“Freya told me you were at her apartment yesterday, in her bathroom,” Seton says.
“Where I could have stolen the nail polish,” I say.
“She also said you were the one who proposed meeting up this afternoon.”
“I texted her,” I say.
“If you had a partner, you could have asked him to lurk in the woods and wait for Freya to head up the trail.”
“I could have,” I say.
Seton shakes her head. “Except Freya already told me she checked your phone to see if you’d texted anyone, and you hadn’t.”
“Texts can be deleted,” I say.
“I suppose, and we’d be able to recover them, so there’s that. But if you want to be a suspect, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
“Tell Gilcrest,” I say.
Seton rests a hip against her cruiser and watches the detective talking on the phone. “You’re an easy target. Gilcrest needs to choose between his ex-wife and Freya, and he keeps messing up the situation so badly he wants someone else to blame.”
“You told me Freya was being stalked when we were on the boat a few weeks ago. Maybe Gilcrest believes I convinced myself that if thestalker returned and I was there to offer comfort, Freya would choose me over a rival.”
“Or maybe Gilcrest told himself the same thing,” Seton says. “As crazy motives go, I don’t hate it. Gilcrest did come barreling in to the rescue.” She lowers her voice. “I don’t know who to trust, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”
“You’re asking for help?”
“Haviland and Kilgore, right?”
“You told me to go with the simplest explanation.”
“Indulge me. Go complex. And I’m asking as a cop, not a friend.”
“All I know is the threats against Freya mostly stopped after she leftScene of the Crime, but they started again when she met Gilcrest on the set of that true-crime pilot. Ask Freya who had the idea for her to leave New York, to leave her life behind, and move to a place where she’d be dependent on one of the few people she knows. Maybe it’s love, or maybe Freya really did need a change, or maybe—”
“A controlling prick has been manipulating her.”
“You said it, not me.”
Seton keeps her eyes on Gilcrest. “Leave the rest to me,” she says. “I don’t need things to be worse than they already are between you and Gilcrest. Lie low for the next day or so. When this is over, you can play detective all you want. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that podcast you unleashed on the world.”
I rub the bridge of my nose. “My producer posted it without telling me.”
“There wouldn’t have been a trailer to post if you hadn’t come up with the idea in the first place.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Try starting with the apology next time around,” Seton says. “And I guess you’re forgiven, though I don’t have much of a choice. This town’s too small to have enemies.”
Freya and Paul emerge from the farmhouse with Ginger in tow. Gilcrest finishes his call. “We can grab some things from the condo before we head to my place,” he says to Freya.
“Is your wife there?” she asks.
“Nicole has her own house,” Gilcrest says. “You know that. How many times do I need to tell you we’re only married on paper. And you can’t stay by yourself tonight, safe room or not. Either come to my house or I’ll stay with you.”
“Paul,” Freya says, “you’re getting a houseguest for the night. And when can I have my truck?”
“We’ll process it for evidence as quickly as we can,” Seton says. “Give us till the morning.”
