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One by one, the guests reappear in the lobby, as if summoned by an invisible bell. Hungry, no doubt, David thinks, wondering what there is to eat.
After speaking to Matthew, David had spent the morning in his room. Thinking about Dana at the bottom of the stairs. About how it might have happened. Thinking about the bereft young man holed up in his room, waiting for the inevitable visit by the police.
Thinking about Gwen. Thinking a lot about Gwen.
Now, in the lobby, David looks at her. She seems even more distressed than she had earlier that morning, at breakfast. And she hasn’t turned his way once since he entered the lobby. She’s sitting by the fire, holding her hands out to it for warmth, not looking his way. He would like to go to her, but he senses she doesn’t want him to. He tries to understand it. She can’t be one of those women who enjoy one-night stands but want nothing more. He doesn’t think she’s the type. He’s certain of it. Of course, they’re all distressed by the death of Dana.
And he doesn’t know what her friend Riley might have said to her, once they were alone together. Warned her off him, no doubt.
He knew it was better not to get involved, with any of it. Not with her, and not with Matthew. He’s had enough trouble. What he wants now is peace. But he fears that peace might have to wait.
Gwen catches David looking at her and averts her eyes. What Riley told her about David – it can’t possibly be true. Maybe she’s just saying this to restore the balance of power between them to what it was before. Maybe Riley is deliberately sabotaging her. That is what Gwen doesn’t know. How easy it would be to do – to warn her to stay away from David all weekend, and then when they get back to civilization and google David Paley, he probably won’t be who she’s thinking of at all. The only thing he will have in common with the man who was arrested for murdering his wife is that they are both attorneys. And Riley will just laugh it off, Oh, I was so sure. Sorry. But it will be too late. Her opportunity with David will be gone. She’s already thirty and she might never meet anyone else. She studies Riley resentfully and then turns away.
Or maybe it’s not deliberate at all; maybe Riley’s paranoia is simply spilling over into everything.
Henry is sitting beside his wife, not looking at her. His muscles are pleasantly tired from clearing the path out to the icehouse, and he’s built up an appetite. Surely lunch will be soon.
He can feel Beverly looking sidelong at him. He wonders what they would be doing right now, if this hadn’t happened. Dismantling their life together bit by bit, he thinks, over cold cups of coffee in some corner of the hotel. He realizes that he is almost glad of the diversion the accident has brought.
He thinks about what the attorney said. It’s for the coroner to decide. He dips his head down now to his wife and whispers, ‘Do you think she was pushed?’ She looks back at him, worried.
Beverly answers him anxiously, ‘I don’t know.’ Should she bring up the argument she overheard between Dana and Matthew? She tells herself it’s none of her business.
She’s decided to say nothing, at least for the time being. No one ever really knows what goes on in other people’s relationships, or what another person’s relationship is like. Perhaps they quarrelled all the time, and it means nothing.
She looks now at Henry and realizes that she doesn’t actually know what goes through his mind most of the time. She makes assumptions, that’s all. And believes they are the truth. All these years she thought she knew him so well, but did she really? How utterly shocked she’d been last night when he said it was too late for them to fix their marriage. The truth is, she doesn’t know what he’s thinking at all.
Perhaps he has a mistress. It’s the first time the thought has occurred to her. Maybe it isn’t so hard to believe. She hasn’t been that interested in sex for a long time. Perhaps he’s found someone else, and that’s why he wants to leave her. Otherwise, she doesn’t think he’d bother. That’s it, she thinks, that must be the reason for this bombshell he’s dropped so callously. He can’t want to tear their family apart just so that he can be away from her – they’re not that bad together. He can’t be looking forward to being financially ruined and living alone in some sad apartment, missing his children, just to be away from her. No. There must be someone else. Someone who makes him think that leaving her and the kids is going to be some fun, giddy, sex-soaked adventure. She wonders who it is, whether it’s someone she knows.
She remembers how annoyed he’d been when he realized there was no wi-fi here at the inn. Perhaps he was hoping to be able to stay in touch with his girlfriend; perhaps she had expected him to stay in touch with her – the girlfriend that Beverly is now afraid actually exists.
How quickly and how absolutely trust – built over many years – can collapse. She needs to be sure. She realizes she needs to look at her husband’s mobile phone, but he always keeps it on him, or at least near him. And she has no idea what his password is; she can’t even guess. But she is suddenly certain that if she could get into his mobile phone, she would find the truth.
And then she would know what she’s dealing with.
Chapter Thirteen
LAUREN WATCHES HENRY and his wife, Beverly, seated side by side. They are barely speaking to one another.
Riley and Gwen are sitting far apart; Lauren senses a rift. She has been watching Riley especially. The edge of hysteria that Lauren first noticed when they’d rescued her out of the ditch the night before is still there. Amplified, even. Riley fidgets endlessly, twirling the silver ring on her index finger, her eyes constantly scanning the room as if looking for something, some threat. Lauren notices that Gwen is ignoring Riley, which is odd. Last night, Gwen had seemed overly solicitous, trying her best to manage Riley’s mood, but now she doesn’t seem to care. Something must have happened. Lauren remembers last night, noticing the little flirtation between David and Gwen in the dining room coming to an abrupt halt. She wonders if Riley had anything to do with that. And if she did, what her reason might have been. Jealousy, probably.
Riley knows Gwen is angry at her. But it had to be done. Riley studies David, watching him, trying to remember what she knows about the case. She’s almost certain he’s the New York attorney who was arrested – and released – for the violent murder of his wife, three or four years ago. She tries to recall the details. It was a bludgeoning death, a particularly brutal one. The woman had been so badly beaten that her back was broken. She’d been struck repeatedly in the head with something heavy, in the kitchen of their home, in one of New York’s expensive suburbs. The murder weapon had never been recovered. The husband claimed that he’d returned home late from work and found her. He’d called 911. But there was some discrepancy about the details that didn’t work in his favour. There was some lost time. A neighbour had insisted that he’d noticed the husband’s car drive in considerably earlier than the 911 call. The attorney had then explained it by saying that he hadn’t gone into the kitchen when he first got home. It hadn’t sounded likely.
She stares at David’s hands, hanging down by his sides as he stands near the fireplace, calmly waiting for lunch. Strong, masculine hands. She wonders what he is capable of. She lifts her eyes and catches him staring at her. She looks away.
