The Last to See Her Read online

“Oh! Thank you,” she said, surprised. “It’s been a long time since a man has bought me a drink.”

  He smiled. “I’m lucky to be your first. Oh, and here’s a tip. You might want to take your wedding ring off.”

  Her head snapped back, and she looked down at her finger. How could she have forgotten that?

  She twisted it around and around while she waited to board, and decided to take it off when she reached the hotel. She’d stick it in her suitcase and decide what to do with it later. It was a four-carat diamond.

  She slept on the flight, and when she arrived, she actually felt good.

  She was energized as she headed for a cab, and the bright lights of the city bounced off her skin in the back seat of the taxi. She texted her sister that she was close.

  I’ll wait for you in the lobby, she answered. Hurry up!!

  The cabdriver let her out, and she hadn’t even turned around before Meg grabbed her in a bear hug. “I thought you’d never get here,” she exclaimed. “I’m starving!”

  Like usual, she was wearing three-inch heels and looked perfect in her highlighted hair, slim suit and red lipstick.

  “Let me at least drop my bag off in the room,” Gen complained as Meg tried to hail another cab. Her sister grumbled but stepped back, and they walked to the elevator and rode to their two-bedroom suite on the top floor.

  “Nice,” Gen observed, as they walked in. There were glittering chandeliers, marble counters, a spectacular view.

  Meg shrugged. “Nothing but the best for my big sis.”

  Gen dropped the bag. “I’m hungry, too,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  They chattered all the way back to the main floor in the golden elevator, and were still chattering in the cab. As they glided to a stop outside a steak house, Meg’s stomach audibly growled and they laughed.

  They tipped the driver and got out.

  They were seated inside the glittering restaurant within a few minutes, and the waiter knew Meghan by name. After she’d ordered wine, Gen stared at her.

  “How often do you come here?” Gen demanded, an eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t even know you were in New York that often.”

  Meg smiled slightly, her fingers wrapped around her water glass. “I’m here a lot ever since I took my new role. It involves a lot of travel. New York is one of the cities I don’t actually mind.”

  Gen rolled her eyes. “That’s the price you pay for brilliance, I guess. If you didn’t want to hustle, you shouldn’t have invented a new method to...” She paused. “What is it again that you figured out?”

  Meg sighed. “Using robotics, I figured out a safer method to perform a coronary artery bypass graft. It’s literally called the McCready Method.” She stared at her sister, and Gen grimaced.

  “Sorry. I’m not a doctor, so I don’t remember all of that...jargon. Also, I don’t know why you kept your maiden name.”

  “That one’s easy,” Meg answered. “Meghan McCready sounds like a rock star. Meg Harris sounds like a housewife.”

  The waiter returned with their wine, took their steak orders, and they were left to drink in peace.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a housewife,” Gen pointed out.

  “Of course there isn’t. If that’s your thing. It’s just not mine. My mind races all of the time. It’s hard to explain. I’ve got to have a challenge, Gennie.”

  Gen didn’t bother pointing out that running a household full of children was probably an incredible challenge. It was one she hadn’t had the opportunity to find out. Thad hadn’t wanted kids.

  Meg lifted her glass. “Sisters forever.”

  Gen nodded. “Sisters forever.” They clinked glasses, then drained them, in an almost identical way, each setting their empty glass down with a thud at the same time.

  They chuckled, then poured a second glass.

  After their second glasses were empty, Gen’s phone buzzed with a text. She glanced at it.

  Have you signed the papers yet? They were delivered.

  She ignored it, and her sister looked at her questioningly. Gen rolled her eyes with a sigh.

  “Thad. He wants to know if I’ve signed yet.”

  “Have you?” Meg asked, sipping her third glass of wine. By this time, her lips were starting to have a slight purple hue from the merlot, and her cheeks were flushed.

  “Not yet. I will, but I’m gonna make him sweat a little first. He certainly took his time coming to an agreement about them.” Gen dripped a bit of wine on the table, and the waiter came immediately to blot at it.

