The Accident

I got in my truck. Neither the reporter nor the cameraman was making a move toward the van, and I didn’t have time to wait. I turned on the engine and backed partway down the drive, then cut across the lawn, narrowly missing the tree and dropping over the curb with a thud.

Just before I put the truck into drive and sped off down the street, tires squealing, I noticed Joan Mueller standing in her living room window, watching all the commotion.

As the engine roared, I told myself it all made some kind of sense. Marcus had met Ann Slocum at the purse party at our house. And I knew Ann had caught his eye. If he’d started seeing her-

What if Ann had pulled the same stunt with Marcus that she had with George? Suppose she’d started seeing him and then threatened to let it slip to Fiona that he was being unfaithful to her? Told him she’d be happy to keep quiet if he paid her off?

What was it she’d said on the video? He paid and got something in return. Her silence. Marcus was evidently trying to cut some kind of new deal with her. A way to reduce the blackmail payments, maybe?

That was why he wanted to see her.

Ann had left the house that night to meet with Marcus.

I sped in the direction of the turnpike, running yellow lights, totally ignoring stop signs. I floored it when I hit the ramp onto the westbound 95. Darien was about a half-hour trip. I was hoping to trim about ten minutes off that if the traffic allowed it. The truck wasn’t exactly built for speed, but it could still do eighty or more if I pushed it.

I wondered why no one was answering their phones.

So Ann goes out to meet Marcus. They have some kind of argument down by the harbor. Ann ends up dead.

I felt it in my bones. Marcus Kingston had murdered Ann Slocum.

But did that also mean he’d had something to do with Sheila’s death? I’d come, over time, to believe the two were related.

Was it possible Marcus had somehow staged the accident that claimed Sheila’s life? Gotten her drunk? Put her car on that ramp and waited for someone to hit it?

If he did, why? Did Sheila know he’d been having some kind of affair with Ann? Had Sheila threatened to tell her mother? And Marcus killed her to keep her quiet?

I had no fucking idea.

All I knew for sure was, my daughter was staying in the same house with Marcus. A man I now believed was capable of something very terrible.

I tried Fiona’s house again. Still no answer. Same for her cell phone and Kelly’s. When did that ever happen? That no one would be answering their phones?

There were other people I needed to call, but I didn’t know their numbers, and I was driving so fast I couldn’t safely spend time on the phone trying to get them.

I hit one of my presets randomly. And, after several rings, got Sally’s message.

“You’ve reached Sally Diehl. I can’t take your call right now but please leave a message.”

“Sally, damn it, it’s Glen and if you’re there pick up! Kelly’s in trouble and-”

A click, and then, “Glen?”

“Sally, I need help.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t explain it all now, but I think Marcus may have killed Ann Slocum. Maybe even Sheila.”

“Jesus, Glen, what are you talking-”

“Just listen! Take down this address. Fifty-two-”

“Wait, wait, I have to get a pencil. Okay, shoot.”

I rhymed off Fiona’s address in Darien. “Kelly’s there, unless she’s out someplace with Fiona or Marcus. You have to call Detective Rona Wedmore.”

“Hang on. Rona… Wedmore.”

“She was in Milford Hospital today, but she should be out now. Call the main police line, tell them you have to talk to her. And if you can’t get her, talk to somebody, tell them to get in touch with the police in Darien and get someone to that address.”

I glanced down at the speedometer. I was almost at ninety. The truck was shaking and rattling and felt as though it was starting to float.

“Have you got it?” I asked.

“Yeah, but Glen, this sounds-”

“Do it!”

I ended the call, just in time to avoid rear-ending a tractor-trailer. I swerved around it, felt the back end of the pickup fishtail slightly, and kept my foot pressed to the floor.

FIFTY-EIGHT

“Let’s have a look at that,” Marcus said, taking the phone from Kelly.

He played the video from beginning to end.

“Did you hear it?” Kelly asked. “She says, like, ‘Marcus I’d down with it’ or whatever. Did you catch that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think I did.”

The house phone rang. When Marcus made no move to answer it, Kelly said, “Do you want me to get that?”

“No, just let it ring. They’ll leave a message if it’s important.”

Seconds later, Fiona’s cell on the front hall table began to make a racket.

“What about that?” Kelly asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marcus said, still holding on to Kelly’s phone. When it went off in his hand, Kelly became alarmed.

“That’s mine!” she said. “I have to answer it.”

Marcus raised the phone up next to his head. “Not right now you don’t. We’re talking.”

“Can I see who it is?”

Marcus shook his head. “You can check it later.”

“That’s not fair,” Kelly protested. “That’s my phone.”