Page 85 of The Getaway

“Yeah, what?” Marley demanded.

Over at the SUV, one of the EMTs climbed in through the side door to pull the stretcher in. They had flattened the back seat to accommodate Marshall. While no one seemed to be in a complete panic, they clearly thought Marshall needed to get to the hospital stat.

“I have to make arrangements for Juliet, send someone back out here to . . . collect her. Call her parents. Call her assistant. There’s so much to do.” He seemed distressed, and on some level Marley’s heart went out to him. But was he seriously just telling the nanny to “deal with” his kid?

“I’ll compensate you, of course,” Josh said, slipping a pair of mirrored sunglasses on. “Triple your usual rate?”

Tini’s face was slowly turning the color of red mud. If Marley didn’t know any better, she would have been sure that steam was about to start bursting from her ears. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“Quadruple?” Josh said, oblivious.

“I’ll take him,” Marley said.

“You’ll take him?” Josh repeated.

“Yes.” Marley reached for the baby with both arms, still clutching her ice pack in one hand. Tini handed him over like a hot potato. Beckham dozed in blissful oblivion in her arms, not knowing that his mother was dead. That his father was abandoning him.

“Cool. That’s great, Marley. Thanks.” Josh was already tapping away at his phone. “I’ll call you when I get back to the city.”

Marley nodded. Her throat was so full of emotion in that moment, she didn’t trust herself to speak.

A car door slammed. They all looked up to find that Marshall had been successfully installed in the SUV. The smallest of the EMTs, the woman who had helped Marley, climbed into the back with him and sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, next to his legs.

“Crap, I should go get in the car. Thanks, Marls.” Josh gripped her upper arm, planted a kiss on her temple, and jogged off toward the garage. It wasn’t until he was halfway across the house to his car that she realized someone would have to stay here with Juliet’s body until a coroner could get out here for both her and Lincoln. Had he even asked Hazel if it was okay that he leave? Had he offered to stay? Unfortunately, she had a feeling the answer to both was no.

“What an abhorrent dickhead,” Tini said.

Marley cleared her throat. “No arguments here.”

She went to the back of the SUV to peek in on Marshall, and one of the EMTs opened the side door so she could talk to him.

“Just be quick,” he told her. “We should really get him out of here.”

She couldn’t have agreed more. “Hey, babe. All good?”

Marshall lifted a thumb, turning only slightly to look at her. His face was pale and soaked in sweat. He clocked Beckham in her arms but didn’t mention him. “You?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right behind you,” she said and dropped the ice pack on the ground so she could reach in and squeeze his hand. “Everything’s gonna be all right, okay?”

One tear squeezed out the corner of his eye, and she knew he was thinking about Lincoln. About Juliet. About Trevor. About Grant and Gemma and Lily and everything those awful notes had brought to bear.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “We’re gonna be all right.”

47

Gemma

Two days passed before Gemma felt like she was composed enough to talk to Grant. His lawyers—a couple of old friends from law school who had gotten into criminal law—had argued that there wasn’t nearly enough evidence to hold him, but he had been told not to leave the state of New York while the authorities swept the Villa. As if that was going to happen any time soon. Grant was currently stuck in a bed at Nassau County Medical Center, his right leg broken in five places, his wrist sprained, a few dozen stitches in his face. Gemma was paying money they didn’t have for a motel room in Merrick, New York, so that she could be close by.

She’d sent the girls back to Atlanta to stay with her parents, who had retired near the beach there. They didn’t need to be here for the fallout to come.

It was a bright, balmy morning when Gemma finally approached her husband. She was freshly showered, wearing her most comfortable joggers and a loose linen tank when she stepped into his hospital room. His leg was suspended above the bed in a hammock and full cast, while he lay flat with his eyes on the ceiling. A flimsy hospital gown was askew across his broad chest, and his beard had been half shaved off to make way for the stitches. There was a plate of untouched toast in front of him and apple juice on a tray next to his bed.

When she sat down in the chair next to him, he looked wary. She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and took a sip, then offered him the bottle. He shook his head.

“Leyth and Richard are going to be here in an hour,” she told him. The lawyers. Coming to start putting together a timeline and a strategy. “You’re going to tell me what happened, from beginning to end.”

She got up, peeled the foil top from the apple juice, and placed a straw into the cup. Then she used the bed remote to sit him up enough for him to drink. He winced but didn’t complain, and leaned forward to take a few sips. He sighed heavily as he dropped back against the cushions.