The Shadow Box(44)

“Edward,” Alexander said.

“Who’s that?”

“Edward Hawke,” Ford said. “Our neighbor, right next door. I used to swim in their pool. I told Sloane too. His wife, Claire’s best friend. I told her right here,” Ford said, gesturing around the studio. “Told her Edward was having an affair with Sallie. We had some nice rosé. I drank with the ladies while I told Sloane her husband was cheating on her. Knowing Claire, that shit was probably straight from France. Straight from Provence. She loved stuff like that.”

“Stop now,” Alexander said. He dropped Emily’s hand and went closer to his brother on the sofa bed.

“Claire loved spending Dad’s money,” Ford said. “It didn’t make me want to hurt her—it’s just a fact. Sitting here drinking expensive pink wine with Sloane. She was a so-called artist, but how much could she earn from that crap she made? Sallie was the opposite. She never took anything from Dan—she was a successful businesswoman. How could you not admire her?”

“It’s been traumatic for Ford,” Alexander said. “The whole family is going crazy about Claire—no matter what he says, he’s worried too. And then Sallie. You have to understand him, Detective. Our mother left when we were young, and it’s never really been right since.”

“The sad boys, the lost twins,” Emily said, embracing Alexander.

“Sad, not lost,” Alexander said, looking over her shoulder at Ford.

“Fucked up, not sad,” Ford said. “I’m out of here.”

“Better not drive,” Conor said.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to my old room. Now that Claire’s not here, I won’t get shit for sleeping in it. Why do you think we live half an hour away on Emily’s property? Because Claire didn’t want us here.” He stumbled out of the studio.

Didn’t. Past tense again, Conor thought. As if Ford knew Claire wasn’t coming back.

Alexander took a step toward the door, starting to follow his brother, then turned and faced Conor. “He didn’t mean it that way.”

“What way?” Conor asked.

“Like he’s glad Claire’s not here,” Alexander said.

“He didn’t say that!” Emily said.

“I know, but the whole family’s being investigated. Right, Detective?” Alexander asked. “Mostly Ford?”

“We have to follow every lead,” Conor said.

“Look,” Alexander said. “We’ll do anything to help you find Claire—even Ford. He’s just had too much to drink, and he’s wrecked about Sallie, and he’s not making sense.”

“I understand,” Conor said. “Thanks for talking to me, both of you.” He nodded at Emily. “If either of you think of anything, just give me a call. Please tell Ford too.” He started to hand Alexander his card, but Alexander stepped back, hands at his sides.

“Thanks anyway, but if we think of anything, we’ll tell our father,” Alexander said, not smiling. “No one wants to find Claire more than he does, and he’s the state’s attorney.”

“That he is,” Conor said.

“You know, he is pro police all the way. Investigating my brother could really hurt his chances.”

“You mean his chances to become governor?” Conor asked.

“Yes,” Alexander said. “My father’s a good man. The best there is. And my brother has some issues, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Got it,” Conor said.

That was weird, he thought as he walked toward his car. Alexander had floated a little threat his way. Investigate Ford and maybe Griffin won’t be so pro police. It rolled off Conor’s back but showed how loyal Alexander was to his brother.

Conor stared into the woods that ran east from Catamount Bluff. The trails were overgrown and numerous, but if Claire wasn’t taken away by car or boat, they were the only other possible means of escape. With hundreds of acres of forest and marsh to dispose of her body. The extensive search had turned up nothing, but Conor wanted to walk the path himself.

He stopped at the edge of the coastal forest. To the south, there was Long Island Sound and a long strand of sandy beach and rocky pools. North of the woodland, a salt marsh, full of reeds and creeks and poles supporting osprey nests, spread into the distance. He glanced down Catamount Road—an old white-haired man, wearing khakis and a long-sleeved green shirt, spotted Conor and lifted his hand in a feeble wave. Conor had only questioned Wade Lockwood once, right after Claire went missing. But he recognized the eldest resident of Catamount Bluff, and he waved back.

Staring at the thicket and woods, Conor saw no visible paths, only small gaps between trees. Were those deer tracks or paw prints on the sandy ground? Either way, he was going to follow them.

He wasn’t a nature guy. He liked the shore but mostly from the porch of a seaside bar. Sometimes he and Kate flew out to Block Island to hike through Rodman’s Hollow. His brother, Tom, made his life and living on the ocean—and Kate in the sky—but from the time Conor had become a police officer, he’d gotten used to the highway, shoreline towns, urban and suburban crime scenes. He shouldered his way between two pines, smelled sap, and headed into the dark unknown.





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