He sings the wordlove,mocking my feelings, taunting anyone who has ever made the mistake of leading with their heart.
“You were smarter than I gave you credit for,” he says. “Clearly you figured out what we were doing. I’m guessing that’s why you killed him.”
Hearing someone else say the words out loud stops me in my tracks. Regardless of my reasons or motivations, I’ve murdered someone. And Preston knows it.
“I killed him because he threatened Marmee,” I say, defending myself. “Why were you even at her house that night? There was no one here when I arrived.”
“I trusted Oliver, but only so much. I had to make sure I wasn’t getting scammed out of the deal, too. And once he started getting reckless, I decided to tail him.”
“Reckless?”
“What happened with his first wife,” he says, his voice grim. “I’m guessing that’s what made you start questioning things, too.”
“He told you he killed Danielle?”
“He said that his ex-wife had reached out to you and threatened to ruin everything. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop her from doing it again. The only way to keep her quiet was to kill her, so he snuck into her apartment and made it look like an accident.”
I feel a strange sense of validation in knowing that my suspicions about what happened to Danielle were right. Oliver killed her to keep her away from me. He killed her so he could follow through with his plan.
“You know what’s funny? The two of you were a better match than I even realized,” he says. “Who knew you’d both kill to get what you want.”
“I did what I did to protect myself and Marmee. And to get justice for Danielle.”
“You had other options,” he says plainly. “You could have called off the engagement for real. Even gone to the police with your suspicions about Danielle’s death, but you didn’t. My theory? There’s a part of you that wanted to feel vindicated. It’s bad enough the guy conned his way into your heart, made the stone-faced Tippi Rathbone agree to get married. It wasn’t just about protecting yourself. You wanted revenge.”
I flinch at the possibility that what he’s saying is true. Oliver’s advances were forced, but my feelings for him were real. Something inside of me recognized the darkness in him and liked it.
“You’ve known what happened to Oliver for weeks. Why confront me tonight?”
“Once you called off the engagement,” he says, flexing his fingers into air quotes at that last part, “you shut everyone out. I needed to get to you before you left the country, but I was afraid to turn on Oliver’s phone in case someone tracked it. That’s why I suggested to Ava we have the party here.”
It feels like I’ve been struck with another head-spinning blow. “It was your idea to host the party at Marmee’s house?”
“I thought it would help you remember what you did if I brought you back to the scene of the murder. And there would be no way for you to leave. No way to call for help. Originally, I planned to have theentire weekend. Drop little notes here and there, threaten you with the photo. After a couple days, you’d be rattled enough to wire money to an anonymous account in exchange for my silence. You’d never even know I was involved. When the time came to leave Ava, I’d have a nest egg secure and ready.
“Being here over the weekend provided an opportunity to swipe the jewelry Doc wants, too. Ava let it slip Evelyn uses the same password for everything when she gave me the gate code.” He sighs, exhausted arms hanging at his sides, the gun still gripped in one hand. “Then Marlowe’s death changed everything.”
The timeframe was shortened. He no longer had the freedom of making demands, one by one. With the police arriving any minute, the fastest way to access what he wants is by forcing my hand.
“What’s your plan now?”
“I just want my money,” he says, smiling. “I think it’s safe to say I have enough dirt on you that you’d be willing to pay me whatever I ask.”
Marmee was right. Greed is the motive. All that’s changed is that Preston is the culprit instead of Damien.
“If I give you enough money, you won’t turn me over to the police?”
“What else are friends for? We’ve both done things we regret.” He smiles. “Speaking of the police, they’ll be here soon. We need to get back inside the house without the others seeing us.”
Marmee’s mansion comes into view. The idea of willingly going back inside with Preston, who has a gun to my back, is risky, but I don’t have a choice.
“We can enter through the conservatory.”
“And from there we can get upstairs to Marmee’s closet?”
The jewelry. That’s what he’s after.
“As long as Ava and Constance aren’t in the foyer,” I say, “we should be able to sneak past them.”
