I gave him a smile, then reached out and took his hand. “I got his name.”
He looked surprised but pushed the down button with his free hand. “William Blakely’s?”
“Yep, he goes by Grayson Matthews, and he lives in Kennebunkport, Maine.”
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small notebook and wrote the information down. “Good work.”
We were silent all the way to his car, but he held on to my hand as though he was worried that he might lose me in the crowded elevator and lobby.
He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, staying put while I climbed onto my seat. “How are you, Care? Really?”
“I don’t know,” I said, turning toward him and looking into his eyes. “Did I find out what I wanted to know? Yeah, I guess, but does it change anything? Not really. We know he killed my mother, and it sounds like he killed her parents too. But we have no proof and no solid leads to follow. We both know that Tiffany isn’t going to say anything else to the authorities. She’d look paranoid and delusional. Not to mention she probably realizes what my father would do to her.”
I sank back in the seat and pushed out a sigh. “Maybe I should let this go. Just stay in hiding and be Carly Moore forever.”
He was silent for a moment. “And always be watchin’ over your shoulder, wonderin’ if he’d find you?” He paused. “I can’t stop thinkin’ you might be safer living out in the open.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“It would have been easy for him to make you vanish before you fled. I looked you up on the internet, Carly. You lived a very private life. The only photos of you were the ones your father released when he said he was lookin’ for you. You were hardly on social media, and besides your weddin’ announcement, you hadn’t been mentioned in any articles since your mother’s death. You could have disappeared and hardly anyone would have noticed.”
He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know.
“But he made you newsworthy by offering that reward. You couldn’t resurface and then disappear again without it makin’ the news. So if you were livin’ out in the open—”
“Stop right there. My mother lived a very public life, and he killed her in a car ‘accident.’ He killed her parents that way too. So that blows your theory, Marco.”
“I’m scared, Carly,” he said, cupping my cheek. “Can’t you see that? What if your father catches wind that we went to see Tiffany? She knows my name. Hell, she knows what town you live in. I think I just fucked you over.”
“I’m scared too, but I’m glad we went to see her. We have more answers, and we know I’m not crazy.”
“You have to leave Drum eventually,” he said. “Maybe we should consider moving up the timeline.”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m not finished in Drum yet.”
He studied me for several moments, then finally leaned forward and kissed me. “Okay. Not yet.” He pulled back a little, his expression serious. “Besides, we have a much more serious immediate concern.”
“What’s that?” My heart skipped a beat.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the parking slip. “I forgot to get this validated.”
I broke into laughter and threw my arms around his neck.
No, I wouldn’t be going anywhere without Marco. I needed him too much.
We stopped for lunch once we were outside of Atlanta, picking a booth that overlooked the parking lot. After we ordered our food, Marco got out his phone and a laptop he’d retrieved from a bag in the back of his car. He checked his email first, confirming Tiffany had followed through with her promise to send the information she’d gotten from her private investigator, and then concentrated on looking up Grayson Matthews.
He found him in a matter of seconds, turning his computer around so we could both see the screen. “I think this is him. I see a resemblance to your father.”
The image of a man on a yacht filled the screen. Although his hair was grayer and his face more wrinkled than I remembered it, he did look familiar. I zoomed in on his face.
“You have his eyes,” Marco said softly.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Alarmed, Marco got out of his seat and slid in next to me, wrapping his arm around my back.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. You’ve been through hell this morning.”
“Thanks for arranging the meeting with her,” I said. “I realize I’m kind of a mess right now, but I still appreciate it.”
“I’d think there was something wrong with you if you weren’t kind of a mess,” he said.
I pointed to the screen, my voice breaking. “I lived . . . I was alone.” I choked back a sob, embarrassed. “I lived with that murderer, and the man who supposedly thought I hung the moon has been sailing on his yacht.”
While I’d suspected William Blakely had run away, I’d pictured him living like me—holed up off the grid, surviving from paycheck to paycheck. I didn’t know much about Kennebunkport, but I suspected it wasn’t cheap to live there. Or to own a yacht.
William Blakely hadn’t been hiding in fear. He’d been exiled, sure, but plenty of money had helped blunt the sting.
Something inside me broke.
“Care.” He hugged me tighter. “Let’s get our lunch to go.”
I wiped my cheeks, even more embarrassed now. “I’ll be okay.”
“No,” he said, closing his laptop and then flagging down the waitress. “We need to get that order to go.”
“Of course,” she said, her voice full of understanding when she saw my face. “It’s almost ready.”
“Marco.” I intended to protest, but the words didn’t come out.
“Carly,” he said, turning toward me. “Do you know I’ve never once seen you cry over this mess? Sure, a few tears here and there, but no bare-your-soul sobbing.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I think you’re due a good cry, Care. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.” He gave me a wry smile. “If this was happening to me, I would have been bawling before we left the parking garage.”
I released a laugh and promptly choked on another sob.
He gave me a soft kiss. “Come on. Let’s go out to the car, and I’ll come back in for our order.”
I waited at the table while he explained the situation to the waitress, and then he stuffed his laptop into the bag and led me out the front door. As soon as we reached Marco’s Explorer, the dam burst loose.
Standing next to the still-closed passenger door, Marco pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I sobbed into his shoulder, deep, gut-wrenching sobs, as all the pain and heartache of the past year gushed out in an ugly mess. I wasn’t sure how long I cried, I only knew I was safe because Marco was there, absorbing my pain.
When I finally settled down, he wiped my cheek with his hand, staring at me with so much love it took my breath away. “You said he left you alone, but you don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m in this with you now, and I’m not leavin’, okay?”