The Golden Couple(98)
Electricity shoots through my body. I’m getting closer to the axis of the mystery; I can sense it.
Darlene clears her throat. “Maybe I ought to find Chris’s phone number and tell him about the Good Samaritan who came here to drop off his wallet.”
I ignore her and keep my eyes on the male server, barely breathing.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “I think that’s him.”
My finger is pointing to Skip.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
MARISSA
MARISSA HAS EXPERIENCED THIS SENSATION of absolute dread and fear only a few times before.
It happened during two of her pregnancies, when her doctor’s face fell while administering her sonograms. And another time, when she momentarily took her eyes off Bennett at a county fair and he was swallowed up by the crowd until she located him fifteen minutes later at the petting zoo.
This afternoon, when Matthew suggested she take a nap, her mind had been too fractured to quiet. Instead, she’d reached for her laptop resting on the nightstand. The Natalie-Polly connection was haunting her, and she needed to get to the bottom of it. She’d plugged Polly’s name into the search engine, along with Natalie’s. But nothing had come up. So she’d added the name of the real estate company where Natalie worked. Still nothing. She’d stared at the computer screen for another minute and had been about to shut the lid, but then her fingers had begun moving again, trembling as they’d typed in the name of another woman who has been haunting her. Her old best friend: Tina Lennox.
She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly. What new information could there be to see? No baby announcement. Or Employee of the Month recognition. There would be no wedding photograph. Not even a mention of a high school graduation. Tina’s life ended before it could really begin.
The first few items that appeared were familiar to Marissa: a couple of old Associated Press stories and a few longer ones by The Baltimore Sun. Marissa had clicked on Tina’s yearbook photo, the one all the newspapers ran, and stared at it for a long time. For the photo, Tina had worn the yellow sweater that she and Marissa had decided was the prettiest one Tina owned, and her hair was curled.
Then Marissa noticed a few new mentions of Tina had appeared. At least, they were new to Marissa.
Local man recants admission of murder of Tina Lennox: former high school English teacher Marvin Miller claims police coerced a false confession.
That article was from four years ago.
In another one, dated nine months earlier, on the anniversary of Tina’s death, Miller repeated his claims of innocence. I’ve spent half my life sitting in a cell while the real killer walks free, he was quoted as saying.
Marissa had stared at the screen, her hand over her mouth, feeling nausea rise in her throat.
If their English teacher hadn’t killed Tina, then who had?
It had been a struggle to get through dinner and Bennett’s bedtime routine, knowing this reckoning was finally coming. She’d tried to act normally, but more than once she’d caught Matthew studying her with a puzzled expression.
Now Marissa stands looking through the double glass doors leading from their family room to the backyard, to where Matthew stands by the fire in the stone hearth. It’s a cool, starlit evening, and Matthew has brought out a blanket and bottle of good wine. Bennett is sound asleep in his race-car bed, his thumb covered with a fresh bandage and his dinosaur diorama nearly finished.
The scene is set for a quiet, romantic night. Until Marissa throws a grenade into it.
She slides open the door and steps onto the patio.
Her husband is tending the flames, using a poker to arrange the logs. The firelight playing across his face conjures an image of another, long-ago evening by a bonfire.
Not that she needs the reminder.
“There you are.” Matthew puts aside the iron poker and sits down, patting the cushion next to him on the settee.
Marissa walks toward him as he reaches for the white Burgundy and twists the corkscrew before pulling it out with his strong fingers.
He pours them each a glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She takes a tiny sip. She notices that on the eve of their anniversary, he has selected their wedding crystal.
She’s so cold again, despite her fleece leggings and top and the heat of the fire. She feels as if she hasn’t been able to get warm since this all began.
Matthew reaches for the blanket, tucking it over her legs. “You okay?”
Marissa makes a noncommittal noise. “Can I ask you something?”
Matthew looks calm; he has no idea what’s coming. “Of course.”
She takes a deep breath and speaks the question that has the potential to unravel everything: “Why did you lie for Skip all those years ago?”
Matthew sets down his glass and turns to face her, as if he recognizes the importance of this moment.
“Because it looked bad for him, and I knew he didn’t kill Tina,” Matthew finally answers. “You and I know Skip sometimes went to work on his boat at night, when he was taking clients fishing early the next morning. But if the police knew he was out there alone, near the spot where Tina was killed? They might not have believed him. He was about to go to college on a scholarship. Even if he was cleared later, that cloud of suspicion could have cost him everything.”
Marissa nods, remembering the scratch Tina had inflicted on Skip’s arm. “You were such a good friend to him,” she whispers.