20
Lucy was going against everything she’d told herself she needed to do. This was not playing it safe; she was not keeping her distance from Ford. But he seemed to be everywhere in her life since she’d come back to North Hampton Beach.
She couldn’t wall him out, not now that he was helping her. They talked to each other and saw each other too often. She was
even staying at his house. There was no way she was going to be able to resist the urge to touch him again, especially with
weeks and weeks of the summer still ahead of them.
So it suddenly seemed pointless to resist. Why not give in to the longing that kept her on edge all the time if they were
going to make love before she left this place, anyway? It wasn’t as if she had to worry about getting pregnant. Fortunately,
she was on the pill; her doctor had prescribed them to help regulate her periods.
Ford didn’t remove his shorts. He seemed hesitant to go that far. Instead, he held her and kissed her with his hands pressed
firmly to her bare back as he paused briefly now and them to lick the salt water from her neck and breasts.
Lucy had never felt quite so desired. There was that, she supposed. He acted as if he’d missed her as badly as she’d missed him, so at least she’d have the memories of this moment, of being wanted by him, too. She wasn’t putting too much store in it, since he’d discarded her so easily before, but the fact that he seemed to think that maybe he shouldn’t have left her behind somehow felt like a victory.
Problem was, they were creating expectations her body demanded to have fulfilled.
Eager to take their lovemaking to the next level, she finally undid his shorts. It’d been fifteen years, but one more day,
one more hour, one more minute was not acceptable.
“Wait.” He caught her hands. “I need to get a condom first.”
He already had one baby on the way; she certainly couldn’t blame him. “I’m on the pill.”
“Oh, thank God.” He rested his forehead against hers as he laughed. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you to go inside
with me ever since this started, but I was afraid if I opened my big mouth, you’d change your mind.”
She didn’t say so, but she couldn’t have bailed out. She wanted him too much—had never really stopped. So she just laughed
with him.
Once he’d been reassured that he didn’t have to worry about another pregnancy, he let go of her long enough to remove his
shorts, which he threw in the general direction of shore. The beach was now farther away, but he didn’t seem any more concerned
with losing them than she’d been with losing her bikini.
A swell lifted them both off the seafloor by several inches as he pulled her back into his arms, but he found his footing
again as she wrapped her legs around his hips and guided himself inside her.
Lucy threw her head back, enjoying the intimacy—and remembering that night on this very same beach when she gave him her virginity.
But instead of starting to move, he paused.
“Is something wrong?” she murmured.
“My legs have turned to rubber,” he said, laughing again. “My whole body’s gone weak. It’s having you in my arms again. I
can’t believe it. Just give me a second and I’ll be okay.”
She was touched that he seemed so sincerely affected. She’d always believed that what she’d felt for him was far more powerful
than anything he’d ever feel for her. But she didn’t have long to think about it. True to his word, he recovered almost right
away, and they made love in the water for several minutes.
It wasn’t until he managed to maneuver them closer to shore, however, and they dropped onto the wet, sandy beach that he was
able to roll her beneath him and finish what they’d started.
The waves foamed up at their feet, barely reaching them, as Lucy caught hold of his firm, round buttocks, so carried away
by all the wonderful physical sensations she was experiencing that she was finally able to block every last bit of the worry
that’d plagued her since she arrived here and simply let go, feel, enjoy.
“Lucy!” The raspy urgency with which he said her name a few moments later told her he could no longer hold himself back. He
was warning her that he might climax too soon.
But she’d reached the same pinnacle. The tension broke with his next thrust, and the most exquisite pleasure surged through
her, starting deep in her core before moving through the rest of her body.
When she gasped, she felt his body jerk. Then he collapsed over her, supporting the bulk of his weight with his elbows while
he recovered.
She felt him kiss her neck one last time, then brush his lips against hers before he rolled onto his back where, like her,
he gazed up at the stars.
As their breathing slowly evened out, she was afraid he might say something—something that would ruin everything. She didn’t expect a commitment, so she didn’t want to be treated to a discourse on why she shouldn’t take what’d just happened too seriously.
She almost got up to gather her swimsuit, if she could find it, and run to the house. Maybe when they saw each other in the
morning, they’d be able to pretend this never happened.
But he didn’t speak. He just reached over and took her hand.
They’d lost Lucy’s top, but Ford plucked his shorts out of the surf while Lucy snagged her bikini bottoms, which she could find. Then they raced up to the house before someone could come across them. Being discovered wasn’t likely, given the very early hour, but it was better to be safe than sorry, Ford supposed. The last thing he wanted was for Eddie to come bounding
down the beach with Chet right behind him, which had happened before, although well after the sun came up.
