Chapter Thirty-Eight
I shiver on Idlewood’s back porch, wrapped in a blanket, somehow having managed to change out of my wet clothing. I stare into the night, feeling nothing but remorse for the final, angry words Reid and I hurled at each other the last time we spoke. The last time we’ll ever speak.
An hour has passed, maybe two, since I found my brother’s body, since Seton threw herself into the lake and surfaced beside me while a second cruiser skidded to a stop in the parking area.
“Oh God,” Seton cried out when she saw Reid. “In the water!” she shouted toward shore. “Call an ambulance. Now!”
I struggled to stay afloat as I cradled Reid in my arms. “We fought,” I said, the words forming on their own. “I was so angry.”
Seton grabbed my face and forced me to look her in the eyes. “Shut up,” she said. “I’m a cop. Not another word.”
Now I can’t get images out of my mind, of Reid’s lifeless eyes, of struggling with Seton to drag his body through the water to the shore.
There, Seton and the deputy, Maggie, began administering CPR, though I knew it was futile.
Hadley arrived soon after, drawn by the police cruisers speeding past the bungalow.
She took over compressions while I watched, my body drained of emotion.
When Gilcrest arrived on the scene, he stood over Reid, his face ashen.
Eventually, Hadley asked for the time.
“9:52,” Seton said.
Hadley stopped compressions. “Take note,” she said. “Time of death.”
“No, no, no,” I heard myself say. “Keep going.”
“It’s over, Charlie,” Hadley said to me, slumping onto her heels. “He’s gone. His body’s already cooling. He’s been dead for a while, but the ME will need to determine when.”
“And how,” Gilcrest said. “The why, that’s up to me to determine.”
“I told him not to swim alone,” I said, as Seton put both hands on the side of my face and barely shook her head.
“Chief,” Gilcrest said, “you threw me off the stalking case earlier. Let me return the favor. Leave the crime scene. Maggie and I can manage till the rest of the team get here. This is an unattended death, so it’s the state’s jurisdiction anyway.”
“I’ll help set up the perimeter,” Seton said.
“The less you involve yourself, Haviland,” Gilcrest said, “the better it will be for all of us, including Charlie. The last thing he needs is rumors about a compromised investigation following him for the rest of his life. Go home, get out of those wet clothes, and be grateful you won’t be up all night with the rest of us. ”
“I wish,” Seton said. “If you need Maggie, I’ll have to cover her shift. I’ll be on all night.”
After Seton left, Maggie took my sodden clothes.
My phone, too, though I doubted it would work after sitting in the pocket of my jeans while I treaded water.
The state police will recover the audio recordings stored safely in the cloud.
Maybe something I recorded will lead them to solving this case, the only thing I care about.
Down by the dock, Hadley confers with the medical examiner while a team of state cops sets up flood lamps and fans out across the island to begin a grid search.
In the dark, someone taps on the screen door, and the hinges creak.
“Mind some company?” Gilcrest asks, stepping onto the porch before I can respond.
His boots thump across the wooden planks until he looms over me.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he adds. “Truly. But I need to ask some questions. Do you want anything before we get started? Coffee? Water?”
“I know where things are,” I say.
Gilcrest pulls up a ladder-back chair and sits beside me. “Hit the high points and we can fill in the rest tomorrow, after you’ve gotten some sleep.”
“High points? Does finding my brother’s dead body in the lake count?”
“Start with the last time you saw him alive. What time was it?”
I picture Reid tucking his hair into his swim cap and hear him telling me he loved me, despite what I’d said. “It was before dark,” I say.
“How much before dark?”
“The sun was on the horizon.”
“Okay, that’ll give us a range,” Gilcrest says. “Did you send a text? Make a call? Anything we can use to mark the time?”
“My phone got ruined in the water. And your team has it anyway.”
“We’ll see what we can recover.” Gilcrest shows me a photo on his own phone of the pitcher of martinis I brought to the dock sitting next to an evidence marker. “Was Reid drinking before he went in the water?”
“I mixed the drinks,” I say. “Reid swam every evening. Sometimes the rest of us got started with happy hour. When he finished, he’d join us.”
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“It used to be my mother,” I say, “and Hadley, when she’s in town.
Paul Burke, too. But I was the only one there tonight.
I was trying to get things back to normal.
Reid had a sip, no more. I left and walked over to Burkehaven, where I found my aunt.
There’s a recording on my phone of our conversation that should have a time stamp.
The last time I saw Reid alive was five or ten minutes before that recording begins. ”
“Anything on those recordings you should tell me about?”
