Gone-Girl-by-Gillian-Flynn

‘Amy is the woman I want to grow old with, and I know this will happen.’
PAUSE. BREATHE. NO SMILE. Go had actually written the words on
my index card. Happen happen happen. My voice echoed out through the
speakers, rolling toward the river.
‘We ask you to contact us with any information. We light candles tonight
in the hope she comes home soon and safely. I love you, Amy.’
I kept my eyes moving anywhere but Andie. The park sparkled with
candles. A moment of silence was supposed to be observed, but babies were
crying, and one stumbling homeless man kept asking loudly, ‘Hey, what is
this about? What’s it for?,’ and someone would whisper Amy’s name, and the
guy would say louder, ‘What? It’s for what?’
From the middle of the crowd, Noelle Hawthorne began moving forward,
her triplets affixed, one on a hip, the other two clinging to her skirt, all
looking ludicrously tiny to a man who spent no time around children. Noelle
forced the crowd to part for her and the children, marching right to the edge
of the podium, where she looked up at me. I glared at her – the woman had
maligned me – and then I noticed for the first time the swell in her belly and
realized she was pregnant again. For one second, my mouth dropped – four
kids under four, sweet Jesus! – and later, that look would be analyzed and
debated, most people believing it was a one-two punch of anger and fear.
‘Hey, Nick.’ Her voice caught in the half-raised microphone and boomed
out to the audience.
I started to fumble with the mike, but couldn’t find the off switch.
‘I just wanted to see your face,’ she said, and burst into tears. A wet sob
rolled out over the audience, everyone rapt. ‘Where is she? What have you
done with Amy? What have you done with your wife!’
Wife, wife, her voice echoed. Two of her alarmed children began to wail.
Noelle couldn’t talk for a second, she was crying so hard, she was wild,
furious, and she grabbed the microphone stand and yanked the whole thing
down to her level. I debated grabbing it back but knew I could do nothing
toward this woman in the maternity dress with the three toddlers. I scanned
the crowd for Mike Hawthorne – control your wife – but he was nowhere.
Noelle turned to address the crowd.
‘I am Amy’s best friend!’ Friend friend friend. The words boomed out all
over the park along with her children’s keening. ‘Despite my best efforts, the
police don’t seem to be taking me seriously. So I’m taking our cause to this