Once they reached the house, they used the outside showerhead to rinse off before climbing the stairs to the deck. Ford took
Lucy’s wet bottoms as soon as they went in and dropped them in the washer with his shorts before tugging her into the bathroom
in his room, where he turned on the shower. Although they’d gotten most of the sand off before coming in, he doubted she’d
want to sleep with salt water in her hair, and she certainly didn’t complain.
After they got in and were standing beneath the warm spray, Ford enjoyed soaping Lucy’s body before washing her hair.
She didn’t say much, but neither did he. Maybe, like him, she was afraid one wrong word would destroy the dreamlike quality
of this night. He’d fantasized about being with her so many times over the years, but the reality of holding her again was
even better than what his mind had conjured up.
She took the soap when he was through with it and scrubbed him in turn, using her nails to scratch his back through the thick lather. As the water grew hotter, steam filled the bathroom. But they didn’t hurry. They lingered, kissing and touching and holding each other until their fingers began to wrinkle.
“It’s almost morning,” she murmured when he finally shut off the water.
He swung open the heavy glass door and reached for towels. “I don’t want this night to end,” he said.
Their eyes met as he turned to face her. “Neither do I,” she responded.
He should’ve let her go to her own bed. He felt she might sleep better there. But as she started to leave his room, he stopped
her. “Sleep with me?”
She hesitated briefly, as if that might be the line she’d refuse to cross. He feared it was. Curling up with him was an entirely different kind of capitulation.
It had nothing to do with hormones or sexual satisfaction. It was a decision made with a clear head, and it might even have
more ramifications than what’d happened in the ocean, some of which they probably couldn’t foresee.
He tilted her chin up so he could gaze into her face while she thought it over—and felt the most amazing thing he’d experienced
yet when a sweet smile curved her lips, she dropped her towel and took his hand.
Chet had been hoping to bump into Ford again. He’d walked down to their private beach from the public beach twice, but his
old friend wasn’t out. He would rather have seen him there—speaking to him would’ve come off more natural, more casual that
way—but when the beach remained empty, Chet resigned himself to going to the door. He hadn’t heard a word from Lucy since
he’d run into her on the street before she went into the Zampinos’ house. Had they told her anything new, anything he had
to worry about?
He didn’t think they had. The gossip around town certainly didn’t reflect it. But he needed to be sure. If he was to have any chance of sidestepping the devastating consequences that could be heading his way, he had to see them coming.
Picking up the Frisbee he’d been tossing for Eddie, he called out to his dog and trudged over to Coastal Comfort. He’d just
climbed onto the deck and kicked the sand off his flip-flops when he looked up, intending to knock, and saw Lucy through the
glass doors wearing nothing but Ford’s T-shirt, which hit her bare legs at mid-thigh.
His stomach twisted into painful knots. This was even worse than he’d thought it was going to be. Ford wasn’t wearing much,
either, just a pair of loose-fitting khaki shorts as they talked and laughed and drank what Chet assumed to be coffee. With
Ford’s hair standing up on one side and Lucy’s tangled and uncombed and falling around her shoulders, it looked as if they’d
just gotten out of bed.
Chet would’ve hurried away and tried to speak to Ford another time. But Eddie whined and scratched on the glass, causing Lucy
to look up and see him.
“Shit,” Chet muttered as she dashed into the bedroom, out of sight.
Ford pushed away from the granite slab that formed the kitchen island, where he’d been leaning as they talked, to answer the
door.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said, stepping out onto the deck instead of inviting Chet in.
Chet felt clunky and uncoordinated as he moved back. He wished he hadn’t come to the door, but now that he had, he decided
he might as well try to do a little damage control. Because if Ford and Lucy ever really got together—beyond a meaningless summer fling—Ford would leave no stone unturned when it came to appeasing her. And Ford
wasn’t a man who was easily denied. “I just... I was out walking Eddie and thought I’d say hello, see if you wanted to
grab breakfast in town.”
Ford lifted his coffee. “I’m covered this morning. But text me next time. We’ll set something up.”
There was a hint of dismissal in his friend’s voice. He obviously wanted to get back to Lucy. But Chet didn’t leave. He had
to figure out where he stood. “Was that Lucy McBride I saw in the house a minute ago?”
Ford walked over and rested his elbows on the banister facing the sea. “Where’s Kira this morning?” he asked without answering.
“How come she never visits the beach with you?”
Ford wasn’t happy that he and Lucy had been interrupted, and he was feeling protective of her. Chet could tell that much,
or he wouldn’t have changed the subject without addressing the question.
Trying to do all he could to appear genuine, nonthreatening and not too heavily focused on Lucy, Chet smiled. “Kira likes
having an hour or so to herself while I walk the dog. That’s when she does her yoga.”
“The beach is a great place to do yoga.”
