“Shana,” said Tim, sounding exhausted. “Please.”

“Carson tried to warn me about you. God, I wish I’d listened.”

“Carson what?” Tim’s tone changed then. I couldn’t discern what that meant. “That makes perfect sense, actually.” He said it with a bitter laugh. “How does he manage to fuck me over even when he’s not around?”

“Carson’s just the messenger. You brought this on yourself.”

“For the love of Pete, Shana, help me understand. What is it that you think I did?”

My mouth worked ineffectually. “The Sinclairs,” I stammered. “You know them. They trust you.”

“I know of them,” said Tim. “Everybody around here does. And if they trust me, then I did my job. Earlier, while you were interviewing Bebe and Miles? Jade told me her grandmother lived here—right here, in A-Bay—before moving to New York. Doesn’t that strike you as a weird coincidence? And while you were talking to Ned, Bebe said Jasper used to beg to go to Antigua with his dad but he always refused to take the kids. Baldwin never even took Rachel until their last trip, the one they didn’t make it home from alive.”

I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All the evidence I’d gathered against Tim flooded my mind. “But you let Jade leave the parlor. You were supposed to watch them.”

“The kid said she had to pee. How was I to know she’s a lying little shit?”

“Abella was about to tell me something about Jasper. You sent her away.”

“I was worried about you! You disappeared for almost an hour, and when you showed up again your hand was wrapped up like a mummy. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Tim dropped to his haunches, head in his hands. “I don’t know what this is. I thought we trusted each other. What happened, Shane?”

Hearing the nickname, his way of ribbing me like a friend, left me gutted. Again I reached inside the boathouse in search of the switch. I couldn’t stand to be this close to him, couldn’t bear the look of disappointment in his eyes. “Nothing happened,” I said as I fumbled for the light. “You just don’t know me. Not at all.”

He stood up. “You’re goddamn right I don’t. Man, to think I actually considered trying to talk you out of marrying Carson Gates. I get it now. You two deserve each other.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re as crazy as he is.”

I dropped my hand to my side. “Carson’s a psychologist. He’s dedicated his life to helping people who’ve endured unspeakable things, suffered in ways you can’t imagine.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Long enough,” I said.

“Long enough to know Carson’s favorite pastime as a kid was pinning all his transgressions on me?” Tim’s body went rigid and he closed his eyes. When they opened he fixed me with a cold stare. “When Carson stole money from my mom’s purse, I got the blame. He egged the school, and I got suspended. I was with him when he set a porta potty on fire just for kicks. As luck would have it, a cop drove by. When we ran, Carson tripped me so I’d be the one who got caught.”