by Brenda Novak
“She told you that?”
“Not in so many words. But she told me I reminded her of Hugh. That might’ve had something to do with...what happened, too.”
She smoothed her hand over the duvet. “If I didn’t kill her, and you didn’t kill her, who did?”
He took a deep breath. He’d been asking himself that question all along, wondering if he might’ve seen some sign of trouble if he hadn’t been so immersed in his own desperate struggle to get back on the right course. “I have no idea. But I hope they find the bastard soon.”
“What would you say if I said it was me?” she asked.
He hesitated for a second, a little freaked out by the deadpan tone of her voice. “I wouldn’t believe it. You’re not capable of something like that.”
She went back to reorganizing her jewelry. “Yeah, well, I never would’ve thought you were capable of what you did, either. Maybe you never really know someone, huh?”
26
KEITH SAT WITH Maisey in her living room. Rafe was at work, Laney was at school and little Bryson was playing with his toys a few feet away. “Have you told Chief Underwood?” she asked. After telling her about Rocki’s cell phone records placing her on the island and the police search of her house, he’d mentioned the Australian named “Harry Middleton,” who was actually Hugh Pointer.
“I have. I called her as soon as Jade identified him. I knew Underwood wouldn’t be able to tell just from looking at the registration records collected by Les that Harry Middleton was Hugh Pointer. And that’s pretty significant.”
“So significant she probably feels bad about searching Rocki’s house.”
“I doubt it,” Keith responded. “I hate to admit it, but Rocki had as much motive to murder Mom as anyone, and she hasn’t been eliminated from the pool of suspects. Underwood has to treat all persons of interest the same. She has to do her job or this could backfire on her.”
Maisey grimaced, obviously angry that anyone could suspect their sister, whatever the reason. “It’s Landon’s fault, not Underwood’s.”
“True. He’s put Rocki in an impossible position.”
“Do you think she’ll ever be able to forgive him?”
“I doubt it, although I hope she will.”
Maisey came halfway off the couch. “After what he did?”
“Don’t get me wrong. What he did was bad. But I’ve spoken to him. He’s completely distraught—suffering as much as she is because he knows he’s to blame for everything.”
“Yeah, well, apparently I’m not as forgiving as you are.”
“Maybe it’s because I’ve fucked up before. If you’ve never needed that kind of forgiveness, it’s different.”
“You didn’t cheat on anyone.”
“Because I never made a commitment in the first place. What’s worse?” He picked a speck of lint off his shirt. “At least he was the one who cut off the affair. He got involved and made a mistake, but then he tried to undo that mistake. He didn’t wait until he was caught.”
“Having an affair is not a ‘whoops, I’m sorry’ kind of thing.”
Given her ex-husband’s history, Maisey was especially sensitive to this type of betrayal. “True, but it’s not as if he went out searching for another woman. I get the feeling he’s been happy, in love and faithful for all the years they’ve been married—until this. It wasn’t as if he was in love with Mom or ever fell out of love with Rocki. He was just...captivated by Mom’s wealth and beauty and attention.”
“He slept with his wife’s mother!”
“Who he didn’t know until five years ago—and he didn’t see very often, even after he was told she was his ‘real’ mother-in-law.”
“Stop making excuses for him,” Maisey snapped. “It’s pissing me off.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Calm down. I don’t think I can save him from his actions, anyway. So I’ll move on to what I might be able to do—and that is save Rocki from being unjustly prosecuted.”
“Now you’re talking,” she said sullenly. “So...are you thinking Hugh was here on Saturday, too? Under a different alias or maybe at the other motel?”
“No. Underwood claims that’s impossible. He was in Australia. She has witnesses who saw him there on Saturday.”
“Then he came here after that.”
“Apparently.” That made Keith wonder if he was actually in Charleston or somewhere much closer when Keith spoke to him on Thursday morning. He’d have to be. He couldn’t have gotten back to Australia that quickly.
Bastard. And to think Keith had liked him...
“But if he wasn’t here on Saturday, he couldn’t have killed her,” Maisey said.
“I think she killed Mom.”
“His wife? So she did know about the affair? And she wasn’t in Europe?”
“It’s possible. Maybe Mom was pressing Hugh to divorce her, and Lana Pointer was fearful enough to take matters into her own hands. Sounds like he had her with him on Wednesday, so obviously she wasn’t touring Europe with their daughter at that point.”
“Then where was their daughter? Were there three people in that motel room?”
“Not according to Jade. But the daughter is technically an adult, old enough to do as she pleases. She could’ve been back in Australia, in Europe or even here in the States, maybe in Charleston, both on the night Mom was killed and when Hugh—with Lana as the person who likely stopped Marcus—broke into Coldiron House four days later. I doubt it would be difficult for them to get away from her. She’s about to graduate from high school this spring. Remember what we were like back then? She was probably glad to be left on her own for a while.”
