Page 38 of The Getaway

“What!?” Sean asked, alarmed.

“What happened in here?” Suzy stepped over the threshold, hugging Wintour a bit closer, a cold chill running through her, as if she’d just spotted a ghost. “Lily’s studio . . .” she breathed.

Lily’s studio was . . . gone. All her easels and half-finished paintings. The cork boards with sketches and color palettes and tear sheets. The shelves full of fresh canvases and crusty paint jars, drawers and drawers of brushes and razors and whisks. Pastel throw rugs and chairs in the corners and the table where she set her tea. All of it. Gone. Even the scent was utterly changed. Where there used to be a cozy, welcoming tinge of fresh paint and turpentine mixed with Lily’s lavender perfume, there was now just . . . nothing.

The back wall was one big mirror with a ballet barre running across it. A single row of pegs for hanging garments was affixed to the side wall. The only other furnishing in the room was a small Bluetooth speaker on a stool.

“She turned it into a barre studio,” Suzy said, wrinkling her nose.

“A bar studio?” Sean asked, scratching his chin.

“For exercise. Like ballet? Stretching? It’s really good for your ass. And your core. I used to have a membership to that club in town, Barre None?” Suzy said. Sean just looked confused. The man really did pay zero attention when she spoke. “Lily would lose it if she knew about this. What did they do with all Lily’s paintings? With all her stuff?”

“Damned if I know,” Sean said, moving out into the hallway. “Let’s keep going.”

Suzy followed her husband farther down the hall, feeling utterly hopeless. It was as if Lily was being systematically erased. From this house, from their lives, from existence. How could Lincoln allow this to happen? Okay, yes, people got divorced. But this was Lily. Lily, with her easy smile and welcoming arms and her ability to make everyone feel seen. Lily, who was creative and funny and kind and energetic and the center of attention in every room. Okay yes, she had her moments. Lily didn’t love being proved wrong—it brought out the worst in her. And heaven forbid she lose at cards. More than one glass of wine had been flung as a result. It wasn’t like the woman was perfect. But she couldn’t just be plucked out and replaced with a newer model. But that was exactly what Lincoln had attempted to do. What he had done. Suddenly she felt like she could wring his neck for it.

Except Lincoln was already dead.

Marley had said the receptionist at Lily’s wellness retreat, or whatever they were calling it, told her Lily had left last week. Suzy really hoped she’d gone somewhere good. Somewhere decadent and relaxing and expensive, like that resort on the Amalfi Coast they’d visited for Lily’s thirty-fifth birthday. She hoped to God that she hadn’t come here. That it had not been Lily who Suzy had seen at the party last night. Because she easily could have hidden out in one of the unused guest rooms. She easily could have snuck out in the middle of the night and found Lincoln and . . .

Suzy paused. They’d finally come to the construction zone. Where there had once been a double glass door to the indoor pool, new lumber now framed out a gaping entryway covered by an opaque plastic tarpaulin. Dust and spackle and fresh-wood scents prickled Suzy’s nostrils.

She shot Sean a look.

“What?” he asked.

She groaned, shoved the tarp aside herself with her free arm, and stepped inside.

“Oh, sorry. Here.” He held it aside, but too late. She was already past it. Sean clumsily followed, almost tripping over a long orange extension cord. “Oh my God. What happened to the pool?”

Wintour yipped. The indoor pool was no longer there. The whole thing had been filled and boarded over, covered now with subflooring as far as the eye could see. Clearly Hazel had also demolished the gym and sauna areas that had been beyond the pool in order to make this one grand room. New windows had been installed along the east wall, and the ceilings had been vaulted, with beams crossing the room every ten feet or so. Three of them had lighting wires sticking out from holes drilled into their centers, indicating spots for what Suzy could only imagine would one day be a series of matching chandeliers. Oddly, the scent of chlorine still hung in the air, mixing with the sawdust to create an unpleasantly incongruous aroma.

“Is this supposed to be a ballroom?” Suzy asked, not sure whether she was appalled or impressed. How many of Suzy’s memories of this place was Hazel going to bulldoze over? But also, why hadn’t anyone asked for her opinion on the renovation? It would have been a perfect excuse for Lincoln. He could have told everyone he’d been paying her for his expertise all along, if and when anything ever got out.

“Maybe? The woman does like to party,” Sean mentioned.

Suzy looked around the unlit space and saw an oddly shaped mound near one wall. She grabbed Sean’s upper arm and nodded toward it, digging her fingernails into his flesh. Her sudden change in demeanor set Wintour off, and she barked at the offending object. “What is that?”

Sean looked down at her hand for a second as if surprised she was touching him. Which was fair. Then his eyes narrowed, and he approached the odd shape cautiously, towing Suzy and the barking Wintour along. With no lights in the vast room and nothing but clouds and rain on the other side of the windows, it was hard to make out the details of what they were looking at, and Suzy’s heart rate hitched up.

Please don’t let it be a dead body. Please don’t let it be a dead body.

But when they were nearly on top of it, it finally became clear. Someone had dragged couch cushions, pillows, and a couple of cashmere blankets in here to make a makeshift bed. A sequined cardigan was tossed atop the cushions, along with a couple of vape pens and a pair of cut-crystal candleholders.

“Wait, is that—” Heart fluttering, Suzy bent and picked up the sweater. The sequins were hot pink. Wintour started sniffing the sweater, her tail wagging merrily. Interesting. Did she recognize the scent?

“Is that the jacket you saw last night? The one not-Lily was wearing?” Sean asked.

Suzy could not be 100 percent sure. Her memories of the party were hazy at best. But what were the chances? She had just been imagining Lily camped out in one of the guest rooms, but why not here? Where no one would ever look? It would certainly explain why the sequins were making Wintour so happy. She brought the sweater to her nose and inhaled. Lavender and honey.

Suzy and Sean locked eyes. “I think it is,” she said. Suzy picked up the crystal candleholders next, trying to remember whether they had any special significance to Lily. Nothing came to mind. And Lily didn’t vape. Unless, of course, she’d replaced her drinking habit with a vaping habit and, understandably, not told anyone.

“What should we do?” Sean asked.

One of these days Suzy was going to throttle him. The man quite literally never knew what to do next. She took a breath, prayed for patience, and let it out. “Text the others. Tell them what we found.”

“Right. Yeah. Good idea,” Sean said. She watched over his shoulder while he typed.