SEVEN

Change of plans,” Tim said.

He met me at the bottom of the stairs, where I watched Flynn join the others in the parlor to make sure he sat as far from Abella as possible. Ned and your family are down there, I’d told him. If you’re right about Abella, are you comfortable with that? Begrudgingly Flynn left his room, but I knew he’d bring his anger with him. He’d thrown a punch at something—or someone—already. I didn’t trust the man at all.

“That was the headquarters.” Tim waved his phone at me. “You’re not going to believe what they said.”

A dozen ideas sparked to life in my mind, each more preposterous than the next. Jasper’s a drug addict who owes an inner-city thug a fortune. The Sinclair family crossed the Mafia and it’s payback time. Abella Beaudry is Canada’s Lizzie Borden, a fugitive on the run. I was wrong on all counts. My confusion escalated as Tim recapped his call.

“What do you mean, they’re not coming?”

“They tried.” Tim looked apologetic, and a little embarrassed. To him I was still a cop from the big city, and he wanted to show me his rural operation was the real deal. “The troopers got as far as Heart Island,” he explained. “There was another vessel in the water, a Boston Whaler full of teens who thought boating in a nor’easter would be fun.”

“Shit,” I said, recalling our own harrowing ride. “So they got sidetracked by a rescue. They’ll be here once they get those kids back to shore, right?”

“The Whaler capsized in the channel. The timing was lucky—those kids would have drowned. But our guys didn’t see it until the last minute. They hit it.”

“They hit it?”

He shrugged. “Their boat’s a mess, and a couple of the injuries are bad. They had to bring in the Coast Guard to help. I put in a request for another boat, but with the flooding in town and the storm getting worse, every deputy’s overwhelmed. For the foreseeable future, we’re on our own.”

Over Tim’s shoulder I could see the family collectively straining to hear us. I grabbed the man’s elbow and pulled him toward the stairs. “Okay,” I said, thinking, Breathe, Shay. Breathe. “Let’s recap the situation. We don’t have a body. The evidence is locked up safe and sound. We’re fine on our own for now.” I tried to sound believable and ignore the fact that what I felt tugging at my collar was fear.

“Agreed,” said Tim. “We’re fine. Lots more interviews to do still, and all the time in the world to do them. How’d it go with Flynn?”

“He likes the girlfriend for this, but I’m not convinced yet. I think the family dynamics around here are off.”

“You mean these filthy-rich blue bloods from Manhattan aren’t the Cleavers? You don’t say. In the meantime, I’ve gathered some useful information.”

“Really?” I said, perking up.

“Oh yeah. I’ve mapped the location of the incision from Bebe’s facelift. I can tell you how recently each of the men shaved, whether they file or clip their fingernails, and who didn’t eat enough for breakfast. When Ned’s stomach growls it sounds like he swallowed a howler monkey.”