“Yeah, but not so much with a dog. And definitely not with a baby. After Kira feeds Kenzie, and I play with her for a bit,
we put her in her bouncer and Kira gets her exercise while I walk Eddie.”
“Teamwork.”
“It takes both of us,” he said with a weak chuckle.
Ford sipped his coffee. “You got a good woman.”
“Honestly? I don’t know where I’d be without her. I’m not the same man I was before she came into my life, Ford. Whatever
happened in the past—I was an entirely different person.” He wanted Ford to understand, just in case the truth ever came out,
that he didn’t deserve what would happen to him. The night Aurora died was more of an accident than anything else. One thing
had led to another and then everything had gotten away from him and turned into something unbelievable. He only did what it
seemed he had to do at the time.
“I’m happy for you both,” Ford said.
Chet glanced through the glass doors, looking for Lucy, but the kitchen–living room remained empty. He assumed it would stay
that way until he left. “I ran into Lucy the other day,” he said. “Found her walking down my street.”
“She told me.”
“That’s right.” Chet leaned on the banister next to him. “You called while I was helping her find the Zampino place.”
“I appreciate you doing that, by the way.”
“No problem.” He probably should’ve said goodbye and left at that point. He wasn’t getting anywhere. But he couldn’t help
pressing just a little harder. “She learn anything of value from them? They remember any details they didn’t disclose before?”
Ford shook his head. “Not really. Just that their rowboat was gone when they went out to clean up that night. They thought
someone at the party might’ve put it in the river and let it get away. But it was back, sitting in its usual spot, the next
morning.” He took another drink of his coffee. “That’s strange, don’t you think?”
Chet’s scalp began to prickle. He should’ve let the boat float on down the river. But he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to
the Potomac. He’d been hoping that if he put it back, Aurora’s body would never be found. That would’ve been the best possible
scenario, at least for him. “Not really,” he said, using an indifferent tone as he gazed out at the ocean. “We’ve got good
neighbors around there. Someone probably found it floating loose and brought it back.”
“They asked all the neighbors. Everyone said they didn’t even know it’d gotten loose.” Ford straightened. “Do you remember
if the Zampinos came to your house that night?”
Chet resisted the panic rising inside him, did all he could to appear relaxed and unafraid. “They must’ve. I mean, I didn’t talk to them, but my parents probably did.” He remembered his folks asking him about the boat. He’d said he didn’t know any thing about it. And then, fortunately, just before it took center stage in the discussion around Aurora, the police connected Lucy’s father to the Matteo murders and the investigation abruptly changed direction. From that point forward, NHBPD set out to find evidence against Lucy’s father—not evidence in general—so they could solve all three murders. Because of the timing, they were convinced it had to be one and the same person, and the boat was a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit, so they ignored it.
Although Chet had always been afraid the boat would come up again, after fifteen years of basically nothing, he’d started
to believe he was in the clear. If it wasn’t for Lucy, that would still be the case, which was why he was starting to hate
her. The boat was the kind of evidence he needed to remain buried—because it led to him .
“What do you think could’ve happened?” Ford asked.
“We know Aurora was drinking that night,” he replied. “If you don’t want to believe Lucy’s father had anything to do with
her murder, maybe she climbed into the boat on her own, got out on the river and somehow tipped over and drowned.”
“The coroner claims she was strangled. He found no water in her lungs, which means she was tossed in the river after she was murdered.”
“You remember that after all these years?” Chet said, acting as though he was impressed. “I didn’t realize you paid much attention
to the trial.”
“Lucy was my girlfriend. I didn’t turn out to be a very good boyfriend—my parents wouldn’t even hear of me seeing her again
and I let them persuade me—but I definitely paid attention.”
The memory of dragging Aurora’s body down the embankment at his house played like a movie in Chet’s mind. She’d been so unwieldy,
so difficult to move. He’d struggled to get her back into the boat. Then he’d struggled to drag the boat back into the water.
He’d even capsized while dumping her once he’d gone far enough downstream.
After getting rid of her and flipping the boat over so he could paddle to shore, he’d dragged it out of the water, jogged home to get his truck, came back for the boat, scrubbed it in case he’d left any DNA evidence and returned it to the Zampino house—all without alerting his sleeping parents or being seen by anyone else.
Dawn was peeking over the horizon by the time he got the boat back to his neighbor’s. Fortunately, no one was around when
he lifted it off his truck and dragged it through their side yard. They’d all partied until late. But his parents were awake
when he got home. He was breathless from running—jogging down the street was quicker than trying to swim the river—when he
saw the light in the kitchen through the front window and once again circled around to the back.
The smell of bacon and eggs had filled his nostrils as he let himself in through the side door he’d left open when he carried
Aurora out of the house four hours earlier. To this day, he couldn’t eat bacon. The scent was tied to that terrible night,
always reminded him of Aurora and the panic and regret he’d felt as his mind raced to find a way out of what he’d done.
