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Steve followed Rina upstairs to her computer. Rina decided it was easiest to explain with Caitlin’s Instagram, and she watched as he scrolled through the images—Russel and Caitlin eating brunch; Russel and Caitlin kissing at Washington Square Park; Russel and Caitlin moving into their new apartment, dangling the keys in front of the door.
All the color drained from Steve’s face. His eyes, however, were dry. The lines around his mouth were etched with rage.
“I’m sorry,” Rina stuttered. She hated destroying the Montgomerys like this.
“No. It’s good that you found this.” Steve tugged at the collar of his shirt and then scrambled for his phone in his pocket. Without another word, he called Claire, who answered on the second ring. “Hey, sis,” he began. His voice was nurturing. “You said Russel’s not coming back till tomorrow?”
Rina couldn’t hear Claire’s responses.
“Okay. Listen. You can’t let him stay at the house anymore.” Steve said it as though he were translating facts about the weather. “You should text him. Tell him to come tomorrow and get his things. You should be at Mom and Dad’s when this happens.”
Rina’s heart dropped. Although she tried not to, she couldn’t stop thinking of her own divorce. When Vic had moved his things out of their house, she’d felt like a ghost, haunting the halls of a place she’d wanted to fill with children.
“We’ll come over tonight and explain everything,” Steve said.
Over the line, Rina could hear Claire growing increasingly frantic. Steve’s cryptic words had only freaked her out more.
“Don’t worry, sis,” Steve assured her. “We won’t let you go through this alone.”
ChapterTwenty
Island weather was always changing. “Never trust the weatherman,” Claire’s father had always told her growing up. “He doesn’t know his feet from his hands.” And over the years, she’d found this to be true. Days meant to be rainy were often blisteringly sunny. Blizzards often gave way to gorgeous skies. After all, Martha’s Vineyard was just a rock in the middle of the ocean. That meant they were at the mercy of outside forces. They were just along for the ride.
Claire sat in the sunroom of her parents’ place, wrapped up in a blanket, watching as rain pattered against the panes. Their recent twenty-degree temperatures had suddenly skyrocketed to the fifties, which gave the air a strange, balmy feeling. It didn’t suit January. But then again, nothing about 2024 had felt right. It wouldn’t have surprised Claire to wake up and realize it had all been a nightmare.
Last night, Steve and Rina had told her about Russel’s other life. Claire had fit the information seamlessly into her current knowledge of Russel: that he’d lost weight; that he dressed better; that he never touched her anymore. It made sense.
Strangely, news of his relationship with Caitlin hadn’t hurt as much as the money. He’d been privately keeping half of his income away from Gail and Abby. He’d talked at length about what they could “feasibly” offer their daughters when they went away to college. All the while, he’d been buying twenty-dollar cocktails at bars across Manhattan.
It was one thing to fall out of love with Claire. It was another thing entirely to fall out of love with their daughters. Claire’s rage swirled in her stomach.
There was a creak in the hallway. Claire flinched and turned to find her father hovering in the doorway to the sunroom. He wore an old university sweatshirt with a small stain on it, and his hair was tousled. Claire hated to see the pity in his eyes. She figured she would have to get used to it.
“Your mother just texted,” he said. “Russel’s home.”
Claire’s stomach seized, and she thought she would throw up.
“Okay. Thanks.”
Kerry had decided to park outside Russel and Claire’s house to make sure Russel returned to get his stuff. “I want to know where he is at all times on this island,” she’d blared angrily. “And I don’t want him coming near my Claire or my Abby.” Kerry had half a mind to demand the keys to the place after he left, too. But Claire reminded her that legally, the house was in his name, too. They couldn’t just take the keys away. They had to hope he respected their wishes and left the island for the time being. Besides, he had a baby coming back in the city. He was needed.
Trevor entered the sunroom and sat on the couch beside Claire. He cleared his throat and followed Claire’s gaze out the window, where a gray and angry wave tried to swallow the dock.
“I hope your mother doesn’t kill him,” he tried to joke. “We can’t afford a murder trial.”
Claire didn’t have the energy to laugh. She shifted her weight.
Trevor’s hands were in fists. He looked at a loss. “Do you think Russel had a hand in Gail’s disappearance?” He asked. “Steve said Rina doesn’t think so. But I just don’t know. I want to go over there and demand answers.”
“I don’t know, Dad,” Claire breathed. “Rina said if she finds any clues, she’ll have him arrested for questioning. But right now, there’s nothing.”
Trevor locked eyes with her. “What does your gut tell you?”
Claire’s mouth was dry. “I don’t think he had anything to do with it.”
Trevor’s eyes glinted with tears. Claire understood. It was easier to put the blame on Russel. The alternative was just more confusion.
“He’s been too distracted in the city to care what goes on with Gail,” Claire said. “It would have taken too much of his energy to deal with her.”
