“We’re still waiting for the results—” started Hudson, but Kole talked over him.

“Not a chance. We’re waiting for confirmation on the identity, but the long bones are too short to belong to Clive. Which, since we’re here, we might as well ask: Do you have any idea who it could be?”

“The victim in Clive’s car?”

Hudson and Kole both nodded while Eleanor slowly shook her head.

“Think back,” said Kole. “I know it’s a long time ago, but did Clive have any enemies? Friends who he might have gotten into a tiff with?”

“Besides his brother? No.”

“His brother?” said Hudson. “Christopher?”

Eleanor began to pace leisurely across the garage floor, as though window-shopping for a new car. “You know, Clive wasn’t my only one, either.” One hand out of the silver muff, she caressed the taupe covering stretched over a hood. “I was with Christopher for three months before Clive swept me off my feet. He never forgave him for that, and yet … if we were meant to be, we would have been. They were like that, though. Clive and Christopher. Always wanting what the other one had. Diving to whatever depths to get it.” She considered her smartwatch. A tennis bracelet glimmered beside it, and Hudson wondered if it was the “diamonds” she’d mentioned earlier. A gift from her cheating husband.

“Look, gentlemen, I have to wrap this up. But I’ll leave you with this: I know no marriage is perfect. Mine and Clive’s was far from it. But for all its flaws, I still loved being married to him. And I loved him. I loved what we’d built together.”

Hudson and Kole exchanged glances. She walked past them, toward the door, and reached for the handle.

“Just one more question.” Kole’s voice prompted her to pause. “Why didn’t you say anything? When Officer Garrison was killed, why didn’t you come forward about hiring him as a private investigator instead of waiting for us to connect the dots?”

Hudson held his breath.

“Because I knew you would,” said Eleanor. “For years, I’ve been blamed for my husband’s death. I am the black widow of Black Harbor. Whether he’s dead or alive, Clive isn’t coming back. And now with another dead body discovered in the Porsche and the knowledge that my desire for answers could have led to Officer Garrison’s death … I just wanted to wash my hands of it. I know it’s selfish. But I hope you can understand.”

“We can,” said Hudson, for both of them.

Eleanor nodded a silent thank-you. They followed her outside, back into the biting air. It felt even colder now than it had fifteen minutes ago. Falling into step behind Eleanor and Kole again, Hudson looked toward the house. The windows were portals into empty rooms. Broken clouds reflected in the glass, giving them a similar inverted effect as the negatives. He squinted. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as his eyes made out the silhouette of someone watching them from the guesthouse balcony.