Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Present Day
R ose drove Sean back to his police car later that afternoon. Sean carried a box of “potential evidence” regarding the Oren and Natalie investigation that contained journals, photographs, and personal items. Rose could only think, Natalie never thought her private things would be gone through like this. She never thought her diary would be evidence for her murder.
Rose cut the engine and gazed at Sean through the dying cerulean light. It was suddenly strange to her that she hadn’t seen him around so often in the past several decades. She’d hardly left since 2004. Where was he?
She asked.
“I left Nantucket for a while,” Sean admitted. “I met someone; I wanted to try to make it work. She wasn’t an islander, and she convinced me there would be more upward mobility career-wise if we went somewhere bigger. ”
“How did you like that?”
Sean sniffed. “For a long time, that was my life. We had a couple of kids. We had bills to pay, windows to wash, and cars to take care of. We went to bed every night and ate breakfast every morning.”
Rose searched through his words for some sign that he’d loved her. But what did love really mean?
“I didn’t know she was cheating on me,” Sean admitted finally. “When she confessed, I was blown over. I had no idea she was so good at lying.”
Rose felt it like a knife through the heart. She wet her lips. “Did you leave immediately?”
Sean shook his head. “No. I think forgiveness is an essential part of every relationship. I wanted to go to therapy. I wanted to talk about everything. I even asked her a bunch of questions about the guy, just so I could fully grapple with the situation. She was up for it at first. But after a couple of months, she said she couldn’t respect me anymore.”
Rose’s jaw hung open. Respect?
“She said she would have preferred if I’d gotten angry,” Sean said with a soft laugh. “She wanted me to, like, punch a wall or something.”
Rose’s hands were clammy.
“Maybe it was a test I failed,” Sean said. “But I don’t blame her, and I don’t blame myself. We grew apart over the years. That kind of thing happens all the time.”
Rose’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re right. It happens all the time.”
“Maybe it doesn’t even have to feel that sad?” Sean suggested.
But Rose wasn’t so sure. There was tremendous tragedy in life. She’d been around long enough to reckon with that.
Sean said goodbye and wished her a good night. “It was one heck of a day,” he said before he closed the door between them.
Rose returned home. She felt frantic and strange and got undressed as soon as she entered her bedroom, pulling on a ratty T-shirt she’d had since Mississippi. She felt like herself in it. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and went out onto the veranda to call Hilary. Before she could, though, her client’s name filled the screen.
“Hi! How are you?” Rose’s voice was overly bright. How could she have forgotten about the stolen sculpture? It hung above the rest of her life like a guillotine blade.
“I have to admit,” her client said, “I’m not terribly happy about this robbery. We both know how much money I’ve already put down.”
Rose groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. It’s always one thing after another.
“I want to give the cops a little more time,” Rose said hesitantly. “But otherwise, I’m happy to make you a new sculpture. It’ll just take a bit more time.” A lot more time, her brain added.
The client grumbled and said something like, “ I should have hired Bobby Bilton. ” That stung. Rose knew Bobby Bilton’s work. It was derivative. It also sold very well.
She’d lost work to Billy before.
Rose called Hilary after the client got off the phone and told her what they’d learned today at the records office and in Natalie’s room. Hilary listened, captivated, then urged Rose to take care of herself.
“Of course,” Rose said .
“I don’t like that you’re playing around in his territory again,” Hilary said. “I’m sure he can sense you messing around where you don’t belong.”
“I literally bought the estate,” Rose reminded her. “I didn’t even buy it from him.”
“I doubt he likes that, either,” Hilary said.
Rose rolled her eyes, grateful that Hilary couldn’t see her, then made an excuse to get off the phone and watch television inside. It had been ages since she’d zoned out, and it felt wonderful to forget about everything for a while.
Of course, it all came crashing back into focus when she turned off the television again.
It was one thirty in the morning. Rose’s phone lit up with a message from Sean. Rose’s heart slammed to a stop. She sat up in bed and blinked at the cold light of her phone. It had been a long time since a man had written her in the middle of the night.
SEAN: I think I figured something out.
SEAN: Can I come by tomorrow morning?
ROSE: Yes.
SEAN: Do you like donuts?
ROSE: Isn’t that the old police officer cliché?
SEAN: Do you want donuts or not?