He’d also never forget how fast his heart was racing even after he got into bed. The incident was over—he’d done what he could
to cover it up—and yet he was so freaked out he was sweating profusely.
He was still awake three hours later when his mother knocked on his door and poked her head in to tell him Aurora’s parents
were looking for her.
He’d muttered that he hadn’t seen her, that he had no clue where she could be, and rolled over, facing away from the door
while pretending to be half asleep, and his mother had quietly let herself out. Then he could hear her talking on the phone,
probably to Patti or Nelson, as she moved down the hall, repeating what he’d told her.
“Maybe the coroner got it wrong, missed something,” he said to Ford. “After all, people make mistakes. You think the police got it wrong, don’t you?”
Ford glanced back at the house. “I wasn’t sure at first,” he admitted. “But yeah, I think they got it wrong.”
Feeling faint as he imagined the police knocking on his door and Kira answering it to hear he was under arrest for murder , Chet grabbed the banister.
“You okay?” Ford asked.
“Just a little dizzy,” he said, waving away his friend’s concern. “Haven’t eaten yet.”
“Can I get you a glass of orange juice or something?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Do you need me to drive you home?”
Chet would’ve accepted if he thought having that extra time with Ford would help him in some way. But he wasn’t going to be
able to change Ford’s mind. Lucy had too strong a hold on him. “That’s okay. It was a momentary thing.” After whistling for
Eddie, who’d been sniffing around the deck, he started down the stairs as if it was nothing, but his head was still swimming,
and he felt bile rising up his throat.
Chet heard Ford call out a goodbye before going back into the house. Then he leaned into the shrubs, and Eddie cocked his
head, watching curiously, as he threw up.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Anna was startled by the sound of her husband’s voice. “What?” She’d heard him; she was just buying time to engage her brain.
She was sitting on the couch with a book while he watched baseball, worrying about the private investigator Ford Wagner had
hired to delve into Aurora Clark’s murder and how that might affect Reggie, which would in turn affect her and their mother.
“I said, ‘what’s wrong with you?’” he repeated.
She lowered Nora Roberts’s latest novel. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve been holding that book for almost half an hour, and I haven’t seen you turn a single page.”
She wished she could say she’d been distracted by the game, but he knew she didn’t care about baseball.
“Is something going on?” he asked.
“I’m just... thinking.”
He used the remote to pause the game. “About the kids?”
“No, the kids are doing great.” She could see them through the slider, playing with the neighbor boy on the tree swing Joel
had built in the backyard.
“Then what has you so preoccupied?”
She noticed a new cut on his thumb. As a carpenter, he used his hands a lot, so they took a beating, but they were still the
most attractive hands she’d ever seen. “Lucy McBride, I guess,” she said. “The murders. The trial. It’s all anyone can talk
about.”
“I haven’t paid any attention, so I don’t know. What’s she saying?”
He hadn’t been living in North Hampton Beach that summer, wasn’t raised here, like she was. They’d met at the hamburger stand
where she worked while he was vacationing with his brother, three years after McBride went to prison, and they’d stayed in
contact throughout college. When they got married, she moved to upstate New York to be with him, but they didn’t like the
harsh winters. So they came to North Hampton Beach—also to be much closer to her mother, who was alone and needed more support
at the time, especially with Reggie always causing problems.
“She’s claiming her father didn’t kill Aurora Clark. She’s even hired an investigator to reopen the case—or verify everything
or whatever a PI does.”
“Nothing’s going to change. I’m not even sure why she’d waste her time and money. Regardless, why are you worried about that?”
She opened her mouth to say she wasn’t, not really, but couldn’t bring the words to her lips. Ford was helping Lucy now, which
meant she stood a much better chance of uncovering something that would prove Reggie had lied.
“Anna.” Her husband scooted closer to her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s Reggie,” she admitted.
His scowl deepened. “What’s he got to do with this Lucy situation?”
She closed her eyes, couldn’t believe she was about to reveal a secret she’d held close for so long, especially because she
was frightened of how Joel would react. She didn’t want to get into a fight with him. Didn’t want to lose his respect, either.
But she could no longer keep her mouth shut. She kept thinking about how she’d feel if she was in Lucy’s place. Or Patti’s.
Reggie might claim that Patti and Nelson wanted him to stick by his story, but did they really want that? When it could mean that her daughter’s killer was running around free?
“Anna?” her husband prompted, more sternly.
She opened her eyes but stared at her feet while kneading her forehead. “You’re going to be mad at me,” she said. “And my
mother and brother will probably never speak to me again. But at the end of the day, I have to live with myself, and I just
can’t carry this secret any longer.”