The Wife Who Knew Too Much(41)
“You have a ride home?”
“I’ll call an Uber.”
She nodded. “Give me a ring tomorrow to request a copy of the police report. It’s Officer Rossi, Southampton PD.”
“Will do.”
“Stay safe.”
She got in the cruiser and drove off. I waited until she was out of sight, then checked to make sure nobody was watching. Near the gatehouse, a couple of valets in white jackets waited for guests to come request their cars. They paid no attention to me. I was free to leave. Or not. I could go look for Connor, or I could address a more pressing concern—the black Suburban with tinted windows that I’d seen parked in the Windswept motor court just moments ago. It must still be there, since I hadn’t seen it drive past me and out the gate. It had a tag on the windshield, like it had been valet parked. If that was true, then it belonged to someone who was legitimately present at Windswept tonight—a guest at the party, or perhaps one of Nina’s employees. It might not be the same Suburban that had run me off the road. But it might, and I needed to know. The way to tell would be to examine it for possible damage to the passenger-side door caused by sideswiping another car.
I retraced my steps, down the driveway, across the lawn to the motor court. Windswept was crazy big, its motor court as large as a mini-mall parking lot. I threaded my way among the rows of vehicles, searching for the Suburban. Just as I saw it ahead of me, I heard footsteps behind, and dropped to the ground, terrified that it was Derek coming to find me. I waited, heart pounding. A car door opened. An engine started. And I pulled myself up, looking through the windows of the vehicle that had sheltered me to see one of the valets drive off in a guest’s BMW.
Before I got interrupted again, I hurried to the black Chevy Suburban that I’d seen before, approaching it from the rear. It had deeply tinted windows, and now I saw that it also had a New York license plate. I took a photo of the plate with my phone, then flicked on the flashlight, kneeling down to examine the passenger-side door.
And there it was. A visible scratch, and a swath of paint in the same faded blue as my Toyota.
This was the same car, parked at Nina’s house. Nina Levitt had tried to have me murdered. That security guard had my name. What if Nina found out I was here? I wouldn’t be safe until I told Connor what she’d done, and that I was pregnant. He’d make her stop. He’d have to.
A streak of light soared toward the clouds, followed by a loud boom. The sky lit up with bursts of blue and red and gold, diffused by the haze of the atmosphere. I ran toward the beach, where I’d last seen Connor. But when I got there, it was no longer empty. The party had moved there, and hundreds of people now milled about, watching the fireworks. The ocean was rough from the storm, and massive waves pounded the sand. I walked up and down, searching for him in the crowd to no avail.
As the fireworks display reached its crescendo, the air filled with thunderous bangs and the smell of sulfur. Only after it ended, and the guests began to drift away, did I finally see Connor. He stood about a hundred feet away in the thinning crowd, but he wasn’t alone. He was with the guard who’d stopped me earlier, and with Nina. The three of them conferred, silhouetted against a smoky, red sky—Connor, his wife, and the man they’d hired to keep out the people who didn’t belong. The trespassers. Like me.
This whole trip had been a waste. There was no chance of speaking to Connor alone. The truth was, if he loved me as he claimed, he would have gotten in touch before now. He hadn’t. Time to recognize this situation for what it was and admit defeat. Time to go home.
20
NINA
Two hours later
The confrontation had gone badly.
Nina sat alone at her desk, trying to write down everything she remembered. But her mind was foggy. She struggled to form words, to make her fingers obey her command. What had happened? Where was Kovacs? He was supposed to escort them out, but he’d disappeared at the critical moment. Called away. Breach of security. Something about a man from earlier tonight—vagrant, burglar, criminal. Urgent. He had to leave. Leave her alone with them. Was she remembering right? Did Kovacs do his job? Was Connor gone? She couldn’t be sure. She was safe in here. Or was she? What about her? That woman. She couldn’t even say her name. She’d write it, instead. Write it, underline it, point them in the right direction.
She threw down the pen. She was wasting precious time. She needed to call someone. A doctor. The police. She looked for her phone. Her vision had doubled. The phone was missing. Or maybe it was here, and she just couldn’t see it. She felt around the desk, then got to her feet, holding on to the back of the chair. Feverish, breathing heavily.
Something was very wrong.
She got lost in time.
Things had started to go bad down on the beach, when they found Connor watching the fireworks display. He looked up and saw her, smiling like things were normal. Kovacs was acting strangely. Lies. Everyone was lying. Hank had lied about the shipping company. Hank must know. He knew everything. The fireworks disappeared into the clouds. A waste of money. A thick, noxious fog settled over the beach. The smell of smoke. Her eyes teared until she couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Felt ill. That was when she first suspected that she’d been drugged. In the confusion of the night, she’d paid little attention to what she ate or drank. So long as it came from a waiter, or from the tables laid out for the guests, she’d assumed it was fine.