He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Unfortunately?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Jed, what’s that ring you’re wearing? Did someone give it to you?” Reid asked.
Jed’s mouth was clamped shut, as if he had finished talking and was ready to go.
“The soup kitchen,” Reid said, deciding to change directions. “Where Beth volunteered and you sometimes had meals. Is there a food pantry there too?”
“Yes,” Jed said.
“Did you ever meet Martin Harris there, at either place?” Reid asked.
Jed looked blank and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Who is he?”
Reid thought Jed seemed to genuinely not recognize the name, or maybe it was just the numbness left over after crying. “Okay, Jed,” he said. “Give me your friend Lainie-from-Fishers-Island’s full name and contact info so I can get in touch with her.”
“She’ll tell you I was there the whole time,” Jed said.
“Teaching art,” Reid said. “Got it.”
Jed pulled a sketch pad and pencil from his orange backpack and began writing out the name and phone number.
“One other thing,” Reid said. “A minute ago, when I asked if you had left the island, you said, ‘Unfortunately, no.’ What did you mean by that?”
“If I had, I might have been able to save Beth,” Jed said, tears filling his eyes again.
Reid stared at Jed and without thinking handed him a napkin. The thing was, he believed him, that he really did feel that way.
37
Scotty Waterston sat on the beach with Lulu, taking the sun full on, no umbrella, no sun hat, the lowest SPF sunscreen. She’d been careful all summer, but she wanted a Saint-Tropez tan. Hubbard’s Point had tons of rules, including no drinking alcohol on the beach, but Scotty had filled water bottles with gin and tonics. Lulu sipped hers slowly, but Scotty was getting quietly, progressively drunk. The two women had pulled their beach chairs close to the water’s edge, and the advancing tide sent waves to tickle their toes with sea-foam, then withdraw, then return.
“It’s all too much,” Scotty said.
“Yep,” Lulu said.
“It’s heartbreak for all of us, but you don’t even have kids. I mean, Beth was our friend, but Sam is Isabel’s. My daughter is a wreck.” She stared across the water to where Isabel was sitting on the raft, all alone.
“It must be horrible. I remember how it was for us when we were her age, how hard to know how to be around Kate and Beth.”
Scotty took a very long drink. She wished she had brought slices of fresh lime. No need to suffer. She’d have to remember for next time. “The detective is coming to interview Isabel. I made the mistake of telling him how she and Pete had read the same book, gruesome thing about a killer hiding a body in a cold room.”
“God, like Beth,” Lulu said.
“Poor girl; he’s coming over to grill her later.”
“Well, it’s good of her to help the investigation.”
“Sam isn’t taking Isabel’s calls,” Scotty said. “They had that bit of trouble over at Little Beach, with the rocks.”
“The graffiti,” Lulu said, so harshly it felt like a slap in the face.
“I’m not trying to sugarcoat it, if that’s what you think.”
“Good, because what they did was horrible.”
