23
They were still in bed at the hotel the following morning when Ford’s phone went off. It was after eight, but he ignored it.
He was too comfortable snuggled against Lucy’s naked body. He could feel the soft skin of her neck against his lips and the
mound of her breast beneath his hand as he slowly woke up. He figured they’d get to the day soon enough—have breakfast, maybe
look through a few shops and then start the long drive back to North Hampton Beach.
But he needed more moments like this one, when he was so deeply content he didn’t care if he ever left the hotel. Yes, he’d had a good life overall. At least, he’d never gone without. But something had been missing for
a long time. On top of that, his marriage had been such a constant battle that just being at peace made him incredibly happy.
When whoever it was called right back, however, he thought it might be the investigator with news about CODIS. He’d be shocked
if the results could come back that fast, but just in case...
He slid away from Lucy and reached for his phone, which he’d left charging on the nightstand.
It was still pitch-black in the room; they’d pulled the shades tight. But the bright screen made it easy enough to see. It
was his mother.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Lucy began to stir. “What’s wrong?”
“My mother’s trying to reach me.”
She rolled over to face him. “That’s bad?” she mumbled.
It could be , he thought, but he didn’t say it.
After covering a yawn, Lucy asked, “Aren’t you going to answer?”
“I’m thinking about letting it go.” It didn’t feel right to accept a call from Sara while he was in bed with Lucy. He no longer
cared whether his mother approved of his relationship with her. It was more that he had no idea what Sara might say. If she’d
heard from someone in North Hampton Beach—possibly Patti Clark—that he was befriending Lucy, she could be upset, and he didn’t
want Lucy to overhear her saying anything derogatory.
“Does she know that you’re helping me?” Lucy asked.
“Not yet.”
“Now I understand the hesitation,” she said with a worried chuckle and climbed out of bed to go to the bathroom.
He let his mother’s call transfer to voice mail again, just to see what she’d do. If she called a third time, something important was going on, and it was possible it didn’t have anything to do with Lucy. There could be bad news regarding the
business that she’d gotten word of before he did. Maybe one of their attorneys had tried to call him at the office this morning
and reached out to her when he didn’t answer.
Or Houston could’ve done something—crashed his motorcycle or overdosed.
Sure enough, his phone started ringing again. “Shit!” He connected the call. “Hello?”
“What’s going on?” his mother demanded. “Why haven’t I been able to reach you?”
“I’m just getting up.”
“You never sleep this late.”
“I’m taking the summer off, remember? Or... sort of. I’ve been keeping up with things at work—I could never take that much time off. So what’s going on? Is it Houston?”
“Houston?”
As frustrated as he could get with his brother, he breathed a huge sigh of relief at the surprise in her response. Houston
wouldn’t do even the simplest things to improve his life, but at least he was unharmed. “I thought... I thought maybe...
Never mind. What’s wrong?”
“Is it true?” she asked.
Ford let his head fall back on the pillows. “Is what true?”
“Chief Claxton just called Houston to say that Lucy McBride is staying at Coastal Comfort.”
Apparently, this was Chief Claxton’s way of fighting back... He knew his family wouldn’t approve. “She rented the Smoot
cottage for the summer, but she’s being harassed.”
“So you had her move in with you ?”
He heard the shower and was relieved that Lucy was giving him privacy. “Having her at the house isn’t hurting anyone, Mom.
I’m keeping her safe.” He was doing a lot more than that. He was making love to her every chance he got. But that wasn’t any
of Sara’s business.
“Chief Claxton said you’ve hired a private investigator to examine murders that’ve already been solved.”
“That’s one way to put it, I guess.”
“Why are you getting involved?” she cried.
“Because I’m not sure the police got it right.”
“They had DNA evidence, Ford!”
“That doesn’t amount to what they think it does.”
“As Chief Claxton just pointed out to me, the juries who heard all the evidence apparently thought so.”
“Because McBride didn’t have a decent attorney. The CA had full sway.”
