“People get expelled from college for plagiarism, but do you write many term papers in a school for dramatic arts?” I shake my head. “Maybe she presented someone else’s play or screenplay as her own. Or cheated in another way?”
“I wish we could find out.”
“Let me go back to my guy and ask him to dig deeper.”
“Thanks so much, Wendy.” If only Gabe was this receptive to my concerns. “I know we have a lot going on here, but I don’t want to let this go in case it’s a serious issue.”
I’m about to rise when I see Wendy’s attention snagged by something behind me. I turn to see four state troopers tramping across the yard, obviously headed for the crime scene. Two of them nod in greeting. Wendy and I return the gesture and then immediately look away, not wanting to encourage any further interaction.
“What do you think they’re looking for?” she whispers.
“Evidence, I guess. Footprints through the woods—though the rain last night must have washed those away. Even the murder weapon.”
She pulls her lips into a gesture of distaste. “Do you think they’ve found it yet?”
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
There wasn’t anything lying by the body, at least that I noticed. And then I see Jillian in my mind all over again, the vultures tearing flesh from the wound with their beaks. I shake my head, trying to chase the image away.
“What?” Wendy asks.
“Nothing.” I’m not really supposed to be discussing the crime scene. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the detail about the slicker to Hannah, I’m realizing now.
With the troopers now out of sight, I bid Wendy good-bye and return to the cottage and to Gabe. In an attempt to busy myself, I strip the sheets from Henry’s bed, make cups of coffee that I don’t end up drinking, and try to read the news online—which Gabe seems to be doing, too—but I feel so anxious it’s impossible to focus.
Just after eleven Paul Mizel, the attorney, calls my cell, asking if I have a few minutes to talk. I relocate to the kitchen and ease the door closed. It’s not that I have any secrets from Gabe about the events of the last twenty-four hours, but he seems to be doing his best to chill and I don’t want to disturb him.
“So you’re aware,” Paul starts, “I’m acting—for the time being at least—as ‘pool counsel.’ This means I’m representing and guiding all of you. There might come a time when people need or want separate representation, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
His words send a chill through me. I’m not a lawyer—and, ha, I’ve never even played one on TV—but it seems the only reason one of us would need to splinter from the pack isn’t a good one.
“Understood,” is all I say.
“Let’s work our way backward, shall we?” he says in a polite but efficient way. “I’d like to hear all the questions you were asked last night.”
I go through the interview in as much detail as I can recall, and when I finish up by telling him how the red-haired detective insinuated that family members must have been getting on each other’s nerves, he says, “Good, that’s exactly the kind of information I need to be aware of. Now tell me what you can about the crime scene.”
I do my best to describe what I saw, including the wound.
“Could it have been a bullet wound?” he asks.
“Uh, I’ve been wondering about that. If she’d been shot with a hunter’s rifle—and as you’ve probably heard, there’ve been hunters around—I think the wound would have beenbigger and messier. To me, it looked like a puncture wound, made with something very sharp.”
“Can you make a guess about the weapon?”
“Maybe a pointy rock. Or... a tool even. You know, like the claw part on a hammer—though why would anyone be carrying one around the woods with him?”
“That’s helpful, thank you, Summer.”
“Does that mean the police haven’t found the weapon yet?”
“I don’t know. That’s not something they’d tell me or anyone else at this stage, because they don’t want people being interviewed to tailor their stories to the evidence or lack thereof.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “Makes sense.”
“My guess, though, is that they haven’t found it. They asked how much of that wooded area belongs to the Keatons, which means they’re planning a wider search today. And they’re eager to get into the house as soon as they can.”
“Are you going to let them?”
