The Last House Guest(65)

“Of course,” I said. Though if he could read the tone of my voice as well as I could read his, he would know that this was a lie.





CHAPTER 23


The last time I’d seen Luce was at the service in Connecticut. When she’d been watching me closely. I wasn’t sure when she and Parker had broken up—or why. There was the fight at the party, but they appeared to be back together by the service. I didn’t know whether it was truly a break, as Parker said, or if something else had caused the split.

I was up by five-thirty, with nothing but my thoughts for company. Inside my purse was that folded-up sheet of paper with the details of the party.

Me—6:40 p.m.

Luce—8 p.m.

Connor—8:10 p.m.

Parker—8:30 p.m.

I kept working through the events of that night, trying to see something new. Wondering whether each person was truly accounted for the entire time.

After we had all arrived, there was the game with Greg Randolph; Luce showing me the broken window; the power outage and Ellie Arnold falling—or pushed—into the pool; Parker helping me clean the bathroom after; then his fight with Luce upstairs; and Connor, heading for the exit, until I pulled him back.

And now, at seven-thirty in the morning, I was already at the side door to the hospital medical center, waiting for them to unlock. The gentle automated click, and I was in.

I found her office down the white maze of halls. Her name, on a sign on the door, along with three others. Though the hours were posted from eight-thirty on, I knew she’d have to show up sooner than that.

I saw the shadow first—no footsteps—rounding the corner. Then a woman: rubber-soled flat shoes, dress slacks, a blue fitted blouse. Hair pulled back and clipped low, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. It was Luce. She stopped as soon as she came around the corner, still looking down at her phone, as if she could sense something off. Something out of place.

She looked up and blinked twice, her face giving away nothing.

“Hi,” I said.

She kept looking, like she wasn’t sure who I was.

And then something seemed to register—putting me in context, dragging out the memory. “Avery?” she said. She looked over her shoulder, as if I could’ve been waiting for someone else.

“I was hoping to find you before office hours.” I tapped the sign on her door, a reminder that I was just following public information. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Is everything okay?” She stepped closer, and I wondered if she was talking about Parker. Whether they were still close and now she was worried about her boyfriend—the fact that they were just on a break, or maybe not a break at all. Maybe she had just stayed behind for work, and Parker had lied. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yes. No, I’m not sure. Sadie’s dedication ceremony is this week, you know? Parker’s there. And the investigation, it’s not as simple as it seemed after all.”

She tucked her phone into her purse, took out her keys, opened the door. “I didn’t think it was simple from the start.” She held the door open for me with her foot, beckoning me inside as she flipped on the overhead lights and dropped her bag behind the front desk. It was a small office, a scattering of chairs along the wall across from the reception desk, and a hallway with several open doors visible from where we stood.

She checked her watch. “We probably have ten minutes before the secretary arrives. She’s always early.”

I kept staring at her, which made her frown. But it was just the surprise of her. She appeared so different from the person I’d met the previous summer, in white capris and gold jewelry and perfect hair curled beneath her collarbone. I figured I must seem different to her as well, outside Littleport. The town itself made people something more. That was why the visitors went there. Surrounded by the mountains and the ocean, you became more than you were elsewhere. Someone who could cut a kayak through the breakers; someone who’d hiked to the top of a mountain, looked out over the forest of trees, straight to the ocean, believing you earned every aspect of it. Who could be home in time to drink champagne over lobster that evening. Someone worthy of everything the place had to offer.

Luce glanced once toward the closed door, clearing her throat. I was losing her now that she had time to think things through. To realize I must’ve found her name, driven half a day, just to be standing here in front of her.

“When did you last speak to Parker?” I asked.

That seemed to focus her attention, because her eyes widened slightly, her breathing picked up. Almost as if she were afraid. “We haven’t spoken much since we broke up.”

“When was that?”

She tipped her head. “Last September. Well, technically, that night. The night of the party.”

“What?” I saw her again, leaving the upstairs bedroom. That wild look in her eyes. Had he dumped her right then? Or had it been her?

“We got in a fight that night, but that was just the last straw. The thing that makes you say it, you know?”

I’d heard them from the bathroom. The bang against the wall. I dropped my voice. “Did he hurt you?”

“Parker? No. It was nothing like that . . . He opened the door to leave, and I slammed it shut.” She shook her head. “I just wanted the truth for once. I was so sick of the lies.”