18 Marley
Marley
“Lily?” Marshall asked, looking up from his phone at Marley after reading Sean’s text. “You don’t really think—”
A loud bang cut him off, and Marley yelped.
A crack formed in one of the windows on the French doors to Marley’s left, the ones that led to the pool area, blood splattered around it.
Gulping, Marley stepped tentatively forward and looked out.
There was a seagull twitching and flapping on the ground.
“Oh, God.” Marley’s stomach turned, and she looked away. “The poor thing.”
“I thought all the animals flew off or went into hiding ahead of a storm like this,” Marshall said. “It’s like an instinct or something.”
“Apparently not.” Marley swallowed down bile.
When and what had she last eaten? What time was it, even?
She checked her phone and found it was just past 11:00 a.m. How was that possible?
She felt like she’d lived through at least three days since waking up that morning.
Magdelena had been starting to put out plates and things when they’d embarked on their search, and the very thought of her home fries made Marley feel faint.
“Should I kill it? Put it out of its misery?” Marshall asked.
“What would you even do?” Marley was appalled. “Like, hit it with something?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Marshall had not been raised on a farm or even in a suburb.
He was Beacon Hill, Boston, all the way, and summers on the Cape.
He’d barely learned to ride a bike, let alone deal with a wild animal.
A few years ago his parents had retired to the white-collar enclave of Greenwich, with its upscale shopping and five-star restaurants, because they’d “always wanted to live in the country.”
They both looked out the window again. The bird’s movements were slowing.
Marley’s eyes trailed toward the pool. Toward the spot where Lincoln had taken his last breath.
They were standing one window and thirty yards away from where Marshall’s brother, and her friend, had died less than twelve hours ago.
One window and fifty yards away from where they’d chatted with him over lunch less than twenty-four hours ago. How was any of this real?
“Okay, okay. Let’s just do this,” Marshall said, turning his back on the bird.
They were standing outside the laundry room, which was on the east side of the pool and patio area.
They had already checked all the other rooms on the first floor.
All that was left was this and then the storage room for the pool and hot tub, which was just off the patio and across a hall.
Marshall nodded at Marley and then flung open the laundry room door like a cop on a crime drama.
They both peeked their heads inside. Nothing but folded sheets and the two huge washers and dryers. Marley let out a whoosh of air.
“Storage room?” Marshall said.
“Sure.” At this point, Marley was pretty positive they weren’t going to find anything.
If someone other than this Cole character really was hiding in Lincoln’s house, she could just stay one step ahead or behind them all day long.
The place was too vast for them to cover every room at one time.
This sequin-loving woman could hide out forever. Especially if she knew the house well.
Like Lily.
Could it be Lily? Marley had felt silly every time she’d felt Lily’s presence over the past two days. She’d chalked it up to the fact that she’d never once stepped foot in this house without Lily with her. But was it possible? No one knew where Lily was right now. So could she really be . . . here?
Was she watching them at this very moment?
Marshall had his hand on the doorknob to the storage room, and suddenly Marley did not want him to open it.
“Ready?” he said.
Her heart vaulted out of her chest into her mouth. “Marshall—”
But it was too late. He’d opened the door, and . . . nothing.
Marshall flicked the light on and checked behind the coated wire shelves of colorful striped towels, pool floats, and tubs of chlorine for good measure. There were three of them, lined up like library stacks so one could move between them to find what they were looking for. “There’s no one here.”
As her heart rate began to return to normal, Marley’s eyes trailed the small room.
A set of sleek white speakers were stashed up against one wall.
One of the staff must have brought them in before the storm.
Five of them were lined up perfectly straight, but the sixth was a couple of feet from the others, clearly tossed there in haste.
The concrete floor around it was darker than the rest of the floor, as if the speaker had been leaking water.
“That’s weird,” Marley said.
The other speakers each had their chords carefully coiled and placed behind them. The chord on the sixth was disconnected and tossed across the floor like a snake. There was also a water stain underneath it, following its trail. A pool towel lay in a haphazard pile on the floor nearby.
“What?” Marshall asked.
“I don’t know. It’s nothing.” Except the odd feeling she’d had outside the door just now, and last night in Juliet’s room, and when she’d first seen the little blue note, was back full force.
“No. What? You look freaked.”
“It’s just . . . Why are five of the speakers perfectly stored, and this one looks like it was sort of thrown there?” she asked.
“Maybe whoever put them there was in a rush?” Marshall scratched the back of his head, tousling his already mussed hair. “It was pretty much chaos once Linc decided to shut the party down. All the staff were trying to get everything put away as fast as possible before it got too bad.”
“Maybe.”
Marley bent and picked up the towel, which was wet in spots, and turned to go.
“What’re you going to do with that?” Marshall asked.
She shrugged. “May as well throw it in the laundry room.”
“You’re such a Girl Scout,” he commented fondly, reaching around her to turn out the light. As he did, Marley’s eyes caught on something, and her pulse stopped cold.
“Marshall.”
“What?” He froze. The tone of her voice required it.
“Look,” she said. Her finger shook as she pointed.
There was blood splatter on the doorjamb. And it looked fresh.