“I had to pay extra for Fred to bring me across,” she said. “The first run’s not ’til six forty-five.”
“I know,” Annie said. She’d lived on Chappaquiddick long enough to know theOn Timeschedule better than the one for the big boats.
Staring out at the water, Taylor asked, “Why didn’t anybody tell me? Jesus. I’m a freaking EMT. Maybe I could have gotten to him sooner . . .”
“Taylor, please. It all happened so fast. Simon took control and . . .”
“Who?”
“One of our guests. Simon Anderson.”
“The TV guy?”
“Yes.”
“The same guy who shot him?”
Annie knew she had to fill her in on a few details before Taylor heard a version of the story that might have become altered from a lengthy chain of telling. She started by explaining that Simon had been staying in the cottage, and that Annie had gone inside to try and find an envelope of research that she needed for her book. It was, of course, a lie, but Annie had no intention of telling her the whole truth. She went on to say Simon was shocked when he came in unexpectedly and saw her in the bedroom after she’d been prowling through her trunk. She said he shouted at her, and Kevin must have heard him. That part was true, including that Kevin must have raced up to his truck and grabbed his gun before he’d run back to the cottage. She told her about the scuffle, and how Simon had been the one who’d called 911.
The abridged account was conceivable.
Taylor was mute. In the time Annie had known her, she’d never seen the woman so quiet for so long.
“I’m sorry you didn’t find out right away,” Annie said. “It had nothing to do with you—I didn’t know you were here. And as I said, everything happened fast.”
Taylor toyed with one of the folds of her skirt. It looked as if she was trying to pleat them according to the pastel stripes.
“I heard that John arrested that guy. Simon.”
Annie shook her head. “No. He questioned him. He also questioned me. Our stories were the same. John’s going to wait until Kevin wakes up, of course, because he wants to question him, too. But as of now, it’s being called an accident.”
Flipping her mane back from one shoulder, Taylor snorted. “I’ve heard more believable tales that turned out to be lies.”
Aside from providing good health care, one of the nicest parts about the hospital was that it sat up on a hill that overlooked both Vineyard Haven Harbor and Lagoon Pond. Annie looked past Taylor to the harbor now, where one of the big boats was visible behind a Black Dog tall ship—the vintage schoonerAlabama. The vessels rested on still water—seeing the peaceful image calmed her.
“Taylor,” she said, “nothing ominous happened. Three of us were there. So far, two of us have explained the details the same way. As, without a doubt, will Kevin. Please, don’t try to stir up trouble where there isn’t any.”
Taylor stopped pleating the stripes and stood. “I want to see him.”
Annie jumped up. “No. You can’t.”
“Of course I can,” the woman grunted. “For one thing, I’m an EMT. I can get access if I want. For another thing . . . I feel partly responsible. Kevin didn’t want to come back; I talked him into it.”
Of all the things Taylor could have said, Annie hadn’t expected that. “Okay,” she said. “Then please hear me out.”
Taylor paused.
“The reason no one told you last night is because we were trying to protect you.”
“From what? A little blood and chaos? As if I haven’t been around that most of my life?”
Annie sighed. “No, Taylor. We were trying to protect you from finding out that Meghan is here. Meghan. Kevin’s wife.”
The tanned complexion paled. “But . . .” She didn’t seem able to continue.
“It’s a long story,” Annie continued. “And it’s taken a long time. But she’s healthy now and doing well.”
Taylor shook her head. “So Kevin has played me for a fool.”
