The professional that he is, or was, he may have already sensed he was being followed by whoever murdered him, and knew the person would catch up with him any minute.
Before that could happen, he decided to put the envelope inside the trash can, and sent me a quick email from his phone before returning to his car.
What he failed to anticipate was that his assailant would be waiting to put a bullet in his head.
Back behind the wheel, I take a few deep, futile breaths. The beeping of my phone notifies me of the several messages Scarlett is sending, but I can’t respond. My gaze does not move from the Saltspray Cove residents and visitors outside the windshield.
It won’t be long until someone hears the news about the man found dead in the parking lot. Word travels fast, especially in a small town.
Some people will head to the Lobster Grill. They’ll be curious to see who it was that died. They’ll be panicking about the possibility that there’s a murderer in their perfect town.
Before driving back to the apartment, my gaze lands on the envelope Lawrence left behind.
Tipping out its contents, I leaf through several photos of both Judy and me when we were younger. There’s an old article attached to my photo.
What is all this?
Unsure what I’m looking at, I pull out the report for an explanation, reading the first lines.
I blink several times, confused. With the back of my hand, I swipe the sweat from my face. Then I look down at the shocking words again.
Your wife, Judy Ellis, is a former Saltspray Cove Youth Camp resident.
That can’t be right, can’t be true. And yet, the words are there in black and white and the photo of Judy standing in front of the camp as a teenager is proof. I turn the photo over and find writing on the back. Her name, with the camp’s name written beneath it.
I’m shocked by my wife’s secret. Why didn’t she tell me? But then, what Lawrence uncovered about me is far, far worse…
THIRTY-FIVE
SCARLETT
Coco trots ahead of me down the apartment hallway.
We have just returned from the vet who said it was nothing serious, perhaps a mild stomach irritation. He gave her a shot and advised me to feed her bland food for the next few days.
But Coco was already almost herself the moment we stepped outside into the salt-tinged air. So, we stopped at the park on the way back for a short walk and some fresh air before heading back to the apartment.
The place was dotted with manicured flowerbeds, shaded white benches, and paths winding their way between trimmed hedges.
Perching on one of the benches, I allowed the soft floral scent drifting through the breeze and the distant hum of the sea to calm my thoughts, while I watched Coco chasing leaves for a while across the neatly kept grass.
Finally, she exhausted herself and came back to sit with me. Her sides rose and fell as she leaned into my leg. I took that as a sign she was ready to go home.
As we now reach the apartment door, it suddenly swings open from the inside and Alice steps out, carrying a black bin bag in one hand and her black purse hooked over her arm.
We both jump, but Coco slips past Alice through the open doorway and runs into the apartment, nails clicking on the floor.
“Oh, Scarlett,” she says. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just heading out.”
When Gabriel and Judy are in town, Alice usually only comes every second day—or when needed—to do some light cleaning and stock the fridge. The major cleaning is done when they return to Los Angeles or before they arrive here.
Alice pulls the door almost closed and lowers her voice. “Mr. Sutton is home.” Worry creases her face. “He came in about an hour ago and went straight to the balcony. He’s still out there.” Her voice drops even further. “He’s been drinking.”
Drinking? I thought he had stopped.
“I tried calling Judy,” Alice continues. “Then I remembered she went to the camp and won’t have her phone on her.”
“Thanks for telling me this.” I’ve never seen Gabriel drunk before so I’m not looking forward to going in.
