Page 32 of The Getaway

“I get it.” Marley squeezed the woman’s upper arm. “Here, you want something to do? Help me get the furniture inside.”

Candice actually seemed excited by the idea of diving into the hurricane. She really was desperate.

Marley yanked the doors open and stepped outside. It was like getting to the bottom of a water slide and being pelted on all sides by propulsed water. She held her breath instinctively, grabbed the cushions from one of the chairs, and turned to toss them inside. Candice did the same with the others. Then they each picked up one of the chair frames and deposited them inside the room before they could go flying into a window. Then Candice went out and picked up the one small table. Marley was about to close the door behind Candice when she noticed that the safety gate on the outdoor stairs, which led down to the patio, was swinging on its hinges, so she closed that and latched it as well. Why not? She was already wet as a drowned rat—an analogy she regretted the moment it occurred to her. As she turned, she noticed an ashtray overturned in the corner with a couple of blunts around it, soaked. That could wait. She went back inside and slammed the door.

She and Candice both stared at each other, soaked straight through their clothes, their hair like wet ropes around their faces.

“Feel better?” Marley said.

“Kind of?” Candice said.

And then they both laughed.

“Hey.”

Marley startled. Marshall had just walked into the room. She and Candice glanced at each other, and Marley could see the guilt she felt etched all over the younger woman’s face. Marshall must have thought they were out of their minds, standing there laughing when they’d just found his brother dead in a pool.

“You should go get dried off,” Marley said to Candice.

Candice nodded, shoulders hunched again, and slipped from the room.

Marley took one look at Marshall’s haggard face and knew he couldn’t give a crap about the laughter. His brain probably hadn’t even registered it. She walked over and folded him into a hug, dripping from head to toe. The second she had her arms around him, he started crying.

“It makes no sense, Marley. What happened?” he said through his sobs. “How could this have happened?”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so, so sorry.”

She held him while he cried, and when Juliet reappeared at the door, she waved her off. Juliet went, and Marley stayed there with Marshall for as long as it took for him to calm his breathing and get himself back together. He sniffled and swiped the back of his hand across his nose.

“Poor Hazel, poor Thomas,” Marshall rambled. “He’s never even going to get to know his dad.”

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Marley said again. It felt so futile, but she didn’t know what else to do or say. Not since she was a child had she had to deal with this kind of grief. Her sister was safe and sound in Colorado with her family. Her aunt and uncle had retired to South Carolina and were arguably healthier than she was. Even all her grandparents were still alive.

“I have to call my parents,” Marshall said, then heaved another sob.

“No. Let me do that,” Marley offered automatically. She would have to call Lily too. Something that had occurred to her about five seconds after Suzy had told her Lincoln was dead. She had avoided letting her brain go there again until now. It was going to be awful, and she didn’t want to do it, but she knew she was the only one who could.

Marshall shook his head. “It should be me.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it right this second,” Marley told him. “You should take a shower. Eat something. Try to calm down. Why are you still wearing last night’s clothes?”

He looked down at himself as if he’d forgotten what clothes were. “I got pretty hammered last night, to be honest. When I woke up this morning, I was in the billiards room on the couch with a blanket over my face. No idea how it got there. And it’s possible my neck will never recover.” He executed a couple of head rolls and winced.

“You need water and Motrin,” she said. “I’ll try to find Magdelena and see what we can put together for breakfast. I’m sure the place is stocked for the week.”

He put his hands on his hips, his shoulders slightly hunched. His expression was vacant as he looked around and seemed to notice where he was for the first time. “Where’s Josh?”

“We . . . don’t know. He wasn’t in here, and he didn’t answer my call or my text.”

“So where the hell is he?” Marshall asked.

“I don’t know, but he has to be around here somewhere. He’s probably sleeping off a hangover in some random room like you were,” she said.

Marshall pulled out his phone. “We have to call the police.”

“I don’t think he’s missing missing,” Marley said. “Josh isn’t stupid enough to go out in this weather.”

“I’m not worried about Josh,” Marshall replied, incredulous. “He threatened my brother’s life, and now Lincoln is dead, and he’s MIA, so.”