29 Marley
Marley
“Jules?”
She rapped lightly on the door. Juliet’s room on the third floor felt precarious somehow, down the hall as it was from the nursery that now had a yawning hole in the roof with a tree through it.
Marley was sure the room was filled with water and debris and wondered if the Villa would ever be the same after all this.
Who was she kidding? Lily was banished. Lincoln was gone.
He and Trevor had been murdered on the premises.
Hazel would probably sell. If the house was even hers.
After this week, Marley would never set foot in this place again.
When she thought about it, she found she was relieved.
Any nostalgia she’d fostered for this place and the times they had all spent here together was gone.
The noise of the wind up here was deafening, a constant roar, making Marley feel as if she was sitting inside the engine of an airplane—one that was definitely plunging to the earth.
She tugged her T-shirt away from her body and fanned herself.
Without the air-conditioning, the hallway was stifling.
This had been the longest day ever, and it was barely dinnertime.
All she wanted to do was go to sleep, but she couldn’t imagine any of them would be able to get real rest tonight, all things considered.
“Jules? It’s Marley.”
She tried knocking again, then tilted her ear toward the door.
Nothing. No response. No movement. Her heart ticked uncomfortably.
What if something had happened? Splitting up might have been a bad idea.
Marshall hadn’t wanted Marley to come up here alone, but she’d insisted, and he was now standing at the open door of their bedroom one floor down, keeping an ear out for anything odd so he could come running.
It occurred to her now that anyone could have snuck up here and confronted Juliet.
About the fact that she’d been the last to see Lincoln alive, other than Daisy.
About the way that she’d lied to their faces over and over again.
About Josh’s odd disappearance. Marley herself wanted answers about a lot of this, but mostly she wanted Juliet to be okay. She wanted everyone to be okay.
“Juliet, I’m coming in.”
Slowly, quietly, carefully, Marley opened the door.
It was very dark in the room, but she could make out Juliet’s form on the king-size bed, lying flat on her back with one pillow beneath her head.
She was still fully clothed, and her arms lay straight at her sides.
Marley couldn’t see her face at all. If it was stifling in the hall, the air inside the room felt downright thick.
When Marley took a breath, it was as if there was no oxygen. She took another and held it.
“Jules?”
The form on the bed didn’t flinch.
“Juliet? Are you all right? Are you awake?”
No response. Marley did not want to step inside this room.
She did not want to have to walk over there and look down at her friend and find .
. . What? What if she was dead? What if Marley was never going to speak to Juliet again?
Never going to hear her laugh or hug her or cook with her or pass out on the beach with her?
Marley’s eyes prickled. Why was this happening to them?
“I’m fine, Marley. Go away.”
One of Marley’s hands flew to her mouth and the other to her stomach.
Her throat constricted painfully. She felt suddenly faint, but also relieved, but also terrified.
She wanted to tell Juliet that she was sorry.
That she wished she had been a better friend, someone Juliet felt she could come to when she needed help.
When she needed even just a nonjudgmental ear.
A shoulder to cry on. It was unfathomable to her that she hadn’t known about Beckham’s potential paternity.
That she hadn’t even known Juliet and Lincoln had been together.
And Josh . . . Had he been hurting her the whole time they’d known him?
How could Marley have been so oblivious?
“Juliet, I just—”
“Please just leave me alone,” Juliet said, still as the dead. “I don’t want to see you or anyone else.”
“Okay, that’s fair. But do you need anything? Are you hungry? Magdelena is putting out some food for dinner soon.”
“I’m fine,” Juliet said again. “Just go.”
This time, Marley did as she was told. She backed out into the hallway and closed the door quietly.
Alone again, Marley took a few seconds to just breathe.
Her stomach clenched angrily. She needed to eat something, but this was going to be the most awkward, bizarre dinner of her life.
Aside from Marshall, was there a single soul in this house she could trust?
She walked swiftly back down the stairs, putting blinders on to the odd, macabre photos on the walls, and slipped right into Marshall’s arms. He hesitated a second—clearly surprised—before wrapping his arms around her.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
“Physically,” she answered.
She slid past him into the bedroom. Marshall closed the door behind them. He’d lit candles all around the room, so that the light and shadows flickered as they moved. He opened his mouth to speak, and then his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he fumbled it out, his eyes widened.
“It’s Josh.”
Marley’s stomach turned over. “Answer it!”
His hand shaking, Marshall brought the phone to his ear. “Josh! Where the hell are you?”
Marley hugged herself and watched her husband as he paced. He pressed his index finger into his opposite ear as he clutched the phone.
“Wait, where are you?” he said. He looked over at Marley and shrugged.
What? she mouthed.
Bad signal, he mouthed back.
“I can’t hear you, man.” He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “You’re stuck in a flood?”
“What?” Marley asked, her anxiety spiking. “A flood? Where?”
“What does this have to do with Coco P.?” Marshall shook his head at Marley, frustrated. “If you can hear me, just get back here as soon as you can,” he said into the phone. Then he threw it on the bed and groaned.
“What did he say? Where is he?” Marley asked.
“I have no idea. I could barely understand anything, the signal was so broken.” Marshall walked around to the side of the bed and sat, his right foot bouncing on the floor.
“He said something about being stuck in a flood, and he definitely said, ‘It’s all jammed,’ but I have no idea what that means. ”
Marley pulled her hair over one shoulder and sat next to him. “And what about Coco P.?” she asked.
“Oh, that much I got. He said he left with her and her team to make sure they got to their hotel okay. He didn’t say what time that was, but it explains why his car is still here.
They had a driver, of course.” He shoved his hands through his hair and left it standing up from his head.
“I guess he expected to Uber back or something, but the weather got too nasty.”
“At least you got ahold of him. Wherever he is, he’s all right,” Marley said.
“And he answered his phone, which means . . . ?”
“Maybe he’s not trying to hide from us,” Marley finished. “Maybe he didn’t do it.”
“Maybe he doesn’t even know about it.” Marshall groaned again and flung himself backward on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How is this even happening?”
“I don’t know.” Marley ran her fingers down her tangled hair over and over. She needed a shower, desperately. “Juliet doesn’t even want to speak to me.”
“I don’t blame her. We were basically putting her on house arrest before Daisy showed up,” Marshall said, letting his arms flop at his sides and turning his palms up. “This is all so wrong. Do we really think one of our friends could . . . could . . . do this?”
They sat in silence. Marley felt an almost primal need to run. They needed the storm to be over. Or at least to subside. She wouldn’t feel safe until she was away from here, away from this house, this situation, these people. Only then would she be able to think.
“We should go tell the others about Josh,” she said finally.
Marshall took in a long, deep breath, held it, then sat up and blew it out. “This should be fun.”