“I need to borrow your truck. Can you take theOn Timeback to Chappy and have someone pick you up there?”
“Seriously? I wanted to go shopping.”
Annie reached into her purse and threw down a twenty that would more than cover her share of the meal. “I’m sorry. But please trust me, Taylor. And tell no one. It’s got to do with Bella.” She pulled on her jacket and hat while Taylor fished out the keys and handed them over along with the twenty.
“This was on Kevin, remember?”
“Oh,” she said, hurrying into her coat. “Thanks.”
“Can I go with you? Whatever it is, I know how to keep quiet.”
Annie knew that, too. And she was grateful. But she also knew she had to do this by herself. Until she was certain. For now, every instinct she had was telling her she needed to talk to only one person—the woman who had helped her untangle the story of Bella’s birth. In order to do that, Annie had to go up-island.
And maybe along the way, Annie would text Linc. Just in case. Though, in case of what, she wasn’t sure.
Chapter 39
The air had chilled in the short time they’d been in the pub. Maybe it was only Annie’s nerves. Or maybe a storm was really on the way. She decided not to turn the truck radio on; she did not want to hear about inclement weather or any gloomy local updates about Bella that wouldn’t really be updates because there was no news. Yet.
She’d driven a pickup only once, nearly two years before, when Claire had had a stroke and Earl was in no condition to make his way home after showing up at the hospital. His truck was newer than Taylor’s and did not smell like the jasmine cologne that Taylor favored.
She managed to start the engine and back the truck up without ramming into anything or anyone. Her first stop would be up-island because Winnie’s nephew, Lucas, had known the Thurman boys back in high school. Annie didn’t recall the boys’ names, only that one had a dimple in his chin, the same way his half sister, Bella, did. It had been one of the first things that had directed them to their father.
Abigail’s boyfriend might or might not have a dimple; his neatly trimmed beard would have camouflaged it.
Navigating the one-way streets of the village, Annie kept to the speed limit so she wouldn’t get pulled over and lose time. However, after she passed the library and the elementary school on Edgartown–West Tisbury Road, she floored it. The pickup, however, didn’t have much get-up-and-go. When traveling the back roads of Chappaquiddick, get-up-and-go was rarely warranted.
While putt-putting toward Aquinnah, Annie reconsidered sharing her epiphany with Linc. If she was wrong, she’d be wasting his time. And if he was tracking a lead that she didn’t yet know about, her interruption might divert him from something that would turn out more successful.
And yet . . .
And yet . . .
She decided to wait until she could ask Lucas if he’d seen either Thurman boy lately. It might be a slim chance, but she had to stay positive.
If she’d called Winnie and asked for Lucas’s phone number, it might have been smarter. But she wanted an in-person conversation with him, not one on the cell-service fly. Maybe she’d be able to learn more that way. If only the damn truck would move faster.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, twisted this way and that on the seat. She started to turn on the radio, then remembered she’d decided not to. She did not dare check her phone. Not even when she remembered she’d silenced the ring when they’d gone into the Newes and hadn’t turned it back on.
Passing the transfer station and the airport, the truck was doing forty at best. By the time she finally made it to the fork at State Road and went left, she pulled into Alley’s parking lot. Her one consolation was that it wasn’t July or August, when, in addition to the pokey mobile, she’d have to contend with the god-awful traffic.
She pulled her phone from her purse and checked for texts, messages, voice mail. Nothing appeared. She supposed she should turn off Wi-Fi, although the little wheel was going to rotate over and over, groaning with frustration while seeking a signal as she drove into the wishy-washy, up-island connection area, which was on par with that of Chappy. But if she turned off Wi-Fi and anyone had news—or if another call came through from Bella—Annie needed to know right away.
So she turned on the ringer and set the phone on the seat, its roaming feature already spinning fruitlessly.
She drove out of the lot and headed southwest. She used to be confused as to why Aquinnah was referred to as “up-island” when to get there one did not travel north. But Earl had explained that the “up” had come from the old sailors’ orientation of the vertical, global lines of longitude and had nothing to do with where Aquinnah was in relation to Tisbury or Edgartown. She supposed it made sense, but all Annie was sure of was that the road was predictably windy in winter, with the air currents made worse by the hills, dips, and curves that defined the terrain. The sky seemed more overcast than it had been in Edgartown; the clouds looked more threatening, and light drops of wetness began to dot the windshield. Annie hoped it was salt spray off the ocean, which at that point was near her on one side or the other. Sometimes both. Whatever those directions were.
She passed the Allen Farm and, finally, the Wampanoag Tribal Headquarters, and made it to Winnie’s in less than an hour, which might have been a record for Taylor’s old truck.
But when she turned into the driveway, there were no vehicles parked anywhere, not even on the lawn. Annie stopped, got out, and hurried to the back door. But when she knocked, no one responded.
And then the wind picked up, and the sky started to sleet.
It didn’t occur to you to call Winnie first to find out if anyone was home?
Murphy’s chastising words weren’t helpful. Especially since she damn well could have suggested that when Annie still had been in Edgartown. Trundling back to the truck, she got in and slammed the door.
What?Murphy added.I have to do all your thinking for you?