“Whether they got it right or wrong doesn’t matter. It’s none of our business! This is nothing we should be wasting our resources
on!”
He’d been the one to bring added value to Wagner Business Solutions. Because he’d been willing to spend more on research and
development than his highly conservative father, and he’d done it at a critical time—well before his father died—the business
was more profitable than ever. He’d made them all a lot of money. But he wasn’t paying the investigator through the business,
anyway. Now he was glad, because she had no right to question him on it. “ Our resources? This is a personal expense, which I’m paying from my own pocket, Mom.”
She fell silent.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“I’m just jittery, what with Paris and her two brats trying to claw away everything that should be mine and Houston’s and
yours.”
“Coastal Comfort is part of the estate. They will get their fair share when we sell it whether we like it or not.”
“What your father did—”
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
“Fine. What about Christina?”
“What about her?” he asked.
“She called here the other day. Said she was sorry for her past behavior and wanted me to be part of the baby’s life. And
that means so much. I was afraid... I was afraid she’d make things difficult the way she tends to do.”
“She will,” he said flatly. “The best indicator of future behavior is past behavior. She hasn’t changed overnight, you know.”
He could feel his mother’s surprise.
“She apologized—” she repeated, but he cut her off.
“Because she’s trying to get me back.”
“She is?”
“She’s never heard the word no in her life and doesn’t like hearing it now.”
“Are you considering trying to make the marriage work?”
He blew out a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t see that I have any choice. Even if I only last a few
years, it’ll put me in a much better place when it comes to my parental rights.”
“You’d essentially be doing it for the sake of your child.”
“That’s the only reason I’d do it.”
Silence. Then she said, “Maybe that would be best for everyone.”
“How can you say that? You hate Christina,” he reminded her.
“Maybe so. But I’m going to love my grandchild, and like you, I’m willing to make concessions for the sake of the baby.”
Not to mention that if he got back with Christina, he couldn’t be with Lucy, who Sara felt was beneath him. She didn’t want
him to be connected, even remotely, to Mick McBride. That Chief Claxton had called her only gave her more reason to support
a reconciliation.
“I’m giving myself the summer to make a decision,” he informed her.
“Okay. Just don’t let Lucy McBride cost you more than you’re willing to lose.”
She disconnected before he could respond, but he was glad the conversation was over. “Damn it!” he said with a groan. “Why
can’t anything be easy?”
The shower was still going. At least he had that.
Setting his phone aside, he went into the bathroom and stepped under the hot spray, pulling Lucy into his arms because he knew she would make him feel better. She didn’t even have to be naked. Just being with her did that.
“What did your mother have to say?” she asked, as she slid her arms around his neck.
“Nothing I cared to hear,” he replied.
Reggie showed up while Joel was at work and the kids were at school. Anna had been afraid he would. She knew it wouldn’t take
long for word to get back to him. North Hampton Beach was too small a place, and with so many people talking about Lucy and
her father and the murders again...
Her car was in the garage, but he knew she was home. Monday was her day off at the barbershop—the day she tried to augment
her income by making hair bows, which she sold on Etsy. If he was going to stop by, he always chose that day. He knew he’d
most likely find her alone, and if she didn’t tell Joel, Joel would never be the wiser.
As he banged on the door, she stood on the other side, trying to convince herself that it was safe to answer. He wouldn’t
hurt her—would he? She was only frightened because Joel had continually pointed out the possibility that her brother, with
his terrible temper, could get physical with her one day.
“Anna, open the damn door!” Reggie yelled.
The wooden panel shuddered as he hit it, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Her husband had said to call him if Reggie came
over, but she knew there’d be a much greater chance of a fight breaking out if she did. Reggie and Joel couldn’t get along.
Joel hated that she and her mother babied Reggie, that they didn’t demand he behave and treat others with respect. And Reggie
hated Joel because he was the only one who’d ever drawn a line for him, at least when it came to family. She didn’t want to
make things worse by putting them in the same room.