“If she were to admit that her mother wasn’t with her on the night of the murder, that’d be huge. Underwood needs to get on that right away.”
“Underwood probably would’ve confirmed it by now, if that naked picture of Landon hadn’t taken the investigation in a completely different direction. I know she established that Lana and her daughter went to Europe. I’m not sure she ever verified that they stayed in Europe.”
“Then she needs to do that.” Maisey got up to help Bryson reach a car he was having trouble retrieving from his toy box. “So why’d Hugh and Lana come here after the murder? To get an expensive piece of jewelry or something he gave Mom?”
Keith remembered finding the door to his mother’s suite open that night. “Possibly. But that’s a big risk to take for jewelry. I bet when he found out what his wife had done, he was afraid she’d left something incriminating behind—maybe she even realized she had and told him so—and he came to clean up.”
“So he was protecting her.”
“He probably feels responsible because of the affair.”
“Do you think he knew you were at Coldiron House when he broke in?”
“No way. It wasn’t until the following morning that I called him. I’m assuming he thought the place would be empty, figured he could waltz in and do what he wanted. He’d probably know where the hide-a-key was, which explains how he got in. I’m sure he’s visited Mom at Coldiron House once or twice since I left. Maybe he arrived late at night and she told him to just let himself in.”
Bryson brought her a toy that had colored wooden pegs he could hit with a small wooden hammer, and she held it while he pounded. “But if he was here to protect his wife, to clean up, why would she flag down Marcus? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless she wanted to see him punished for having the affair.”
“Wouldn’t dragging him into the spotlight only lead the police back to her?”
“She might not have realized that, might not have understood exactly what the police can do these days, what with cell phone records and such. She might’ve been trying to frame him. You have to admit, to a twisted mind, getting Hugh arre
sted would sound like the perfect revenge. Her rival dies, the man who betrayed her goes to prison and she and her daughter live happily ever after with his money.”
“I suppose,” Maisey said.
Keith scratched his head. “I wish I could talk to Lana.”
“Wouldn’t Chief Underwood frown on that?”
“Absolutely. She’s asked me not to even call Hugh for fear I’ll tip him off that we’ve found a connection.”
“What does she think he’ll do?”
“Who knows? He has the money to disappear if he wants to.”
“That means you’re going to respect her wishes, right?”
“Wrong.”
“What?” She startled Bryson so much that he began to cry. She picked him up to calm him, but she didn’t look away from Keith.
“I’m going to call him.” He held up a hand to stop her before she could interrupt. “Don’t worry, I won’t give anything away. I want to see if he’ll say something that could be used against him later.”
“Like?”
“Who knows? But I plan on recording the conversation, just in case.”
“Then why don’t you call him from here? Now?”
“It’s too late there.”
“Assuming he went home.”
“I’ll bet he hurried back to Perth as soon as he could. I want to catch him when he’s awake and willing to talk, and hopefully when his wife isn’t around.”
He coaxed Bryson over to him with a plush football. “Here you go, buddy,” he said, then dropped a kiss on his soft cheek.
Bry scowled and wiped his cheek, but he was interested enough in the football not to go anywhere.
Maisey checked her watch. “I’ve got to pick up Laney. She stayed after school to teach a few friends how to crochet. But I have to be there by three forty or so, and it’s a bit of a drive, what with waiting for the ferry. If you’d like to come back in an hour or two, I’ll make dinner.”
He thought of Nancy and that text she’d seen from Dahlia this morning. “I was hoping to grab a bite with Nancy.”
Maisey got up and swung Bryson into her arms. “How’re things going with her?”
Keith could tell she still wasn’t pleased about the fact that he was seeing her. “Good.”
“I just got off the phone with her before you arrived.”
Had she outed him about that text? “And?”
“She told me not to worry. That she understood the limitations of the relationship.”
That was the look he’d seen on her face when she handed him his phone—a sort of fatalistic expression that suggested she would’ve been a fool to expect anything more from him. He hated the way that made him feel. “I’m not sure I’m happy you two are friends.”
“She also said she has a date with a really hot guy from her dating site,” she said with a wink.
Keith cleared his throat. “She mentioned that.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No,” he lied and helped her load Bryson into the car so she wouldn’t be late.
* * *
Nancy told herself she should head home and get a few groceries—everything she hadn’t remembered the last time she went to the store. She couldn’t stop living her life just because Keith was on the island. He and Jade had both called, separately, to tell her what they’d learned from the registration records at the Drift Inn. She supposed Keith would be meeting with Chief Underwood tonight. As much as she cared about Rocki and Maisey and especially him, he could handle that without her. She’d received quite a few messages on that dating site, and it was rude to let the men who’d sent them wait. She needed to show others the same consideration she hoped they’d show her. She also needed to keep her relationship with Keith in its proper perspective.
So she was prepared to tell Keith no when he called to see if she’d be joining him for dinner. “I’ve actually got some things to do,” she said.
“Like...?”
