Stranger in the Lake(63)

“That’s because you’re my sister. I’m not telling you that kind of stuff. Gross.”

“This is serious!”

“You think I don’t know that?” He groans, scrubbing his face with both hands. “I messed up, okay? When Sam showed me her picture on his phone, I completely freaked. I swear I didn’t know she was dead, and I’d never hurt her. You know me. I wouldn’t.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “What else? Because I can’t fix it unless you tell me now. What else are you not saying?”

“Nothing, I swear. We were gonna meet up but she got busy. The last time we texted was Tuesday afternoon. She said she had something to do that night but would text me when she was done. She never did. Here.” He shoves his phone at my chest. “Take a look if you don’t believe me.”

I clutch his phone in my hand but I don’t look at the thing. I’m too busy breathing through the fury, the panic.

Paul steps up next to me, a supportive presence, but his words are aimed at Micah. “Can you talk to your dad? We need to know what we’re dealing with here, what, if anything, the police are holding back. She told Chet she had plans on Tuesday night. Can you find out if the police know what they were?”

Micah laughs, a harsh sound without humor. “You know as well as I do that man tells me nothing. I have zero control over what happens next. He’s just following leads, is all, and Chet did sleep with her.”

I wince.

Paul turns to Chet. “I take it you can make that list?”

Chet gives him a shaky nod. “Yeah, but seriously, man. We were all asleep. Is sleeping even an alibi?”

“Yes,” Micah says. “Especially if there was some kind of security system holding you inside, or if you can find a neighbor to confirm your car was there all night. Your phone’s another piece of the puzzle, assuming it was on you that whole time. They’ll use it to verify if you were where you say you were, so be as specific as possible. Retrace your steps, and make sure to write down everybody you saw or spoke to that day. Every name you can think of, even if you didn’t have an actual conversation with them. The more people saw you around town, the better.”

Chet thanks him, then scurries off to Paul’s study. Suddenly, I’m thinking about the Hostess cupcakes stashed in a shoebox at the back of my closet upstairs. Chocolate and sugar and preservatives. I want them so bad I contemplate marching up there. I want them so bad my teeth ache.

I whirl to face Micah, then Paul. “Chet didn’t do this. You know he didn’t.”

Diana sinks onto a counter stool. “Well, then he shouldn’t have lied. It doesn’t look good, you know. No wonder Chief Hunt is so angry.”

“That’s very helpful, Diana.” I stuff as much condescension as I can in my tone—a page from her playbook. Paul’s palm presses onto my back, but I shake him off. “Thank you for pointing it out.”

“Let’s all just calm down for a second,” Micah says. “Let’s think this through. As far as I know, the manhunt for Jax is still full steam ahead. There’s an APB out in three states and volunteer agents from Macon, Haywood, Transylvania and Swain counties beefing up the search. Even if Chet’s DNA was found inside Sienna, and I’m not saying that it was, consensual sex is not a crime. And if he’s telling the truth about seeing her last on Tuesday morning, that means he wasn’t the last person to see her alive. There were multiple sightings of both her and Jax in town all that day and into the evening.”

Micah’s words do the trick. I blow out a sigh, and my shoulders relax a good inch.

And then I think of something else. I saw Jax in town on Tuesday, too, when he stepped out of the shadows of the terrace. I am a witness.

Tell Paul I need to talk to him.

I whirl around to Paul. “Jax was looking for you. He wanted to talk to you. Why?”

Paul frowns. “I don’t... What are you talking about? When was he looking for me?”

“On Tuesday when I came to pick you up, Jax was waiting outside your office. He said, ‘Tell Paul I need to talk to him.’ The next thing I know, Sienna turns up dead and you run off to find him, and he shows up here wearing her scarf. Now it’s looking like all those things are somehow connected, and I want to know how.”

The blood drains from Paul’s face. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“I just want to understand, Paul. What is happening?”

Micah pushes to a stand, moving around the island, coming closer. “Back up a second. Jax was here?”

I nod. “Wednesday night. In Sienna’s scarf and Paul’s boots.”

Micah cuts his gaze to Paul, shaking his head in disgust. “Why am I not surprised? What other handouts have you been sliding his way? Wait, wait—let me guess. Food, for sure. Money, too, probably.”

Paul doesn’t deny either. He casts a pointed look at Diana, a silent communication like the ones we sometimes share, our married couple’s telepathy. Only this is a message I can’t quite read. I study her expression, trying to identify the emotion smothering her face. Worry looks like fear looks like disapproval. Or maybe all three.

But of course Paul has been taking care of Jax all this time. Why else would Jax be waiting for Paul on that terrace? Why else would Jax show up here?