Joel wouldn’t be able to drop everything at work and run home, anyway. Even if he could, whatever was going to happen here today would already be over.
“Anna?” Reggie yelled. “You little chickenshit, open this door!”
She’d spent her life being intimidated by her brother. Doing what he told her to avoid retribution. Appeasing him whenever
possible and trying to compensate for circumstances and other people who triggered him. In part, she’d done it because it
was what their mother had always expected of her. But would she, as a mother, ever allow the same dynamic to exist in her
own household? Allow her son to bully her daughter and encourage her daughter to take it?
She’d never been tested on that, but she certainly hoped she wouldn’t be. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. Reggie needed to get
hold of himself or risk the consequences. “Tough love” was a difficult concept. But she was the one who deserved her mother’s
support, not him. At least she lived a good life and treated Natalie well.
“I don’t want to fight with you!” she yelled.
“If you don’t open this door, I’ll break it down!”
She considered calling the police, but he hadn’t done anything to warrant that yet. And she didn’t want to give him any more
reason to be angry, or this would certainly escalate. That was the reason she wasn’t calling Joel.
Afraid he’d bust a window or something to get in, she gathered her courage, unlocked the door and threw it open. “What do
you want, Reggie?”
“What do I want?” he echoed. “You told Ford Wagner and Lucy McBride that I lied under oath. And they’ve already gone to the
police!”
“I’m sorry, but you did lie under oath!”
“You ratted me out? My own sister? What, you’re a little snitch now?” He threw up his hands. “I can’t believe this. I’m never going to trust you again. And neither will Mom, especially if I end up going to prison because of you—”
“You mean because of you ?” she broke in before he could finish whatever threat he was formulating. “What about the reason you were sent to jail in
the first place? Arson, Reggie? Really? And then lying about another human being to get yourself out of trouble? A killer could be running around loose because of you, but as usual,
you can only think of yourself.”
“You’ve been hanging around with your bastard husband for too long.”
“Joel’s a good man. And he’s right! I should’ve listened to him long ago. But I’ve been kissing your ass my whole life, and
such an established pattern of behavior can be hard to break.”
The anger that blazed in his eyes frightened her as much as the fist he lifted. “You stupid bitch,” he said. “You’re going
to be sorry.”
When he swung, she threw her arms up to protect her head, but instead of striking her, he slugged the wall. Fortunately, he
hit only Sheetrock, so it gave and he simply made a hole. Had he struck a beam, he would’ve shattered the bones in his hand.
She stared at him, once again stunned by his lack of control. “You need to get help,” she said and pushed him outside so she
could slam and lock the door.
Anna was shaking when she melted into a chair and rested her head on her arms at the kitchen table. What had she ever done
to deserve such a brother?
She lifted her head as something else occurred to her, something that made her get up and hurry to her computer to search
for information on the Matteo murders. She needed to determine the exact date they’d been killed, which wasn’t hard. It was
in almost every article. July 13. A Saturday.
When had her brother come into possession of that baseball card collection he sold for five thousand dollars?
It was about the same time as the murders. In addition to tes tifying against Mick McBride, he’d had to pay reparation for the fire he’d started; it was part of his deal with the commonwealth attorney. She remembered being surprised that he had most of the money. When she’d asked him where he’d gotten it, he told her he’d given a friend a set of tires in exchange for a baseball card collection which turned out to be a very good trade. The tires had only cost him five hundred dollars at a garage sale, but the cards were worth ten times that much.
But... what friend would give up a baseball card collection like that for a set of tires?
She’d never thought to ask him, had simply been grateful their mother hadn’t been forced to come up with that kind of money.
She was curious now, though. Could it be that the cards had been stolen from the Matteos’ trailer? That they’d gone unnoticed
because there were very few people who even knew Tony had them? And, if that was the case, how’d those cards wind up in her
brother’s hands if Mick McBride was the one who’d killed Tony and Lucinda?
Houston has decided to join you in North Hampton Beach for a few weeks.
