Gone-Girl-by-Gillian-Flynn

the police find out about us. It looks beyond bad.’
‘That’s what you’re worried about?’
‘I’m a man with a missing wife and a secret … girlfriend. Yeah, it looks
bad. It looks criminal.’
‘That makes it sound sleazy.’ Her breasts were still out.
‘People don’t know us, Andie. They will think it’s sleazy.’
‘God, it’s like some bad noir movie.’
I smiled. I’d introduced Andie to noir – to Bogart and The Big Sleep,
Double Indemnity, all the classics. It was one of the things I liked best about
us, that I could show her things.
‘Why don’t we just tell the police?’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t that be better—’
‘No. Andie, don’t even think about it. No.’
‘They’re going to find out—’
‘Why? Why would they? Have you told anyone about us, sweetheart?’
She gave me a twitchy look. I felt bad: This was not how she thought the
night would go. She had been excited to see me, she had been imagining a
lusty reunion, physical reassurance, and I was busy covering my ass.
‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I just need to know,’ I said.
‘Not by name.’
‘What do you mean, not by name?’
‘I mean,’ she said, pulling up her dress finally, ‘my friends, my mom, they
know I’m seeing someone, but not by name.’
‘And not by any kind of description, right?’ I said it more urgently than I
wanted to, feeling like I was holding up a collapsing ceiling. ‘Two people
know about this, Andie. You and me. If you help me, if you love me, it will
just be us knowing, and then the police will never find out.’
She traced a finger along my jawline. ‘And what if – if they never find
Amy?’
‘You and I, Andie, we’ll be together no matter what happens. But only if
we’re careful. If we’re not careful, it’s possible – It looks bad enough that I
could go to prison.’
‘Maybe she ran off with someone,’ she said, leaning her cheek against my