She turned around, came face to face with Pete. He hugged her in his typical stiff-armed clamp. She felt him pat her back in a there-there way, and she stepped back. She sought signs of grief in his pale eyes. His mouth was set, as if holding back emotion, or pretending to. Her blood was pumping hard. She thought about what Reid had said about him last night. Even without his suspicions, she was ready to explode with rage.
“Where’s Sam?” he asked.
“In the car. Coming in a minute.”
“I should go to her,” he said, staring at the door but not moving.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What do you mean? We’ve both lost her. We all have.”
“You hypocrite,” she said, her voice shaking. “You liar.”
“If you’re talking about Nicola,” he said, “I get it. I’m a shit. But that was between me and Beth. She forgave me; I’m sure she told you. We were working things out.” His voice caught. “Now we won’t have the chance.”
She stared as his watery blue eyes filled with fake tears. She thought of the pain he’d put Beth through, cheating on her.
“Why would I believe anything you say?” she asked. “All you ever did was lie to my sister.”
“Don’t make me feel worse than I do.”
“Why did you have to go away?” Kate asked. “Leave for a week when she wasn’t feeling well?”
“Why didyou?”
“I was working, not on vacation.”
“Look, I don’t like your tone, Kate. She was my wife. Not only am I dealing with her death, such ahorrificdeath, but I’m going crazy over the fact she was probably raped.”
“It leaves you free to be with Nicola,” she said.
“Nicola had nothing to do with me and Beth!”
“Right. As if anyone believes that,” she said. And what if Reid was right? It would mean Pete had killed not only Beth but also Matthew.
“Hello, Kate, Pete,” Eddie Bryer said, entering the parlor in his black suit, hands folded across his chest.
Kate felt jarred at the sound of his voice, pulled away from her dark thoughts about Pete. Eddie belonged to the same beach club as her family, and she’d seen him swimming with his kids, showing them how to crack shells on Lobster Night. Kate was used to seeing him in a bathing suit, not looking like a mortician. His father had handled her mother’s funeral.
“Hi, Eddie,” she said.
“Words can’t express how devastated Barb and I are. We loved Beth; we just can’t believe this really happened,” he said.
Kate took his hand. His eyes were leaking; he sniffled loudly. He was their family friend, not just a funeral director.
“Thank you,” Pete said. “We’re all in shock.”
And at that moment, Sam walked through the door. She saw her father, and Kate swore she hesitated before walking over to give him a hug. Pete grabbed her in a hard hug, whispering in her ear. He started to cry, and the sobs rose and fell. Sam stepped back, and the look on her face was blank, skeptical.
“Oh, Sam,” he said. “Sweetheart, your mother. God, I loved her so much. What am I—what are we—going to do without her?”
That set him off again. His crying sounded the way someone thought grief should sound, and Kate didn’t see any actual tears.
Eddie walked them into his office, arranged three plush red-leather chairs across from his desk. Sam sat in the middle.
“These are very hard decisions, I know,” Eddie said, his voice still unsteady as he fanned brochures on the mahogany surface. “Now, Kate, I know the family plot in the Heronwood Cemetery has space reserved for you and Beth and your families ...”
“Reserved?”Sam asked. “You mean you’ve already made plans to put us in the ground? Like a dinner reservation?”
