“You mean, like sharing a bathroom, stuff like that?” I say, offering the perplexed expression I’ve perfected in the mirror over time. “There are several buildings, so people have plenty of privacy.”
“I meant being with so many different relatives for an extended period of time.”
“We actually enjoy it. That’s why we do it every year.”
And then without warning, Russo thanks me for my time and warns me not to disclose details about the crime scene to anyone else. She shakes my hand briskly, and Callahan sees me out to the lobby, where two people are slouched on a bench, though neither is Bonnie or Blake. There’s also no sign of anyone else from the family.
I park myself on an empty bench, and within a couple of minutes, Bonnie is escorted to the lobby and takes a seat next to me. Her face is drained of color, and her hair’s practically matted to her head. Though we exchange weak smiles, we agree silently that it’s best to keep our mouths shut for now. About ten minutes later, Blake appears. We greet him with wan smiles, but it isn’t until the three of us are halfway across the parking lot that he asks, “Everybody okay?”
Bonnie tells him, “Yeah, as well as can be expected.”
I don’t respond, because frankly, I’m not sure what to say. The interview unnerved me. I’m worried that with the state police on a mission, someone in the family could become caught in the cross fire. Worried, too, that my father-in-law might be a murderer. And regretful that I couldn’t find a way to subtly direct their attention to Claire’s death.
On the drive home, there’s next to no conversation. Blake, I’m sure, would like to debrief me, but knows it’s best to stay mum in front of Bonnie. Though she’s a loyal employee, the Keaton family needs to circle the wagons in a crisis of this magnitude.
Finally, we’re rolling up the gravel driveway. The front door of the house turns out to be locked and we wait a minute until Gabe swings it open, looking weary. He’s been waiting with Henry for our return, he tells us, and now he’s going to follow his father, Nick, Hannah, and Jake to the station. Bonnie takes off for the kitchen, and Blake and I linger with Gabe in the foyer off the main hall.
“So?” Gabe says, flicking his gaze back and forth between us. His face is ashen. Or does it simply look that way in the dim light of the foyer?
“I wouldn’t call them hostile or aggressive,” Blake tells him, “but it’s clear they won’t be treating us with kid gloves because Dad’s got a big house on Durham Road. And it’s obvious they have him in their sights.”
“As a suspect?” Gabe says.
“Of course. She was his younger, attractive female employee. They asked me if it was typical for her to come to the house, that sort of thing. What’s the latest with the lawyer, anyway?”
“He’s based in Princeton and is driving over to meet Dad at the station.”
“Good. I did my best to stress that someone must have gotten onto our land and crossed paths with Jillian in some horrible twist of fate. Or that it’s possible some pervert had been keeping an eye on the house for days and followed her down there.”
“And I told them to talk to Ash about something both your mom and Bonnie told me,” I interject. “That hunters have been coming onto the property lately.”
“Okay, that’s very important,” Blake says. “We need to highlight it for the lawyer.” He looks back at Gabe. “My best advice would be to keep your answers brief, and don’t volunteer information unless they ask . . . . Look, if you’ll excuse me, I want to check on Wendy.”
Gabe tells him that she’s in the den with her feet up. As Blake departs, Gabe puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s the first time he’s touched me in a couple of days, and it feels the slightest bit strange, like a small bird has lighted there.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, but it was pretty unsettling. They asked me if Jillian had expressed any concerns to me this week.”
Even in the dull light, I see his brow furrow. “Had she?”
I shake my head.
“Did you get the same feeling Blake did, that they have their eye on Dad?”
“If you ask me, the police seem to have their eye on everybody. The main detective asked how well all of us in the family knew Jillian. Just so you’re aware, I told them that you knew her about as well as I did, which was hardly at all.”
“And that’s a hundred percent accurate. You didn’t say anything about the hug in the . . .”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Look, I know this has been a brutal day for you, Summer—especially finding Jillian that way. I feel awful you had to go through all that.”
“I can’t get the image out of my mind,” I say, choking up for the first time today. “No matter how hard I try.”
“I’m so sorry, I want to talk more, but I have to go. Amanda should be here in ten or fifteen minutes. You going to be fine dealing with her on your own?”
“Yup.” By now I have an advanced degree in Amanda-handling. “Is Henry in the kitchen?”
“No, playing chess against himself in the dining room. I already told him good-bye, that I’ll see him soon and we’ll make up the lost time later this summer.”
“Where does he think you’re going?”
“I explained we all have to talk to the police about Grandpa’s assistant being injured, that I’m going to the station now but you’re on your way back . . . . I better split. Lock the door behind me, okay?” He turns to go.
“Wait,” I say. My heart’s pounding as I reach out and touch the sleeve of his cotton sweater. When he turns back around, his expression has shifted from worried to alert, wary almost. “What were you and Marcus talking to Jillian about this morning?”
“Who told you that?” he asks quietly.
“Keira.”
He shakes his head. “It was nothing. Marcus saw me headed for a run and he followed me to the driveway to finish a conversation we started last night. Jillian was out there, putting on a pair of walking shoes from her car. She must have just finished with Dad and was planning to go down to the stream . . . . If I’d had any idea—”
“Was she wearing one of the tan slickers?”
“From the house? Why do you ask?”
“Because she had it on when I found her.”
“No, she must have grabbed it afterward.”
“And what did you talk to her about?”
“About work, about Dad.”
“Did you ask if she was sleeping with your father?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. We want to get Dad engaged in our business again, and based on things he said at the meeting on Sunday, Jillian was erecting her own share of roadblocks—which she had no right to do. For god’s sake, she was his assistant, not his business strategist. Sorry to speak ill of the dead.”
“Keira said you were having words.”
He shakes his head dismissively. “No, but it did get a little heated. I asked her to butt out of stuff that was above her pay grade. That’s why we decided it would be stupid to mention it to the police. Why distract them with something like that?”