The Wife Who Knew Too Much(38)

“No. But it’s worth a try. Anyway, you get caught, you didn’t hear it from me.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tip, but as a waitress, I erred on the side of caution and thrust a ten at him.

“I promise. Thank you.”

Hot, sticky air enveloped me as I stepped from the air-conditioned SUV, and I instantly started to sweat. The rain had subsided to a light drizzle, but the road was a mess, mired with standing water and dotted with potholes. At the entrance to the sandy path, I took off my shoes and carried them. My feet sank into the wet sand with every step, making it an effort to walk. The narrow track sloped downward to the beach, between two picturesque fences made of weathered wood. At the end of the path, I stepped out onto the beach, gasping at its eerie beauty. The grand sweep of sand ran for miles in either direction, suffused with a strange yellow light from the hidden moon. The rain had stopped, but the surf was high. Waves crashed onto the sand, the wind rushed, and gulls cawed overhead. The beach felt utterly wild, and yet at regular intervals stood fabulous mansions the likes of which I’d never seen. Shingled manors, embellished with turrets and gables, with lush lawns, pools, tennis courts, outbuildings. I stumbled along, drinking in the sights, unable to believe my eyes, or to comprehend that Connor lived here.

I heard Windswept before I saw it, in the low roar of conversation and laughter, the sound of dance music floating on the wind. Up ahead, the land arched out into the water. Following the beach around the bend, I came upon Windswept, and stopped in my tracks.

I knew it from photographs, of course. The house is famous. But to see it in real life was to understand its magnitude for the first time. It wasn’t just a beautiful mansion, like the others along this stretch. It was a palace, fit for royalty, built of brick and stone made to last a thousand years. And it belonged to Connor’s wife. How could I think he’d give her up for me, when that would mean giving up this kingdom?

Whether he would or not, we had a child coming. And he needed to know.

I walked on. A hundred feet ahead, people milled on the beach in front of Windswept. Guests from the party, presumably—beautifully dressed, holding cocktails, out for a stroll now that the rain had stopped. Above their heads, a sweeping stone terrace was surmounted by a tent large enough to hold a three-ring circus. Noise and music emanated from inside. That’s where the party was, and where I’d find Connor.

A man in a dark suit stood by the terrace stairs. A couple of guests walked up to him. He stopped them and spoke to them briefly before letting them pass. This must be the security that the Uber driver had warned me about. As I walked toward the house, the man’s head tilted in such a way that I knew he was looking in my direction. As an unaccompanied woman coming from the far end of the beach, I was a plausible candidate for a crasher. He stepped away from the stairs and looked up and down the shore, but the casual nature of the surveillance didn’t fool me. He was checking me out while pretending not to. I didn’t know what to do. If I tried to go up the stairs, he’d intercept me, like he’d done with the others.

The security guard was staring at me now. He left his post and started walking in my direction. My heart pounded. The Uber driver thought they might be arresting people for trespassing. Was I on private land here? I had to get away before the guard intercepted me. To my right, a brick footpath, narrower than the path I’d taken to access the beach, turned upward and ran alongside a manicured lawn. It must lead back to the street. I turned onto it and kept walking, afraid to look over my shoulder. There were footsteps behind me. I sped up. The footsteps did, too.

“Sir! Stop right there, you’re trespassing,” a man shouted.

Sir? Yes, it was dark, but with my long blond hair, it was odd that he’d mistake me for a man. A scuffle broke out behind me. What the hell?

“Let go of me, asshole! I’m with her.”

At the sound of the second voice, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Derek.

I heard the soft thud of a punch, followed by a grunt, and whirled to see the security guard and Derek in a clinch. Derek stared past him, looking right at me. The rage in his eyes made my blood go cold. That must’ve been Derek in the Ford Fiesta. He’d followed me here from New Hampshire. It wasn’t me who’d attracted the guard’s attention on the beach a minute ago. It was Derek, with his jailhouse fade, clad in gym shorts and a tank top that showed off his bruiser body. He’d been right behind me as I walked toward Windswept. With the waves crashing, and the soft sand, I hadn’t heard his footsteps.

And was that Derek all along, following me in the Suburban? Had he actually tried to kill me? Thank God for that guard. It was plain, dumb luck that he’d stopped Derek before he grabbed me. They were evenly matched. Gritting his teeth, the guard pushed Derek back into the bushes. Derek got his arms loose and started pummeling the guy’s ribs. They grappled, toppling over into the grass.

I wasn’t sticking around to find out how this ended. I ran.





19





I ran down the path and skidded onto the beach, panting. The stretch of sand was empty now, ghostly in the glow of the moonlight. The steps to the terrace had been left unguarded. Seeing Derek had scared me so much that I was tempted to get the hell out of there before he came looking for me. But this was the chance I’d been waiting for. The guard was occupied with Derek. I could sneak into the party, find Connor, and tell him my news. It was now or never.