  “True,” Meg agreed. “But what did you expect? You married a lawyer.”

  She screwed up her face and then laughed. Her own husband, Joe, her high school sweetheart, was a contractor, and Joe didn’t have a contentious bone in his body.

  The appetizer and salads they had ordered came, and they stopped talking as they attacked the brie drizzled with pesto and oil with wolfish vigor. By the time the steaks arrived, they had graduated from red wine to Long Island iced teas.

  “We probably shouldn’t drink anymore,” Meg suggested, but they both laughed.

  “Aren’t we here for my divorce party?” Gen laughed. “Don’t kill my buzz. Check out the hottie. Nine o’clock.”

  Meg looked to the right, and Gen scowled. “Your other nine o’clock.”

  “That’s your nine o’clock,” Meg pointed out, peering at the tall handsome waiter across the room. “But he’s delicious.”

  “I think he’s Greek,” Gen said, almost falling out of her chair as she leaned to examine him more closely. He glanced at them, and they tittered and righted themselves.

  “I am a dignified surgeon,” Meg announced to her sister. “I do not get drunk.”

  “That ship has sailed tonight,” Gen answered, her nose pleasantly numb. “This is a nice way to kick off my new life, sis. Thank you for making me come.”

  “That’s what he said.” Meg laughed hysterically and her sister rolled her eyes, but then got the joke and laughed, too.

  They plowed through their steaks with abandon, without regard to calories or even manners.

  “That was the best steak I’ve ever had in my life,” Gen announced at the end, when she finally decided to be ladylike and pat at her lips delicately.

  Meg agreed. “They do it up right here.”

  “How you doin’?” Gen said, looking up at the waiter, and he smiled as though he handled drunk women every night of his life.

  “Quite well, miss. Should I hail you a cab?”

  “We’re two independent women,” Gen slurred. “We’ve got this.”

  She paid their bill, signing the check with a flourish. Miraculously, a cab was waiting outside (courtesy of the waiter) and they tumbled in. Gen practically fell into the back seat, and Meg laughed.

  “You’re so drunk,” she giggled.

  “You are, too,” Gen replied indignantly. In the rearview mirror, Gen saw the cabdriver smile.

  “Not as much as you,” Meg informed her, prim and proper now, straightening her jacket.

  Gen pulled out her phone. “Here. We gotta take a drunk selfie for Mom. She’ll be so proud.” They leaned together, and Gen snapped the picture, sending it off to their mother. Periodically, on the way back to the hotel, they broke out into uncontrollable laughter fits for no real reason.

  When their mother replied to their text with, Oh, my gosh, you two. Don’t talk to strangers, they practically howled.

  The doorman at the hotel opened the door, and Gen stopped to straighten his tie. To his credit, he didn’t even blink.

  They laughed in the elevator up to the room, and when they burst into their suite, Gen went straight for her bed and collapsed onto it.

  Meg came, too, lying down next to her sister.

  “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?” she sigh
ed.

  “It’s spinning,” Gen confirmed.

  Meg started to grin, but then she noticed Gen’s hand. In particular, the wedding ring.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you still wearing that?”

  Gen shook her head, subconsciously covering it with her hand. “I forgot about it until earlier today. I haven’t taken it off in forever.”

  “You should.” Meg nodded. Her eyes lit up. “Ohhhh, you could give it to me. Mine is small. Joe doesn’t like large rings. And yours has that giant diamond.” She sniffed as she looked at her own smallish ring. Gen rolled her eyes.

  “It’s bad luck,” she announced, standing up. “Also, this ring has terrible energy.”

  Her mood shifted into something dark, something angry, and her mirth was long gone. Thoughts of her ex-husband crushed it into the night.

  The room swirled into a kaleidoscope of light, but she was determined. She marched to the balcony and stood by the edge. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be rid of it.