“I have to run to the grocery store.”
“I have plenty of food here. I think you know that.”
“Dog food probably isn’t something Pippa has in stock. And speaking of Simba, I should spend some time with him, take him for a walk.”
“No problem. Grab some dog food on your way over. It’s a little windy out, but it’s not raining. We’ll take him down to the beach when you get here. It’s secluded, so he can go off-leash and run in the surf.”
That sounded tempting—almost as tempting as seeing Keith again. But she’d decided to cool things off a bit, so she flailed around for something else she needed to do, something a bit more crucial than picking up a few groceries. But what? Business was slow at the flower store and Jade was working again tonight. Her house was spotless, since she’d just cleaned it on Saturday and hadn’t been home much since. “Don’t you have stuff to do?” she asked.
“Not until later.”
“What’s happening later?”
“I’m going to call Hugh Pointer, see if I can get him to talk to me.”
“About...?”
“My mom.”
“Won’t he find that odd?”
“Not if I act like I’m calling to give him the results of the autopsy.”
“Why don’t you do that now?”
“It’s pretty early in the morning over there.”
“Oh. Good point. That’s all you have to do?” She thought of that text from “Dahlia” and wondered if he’d already responded to it—and what he’d said.
“That’s it.”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll stop by.”
“Maybe? I can tell you’re blowing me off. Look, I’m sorry about that text this morning. As you’ve probably guessed, I have slept with Dahlia, but I have no real interest in her and don’t plan on pursuing a relationship.”
Was that supposed to make her feel better? Didn’t he understand it was that behavior pattern she objected to? Why would she want to be another “Dahlia,” settling for a few crumbs of his attention while knowing there’d be no progression to their relationship? She had to have more respect for herself. “Right. I understand. It’s just... I have some messages to return on that dating site.”
“To hell with the dating site! We spent an incredible night together. Can’t you wait until I’m gone to respond to all the men who’d like to take you out?”
“I’m not sure it’s fair to ignore them just because you’re in town.”
“Why not?”
“Because one of them could be my husband someday!” Which was far more than she could say for him.
“Fine. If you’d rather be with someone else, I won’t get in the way,” he said and hung up.
She sat staring at the phone. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She was staying home tonight. But she certainly didn’t feel good about it. Why did “having more respect for herself” make her feel so damn bad?
She almost broke down and called him back. That was what she wanted to do. So she turned off her phone and promised herself she wouldn’t turn it back on until morning.
* * *
Almost immediately, Keith regretted responding to Nancy the way he had. He could understand why she’d be leery. She had every reason to be. What if he’d seen a text like Dahlia’s come in on her phone, especially after having sex with her for the first time in more than five years?
He wouldn’t have been happy about it. Besides, he’d already proved that he wasn’t emotionally reliable. He couldn’t expect her to ignore everything that had happened in the past.
He paced for fifteen minutes, wrestling with his Coldiron pride—the same pride that had so often interfered with his mother’s happiness. She could never simply accept responsibility for her mistakes, could never apologize when she was wrong.
She’d lost several friends by trying to prove she didn’t care, didn’t need anyone. Unless he wanted to follow in her footsteps, he had to be more honest, had to be willing to show his vulnerability to those he cared about.
So he called Nancy back. She didn’t pick up, but he didn’t blame her for that, either.
He waited for her voice mail.
“Nance, I’m sorry. I wish I’d acted differently a few minutes ago. I know I’m not someone you consider emotionally ‘safe.’ There’s good reason for that. If I were a woman, I’d probably steer clear of me, too. But I would never intentionally hurt you. I hope you believe that. Anyway, I already miss you and hate that you’re not coming over. So if you change your mind...” He wasn’t sure how to end his message, except with the one thing he knew to be true. “I hope you’ll change your mind.”
He hung up and waited. But when he didn’t hear from her, the clock seemed to tick more and more slowly. So he began to tear apart the house, looking for whatever Hugh had been after. It probably wasn’t worth the effort, which was why he hadn’t searched extensively before. But looking filled the time—kept him from thinking too much about Nancy or the addiction that tried to grab hold of him whenever he was frustrated, upset or unable to sleep.
“Shit,” he muttered when, several hours later, he still hadn’t found anything. At that point, he stopped pulling things out of cabinets and drawers and threw himself into a chair in the drawing room. Nothing was particularly comfortable in this room, since it had been furnished for show. But he was too stubborn to move to the living room or the library or even his bedroom.
He checked his watch. Had Nancy finished grocery shopping yet? Fed Simba? Walked him?
Most likely. It was ten.
Why hadn’t she called him back?
Hoping to see her headlights, he peered out the front window. But she wasn’t in the drive, and he had the terrible feeling she wasn’t coming.
Fortunately, it was finally late enough to call Hugh. Figuring that would distract him, at least, he walked to the study so he could be at his computer when they spoke.
“Hello?”
“Hugh, it’s Keith.”
