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37
IN THE MORNING EMMA AND TOM TAKE A VERY EARLY FERRYback to the mainland, the only one on which they were able to get a reservation for the car, but that’s okay. All Emma wants is to be back in Westport in her own bed. Every inch of her body aches with tension and fatigue.
The police had helped Tom to the car last night and alerted the small medical center they were on the way. During the drive, Emma explained that it was Kyle who attacked him and why. Another police officer met them in the ER and took their statements as they waited for Tom to have an MRI. The doctor diagnosed him with a minor concussion, in addition to the gash above his eye, and told him that mental and physical rest was the best way for his brain to recover.
Fat chance of him getting any rest with Kyle still at large, Emma thinks. But while they were finishing up at the hospital, they’d been alerted that her former brother-in-law had been apprehended at the marina, where he seemed to be planning to board a small, rented powerboat that was mooredthere, and he was now in custody—at least for the night. They had let themselves back into the cottage just after one o’clock and fell immediately into bed.
It’s overcast and on the cool side today, so as soon as they’re on board the boat, they leave the deck and find seats inside. They’re mostly quiet during the trip, occasionally glancing at their phones. At one point Tom goes out onto the deck to take a call from his attorney, whom he’d left a message for earlier. As he exits, Emma sees several passengers take note of his appearance. He’s got a big bandage over the gash on his forehead, and there’s a bluish black half-moon under one eye.
Emma’s already been in touch with her own lawyer this morning, and it was clear that last night’s news stunned even the unflappable Peter Dunne. He assured her he’d call Webster immediately, though the police in New Shoreham had indicated they would do that as well.
Kyle’s aborted ambush of Tom doesn’t prove he’s a killer—and if he had a gun in his possession she doubts it’s the one he used to murder Derrick—but she suspects Webster will get there soon enough by following both the evidence from last night and the forgery trail, and surely she’ll also spend the next few days undoing Jackie’s alibi.
Emma leans her head back against the plastic seat. As fatigued as she feels, she hasn’t been able to turn her mind off, even for a second. She’s not only still distraught about how close Tom was to being killed, but she’s having a hard time coming to grips with the horrible truth that emerged last night: that Derrick was murdered by his own brother.
Events and experiences from the past two years keep reshaping themselves in her mind, like a magician turning a rabbit into a dove. Kyle’s moroseness and brooding silence after the murder, for instance, which she’d mistaken as a sign of crushing grief. It must actually have been due to the weight of his actions and his fear that he’d somehow be exposed.
And then there’s the way he kept pointing the finger at her, insinuating that she was behind the murder when he was actually trying to undermine her confidence and deflect attention away from himself. She should have stepped back, analyzed the evidence in front of her, and seen what Kyle was doing, but she’d been too guilty over her own lack of remorse to see what was going on.
It’s all about the data, isn’t it?Emma says to herself. And right there, at that moment, the fuzzy thought that eluded her on the outbound ferry and again in the garden, finally surfaces. It’s about Taylor’s murder.
Her stomach twists as the revelation forms fully for her. She’ll need to tell Tom about it, and the Westport police as well.
By the time Emma and Tom are off the ferry and on the highway to Westport, it’s raining hard. She’s driving, having refused to allow Tom behind the wheel, and because of the downpour, she has to keep all her attention on the road. Which means that at least for now, she doesn’t have to think about what to do in regard to Tom.
The rain lets up right around the time they reach Westport, and as she pulls into the driveway, Tom tells her not to bother opening the garage.
“I think I’ll make a fast trip to Whole Foods and pick up a few groceries for us.”
“Tom, let me go,” she insists.
“Em, I feel fine now, really, and I just want to do something that seems normal. I won’t be long, I promise.”
She nods, climbs out of the car with both of their duffel bags, and enters the house on her own. She pours a water for herself and takes it to the screened porch, where, after opening the main door, she drops wearily onto the couch.
Her feelings about her husband are in a terrible tangle. She knows without a doubt that he didn’t kill Derrick. She’s aware, too, that a big part of her still loves him passionately—it was hell during those minutes when she thought he might have been injured or killed. But she can’t let go of the lies he told her.
The sound of water splashing tugs her away from her thoughts, and Emma looks up to see Eric dashing toward the house from the studio driveway, carrying a soggy paper bag.
“Knock, knock,” he calls out through the screen door, having spotted her on the couch.
“I can’t believe you’re here on a Saturday. Door’s open, by the way.”
After entering, he pauses for a minute, letting the rain drip from his slicker onto the stone floor.
“I thought you might be home by now and could use a pick-me-up!” He carefully removes his slicker and tears open the bag to reveal a large smoothie. “Blueberry, your favorite.”
“Oh, Eric, thank you. Do you have a few minutes to sit?’
“Of course,” he says, handing her the drink and then dropping into a chair. “You doing better?”
She’d filled him in this morning about what happened last night, and told him that Kyle probably killed Derrick, but she hasn’t shared anything about her issues with Tom.
“Yes, a bit. The wordclosureis overused, but it’s such a relief to finally know who did it. I would have been wondering about it for the rest of my life.”
“A relief but tragic, too, to think it was your brother-in-law. Is there anything I can do for you, Em?”
“Nothing beyond this smoothie. It’s going to work wonders.”
