The Shadow Box(41)

Her bookcases were full of design books from the Victoria and Albert Museum, Taschen, Rizzoli, stacks of Architectural Digest and Martha Stewart Living going back fifteen years, and photo albums of every design job she had ever done. She had surrounded herself with beauty—her house, her garden, her books, but especially her children.

Gwen and Charlie reminded her of everything that mattered in life. Watching them play in the waves with Maggie had made her happier than she had been all spring, all winter. She was actually looking forward to the family trip to Block Island. She had phoned the kids’ school to let them know they wouldn’t be there on Friday.

She would make a bigger effort to enjoy being with Dan. She would try to find love for him again.

Her cell phone rang. It brought her back to reality, away from the dreams of all she planned to do to make life better for her family. A glance at the screen was a punch in the heart: it was Edward’s number. He would want to know when they could meet again; she would have to be firm, let him know it was over.

“Hello,” she said, steeling herself.

“What the fuck did you do?” Edward asked.

The question shocked her. She had started an email to him but hadn’t sent it.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said. “But I want to talk to you. We can’t go on, Edward. It’s . . .”

“You’ve done enough talking,” he said. “You told Ford Chase about us, and he told Sloane, and now she wants me to move out.”

“Edward, I didn’t tell him! He spied on us.”

“Bullshit. We were careful.”

“He came to your boat two days ago. You and I were supposed to meet, but you were working. And he showed up. He was drunk, and . . .”

“He came aboard Elysian? What did he say?”

Sallie hesitated. She had wanted to wipe the slate clean, never think of Ford’s words again. “He called me terrible things.” She paused. “And he said he loved me.”

“Loved you? Were you sleeping with him too?”

“Of course not! Edward!”

“I’m going to walk over to the Chases’ house right now, and that kid will be lucky if I don’t kill him. I swear to God, if he tells anyone else or if you do . . .”

“What, you’ll kill me too?”

She waited for him to say no, I could never do that, I love you, but he was silent, and she felt as if he’d stabbed her.

“Ford told Sloane right in front of Claire,” Edward said. “Now Claire can hold that over me. I feel like . . .”

“Like what?” Sallie asked, afraid of how menacing he sounded—as if he meant Claire harm.

But just then she heard the sound of car doors slamming and of voices. Gwen and Charlie, happy and laughing. Dan talking, then the voice of another man. She craned her neck to see around the corner of the house.

There in the driveway were her husband and children. And a black Porsche 911. As she watched, Ford Chase got out of his car and stood face-to-face with Dan.

Sallie hung up on Edward and ran downstairs.





FIVE DAYS LATER





24





CONOR


At ten a.m. the Wednesday after Claire disappeared, Conor drove down the long dirt lane to Catamount Bluff. He noticed that the security guard usually posted at the entrance was not at his post. The trees were leafing out, making the woods on either side even denser, harder to see along the trails. This enclave was completely private, no way for a car to get in or out except this road.

He thought back to Friday, to the timeline he had established. If Griffin was telling the truth and he had said goodbye to Claire right after breakfast—and she wasn’t reported missing until after five thirty—that gave someone nine hours to lie in wait for her, attack her, and take her or her body away. Based on the freshness of the blood, the window had been narrowed to the middle of the afternoon.

He passed the neighbors’ driveways. Coming from the main road, in order, were the Coffins, Lockwoods, Hawkes, and at the dead end atop the bluff, the Chases. They all had security cameras, and police had reviewed the footage, but because of the foliage, nothing more than glimpses of the road were visible. The examiners noted that a FedEx truck had been seen entering and leaving Catamount Bluff.

FedEx had been rolling out a program of installing drive cams in the cab and cargo hold, and both were present, showing no suspicious activity. The truck had been gone over for signs of blood, and none was found. The driver was questioned and cleared. The package he had been sent to pick up had indeed been called in by Claire, and the air bill was stamped with her account number.

Considering no vehicle other than the FedEx truck had been seen—by camera or naked eye—the attacker must have removed Claire one of two ways: either along the trails that ran through conservation land or by boat from the beach. The trails were too narrow to accommodate vehicles, even ATVs.

If Claire was dead, the killer could have dismembered her, scattering body parts through the woods and in the Sound. Or he could have dug a grave prior to Friday, had it ready, and buried Claire somewhere in the forest.

One of Connecticut’s most famous cases, best known as the “Wood Chipper Murder,” concerned Helle Crafts. Her husband, Richard, had murdered her, put her body through a wood chipper that he had rented and installed on a bridge. The trial was nationally groundbreaking in that it was the first time a prosecutor had achieved a conviction without a body—only fragments of teeth and fingernails.