Trespassing(101)

She shakes her head. “I assumed the cat was yours.”

Simultaneously, Natasha and I look to the table, where our daughters are giggling.

Judging by what happened to Gabrielle and her sons, our daughters’ survival—and ours—depends on our finding the $5 million Micah owes Diamante—Diamond Corporation—before Diamond Corporation runs out of patience.

“I’m pretty sure Micah’s on the island,” I say. “Bella’s seen him a few times. I could have sworn he came in the other night.”

“If he came for the money, is there any chance he took it? And took off?”

“Maybe.”

But I suspect its ashes sit at the bottom of my kiln.

“Maybe I’m naive to consider this, but I wonder if all this was an exit strategy for him. The blood in the car, dropping hints to Elizabella to come here . . .”

“You mean life got too big for him?” Natasha asks. “He wanted out?”

“I don’t know. But could he hope I’d collect the death benefit? Could he hope I’d listen to Bella and show up here, so we could leave the country? By boat?”

“I just can’t believe he never told you anything. Think, Veronica. What are we missing?”

Maybe he stashed money in the kiln so he could disappear without us, and if I burned it, he can no longer get out.

And because that money doesn’t belong to him, Diamante is coming after it. We won’t be safe until they get back what Micah took.

Where else can I find that kind of money to save our lives?





Chapter 55

December 9

It’s after two in the morning.

Papa Hemingway snakes around my legs as I follow the sound of Natasha’s quiet tears to the back porch, where she sits, overlooking an empty pool.

I scoop up the cat and join her.

She looks up at me. “Girls still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a calm night, filled with cricket choirs and soothing breezes, both of which overtake the space between us.

I sit.

After a few minutes, Natasha speaks. “I was working in the city the week Gabrielle and the boys went to the lake house. Miriam had school, but she’d begged to tag along. To think that if I’d let her go . . .”

I know what she’s feeling. Near miss. “But you didn’t.”

“But I had before.”

And if Claudette Winters hadn’t been there the day Lincoln and his sidekick showed up to convince me my husband was dead, would I have ended up at the bottom of the ocean, too?

Natasha sniffles. “I find myself feeling grateful—”

“Of course you do.”

“When I’ve lost them. They were my children, too. And Gabrielle was the reason my world turned.”

“But to think Mimi was spared . . . of course you’d feel grateful for that.”

“But if all of this is really about money . . . If I lost my family, if you lost your husband because of money . . .”

“I can’t imagine what else it might be,” I say.

“Then they won’t stop until they get it.”

“No,” I agree. “Or until they have Micah.”

What I can’t figure out, however, is why Micah would’ve taken that much money. And how Lincoln would’ve gained access to the Shadowlands and my home, unless he trespassed through the county property, hopped the fence at night, and broke in.

Elizabella’s commentary haunts me: My daddy doesn’t know that man in the kitchen.

I shiver with the feeling of a hundred near misses. I was home every night. Elizabella was home every night with me. To think what could have happened . . .

“There was an incident,” I say. “With the kiln.” I fill her in on what happened. “If the money was in there, it’s gone.”

She turns pale and drops her head into her hands. “God, Veronica.”

“I don’t know how much money we’re talking, but that ash was everywhere. I know I lost at least fifteen grand beneath the thing, let alone what was actually hidden inside of it.”

She looks up at me. “What are we going to do?”

“I can’t unburn it.”

“God, Veronica! What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know it was there. And if they come looking—if they come looking again, I mean—and I can’t produce it . . .” Or if Micah came to get it the other night, and it’s not here, he can’t repay Diamante.

“Shit.”

“I’ve told the police. Maybe they can help. Maybe they’ll keep us safe.”

“A big gamble, seeing as the police seem to be zeroing in on two suspects,” she says. “Me. And you.”

“Micah had an insurance policy. Two-point-five million, but Guidry said it wouldn’t pay out without a death certificate.”

“Gabby had a life insurance policy, too. But it’s not much. Certainly not enough to cover what he owes.”

“I found some in our safe-deposit box. Fifty grand. I’ve spent some, but it’ll account for something.”

“I have a retirement fund.”

“You spent more time in this house than I have,” I say. “Am I overlooking a hiding place besides the kiln? Unless . . . do you think it’s possible Gabby found any of the money and hid it someplace else?”