The Ridge Read online

  A rush of panic broke inside of her, and Megan tried to think of something she could say to make her stay, or at least stall her.

  She pointed to the clipboard. “Something important?”

  Fiona looked down at the clipboard as if seeing it for the first time, and shook her head. “More of a tradition around here than anything. I’m signing up volunteers for the Ashland Renovation Project. We do it twice a year.”

  “What kind of renovations?”

  “Infrastructure stuff, mostly,” she said. “We help with cleanup and repairs. A few minor improvements, that kind of thing.”

  “Like fixing the broken streetlight?”

  Fiona’s eyes sparkled. “You noticed that?”

  “I thought I was the only one who did.”

  “It might just be the two of us.” She raised a finger and made a wide circling motion in the air as she spoke. “Most people here don’t go to Ashland if they can avoid it. They’re not always the friendliest bunch down there.”

  “Yeah,” Megan said. “I’ve noticed.”

  There was another long silence, and it took all her self-control to keep from looking over at Rachel’s house.

  “Speaking of unfriendly people.” Fiona held up the clipboard. “I’ve been putting Rachel off long enough, but I’ll make sure to stop by another time so we can talk. I hope you feel better.”

  Megan opened her mouth, desperate to say something to keep Fiona from leaving, but there were no words.

  Fiona turned and walked away; she was almost to the sidewalk when Megan finally found her voice.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  Fiona stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry?”

  “Wine.” Megan thumbed back toward the door. “I just opened a bottle if you’d like to join me.”

  “Normally, you wouldn’t have to ask twice,” she said. “But are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  Megan wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t see any other option. If Fiona discovered Rachel’s body before she’d had a chance to report what’d happened, her role in Rachel’s death would go from questionable to suspicious in a hurry.

  “I think a drink might be exactly what I need.” Megan nodded toward Rachel’s house. “Can you put Mrs. Addison off for another night?”

  Fiona stared at her, and for one terrible moment Megan was sure she was going to say no. If that happened, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

  But then Fiona smiled.

  “You,” she said, “are going to be a bad influence on me, I can tell.”

  Megan shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

  Fiona laughed and climbed the porch steps.

  6

  Megan poured the wine and tried not to think about Rachel as Fiona wandered down the hallway, examining the photographs hung along the wall.

  She stopped at one and said, “This is a nice picture.”

  “Our first anniversary,” Megan said, handing her a glass. “Almost seven years ago. We went to this little Italian restaurant by our old apartment in Chicago. Tiny place with checkered tablecloths, candles in Chianti bottles, totally cliché.”

  “Sounds romantic.”

  Megan nodded. “It was.”

  Fiona sipped her wine. “How are you two adjusting to Stepford?”

  “Stepford?”

  Fiona laughed and waved the comment away. “It’s an old joke around here, but it fits. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Megan said. “I just didn’t think anyone else saw it. Everyone here seems so—”

  “Oblivious?”

  “I was going to say content.”

  Fiona took another drink and turned back to the photos on the wall. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

  Megan kept quiet and watched as Fiona worked her way down the hallway, passing by some of the photos, smiling at others until she reached the end.

  “You two make a cute couple.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not just saying that, either. You two fit together. You must’ve been made from the same mold.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Married?” She shook her head. “Wasn’t in the stars for me, and I’m fine with that. I’m better on my own.”

  “I never thought I’d get married.”

  “Yet you did.”

  “And no one was more surprised than me.”

  Fiona stared at her, and Megan realized she was waiting for her to go on. But she didn’t know what else to say, so she changed the subject. “How did you wind up here?”

  “In Stepford?”

  Megan smiled. “Yeah, in Stepford.”

  “I work on the ridge, just like everyone else.”

  “You’re at the Institute?”

  Fiona nodded, sipped her wine.

  “What do you do?”

  “Administrative work,” she said. “It’s mostly organization and delegation. It’s not as demanding as what the engineers and technicians do every day, so that gives me more time to do other things.”

  “Like the Ashland project.”

  “Exciting, isn’t it?”

  “My husband works at the Institute,” Megan said. “He’s a technician. We don’t see much of each other these days. They keep him pretty busy.”

  “I wish I could tell you it gets easier,” Fiona said. “Do you know what he’s working on?”

  Megan shook her head. “He’s tried to explain it to me, but that stuff makes my eyes gloss over. He’s the math and science half of our marriage, while I’m—”

  “The artist.”

  Megan looked up and saw a hint of a smile on Fiona’s lips. It occurred to her that this woman knew more about her than she was letting on, or at least she thought she did.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Really?” Fiona’s smile faded, replaced with genuine surprise. “Because I was just talking to Edna Davidson before I came over here, and she told me you were something of a big deal back in Chicago.”

