Aria had just paid the cab driver and let herself into the garage at Ella's house when she heard a rattling sound behind her. The Subaru was pulling up the driveway, Byron at the wheel. Meredith sat in the front passenger seat, and Mike climbed out of the back. When he saw Aria, he waved.
It took Aria a moment to wave back. The days had gotten away from her. She'd forgotten that Byron and Mike were returning from the Solstice trip this afternoon.
Byron spotted Aria in the garage, turned off the cars, and climbed out. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you for hours."
"Uh, I was on a bike ride," Aria answered, saying the first thing that came to mind.
Byron glanced at Aria's bike, which was tucked behind some old tired and black plastic bags full of clothes meant for Goodwill. It was an obvious lie, but Aria was too tired to explain herself.
"Byron?" Meredith opened the car door. "Would it be weird if I used the bathroom here? If I don't pee I'm going to burst."
Byron looked at Aria for permission, and she shrugged and gestured toward the door that led to the house—the last thing she wanted to see was Meredith bursting. Meredith elbowed past, taking butt-clenching steps and practically diving headfirst into the powder room.
The rest of them headed inside, too. Byron remained in the laundry room, seeming a bit hesitant to enter his old house. Mike on the other hand, barreled into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "There's no food," he whined. "What did you eat this whole week, Aria? And why is it so frickin' cold in here?"
"It is cold in here." Byron walked across the kitchen and peered at the thermostat. "The power didn't go out, did it?"
Aria hung up her coat on a hook by the washer so she didn't have to look her dad in the eye. "I just turned down the heat for a few days. I was trying to save electricity."
"That's a very noble cause, especially during Solstice time." A regretful look fell over Byron's features. "It's really too bad you missed our celebration, Aria. We did the most amazing nature walks. And burning the Yule log was truly magical. A lot of the other guests joined in the festivities, and we all really bonded."
Mike, who was drinking orange juice out of the carton, let out a cross between a choke and a cough. Aria caught his eye, and he made a pained face.
"Of course, I wish Mike would've spent more time outdoors with us instead of watching television." Byron glanced at his son and shook his head.
"But then I would have missed the biggest news story ever!" Mike set the OJ container on the island, switched on the little TV in the corner, and turned the channel to CNN. "Did you hear about this, Aria? The panthers?"
Aria ran her tongue over her teeth. "Uh, no," hoping she sounded convincing.
"Check it out." Mike pointed at the screen. It was a shot of the Borgata lobby. Police cars were parked under the covered drive. Biedermeister and Bitschi hovered nervously near the bar, talking on their cell phones. Panthers Still on the Loose, the banner said at the bottom.
"Panthers got loose in Atlantic City," Mike explained. "It's caused this mass panic."
"Oh crazy," Aria said evenly, as if this was the first she was hearing of it.
Meredith appeared in the kitchen doorway and glanced at the screen. "Uch, Mike, turn that off. It's terrible."
"Are you kidding?" Mike moved even closer to the TV. "This is the craziest thing I've seen in a long time! Apparently one found its way into a strip club." He smiled lustily. "I could have saved those strippers."
A breaking news starburst popped up on the screen. The camera cut away from the reporter and focused on a blond guy in handcuffs. When the cameraman zoomed in on his face, Aria almost screamed. It was Hallbjorn. His eyes were wild, he was thrashing back and forth, and he was bellowing something over the sounds of the police sirens and the reporters. "Those panthers deserve to be free! They were being tormented in those cages! Support panther rights!"
Meredith crept closer to the television. "Is that the guy who did it?"
"He looks like a psycho," Mike said.
Byron squinted at the screen. "Is it me, or does he look familiar?"
Aria pressed her lips together, afraid she was going to throw up. The cops pushed Hallbjorn into a police car. The reporter's voice cut in. "The police apprehended the self-proclaimed eco-terrorist today, after he tried to flee on a bike," she explained. "I'm getting word that he thought the panthers were 'oppressed' and 'not able to live out a pantherly existence.'"
"Pantherly existence." Mike snickered.
"I swear I've seen him somewhere." Byron squinted at the screen. Hallbjorn's head was hanging out the car window. "Panthers have souls, too!" he bellowed, waving his arms around. His name scrolled across the bottom of the picture. Hallbjorn Gunterson, Eco-Terrorist, it said in big yellow letters.
Byron rubbed his chin. "That's an Icelandic name."
The reporter appeared on the camera. "We're just getting details about Mr. Gunterson. He only arrived in this country a few days ago, fleeing from police custody in Iceland. He's wanted there because he tried to blow up an office at the demolition company that was hired to tear down an Icelandic puffin sanctuary."
"What?" Aria exclaimed out loud. Everyone turned to look at her, and she shrugged sheepishly to cover her reaction. Hallbjorn had certainly glossed over those details. Suddenly, all of her regret and nostalgia disappeared. Hallbjorn truly was a lunatic.
Mike placed a hand to his chin. "Actually, didn't you date someone in Iceland named Hallbjorn, Aria?"
"Uh, yeah." Aria wound a piece of hair around her finger. "But it's a pretty common name."
"It is?" Mike looked skeptical.
"Of course it is." Aria tossed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered out of the room. There was no way she could watch another minute of the newscast without giving her secret away. And that, she had decided, was absolutely out of the question. It was like the question of the tree falling in the forest: If no one knew Aria got married, if no one saw, then it had never happened. She'd gotten the marriage annulled before it was logged into any permanent records. No one would be able to trace Hallbjorn to her.
The only real proof Aria had left that a marriage had taken place was the snake ring. She felt for it in her pocket as she climbed the stairs. Some pawnshop would buy it. She'd steal into Philly next week, go to a neighborhood where she definitely wouldn't be recognized, and get rid of it once and for all. And as for the money she'd get, maybe she'd give it to the poor kid who'd gotten trapped by one of the panthers under the boardwalk. Or to the strippers who'd had to run out of the club half-naked because a panther had gotten loose inside. Or maybe she'd use it to take a real vacation over spring break.
But no matter what, this was something she never had to think about again. No one knew, after all—and she was planning to keep it that way forever.