  Meg rushed to her, pulling her back. “Don’t stand there. You’re too close. You’re scaring me.”

  Gen shook her off. “You’re just scared of heights. Wait a second.

  “I hope that whoever finds this ring will have better luck with it than I have,” she said loudly, kissing the ring and then throwing it into the night as hard as she could.

  They both peered over the edge, but obviously they couldn’t see where it landed.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you did that,” Meg said, staring into the darkness. “That thing was worth like a jillion dollars. I wonder where it landed? Maybe a homeless person will find it.”

  “That would be nice. They could sell it.”

  “You could’ve sold it,” Meg answered. “It was valuable.”

  “I don’t want anything else from that man. Ever. Fuck him, and his whore.”

  “Yeah!” Meg agreed. She slumped against the door. “Fuck them. I’m sorry, Gen. You don’t deserve any of this.” She reached out to rub her sister’s back, but Gen hated the sympathy.

  The idea of someone feeling sorry for her... It was too much in this moment. She wanted to be alone. Her happy buzz was gone, and anger had replaced it.

  “Feel sorry for him,” she suggested. “He’s the one who will be leading the empty life. Not me.” Meg nodded, but Gen could tell her sister thought she was just blowing smoke. “I mean it,” she insisted. “I hope he ends up with that whore, and she ends up cheating on him. And then they both end up miserable. Because...karma.”

  “You’re right,” Meg agreed. “He’s an asshole.”

  “I’m gonna go get some air,” Gen decided, her cheeks flushed and hot. She hated feeling like a bitter wench.

  “We’re standing on a balcony,” Meg pointed out.

  “Nah. I mean, I’d like some air alone,” Gen clarified. Away from the sympathetic eyes of someone who knew she was scorned. It was humiliating, even in front of her sister.

  Before Meg could protest, Gen backed out the door.

  “At least take a jacket,” Meg managed to call.

  Gen grabbed her sister’s coat on the way out the door. She couldn’t wait to move away, to a place where they wouldn’t know the whole seedy story, or a place where she didn’t have to wear her humiliation like a coat. It was a label she didn’t want.

  For the fourth time today, she took a ride in the elevator. She dropped the coat on the floor, bent to pick it up and stumbled. Annoyed, she tied it around her waist, tugging it hard.

  “Mrs. Thibault.” The doorman in the lobby nodded, as he opened the door for her. “Can I hail you a cab?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I’m just going for a little walk. And I’m not Thibault anymore. It’s McCready, like the Lord intended.”

  “All right. Be careful, ma’am,” he cautioned. “It’s dark.”

  As if she didn’t know that.

  She thanked him for his concern and set out on the New York City sidewalks...just for a minute. The night air was cool on her face, and it woke her up, clearing away a little of the two stiff Long Islands and countless glasses of wine she’d had at the restaurant.

  The streetlights seemed hazy in the night, but the stars... The stars twinkled like beacons of hope.

  She stared at the sidewalk, fighting to stay focused, and as she did, she saw a sparkle.

  It couldn’t be.

  She knelt to examine it, and it was.

  It was her wedding ring.

  What were the odds?

  She shook her head as she curled her fingers around it and stood up. Maybe she’d never be rid of it.

  She walked quickly, her shoes clicking on the pavement, and she stared up at the skyscrapers. She held her arms open wide and twirled drunkenly around. Spinning, spinning, spinning, she laughed at the sensation in her belly, the drunken blurriness, the moment of complete lightness.

  Her joy was short-lived, however.

  As she turned, someone grabbed her in the night, sharp fingers biting into her soft flesh.

  There was a flash of pain in her temple.

  Then nothing more.

  3

  Meghan glanced at the clock. It was 8:03 a.m. She’d passed out the night before while she waited for Gen to come back. When she woke up at 7:30 a.m. with a start, she’d realized Gen hadn’t returned.

