The Murder Rule(32)

Camila nodded. She looked a little disappointed. She must have known it would probably have been a dead end, but it was hard to have another possible lead, however slight, shut down. She leaned forward. “You know, Angie, no one heard from Neil after that night.

He disappeared.” There was a touch of drama to her voice and Angie made another face.

“I don’t think that’s right,” she said.

“Oh?” Camila said.

“When I spoke to his landlord, he’d only been gone a few days.

So that means he was stil in his place for a couple of weeks after the murder. And I don’t think it’s right to say that he just disappeared.

I mean, I think I heard he was living in North Carolina.”

“Do you know where?” Camila asked quickly. But Angie shrugged helplessly.

“God, I don’t know. I can’t even remember who told me that. But I’m sure I heard it from someone.”

“Do you know where we could get in touch with his sister?”

Camila asked.

Angie thought for a moment. “I don’t, but I probably know someone who does. I have a friend who has a sister who was in her class, I think. If you give me your number, I can try to find out for you.”

Camila and Hannah looked at each other. “We’re just here for the day,” Hannah said, careful y, feeling again the need to appear to make a genuine effort. “Is there any way you’d be able to cal her now? We don’t want to push.”

Angie stood up, looked around for her phone. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “She’l be at work, so she might not answer. I can give it a shot.” But she had better luck than she’d anticipated. Her friend answered the phone and seemed interested in helping out. A couple of minutes later she cal ed Angie back with a phone number for Sophia Prosper.

Camila and Hannah stood up, and Hannah offered her hand for a shake. “Thank you so much, Angie,” she said. “We’re so grateful.”

Angie walked them out. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb to wave them off. She looked sad.

“It al feels like a thousand years ago now,” she said. “I got married. I have two children.” She nodded back toward the inn.

“When my parents retired I took over this place, which I can tel you was never in my plans when I was twenty-two. But I’ve lived a life. It might not be perfect, or what I thought my life would be, but I’ve lived a whole life. Michael though, al this time, he’s just been in prison. If he didn’t do it, can you imagine what that must be like?”

Hannah nodded gravely and thanked Angie again and said goodbye and al the while she thought about what Dandridge had done, al the pain he had caused, the lives taken, al the lives destroyed. No prison term would be long enough.





LAURA

DIARY ENTRY #5

Monday, August 15, 1994, 11:00 a.m.

I’m way too excited right now! I have the day off, and right about now Tom wil be driving Mike to the airport, which means he’s going to be with me by lunchtime. I keep tel ing myself to calm down. Just because he’s going to stay on the island for another couple of weeks, that doesn’t real y mean anything has changed. He’s stil going to go back to col ege in Virginia. And I’m . . . what? Going to go back to Boston? To live on the fringes as my friends get on with their lives? I have to find a way to get enough money to go to col ege myself. I have to build my own life. If I were in school, maybe the gap between me and Tom wouldn’t be so wide.

Monday, August 15, 1994, 2.00 p.m.

He’s late. I wonder if the traffic was bad? It shouldn’t be, not on a Monday morning. But maybe something happened on the bridge to the mainland. If there was an accident, that could slow things right down, or stop it entirely. I guess I’l eat something, and read, maybe, and just wait.

I fel asleep. I feel super groggy. Tom hasn’t come. Should I be worried? I think I’l go and cal him.

Monday, August 15, 1994, 8:00 p.m.

Everything’s over. Everything’s done. Tom is dead.

Monday, August 15, 1994, 11:30 p.m.

I’m in my room. In my bed. The sheets stil smel like him. Why can’t I cry? What’s wrong with me?

I cal ed the house, but there was no answer. I thought about biking over there but then Rosa came to find me. She’d heard about it from someone. I don’t know who. A cop friend, maybe? The island grapevine? They’re saying that Tom died because he got drunk, that he fel and hit his head on the jetty and just slipped into the water.

They’re saying al of this happened last night, after he drove me home, but that they didn’t find him until this morning. It must have been Mike who found him, Mike who cal ed the police. Last night when I lay sleeping, today when I was working and daydreaming about him, when I was waiting for him to pick me up, al that time he was already dead.

I should have known, shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I have felt it? I was so happy. And he was already dead.

Wednesday, August 17, 1994, 4:30 a.m.

I don’t understand why Tom was drinking. That doesn’t make any sense. Unless . . . unless he and Mike got into a conversation, got over their fight, and had a few drinks together. That’s the only explanation I can think of. They must have been drinking together.

But then, what . . . Tom went for a drunken solo walk down on the jetty?