Annie sighed. “She suggested that Kevin reach out to an old friend. But he’s not keen on it.”

“Have you asked John?”

“No. I think that would cross the line for him.”

“Probably.” Claire sighed. “That boy is too darned honest. But, Annie, you’re from the city. You were born there and grew up there. Isn’t there someone you know . . . ?”

Claire had a way of getting to the heart of a matter without breaking stride. And it often felt as if she knew the answer to her question before she’d even asked it. “Claire-voyant,” Earl had called her more than once.

Then, the trials of the past few days (or weeks, or months) bubbled to the surface and threatened to erupt. Annie pressed her hands against her head and said, “Larry. Larry Hendricks.”

Claire leaned toward her. “Who?”

Annie breathed a moment longer—slowly in, slowly out—before raising her head and repeating: “Larry Hendricks. An assistant district attorney. I’m sure he knows the coroner or the archeologist. He might even go out drinking with them.” She waited for relief from having told something she never thought she would. Especially not on the island. Not in her new home. That part of her life was long gone and far away. In another galaxy. Or was it?

“An old lover?” Claire asked.

“No,” Annie said flatly, the same way Kevin had denied that Gina was one of his. “Actually, it’s worse. He was my former husband’s best friend. He was out with him the night Mark trotted from the bar onto Commonwealth Avenue and disappeared into the night. Like he was in an old British spy movie. Larry swore he didn’t know Mark had planned to take off, or where he’d gone. He also said he had no clue if Mark had been unhappy or depressed . . . or that he was in the humongous debt that he so kindly left me.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Not a chance.” It was only then Annie realized that her fists were clenched, her fingernails embedded in her palms. “Murphy, my old friend, always thought Larry was pond scum—her term—and so was Mark.” And then, a warm flush rose in her cheeks. Her shoulders started to tremble. And as Claire reached out to take her hand, Annie fell apart.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It had been years since she’d allowed herself to “let it out,” as her dad had instructed her the night Brian had been killed, years since so many tears had spilled down her face, since her insides had felt as if they were doing battle with each other. She rocked back and forth and back and forth.

At some point, Claire left her chair and went to Annie, encircling her arms around Annie’s trembling shoulders and gently saying, “It’s okay, Annie. You’re going to be all right now.”