Tess felt a chill. He murdered Janie Crowley, and now he was about to murder Tess, and then everyone would know that she’d used her husband’s romantic predicament as an excuse to jump into bed with an ex-boyfriend.
“And did you?” she asked.
Connor looked up, startled. “Tess! No! Of course not!”
“Sorry.” Tess relaxed back against her pillow. Of course he didn’t.
“Geez, I can’t believe you would think—”
“Sorry, sorry, so was Janie a friend? Girlfriend?”
“I wanted her to be my girlfriend,” said Connor. “I was pretty hung up on her. She’d come over to my place after school and we’d make out on my bed, and then I’d get all serious and say, ‘Okay, this means you’re my girlfriend, right?’ I was desperate for commitment. I wanted everything signed and sealed. My first girlfriend. Only she’d hem and haw and was all, ‘Well, I don’t know, I’m still deciding.’ I was losing my mind over it all, but then, on the morning of the day she died, she told me that she’d decided. I got the job, so to speak. I was stoked. Thought I’d won the lottery.”
“Connor,” said Tess. “I’m so sorry.”
“She came over that afternoon, and we ate fish and chips in my room and kissed for about thirty hours or so, and then I saw her off at the railway station, and next morning I heard on the radio that a girl had been found strangled at Wattle Valley Park.”
“My God,” said Tess uselessly. She felt out of her depth, similar to the way she’d felt when she and her mother were sitting across the desk from Rachel Crowley the other day, filling in Liam’s enrollment forms, and she kept thinking to herself, Her daughter was murdered. She couldn’t link Connor’s experience to anything even remotely similar in her own life, and so she didn’t seem able to converse with him in any normal way.
Finally she said, “I can’t believe you never told me any of this when we were together.”
Although, really, why should he have? They only went out for six months. Even married couples didn’t share everything. She never told Will about her self-diagnosis of social anxiety. The very thought of telling him made her toes curl with embarrassment.
“I lived with Antonia for years before I finally told her,” said Connor. “She was offended. We seemed to talk more about how offended she was than what actually happened. I think that’s probably why we broke up in the end. My failure to share.”
“I guess girls like to know stuff,” said Tess.
“There was one part of the story that I never told Antonia,” said Connor. “I never told anyone until I told this therapist woman. My ‘shrink.’”
He stopped.
“You don’t have to tell me,” said Tess nobly.
“Okay, let’s talk about something else,” said Connor.
Tess swatted at him.
“My mother lied for me,” said Connor.
“What do you mean?”
“You never had the pleasure of meeting my mother, did you? She died before we met.”
Another memory of her time with Connor floated to the surface of Tess’s mind. She’d asked him about his parents, and he said, “My father left when I was a baby. My mother died when I was twenty-one. My mother was a drunk. That’s all I have to say about her.” “Mother issues,” said Felicity, when Tess repeated this conversation. “Run a mile.”