I glance up. “Hadley and I talked about Freya, who texted to tell me she’d left for New York. I assume you already knew.”
Gilcrest’s expression falters, if only for a split second.
He stands and strides toward the door as if to leave, and then turns, spinning the wooden chair around, the ladder-back creating a barrier between us.
“You made a whole pitcher of martinis and brought two glasses, and then left the pitcher behind. Do you usually let your brother swim by himself?”
Behind me, someone steps onto the porch from inside the house. Hadley says, “We’ve been telling Reid not to swim alone for thirty-seven years, practically since the day he was born. He didn’t listen.”
“I shouldn’t have left,” I say.
“Do you mind if I talk to Charlie in private?” Gilcrest says to Hadley, but my aunt comes to my side and slides onto the arm of the chair.
“I’ll stay,” she says. “And Charlie, you should know Reid had a contusion on the back of his skull. The ME will do the autopsy, but my guess is he may not have drowned, and even if he did, the wound was a contributing factor.”
Blunt-force trauma, like my mother.
“Charlie,” Gilcrest says, “you were on the phone with Chief Haviland before you found the body. Does she often call you when she’s on duty? She was responding to a call to your house. And your brother was dead in the lake.”
Hadley puts a hand of warning to my arm, but I speak anyway. “Seton called me. She asked where Reid was.”
“And what happened next?” Gilcrest asks.
“My father killed Reid,” I say as Hadley’s fingernails dig into my skin. “He was here.”
“Your father,” Gilcrest says. “How convenient.”
“Charlie,” Hadley says, “you need a lawyer.”
“First your father shows up when your mother dies,” Gilcrest says, “then again, when your brother dies.”
Hadley stands. “Lawyer,” she says. “Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer.”
But Gilcrest continues. “Paul told me you and Reid got into an argument about your mother’s estate at his house. Did you fight a lot with your brother? Did you fight tonight? Is that why you left without finishing your drinks?”
“Reid and I fight all the time,” I say. “And we make up until it happens again.”
“Except there won’t be a next time, will there?
Your mother’s dead, and your brother’s dead, and you, Charlie Kilgore, have the most compelling and clear-cut motive.
Greed. You own this island now, free and clear.
How much is your family’s construction firm worth?
From living in a shared Somerville apartment to becoming a millionaire in two easy murders—that’s the story you should tell for your podcast.” Gilcrest shoves the wooden chair aside.
He comes at me, the corner of his eye twitching.
“You haven’t asked why the chief came to your house in the first place. ”
I haven’t asked because I’m pretty certain I already know. Seton came to arrest Reid.
“We have Reid on video,” Gilcrest says. “He was in Freya’s condo. He had access to the building’s security system and turned it off. But here’s the thing, Charlie. Freya had a hidden camera set up, and it caught Reid breaking into the apartment, and my bet is you’re the one who asked him to do it.”
“Why would I do that?” I ask.
“Because you wanted Freya to turn to you.”
“Listen,” I say, “you’re the one who couldn’t break things off with your wife, so if you need someone to blame for screwing up your personal life, look in the mirror. Freya’s a good friend. Nothing more.”
“Lawyer,” Hadley says, her voice soft but firm.
“You’re lucky your aunt’s here,” Gilcrest says. “Between her, the chief, Andrea Haviland, and even Freya, you seem to have an entire army of women ready to go into battle for you.”
Detective Stamoran appears at the screen door. “What the hell are you doing, Gilcrest?” he says, placing himself between Gilcrest and me, then moving the detective against the wall. Gilcrest shoves him, but Stamoran stands his ground.
“You’ll be surprised, Charlie,” Gilcrest says, “how many allies you lose once the murder charges hit.”
“Leave,” Stamoran says to him. “Now.”
Gilcrest closes his eyes, and I can almost hear him counting to ten. He steps into the night, slamming the screen door behind him.
“We’re done here,” Hadley says. “If you need us, we’ll be at the bungalow.”
Stamoran holds his hands out, palms open. “Let’s take the temperature down,” he says. “Did you see anyone by the lake, Charlie? Or hear something out of the ordinary? Whatever you tell us could be helpful.”
Hadley smiles. “Lawyer,” she says.
“Got it,” Stamoran says. “I’ll get someone to follow you home.”
“We know the way,” Hadley says. “We’ve done it thousands of times.”
“Not when there’s a murderer on the loose,” Stamoran says. “And lock the doors tonight. I’ll feel better when I find you safe and sound in the morning, because I have questions for both of you. And your lawyer.”