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“Maybe Marlena wouldn’t be dead right now if I’d known enough to figure out what Collin was up to. Maybe Daddy would still be alive too.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She took another drink. “How in the world could you have stopped Okeus’s lackey from killing Marlena? And Ahone demanded a sacrifice—your father. All the knowledge in the world wouldn’t have prevented either of their deaths.”
“I have to blame someone, Claire.”
“Fine, then blame Collin. Blame Okeus. Blame Ananias Dare and his cohort, Manteo. But stop blaming yourself, because that’s just bollocks, as your Brit likes to say.”
I grinned. “I’m quite fond of my Brit.”
“No wonder. He’s hot and he’s great in bed.”
My mouth dropped open in protest. “Ineversaid he’s great in bed.”
“I know. I’m reading between the lines. You’ve told me all about all the awful experiences you’ve had. The fact that you won’t tell me a thing about sex with David speaks volumes.”
“I never told you about sex with Collin either.”
She lifted her beer bottle in salute. “Exactly.”
I laughed and we drank the rest of our beers. Once we were done, Claire pulled out two more bottles, then stopped, her gaze drifting down the landing toward my neighbor’s door.
“What are you looking at?”
She shook her head and handed me the drink. “Nothing.”
“We’re supposed to be cleaning,” I said, taking the proffered beer and checking out the door that had caught her attention. Claire was lying to me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
“Your apartment isn’t going anywhere,” she said, but she didn’t sound happy. “I seriously think you should reconsider.”
“It’s too late, Claire. My landlord has already rented it out.”
We were quiet again, the silence more heavy this time. “Tell me more about your honeymoon,” I finally said. “You’ve been home for two weeks and every time I ask you about it, you change the subject.”
She shot me a grin, but she looked somehow nervous, considering that she was a chronic oversharer. “Now who’s trying to get sexual exploit details?”
“Please. You’re the queen of TMI. But that’s not what I’m asking and you know it. Tell me about Charleston. You’ve been dying to go there your entire life and you finally got to go. What was it like? Were the ghost tours fun?”
She took another sip from her bottle. “We need to take care of your apartment.”
“Claire. You and Myra have something in common: you’re both acting strange. Her since she moved, and you since you came back from your honeymoon. If I wasn’t full of so much self-confidence, I might start getting paranoid,” I teased.
She was silent for several seconds, her face turning pale.
Oh, shit. Something was wrong. “Did you and Drew have a fight?”
She shook her head with a wry smile. “No. Drew is perfect.”
“Then what happened?”
She leaned forward, fear in her eyes. “Promise me that you won’t think I’m crazy.”
“Are you serious? You’re one of the sanest people I know. You keepmesane. How could I think you’re crazy?”
She nodded, pressing her lips together in concentration.
“So tell me what happened.”
“Drew and I went on a ghost tour the second night we were there. The tour guide was lame. In fact, I was kind of bored. I kept thinking how I would have done it differently.” I didn’t find that surprising since Claire ran ghost tours in downtown Manteo. Hers were always quite entertaining.
