Carlisle has been in the news for personal matters lately. He was implicated in the death of an erotic dancer and escort during a party on his yacht, Undaunted, over the July 4 weekend. Following the allegation, five other women, all of whom worked as escorts, and some of whom had previous convictions for prostitution, have come forward to accuse Carlisle of assault and other violent acts during the last three years. Carlisle’s spokeswoman dismissed the allegations as part of a “vicious harassment campaign” to undermine Mr. Carlisle. The US Attorney’s Office for the District of Columbia, citing a lack of credible evidence, has, so far, declined to press charges.

Carlisle is survived by his wife, his son, Maddox, and his parents, Victor and Honey Carlisle of Greenwich, Connecticut. The shooting investigation is ongoing.

Chapter Eight
Gabby

The next two days passed in a whirlwind of grief and funeral arrangements. Gabby filled every minute with a long task list designed to keep the despair from seeping in. She pinged from one obligation to the next. Talking to the detective. Helping Baines’s brother, Liam, pick out a casket. Feeling useless while Kennedy wept uncontrollably. Exhausting herself so she didn’t have to process the clash of her seething anger at Baines that had grown wild over the last few years and the heartbreak of how his life ended.

Old memories and long-buried emotions rushed in at the oddest times. Baines’s silly grin the minute he saw her dress on their wedding day. The relieved tears when Kennedy finally arrived after twenty-three hours of intense labor. The endless work hours. Their exhausted laughter over pizza and cheap beer as they sat at a folding table, the only furniture in their first house for six months other than a bed and a ratty sofa.

The day she found out his secret, only to realize he’d discovered hers.

Divorce intensified every emotion and every slight. Shaded the good memories with a thick layer of disgust. Ratcheted up the tension until every word, every attorney letter, every long-resolved argument got dragged up and relitigated.

“Where’s Kennedy?”

Gabby turned from the window and stared out at the trees that blocked her view of the C&O Canal when she heard Liam’s deep voice. He’d abandoned his suit jacket and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves as he sat down on her couch. Fatigue tugged at the corners of his mouth. His usual high level of energy dripped away as she watched.

“Upstairs. Crying, sleeping . . . both.” Her daughter loved to sing and dance. She’d inherited her bouncy, don’t-need-rest attributes from the Fielding side of the family. But she’d barely said a word since Gabby brought her home. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve buried my parents and a sister. Now my brother.” Liam leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a second. “Damn, it’s just me now.”