Rose giggled at her screen.
ROSE: I love donuts. Who doesn’t?
Sean appeared on her front stoop at eight thirty the following morning. Rose had already been awake since five, vacuuming and scrubbing kitchen counters. She had no idea what Sean had “figured out,” but she guessed it was another piece of this elaborate Oren puzzle.
She was right.
Sean set himself up at the kitchen counter and spread out the donuts: caramel, chocolate, vanilla, and maple, all filled with cream. Rose’s blood sugar shot to the heavens after just one bite. She poured them both cups of coffee and settled in beside him.
Sean had a few photographs with him. All of them had been taken from Natalie’s room.
“Do you know who this man is?” he asked.
The photograph he was talking about was of a nineteen or twenty-year-old Natalie with a man a few years older than her, with long, slender arms and long brown hair. He looked a little like a rocker.
“No,” Rose answered. “But Natalie wrote about her boyfriend before Oren. It must be him?”
Sean bowed his head.
“Oren always said he ‘stole’ Natalie from some guy,” Rose said. “It must be him?” She searched her mind for a name from the diaries, then came up with, “Howard? I think?”
“Howard Reynolds,” Sean affirmed. “Do you know that name from anywhere else?”
Rose squinted and took a bite of a donut. Her mouth filled with cream. She repeated his name a few times but came up dry. “Where is it from?”
“You bought the estate from him,” Sean said.
Rose gasped. “Of course!”
How could she have forgotten? The Salt Sisters had researched him very soon after Rose bought the estate. He lived in Manhattan and worked in importing and exporting, whatever that meant.
He was Natalie’s first boyfriend.
It has to be a clue.
Rose pressed her hands to her ears. Her thoughts whirred and whirred.
“I got to thinking,” Sean was saying. “It didn’t make sense that the old Grayson Estate sat empty like that for so many years. Why didn’t the owner do anything with it? Why didn’t they refurbish it or bulldoze it?” Sean shook his head. “I couldn’t understand it, so I dug deeper into Howard Reynolds and recognized him from some of her photographs.”
Rose puffed out her cheeks. “You’re a regular Sherlock, aren’t you?”
“Ha. I wish.” But Sean’s smile was proof of how proud he was.
Rose pulled up the same images of modern-day Howard the Salt Sisters had discovered. She placed her phone directly beside the old photograph and sighed.
“He was so cute,” she said. “Now he just looks wealthy and mean.”
“I talked to someone from his hometown last night,” Sean said. “Howard and Natalie were high school sweethearts. Apparently, it was a total shock when the two of them broke up. But the old friend didn’t know the details. He just said, ‘Howard would have done anything to get Natalie back.’”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “Is it possible that Howard was the one who killed Natalie? Maybe he was jealous and set their house on fire?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Sean admitted. “It sends us down another path.”
“But it’s an exciting path,” Rose said.
She hated to admit it to herself, but she still didn’t like to fully acknowledge that Oren might have killed Natalie. Rose had loved Oren. Some of her still wanted to believe there was goodness in him and that she wasn’t wrong for having fallen in love with him.
“Oren always talked about how Natalie’s boyfriend had been so awful. So bad for her,” Rose whispered. “I remember feeling so proud that Oren was the kind of man who knew how to love women properly. I felt so protected.” Rose’s eyes filled with tears. “Gosh, I was so wrong!”
Sean touched Rose on the shoulder, and Rose smiled through her tears.
“Sorry. My emotions are all over the place,” Rose said. She picked up a donut and took another bite. The sugar opened her mind a little bit. It reminded her of where she was and why. It reminded her of how much time had passed. But it’s good that it did. It’s good that I’m not that person anymore.
“I think we should go to Manhattan to meet Howard,” Sean said. “I have so many questions I want to ask him. Why didn’t he do anything with the estate? What did he think when Natalie left him for Oren? Did he and Oren ever meet?”
Rose’s heart pumped. It was hard to picture herself in Howard’s office in Manhattan. It was hard to imagine herself shaking his hand. This was Natalie’s first love. He’s mourned her forever.
Has Oren mourned Natalie, too?
“Let’s go to Manhattan,” Rose said, sounding more confident than she felt. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I’ll make plans immediately,” Sean said. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she affirmed.