“Sure, he’s dead now,” Carstairs said, “but you must know how many people are out there who would just love a chance to torture you to death.”
“I didn’t steal that money. He gave it to me. To get gone.”
“Both of you?” she asked.
“Both of us,” he said.
Carstairs shook her head, sad at that thought or others; Maeve wasn’t sure. “That morning. I lied for you but I didn’t know it. Did you drug me?” she asked.
“You slept like a rock that night, honey. Best night’s sleep you’d had in years, you said.”
“I trusted you.”
“You might be in the wrong profession, Suzie-Q,” he said.
Maeve saw the cop’s face change, the sadness turning to anger.
“Who’s David Barnham?” Maeve asked.
“Me. Lots of people. A kid who died in Kansas. Someone who couldn’t be traced.”
Maeve was more confused than ever.
“And the money?” Suzanne asked. “Why now?”
He pushed the gun into Maeve’s temple. “This one. Poking around. It was getting too hot.”
“What are you, a freaking moron?” Suzanne asked. “With that kind of scratch, you get gone. For good. Immediately. You go to Turks and Caicos. Venezuela. Thailand. You don’t come to a place like Farringville, for god’s sake.”
He pulled Maeve tighter, and his grip around her neck pressed against her windpipe. She struggled for air, the pinwheels dancing in front of her eyes letting her know that it was only a few moments before she blacked out completely.
“I was hiding in plain sight,” he said. “It’s a thing.”
Carstairs pulled the gun from her pocket and pointed it at him. “Let her go.”
The gun in his hand was wiggling against Maeve’s temple, his whole body, pressed tightly against hers, trembling.
“One more time,” Carstairs said. “Let. Her. Go.”
The click of his gun sounded a lot louder than it normally would have, but everything was heightened now. The little waves lapping the shore of Laurel Lake sounded like a tsunami, Barnham’s breathing like a tornado, her own heart like a loud metronome, keeping time with the world. She prepared herself for the inevitable, hoping against hope that Jack was right and that he and Claire would be waiting for her when it was over and that all of the lost time would be found, and all of the love she had been denied would envelop her like a warm blanket, the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she had just given birth and a nurse presented her with a cotton throw that had been heated. Would it be like when she had held her children for the first time, the blanket around her body keeping her warm, their breath on her cheek warming her very soul? Or would it just feel safe and comforting? She figured she was about to find out.
Maeve heard the shot and felt his body go limp, the butt of his gun thumping her head noisily and with force, but it was only when she collapsed herself, seeing his body at the water’s edge, that she realized what had happened. Suzanne Carstairs put the gun on a rock and walked toward her. Her face plastered in the wet sand, the tiny waves caressing her head, Maeve closed her eyes.
“Hang on, Maeve,” her new friend said, crouching beside her after taking her former lover’s pulse. “You’ll be fine.”
“You’re quite a shot,” Maeve said. “Almost as good…”
“As good as who, Maeve?” the chief asked, her face close to Maeve’s.
“I’m so tired,” Maeve said.
“I know.”
“I promise never to butt in where I don’t belong,” Maeve whispered, her throat tight and sore. The things she had done had taken their toll, and not just on her. It was time to stop.
“And I promise never to use Match.com again,” Carstairs said. “You think I can get my money back?”
Maeve coughed. “I don’t know.”
Suzanne let out a rueful chuckle. “He was supposed to be my perfect match.”
CHAPTER 50
A perfect match.
Maeve looked out at the ocean and took a deep breath of the tangy Key West air. In the condo a bottle of wine was chilling, a thick steak on the grill. She was worried about his cholesterol, and he was worried about her blood pressure, but they were navigating the ins and outs of getting older with ease. Now that they were together, nothing seemed too monumental to be conquered.
The steak had been her idea. “Are you trying to kill me?” he had asked, half joking, as they both knew what she was capable of.
“No,” she had said, ruffling what was left of his hair. “Never worry about that.”
He waved to her from the porch that sat high above the sand.
She shielded her eyes. “Dinner?”
He flashed her a thumbs-up.
On the porch, she looked out at the ocean. “Key West is beautiful this time of year.”
“Key West is beautiful every time of year,” he said. “You sure you can’t stay?”
“You know I can’t,” she said. It was a conversation they had had many times. “But I’ll visit.”
“Many times, I hope.”
“As much as I can.”
Her girls were both in college now, and things had changed for her. Heather had settled closer than Washington State and Maeve was happy to visit Boston when she could. She was alone in a big house now, running a business that was profitable but physically taxing; she wasn’t getting any younger. Neither was he.
“You can retire, you know,” he said.
“I wish I could. Let me get Heather out of college first. Then we’ll talk.”
He looked to the beach, to the families playing with their children in the dying light, the couples strolling along the water’s edge. “How is Heather?” he asked.
“A little too much like me for my liking.”
“In what ways?”
She followed his gaze out to the water, to the father dragging a small child by the arm to a nearby blanket, his face contorted in anger. It wasn’t fun and games; it was exhaustion and exasperation. Maeve kept her eye trained, waiting to see if the situation escalated. “In every way.” I’m done with that, she thought to herself, hoping that it was really true, that she could leave those ways behind her.
“Watch her, Maeve,” he said.
“You think this stuff is inherited?” she asked.
He poured a little more wine in her glass, looking longingly at the rose-colored liquid. “Not sure.” He put the bottle in the ice bucket next to the table. “Keep an eye on her.”
Maeve would. Maeve kept close tabs on her, as close as she could given the distance. Heather seemed happy and content, and it didn’t seem like an act. Maeve hoped it wasn’t.
“Stay,” he said again, reaching out for her hand.
“I can’t, Poole. You know that.”
One more day and she would be back in Farringville. Back to her normal life, whatever that was.
But for now, she had this. And maybe later, there would be more of this, more comfort and warmth and all of the things she had been missing in her life but never stopped to acknowledge.
She looked out to the beach; the family she had been watching was gone, and she relaxed a little more, wondering if she could make that part of herself disappear just as she had made some awful men disappear. Did she want to?
She looked across at Rodney Poole, the man who had let her go, who understood, as Heather had once said, that bad things needed to happen to bad people. He was part of that old life she had. Would he be a reminder? Would that be a bad thing?
“What are you thinking about, Maeve?” he asked.
She got up and went around to where he sat, folding herself into his lap. “Maybe about all of the things we could do together.”
ALSO BY MAGGIE BARBIERI
Maeve Conlon Novels
Lies That Bind
Once Upon a Lie
Murder 101 Novels
Extra Credit
Physical Education
Third Degree
Final Exam
Quick Study
Extracurricular Activities
Murder 101
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maggie Barbieri is a freelance editor as well as a mystery novelist. Her father was a member of the NYPD, and his stories provide much of the background for her novels.
Visit her online at www.MaggieBarbieri.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Also by Maggie Barbieri
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
LIE IN PLAIN SIGHT. Copyright © 2016 by Maggie Barbieri. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover photographs © Aleshyn_Andrei/Shutterstock
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-07344-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-46688519-6 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466885196
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
First Edition: March 2016
Lie in Plain Sight Page 28