  She was jittery now, a sense of foreboding swelling in her heart. For the second time, she picked up the phone and called the front desk.

  “Were you able to reach the doorman from last night?” she asked them, her panic growing ever larger in her belly.

  “Yes. He saw your sister go out for a walk,” the clerk told her. “He did not see her return. Is there a problem?”

  Only the fact that Gen wasn’t answering her phone.

  “It’s not like her,” she insisted to the clerk. “Something is wrong.”

  She hung up and walked outside, looking all around. New York was already moving, trash blowing in the gutters. Her imagination started drifting. Had Gen snapped? She’d flung her ring off the balcony. Who does that? Meg felt guilt pull at her. She should’ve known right then and there that her sister wasn’t in her right mind.

  Maybe Gen realized her mistake and went to look for it.

  Meg paused, looking around at her proximity to the hotel and their balcony. If she’d thrown a ring into the night and wanted to find it, where would she go?

  She started tracking a path, along the sidewalks, into the bushes. She looked high and low. For a ring, the diamond was huge. But in scale with the size of a city, it was hunting for a needle in a haystack. She paused at a coffee cart, and paid for a cup of coffee, her fingers trembling. She gulped at the bitter liquid, trying to sharpen her fuzzy thoughts.

  Why had they drank so much?

  Two women alone, one of whom was emotionally shattered. Meg should’ve known better. Her sister had always been passionate and mercurial. Meg should’ve known that getting her drunk at a time like this was playing with fire.

  “Damn it,” she muttered to herself, her fingers wrapped around the hot cup. “Think. Think.”

  Maybe Gen headed to The Strand...to see if any of her books were displayed in the window. It was the gold standard for authors. She might’ve needed an ego boost. If Meg were Gen, that’s what she would’ve done.

  She pivoted to head in that direction and promptly tripped, her coffee flying out of her hand.

  As she scrambled to maintain her balance, she caught sight of something pink.

  She froze and then knelt in the gutter to pull the pink coat from the ground.

  It was soiled from being run over, but it was her own. The one Gen had been wearing last night.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she whirled in every direction.

  “Gen!” she shout
ed. “Gen!”

  No one even glanced at her twice, not even the homeless guy on the bench.

  “Did you see a woman last night in this coat?” she asked him. He stared at her with milky eyes and slowly shook his head.

  She handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn it.”

  Her hand was shaking as she called 9-1-1.

  After she explained the situation, the dispatcher wasn’t sympathetic. “Ma’am. This is not an emergency. I’m transferring you to the local precinct.”

  Before Meg could argue, the call was transferred. She had to explain everything all over again to the man who answered the phone.

  He didn’t seem concerned.

  “She had too much to drink and went for a walk?” he asked, and she could almost hear his pen stop writing. “Lady, this is New York. Your sister wanted to see the sights and dropped her coat. She’s probably on a bench somewhere, sleeping it off.”

  “No, she wouldn’t do that,” Meg told him. “In fact, it wasn’t like her to just get up and go for a walk alone. But she was upset, and...”

  “What was she upset about?”

  “She’s getting divorced,” Meg answered. “She threw her ring off the balcony and needed some air. Maybe she wanted to look for it. I have no idea. She was very upset.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Is her husband here with her?”

  “No, of course not. They’re getting divorced. He’s in Chicago.”

  “Is it an amicable divorce?”

  Meg stared at the phone. “I know what you’re getting at, but Thad wouldn’t do anything to her. He’s a lawyer. He can be an asshole, but he draws blood on paper and in the courtroom. He doesn’t need to in real life.”

  “Is it an amicable divorce?” the officer asked again calmly.

  Meg took a breath. “No.”

  “Okay, ma’am. It’s too early to file a missing person. You’ll need to wait twenty-four hours. You can go look for her on your own, and wait for her to call, and if she doesn’t, call us back.”

  “So, my sister is lost and you’re not going to do anything?” Meg was incredulous. “What do we pay you for?”