lip, Pip knew she needed to bring them out of this particular rabbit hole before Naomi closed up entirely.
“Had Sal said at any point in the evening that he would be leaving early?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“And what time did he leave Max’s?”
“We’re pretty sure it was close to ten-thirty.”
“Did he say anything before he left?”
Naomi closed her eyes for a moment, the lids pressed so tightly that Pip could see them vibrating, even from across the room. “Yeah,” she said. “He just said that he wasn’t really feeling it and was going to walk home and call it an early night.”
“And what time did you leave Max’s?”
“I didn’t. I…Me and Millie stayed over in the spare room. Dad came and got me in the morning.”
“What time did you go up to bed?”
“Um, I think it was a bit before twelve-thirty. Not sure, really.”
There was a sudden knock on the study door, and Cara poked her head in, squeaking when her topknot got caught on the frame.
“Sorry, emergency, two secs,” she said, lingering as a floating head. “Nai, where the hell did those Butterfingers go?”
“I don’t know.”
“I literally saw Dad with a full pack yesterday.”
“I don’t know, ask him.”
“He’s not back yet.”
“Cara,” Pip said, raising her eyebrows.
“Yep, fine, I’ll leave. No one cares that I’m starving,” she said, closing the door behind her again.
“Um, OK,” Pip said, trying to recover their lost tangent. “So, when did you first hear that Andie was missing?”
“I think Sal texted me Saturday, maybe late morning–ish.”
“And what were your initial thoughts about where she might be?”
“I don’t know.” Naomi shrugged. “Andie was the kind of girl that knew lots of people. I guess I thought she was hanging out with some other friends we didn’t know, not wanting to be found.”
Pip took a preparatory deep breath, glancing at her notes; she needed to handle the next question carefully. “Can you tell me about when Sal asked you to lie to the police about what time he left Max’s?”
Naomi tried to speak, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. A strange, underwater silence mushroomed in the small space.
“Um,” Naomi said finally, her voice breaking a little. “We went over on Saturday evening to see how he was doing. And we were talking about what happened, and Sal said he was nervous because the police had already been asking him questions. And because he was her boyfriend, he thought he was going to be a target. So he just said did we mind saying he left Max’s a little later than he did, like twelve-fifteen-ish, so the police would stop looking at him and actually concentrate on finding Andie. It wasn’t, um, it didn’t seem wrong to me at the time. I just thought he was trying to be sensible and help get Andie back quicker.”
“And did he tell you where he was between ten-thirty and twelve-fifty?”
“Um. I can’t remember. No, maybe he didn’t.”
“Didn’t you ask? Didn’t you want to know?”
“I can’t really remember, Pip. Sorry.” She sniffed.
“That’s OK.” Pip realized she’d leaned forward with her last question; she shuffled her notes and sat back again. “So the police called you on the Sunday, didn’t they? And you told them that Sal left Max’s at twelve-fifteen?”
“Yeah.”
“So why did you four change your mind and decide to tell the police on Tuesday about Sal’s fake alibi?”
“I…I think it’s because we’d had some time to think about it, and we knew we could get in trouble for lying. None of us thought Sal was involved in what happened to Andie, so we didn’t see the problem in telling police the truth.”
“Had you discussed with the other three that that’s what you were going to do?”
“Yeah, we called each other the night before—that Monday night—and agreed.”
“But you didn’t tell Sal that you were going to talk to the police?”
“Um,” she said, her hands racing through her hair again. “No, we didn’t want him to be upset with us.”
“OK, last question.” Pip watched as Naomi’s face ironed out with evident relief. “Do you think Sal killed Andie that night?”
“Not the Sal I knew,” she said. “He was the best, the nicest person. Always friendly and making people laugh. And he was so nice to Andie, too, even though she maybe didn’t deserve it. So I don’t know what happened or if he did it, but I don’t want to believe he did.”
“OK, done.” Pip smiled, pressing the stop button on her phone. “Thanks so much for doing this, Naomi. I know it’s not easy.”
“That’s OK.” She nodded and stood up from the chair, the leather squeaking against her legs.
“Wait, one more thing,” Pip said. “Are Max, Jake, and Millie around to be interviewed?”
“Oh, Millie’s off the grid, traveling around Europe, and Jake’s in Detroit now, living with his girlfriend—they just had a baby. Max is still here in Fairview; he just finished his master’s and is back home applying for jobs, like me. I see him from time to time.”
“Do you think he’d mind giving me a short interview?” Pip said.
“I’ll give you his number and you can ask him.” Naomi held the study door open for her.
In the kitchen they found Cara trying to fit two pieces of toast into her mouth simultaneously and a just-returned Mr. Ward, in an eyesore of a yellow shirt, wiping down the kitchen surfaces. He turned when he heard them come in, the ceiling lights picking up wisps of gray in his brown hair and flashing across his thick-rimmed glasses.
“You done, girls?” He smiled kindly. “Excellent timing. I just made some coffee.”
PIPPA FITZ-AMOBI
8/10/19
CAPSTONE PROJECT LOG—ENTRY 7
Just got back from Max Hastings’s house. It felt strange being there, like walking through some kind of crime-scene reconstruction; it looks just the same as it does in those Facebook photos they took on that fateful night five years ago. Max still looks the same too: tall, blond floppy hair, mouth slightly too wide for his angular face, somewhat pretentious. He said he remembered me, which was surprising.
