Someone says something about “blunt force trauma” at the same time I see an officer checking a cabinet in the outdoor kitchen and calling his colleagues over.
Ardell must notice the shift by the pool, because he leaves Beau, telling him to stay put as he steps outside.
Powell follows my gaze, and we watch as a gloved officer pulls a canvas bag out of the outdoor kitchen.
Shit. The tote bag.
I never moved it. My stomach lurches as the wine bottle, the Interlachen cups, and Gemma’s bra are laid out on a table.
And now a gloved officer is handling the items with careful fingers, like they’re artifacts from some lost world.
I try to tell myself it’s fine. Those things could belong to Beau and me. But I know everything in that bag has at least Gemma’s and my prints.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
An officer steps through the pool door, holding up the bra. “Is this yours?”
I want to say yes, but it wouldn’t help to lie. Gemma’s fingerprints and DNA are on it.
So I shake my head in resignation. “I found it—” I start to tell the truth, like it might help. But I realize it’s just as bad. I’ve been harboring evidence. “I think it’s Gemma Klein’s.”
As he leaves, he and Powell exchange a nod. Then, Powell turns back to me, folding his arms at his chest like suddenly he’s a warden standing guard.
“What the fuck is happening?” I curse under my breath.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Beau as our eyes lock, and I hope he can tell it’s not about the swearing.
Whatever Beau did or didn’t know, the police finding the evidence from the Hall House is on me. My hasty Hall House snatch and grab might be the final piece of evidence they need.
The police have been icy to Beau since they arrived and saw the body and his black eye. But now, they have a thread to pull. And I’m the one who gave it to them.
Ardell’s back inside. “Beau, I’m going to need you to come down to the station with me,” he says. And the tone of his voice makes it clear this isn’t an invitation.
“Are you arresting him?” I take a step toward Beau, wishing I could grab his hand, so we could both run. When Ardell stiffens, I stand down.
“I’ve got enough probable cause to arrest him for Simon’s murder. We’d like to ask a few more questions about Gemma Klein, too. If he’s willing to come down to the station quietly, we’ll skip the handcuffs.”
“Beau—” I start, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.
But Beau shakes his head, cutting me off with a quiet nodtoward Ardell. “It’s okay, Este, I’ll call my lawyer when I get there.”
The resignation in Beau’s eyes says there’s nothing else to be done. The threat we’ve been fending off for days has finally caught up to us.
Beau stands, and for a moment, it feels like I’m seeing him off to war. Only the expression on Ardell’s face and his hand on his service weapon’s release tell me I can’t hug my husband. So we make eye contact in a wordless goodbye.
“Thanks, Beau,” Ardell says. “Appreciate your cooperation.”
The blood drains from my face as they step toward the door. Ardell moves out of the way so Beau can walk out first. I’m shaking as I watch them weave through the sea of police vehicles in the driveway, heading for Ardell’s cruiser. An excruciating few seconds later, Beau disappears inside.
Chapter 34
Hours After the Hurricane
I want to chase after the cruiser that pulls away with Beau inside. I want to do something—anything—to get Beau out of the back of the car.
Before Beau is even out of my driveway, Officer Powell hands me a search warrant. “This is to search the house, Mrs. Walker.”
The warrant is all legalese, but one phrase jumps out: “items associated with the commission of a homicide.”
