The Guilt Trip(94)

“I-I’ve just told your colleague,” Rachel cries. “The last time I saw her was when I left the restaurant to talk to Ali. Paige was outside talking to Jack, my husband.”

“Why were they outside?” asks the policeman.

Noah’s mouth pulls tight and his eyes darken, as though he’s about to say or do something he might regret. Rachel puts a hand on his in an attempt to silently caution him, and his jaw slackens, as whatever incriminating statement he was about to make dissipates.

“That was probably about fifteen minutes or so before it happened,” Rachel goes on.

“And you?” Da Silva says, turning to Noah. “When did you last see your wife and where was she?”

Any fire that remains in Noah’s eyes fades as he processes the loaded question. He rubs his chin, bristling his five o’clock shadow that seems to have grayed since yesterday.

“She was out on the terrace, talking to Jack,” he says. “By the time I went outside to watch the fireworks, I couldn’t see either of them.”

“And you didn’t see them again,” asks Da Silva, “before the car came?”

Noah shakes his head.

“I don’t understand why it’s so important,” says Rachel. “What does it matter where Paige was? Isn’t it enough to know that when the car hit her, she was thrown into the water?” A sob catches in her throat.

Da Silva grimaces. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

Rachel and Noah both look at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Because Mrs. Collins’s body was found in the car.”





27



Noah locks eyes with Rachel, his fear, anger, sadness and confusion mirroring her own.

“B-but…” she stutters, unable to make any sense of what’s going on.

“How…?” starts Noah.

“That’s impossible,” manages Rachel. “That can’t be right.”

Da Silva looks at her resignedly.

“Sh-she couldn’t have been in the car,” Rachel mumbles, hoping that if she says it enough it’ll be true.

“I’m afraid she was, and I need to understand what happened and why she was there.”

“Well, she…” blusters Rachel, desperately looking for answers herself. “She must have been making an ill-fated attempt at getting home. She wouldn’t have been used to being on the wrong side of the road. She might have gotten confused with the gearshift being on the right instead of the left. There are myriad reasons why she may have been disoriented. It was dark, she’d been drinking, the fireworks went off. The list goes on…” She’s scrabbling around for any other reasonable justification as to why Paige would have been in that car, and, if she was, how this terrible accident could have occurred. Because whichever way Rachel looks at this, it has to have been an accident, as the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Did anything unusual happen at the wedding or the party afterward?” asks Da Silva. “Were there any arguments or problems?”

Rachel’s head throbs, the beat of a banging drum reverberating as her pulse quickens.

“Senhor Da Silva, posso falar com você, por favor?”

Rachel looks up to see Casimiro’s grave face peering around the curtain.

“Excuse me for just one moment,” says the policeman.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Rachel turns to Noah, with a look of utter horror on her face.

“Oh my God, it’s my fault,” she croaks.

“What?” exclaims Noah. “How can it be?”

Rachel shudders involuntarily as she looks at Noah. “What if she overheard me and Ali talking about what happened between us?”

“Ali knew?” asks Noah. “So, she did hear everything you and I said?”

Rachel nods, struggling for breath as she imagines Paige hidden from view around the back of the restaurant, but still within easy listening distance. What might have gone through her head if she heard Ali’s observation that Noah and Rachel were still in love with each other? That Josh might be Noah’s child?

“She heard it all,” says Rachel, not knowing whether she’s referring to Ali or Paige.

“Well, did you put Ali right, like you did me?” he asks. “Did you tell her there was absolutely no chance Josh could possibly be mine?”

A tear falls onto Rachel’s cheek. “I told her the truth,” she says.

Noah raises his eyebrows. “Which is?”

“Which is that I honestly don’t know.”

His eyes, which already hold so much pain and angst, appear to take on a truckload more.

“So, you always knew there was a possibility,” he says quietly.

“No!” she exclaims, desperate for him to understand. “I’ve always assumed Jack was his father because…”

Noah looks at her, waiting.

“Because I wanted him to be,” she says, when she can’t think of a better answer.

“Because it was easier,” says Noah.

Rachel wipes a tear away. “Yes,” she says honestly. “I guess it was.”

“And now?” asks Noah.

“Now, everything’s being called into question and I don’t know what to think anymore.”