A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

Bea comes fully into the garage. “You don’t look good,” she says
to me. I haven’t showered. My hair is thrown into a sloppy bun. I’m
wearing sweats, which I wore to drop Leo off with Charlotte. If not for
that, I’d be in my pajamas still. Other than the coffee Josh left, I
haven’t had anything to eat or drink. I feel weak, small in comparison
to Bea. My heart thumps. It’s dizzying, loud. I’m certain Bea can hear
it. “Are you all right?” she asks.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see her,” I confess. “I can’t keep
doing this. I can’t keep going on like this.”
“You need to keep your shit together, Meredith,” Bea warns, “for a
little while longer. We are so close to getting away with this.”
“I’m done,” I breathe out. “I can’t keep this secret anymore.”
“The husband is already guilty, according to the court of public
opinion. He’ll be arrested soon. Then our lives can go on. Everything
will go back to normal.”
“Normal?” I ask, staggered. What even is normal anymore? I will
never be normal again. I tell her, “They won’t arrest him if they don’t
find her body.”
“What do you know, Meredith?” she asks reproachfully.
“Without a body, how can anyone be sure she’s even dead?”
She picks holes in my theory. “People have been convicted of
murder without a body before. All they need is enough circumstantial
evidence to convince a jury she’s dead.”
“Circumstantial evidence?” I ask. “Like what?” The details of the
investigation are hush-hush. We only know some. There were dogs
looking for her. They didn’t find her, or else we’d know.
Bea says, “Her bloody clothes.”
“What did you do with her clothes?” I ask. I think of the way she
wrenched Shelby’s clothes from her body that night, letting her head
drop, unsupported. It was ungentle.
Bea doesn’t say what she’s done with Shelby’s clothes. But from
her silence, I surmise.
“You’re going to frame Jason. You’re using her clothes to frame
him.” My hand goes to my mouth in disbelief.
“Since when are you and he on a first-name basis?” she asks.
“Have you forgotten that Shelby was a client of mine?” I ask. “I
know Jason. I know him well enough. He has a child, Bea. A baby