  “She was exaggerating.”

  “What did she tell me?” Fiona cocked her head, as if trying to recall the memory. “One of Chicago’s most promising young artists. She said you made some magazine’s thirty-under-thirty list, and that you were up for a rather prestigious award, or maybe it was a grant. Is that true?”

  “It’s true that I didn’t get it.” Megan lifted the glass, touched the wine to her lips, but didn’t drink. “I haven’t worked in months.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I guess I needed a break,” Megan said. “Then Tyler was transferred out here to the Institute, and we moved.”

  “But you’ll go back to it, won’t you?”

  “Haven’t yet,” she said. “Tyler’s been good about not pushing, but I think that’s because he’s worried about me starting it up again. When I’m working, it can be tough on both of us.”

  “How so?”

  The bluntness of the question surprised her.

  Megan paused, trying to decide if she wanted to talk about it. The problem was that she didn’t think about those days very often, and when she did, all she could remember was a deep gray emptiness, and a heavy, weighted feeling of being broken.

  Also, Fiona was a complete stranger.

  Except, she didn’t feel like a stranger.

  There was something comforting about her, something almost familiar. Whatever it was, it immediately put Megan at ease and made her want to talk.

  “I lost the joy in it,” she said. “My mother had just died unexpectedly, and after that, whenever I sat down to work, the walls would start to close in. Tyler always took the brunt of it.”

  “So you moved here?”

  “It seemed like a good place to begin again.”

  Fiona laughed. “Well, you’re right about that.”

  Eventually, they made their way into the dining room and sat at the table. Outside, the sun had gone down, and the windows were empty and black
. Megan’s mind flashed to Rachel lying in her garage, and she wondered how long it would be before someone discovered her body.

  She forced the thought away, and this time when she lifted her glass, she drank.

  They talked for the next hour. Fiona asked Megan about Tyler and about their life in Chicago, and once Megan got started, she didn’t hold back.

  It’d been so long.

  When Megan finished, Fiona divided the last of the wine between their glasses and told her she was impressed with how much she remembered about those days.

  Megan started to ask her what she meant, but then Fiona looked at her watch and said, “Oh, it’s late. I should go.”

  And the world came rushing back.

  “Already?” Megan said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I might have another bottle back there somewhere.”

  Fiona shook her head, then lifted her glass and emptied it in two swallows. “Ask me another night.” She pushed away from the table and stood up. “This was fun. I’d love to do it again.”

  Megan told her she would, too, and it was the truth. Then she asked, “Are you still going to see Rachel tonight?”

  Fiona shook her head. “I’ll try and stop by tomorrow, unless something else comes up and I can put it off again.” She crossed her fingers, faking a prayer.

  “You two don’t get along?”

  Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Oh hell. I’m sorry, are you two friends? Typical me, talk first, think later.”

  “No,” Megan said, smiling. “We’re not friends.”

  “See,” Fiona said, snapping her fingers. “You do have something in common with everyone else around here.”

  “Is she that bad?”

  “Let’s just say she’s a challenge.”

  “Then why try to recruit her?”

  “Because she’s our resident horticulturist. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I’ve seen her roses.”

  “Those are just her hobby. She does all the landscape design for the community, all the public areas, even the Central Plaza. It would make things easier for us if she’d agree to help in Ashland, but she won’t.”

  “It sounds like she’s busy.”

  “There are labor teams that do most of the actual work.” Fiona hesitated, then whispered, “Rachel’s just a bitch.”

  They both laughed.

  It didn’t seem right, considering what she knew, but Megan was surprised at how little it bothered her.

  She walked Fiona to the door and stood on the porch. The air outside was cool and fresh, and the clear night sky was an explosion of stars.

  “Tell Tyler I look forward to meeting him next time.”

  “I will.”

  Megan watched her walk away, and when Fiona reached the sidewalk, she turned and waved over her shoulder.

  Megan waved back.

  Once Fiona was gone, she looked toward Rachel’s house on the corner. There were no lights on, and the house stood silent and dark.

  Inside, the grandfather clock began to chime.

  Megan tried to decide what to do next, but there were no good options. Her head was heavy, and her thoughts were thick with wine, but by the time the chiming stopped, she thought she had an answer.

  She went back inside and down the hall toward the kitchen. She picked up the phone and stared at the keypad, listening to the low drone of the dial tone. Then she took a deep breath and began to dial.

  Tyler answered on the third ring.

  7

  Megan turned off the lights in the living room and stood at the front window with her arms folded over her chest, waiting for Tyler.

  She didn’t tell him what’d happened when she called, only that he needed to come home, that it was an emergency. He’d pushed her, trying to get her to explain, but she didn’t want to tell him anything over the phone.