After speaking to him…I don’t know, I can’t help but think something’s going on. Either one of Sal’s friends is misremembering that night, or one of them is lying. But why?
TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW WITH MAX HASTINGS
PIP: All right, recording. So, Max, you’re twenty-three, right?
MAX: Nope, almost twenty-five. I had leukemia when I was little and missed a lot of school, so got held back a year. I’m a miracle boy, didn’t you know?
PIP: I had no idea. So, jumping right in, can you describe what Sal and Andie’s relationship was like?
MAX: It was fine. I don’t think it was like the romance of the century or anything. But it worked.
PIP: And how did their relationship start?
MAX: They just got drunk and hooked up at a party at Christmas. It carried on from there.
PIP: Was that a—what are they called—oh, a calamity party?
MAX: Oh shit, I forgot we used to call house parties “calamities.” You know about those?
PIP: Yeah. People at school still throw them—tradition, apparently. Legend is that you started them.
MAX: Man, kids are still throwing messy house parties and calling them “calamities”? That’s so cool. I feel like a god. Do they still do the next-host triathlon bit?
PIP: I don’t know…I’ve never been. Anyway, did you know Andie before she started a relationship with Sal?
MAX: Yeah, a bit, from school and calamities. We sometimes spoke, yeah. But we weren’t ever, like, friend friends. I didn’t really know her. Like an acquaintance.
PIP: OK, so on Friday, April 18, when everyone was at your house, do you remember if Sal was acting strangely?
MAX: Not really. Maybe a little quiet.
PIP: Did you wonder why?
MAX: Nope, I was pretty drunk.
PIP: And that night, did Sal talk about Andie at all?
MAX: No, he didn’t mention her once.
PIP: He didn’t say they were having a disagreement at the time or—
MAX: No, he just didn’t bring her up.
PIP: How well do you remember that night?
MAX: I remember all of it. Spent most of it playing Jake and Millie on Call of Duty. I remember ’cause Millie was going on about equality and stuff, and then she didn’t win once.
PIP: This was after Sal left?
MAX: Yeah, he left really early.
PIP: Where was Naomi when you were playing video games?
MAX: MIA.
PIP: Missing? She wasn’t there?
MAX: Um, no…She went upstairs for a while.
PIP: By herself? Doing what?
MAX: I don’t know. Taking a nap. Taking a dump. Fuck knows.
PIP: For how long?
MAX: I don’t remember.
PIP: OK, and when Sal left, what did he say?
MAX: He didn’t, really. He just slipped out quietly. I didn’t really notice him leave.
PIP: So, the next evening, after you’d all learned that Andie was missing, you went to see Sal?
MAX: Yeah, ’cause we figured he would be pretty bummed out.
PIP: And how did he ask you all to lie and give him an alibi?
MAX: He just came out and said it. Said it was looking bad for him and asked if we could help out and just change the times a bit. It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t phrase it like: “Give me an alibi.” That’s not how it was. It was just a favor for a friend.
PIP: Do you think Sal killed Andie?
MAX: He had to have done it, right? I mean, if you’re asking if I thought my friend was capable of murder, the answer would be no way. But then, you know, the blood and stuff. And the only way that Sal would ever kill himself, I think, is if he’d done something really bad. So it all fits.
PIP: OK, thanks, those are all my questions.
There are some inconsistencies between what Naomi and Max said. Naomi thinks that Sal did talk about Andie and told all his friends they were having a disagreement. Max says Sal didn’t mention her once. Naomi says Sal told everyone he was heading home early because he wasn’t “feeling it.” Max says he slipped out quietly.
Of course, I am asking them to remember a night over five years ago. Certain lapses in memory are to be expected.
But then there’s this thing Max said, that Naomi was MIA. Though he said he didn’t remember how long Naomi was gone, he had just before indicated that he spent “most” of the night with Millie and Jake. Let’s just say I can infer that she was “upstairs” for at least an hour. But why? Why would she be upstairs alone at Max’s instead of with her friends? Did Max just accidentally let slip that Naomi left the house for a period of time that night?
I can’t believe I’m actually going to type this, but maybe Naomi had something to do with Andie. I’ve known her eleven years. I’ve spent almost my whole life looking up to her as a big sister. Naomi’s kind; the sort of person who’d give you an encouraging smile when you’re midstory and everyone else has stopped listening. She’s mild tempered; she’s delicate, calm. But could she be unstable? Is it in her to be violent?
There’s also what Ravi said, that he thought Naomi was in love with his brother. It’s pretty clear from her answers, too, that she didn’t particularly like Andie. And her interview…It was just so awkward, so tense. I know I was asking her to relive some bad memories, but the same goes for Max, and his interview was a breeze. Then again…was Max’s interview too easy?
I don’t know what to think, but I can’t help picturing a scene: Naomi kills Andie in a jealous rage. Sal stumbles across the scene, confused and distraught. One of his best friends killed his girlfriend. But he still cares about Naomi, so he helps her dispose of Andie’s body and they agree to never speak of it. But he can’t hide from the terrible guilt of what he helped conceal. The only escape he can think of is death.
Or maybe I’m making something out of nothing.
Either way, I think she has to go on the list.
PERSONS OF INTEREST
Jason Bell
Naomi Ward