As soon as the detectives leave, Leslie is off like a shot to find Siobhan. Leslie’s mind is whirling with the news she’s been told, and she still doesn’t know what the fuck to think. One thing she does know, however, is that she needs to get to John’s computer before the cops do. If what they are telling her is true, she knows she can find the answers on John’s laptop. He password-protected everything, and two weeks, three days, thirteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and nineteen seconds after he moved in, he had shown her his password list as he placed it in the top drawer of his desk. He wanted her to know that he had faith in her and that he had no secrets from her. Of course, Leslie never bothered using the passwords because she figured John would tell her anything she wanted to know, but she is grateful for them now.
Leslie finds Siobhan in Aileen’s room, reading a story. Bedtime had been thrown into chaos because of the cops, of course, so Siobhan is just now settling in her youngest child, even though it’s 8:58 p.m. and forty-three seconds, and Aileen’s usual bedtime is 8:30 p.m. Leslie waits for Siobhan to finish the story as she does not want to interrupt the mother-daughter bonding that is happening. Leslie had not experienced much of it when she was a child because her mother had suffered from postpartum and was only interested in Lisa, Leslie’s twin, after she recovered, but Leslie knows from reading psychology textbooks and self-help books and from her own therapy sessions that mother-child bonding is very important. She taps her foot as she waits, but is otherwise silent. Finally, after what seems like ages, but is actually only five minutes and seventeen seconds, Siobhan is finished reading about a caterpillar that eats a lot. Siobhan kisses her sleepy daughter on the forehead and tiptoes out of the room, closing the door halfway behind her.
“What did the cops tell you?” Leslie asks as soon as Siobhan is in the hallway.
“Let’s go downstairs and talk about it,” Siobhan takes Leslie by the arm and leads her to the living room. Siobhan refuses to say a word until they are safely away from the children.
“What did the cops tell you?” Leslie repeats her question as soon as they are sitting on the couch. Siobhan sighs, fiddles with a knickknack on the coffee table, and finally answers.
“They asked me what I knew about John. I told them what I knew, except for the sex stuff, of course.” Siobhan and Leslie exchange wan grins. They joked often about how hot Italian lovers were—and how big. Siobhan straightens her shoulders and continues. “They asked me a few questions about you. They seemed especially curious about—” Siobhan stops and looks flustered.
“Girl, you are so working that dress!” Leslie nodded her head emphatically as she gave her best friend the once-over. Siobhan was wearing a neon-green mini-velour dress that clung to her generous curves. Her legs seemed to go on for miles, and her feet were encased in five-inch platform heels. For a forty-two year old mom of three, she looked fabulous.
If she remains very still, the pain is almost tolerable. She cannot move a limb, however, as even the slightest twitch sets off a shockwave that travels throughout her entire body. Periodically, she touches the ring on the third finger of her right hand. How long has it been since she received the news? She glances at the calendar in front of her and sees that it’s October 9th. Then, she glances at the grandfather clock and notices that it’s 2:37 p.m. and twenty-three seconds. That means it’s been one day, fourteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and eight seconds since the police had first knocked on her door.