Ford got that message from his mother while Lucy was making dinner and he was catching up on email, but when it came in he
shoved his computer away, struggling to tamp down the resulting irritation. Sara must not have liked the way their conversation
had gone on the phone this morning, so she was sending his brother to act as a counterbalance, watch out for him or “talk
some sense into him.” Or maybe Houston was just meant to report on what was going on or get in the way so Ford and Lucy couldn’t
get too close.
Ford almost wrote back to tell his mother that Houston could visit in the fall after Ford was back at work. But that would only make his brother angry enough to come anyway. Houston still acted as though he, as the older brother, should be in charge—not that he was ever willing to take responsibility for the things that mattered. It was a patently unfair dynamic, but Ford couldn’t stop him from coming to North Hampton Beach. Coastal Comfort belonged to his father’s estate, not just to him.
Worst case, he and Lucy could move into the Smoot Cottage and relinquish Coastal Comfort to Houston, he decided. The window
had been repaired. Ford knew because Lucy had insisted on paying for it rather than relying on Dahlia. It hadn’t been costly
enough that the insurance would cover it, and Lucy didn’t want Sharon or Dahlia to bear the brunt of the repair.
As soon as they’d returned to town from the prison, he’d driven Lucy over there to check on the work and pay the contractor.
The window looked good. Lucy had cleaned the bathroom mirror and the kitchen while he’d taken care of a few things in the
yard. He wouldn’t mind living at the cottage for the next several weeks. It would be hot and uncomfortable at times, but if
it got too bad, they could always go out and sleep on the beach. At least, if they weren’t at the Coastal Comfort, neither
Houston nor his mother would have anything to complain about.
Sara might think she’d hit upon a way to make sure he and Lucy didn’t get too close this summer, but she’d soon learn that
sending Houston would change nothing.
Fine with me , he wrote back but was still frowning when Lucy entered the room.
“Something wrong?” she asked when she saw him.
The scent of the pork roast she’d put in the oven drifted to him from the kitchen, making him realize just how hungry he was
getting. “It’s my mother.”
“Is she still trying to get you to stay away from me?” she asked wryly.
“Not overtly. But that may be what she’s intending by sending my brother here.”
Her eyes widened. “Here, as in North Hampton Beach?”
“Here, as in Coastal Comfort.”
“Oh, I see.” She sat next to him. “I guess I’ll be moving back to the cottage, then.”
“We’ll both be moving to the cottage. Good thing you have it for the whole summer.”
She gestured around them. “You’re willing to give up all this luxury for me?”
Her impish smile suggested she was teasing, but he’d be willing to give up a lot more than that for her. The one thing he
couldn’t sacrifice was a relationship with his own child, however. Christina held the trump card there, which was why he sometimes
wondered if she’d gotten pregnant on purpose. He could easily see her making such a calculated decision to keep him from leaving
her again. But that only made him resent her more. “I won’t even miss it,” he said and leaned over to kiss her.
“When will your brother get here?” she asked.
“I didn’t ask. I don’t want to appear even remotely concerned. We’ll just do what we want until he arrives. Then we’ll move
to the cottage. No big deal.”
She looked hesitant. “I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your family.”
If only his family felt the same about her. He held her chin as he looked into her eyes. “I know that. It’ll be fine,” he
said and pecked her lips again.
“I was thinking...”
He’d gone back to trying to finish his last email for the day, but at this, he paused. “About what?”
“That orange truck I saw the other day.”
“The one you were trying to get a better glimpse of?”
“Yeah, that one. It was parked in front of the cottage a day or two before the break-in. That’s why I was so eager to get a better look at it.”
“Why didn’t you say so? We could’ve driven around, tried to find it.”
“I’m not sure it means anything. I just saw it driving away. But orange is a distinctive color. If the person who owns it
is local, we should be able to find out who it is. It wouldn’t hurt to ask why they ran away when I walked out of the cottage.”
“Chet’s come back here every summer. He might know. Want me to give him a call?” Ford asked.
“After dinner,” she told him. “I think it’s ready.”