  She wanted to see him face-to-face.

  Outside, the streetlights glowed pale over the sidewalks, and the windows of the other houses shone gold behind long rows of hedges. Occasionally, a car would drive by, and each time it did, Megan’s chest would tighten, and her breath would catch in her throat.

  But the cars never stopped.

  Eventually, she saw a familiar set of headlights turn on the street and pull into the driveway.

  Tyler was home.

  She backed away from the window and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She heard his car door shut, and her stomach twisted as she realized she had no idea what she was going to say to him.

  Then the door opened, and Tyler came inside.

  “Megan?”

  His voice was urgent, tense.

  He turned on the light, and when he saw her standing there, he jumped back, startled.

  “Megan, what the hell?” He came closer, reaching out, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I—” The words stuck in her throat. “There—there was an accident.”

  Tyler asked her again if she was okay, and when she told him she was fine, some of the tension seemed to fade. His grip on her shoulders loosened, and several new questions appeared behind his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  Megan looked up at him and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

  Tyler led her to the couch, and they both sat, facing each other. He took her hands, pressing them between his.

  He told her to start at the beginning.

  So she did.

  “Are you sure?” Tyler was up, pacing back and forth through the living room. “You’re positive that she’s—”

  “Yes,” Megan said. “I saw it happen. I watched her—”

  “Oh my God.” He stopped at the window and ran his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

  She shook her head.

  “Megan, why didn’t you call someone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because you’ve been drinking. Christ, I can smell it.”

  “I panicked,” Megan said. “I was going to call an ambulance, but then Fiona showed up and I got scared and—”

  “Who the hell is Fiona?”

  “One of the neighbors,” she said. “I didn’t want her to know I was there when it happened. I didn’t want anyone to blame me.”

  Tyler turned to face her, his eyes narrow.

  “Blame you?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Megan?” Tyler’s voice was low. “Why would anyone blame you?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused. “We were arguing, and there were these damn lawn gnomes. I threw one and—”

  Her voice cracked, and she stopped.

  “And what?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” A wave of anger broke in the center of her chest and spread. “She was on the top of this ladder, and when I threw it, she ducked and—”

  “Jesus, Megan.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” This time, her voice was loud. “She lost her balance and she fell. I never touched her.”

  She wanted to keep yelling, but Tyler was staring down at her, and she didn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

  Megan turned away. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “We call the police, that’s what we do.”

  “The police?”

  “What do you think we’re going to do? Ignore this and hope it goes away?”

  “They’ll blame me,” she said. “It was an accident, but they’ll blame me.”

  “A woman is dead, Megan. She’s dead.”

  “I know she’s dead!” Megan stopped and put a hand to her mouth, trying to calm down. But when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “I could go to prison.”

  The look in Tyler’s eyes changed, and for a moment he just stood there. Then he moved toward the window and neither of them said anything.

  “You’re sure she’s dead?” he asked.

  “Jesus, Tyler.”

  “I mean it. Are you absolutely sure?”
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  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  It wasn’t a serious suggestion, but Megan could see that he was considering it. Eventually, he turned away from the window and nodded.

  “Yeah, I’ll go check.”

  “What? Wait—”

  “If she’s dead, we’ll call the police and tell them I found her,” he said. “They’ll never have to know you were involved.”

  Megan felt a rush of joy and relief, but then she thought about Fiona and Mrs. Davidson, and the feeling faded fast.

  “That won’t work,” she said. “They saw me.”

  “Who saw you?”

  “Fiona and Edna next door,” she said. “They saw me leaving her house. They know I was over there.”

  Tyler seemed to think about this. “Then if it comes up, you’ll say you rang the bell and no one answered. You assumed she wasn’t home and you left.”

  “But what if they—”

  “They won’t. Not if we do it this way.”

  “But—”

  “If we call the police now and tell them what happened, they’ll want to know why you waited so long.” He shook his head. “No, this is our best choice.”

  “You want to lie to the police.”

  “No, but I also don’t want to lose everything we have because you panicked.” He paused. “I’ll go over and ring the bell. Then I’ll walk around to the garage and look inside.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You said it was an accident, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “She lost her balance and fell.”

  Megan nodded.

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Then don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  Megan got up and followed him to the door. Before he walked out, she reached for his hand and pulled him toward her, wrapping her arms around him.

  Tyler put one arm over her shoulder, but there was no strength in it, and he pulled away almost immediately.

  “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Megan closed the door behind him, then went into the living room and stood at the front window. She watched him walk down the street and cross over. Then her stomach cramped, and she turned away.

  She didn’t want to see, so she went back to the couch and sat with her head in her hands.