“The bag was heavy, and when I looked inside, there was a hell of a lot of soup. After I put it all away and went upstairs, Marissa was already asleep. I guess the massage really conked her out. Normally I’m out when my head hits the pillow, but last night I lay awake. I kept thinking about something Natalie once said.” Matthew’s leg begins to jiggle, then he stills it.
“After I set her up with Skip and we all went to dinner, she told me it was obvious Skip had a crush on Marissa. I figured Natalie was jealous. She’s always been jealous of Marissa.”
I wait for more. I know there’s more.
“But.… Skip went all the way to this restaurant in Silver Spring and bought her four bowls of chicken noodle soup.” Matthew shakes his head. “Who does that?”
“Someone who…”
“… really cares about my wife,” Matthew finishes the sentence, echoing the words I lobbed earlier with a heavy emphasis on the word really.
Matthew is easing his toes into icy water; he’s not ready to fully plunge in yet.
Matthew twists to look directly at me. “So what should I do?”
Our boat rocks again; through the small windows above the banquette I see the cigarette boat putter by. I watch as it glides out into the open water and accelerates, sending up a spray of water.
“When you’ve been married awhile, it can feel nice to know you’re attractive to someone other than your spouse,” I tell Matthew.
“I’m not blaming Marissa for the way Skip feels.”
“I’m not talking about Marissa. I’m talking about you.”
He blinks.
“Natalie has feelings for you. Skip has feelings for Marissa. And neither of them has any place in your marriage.”
Matthew nods slowly. “I get it.”
I stand up, feeling a little claustrophobic in the tight space. I keep my feet apart for balance as another, slightly bigger wave rocks the boat.
We could dig deeper, but I’m overcome with the desire to end our talk—I want to get off this boat. But Matthew isn’t done. For a guy who was furious at his wife for tricking him into coming to see me, he sure has embraced the process wholeheartedly.
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: Skip was Marissa’s first kiss. It was right before she and I started dating.”
Marissa has already told me this, but I feign surprise.
Matthew looks down at his hands and clears his throat. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him. “Last night, the main thing that kept me awake was thinking about that summer. I’ve never told this to anyone, but sometimes I wonder if all that drama hadn’t happened, maybe Skip and Marissa would be together instead of us.”
“Drama?”
“One of Marissa’s friends was killed.”
I don’t give away that I already know this information. Tina was murdered more than twenty years ago. So why does her death keep coming up?
“Why would you think that?” I ask.
“I’m pretty sure Skip liked Marissa, even back then. But after the murder—well, to hear Marissa tell it, Skip started acting strangely. I guess it really threw him, that this girl he’d known for his whole life had been killed by one of their teachers.”
I want to sit down again, to encourage Matthew to continue to be open. But a deep-seated instinct is keeping me on my feet, instead of trapped behind the banquette.
“What about you? Were you upset?”
“Honestly, a little. I guess mostly because of the realization that something like that could happen. We all hung out at the beach, but I never got to really know her. She wasn’t my type. She could be a little wild.” Matthew hesitates.
Again, I wait.
“Tina actually had a thing for Skip. That’s what Marissa says. The night she died—” Matthew cuts himself off.
“What happened the night she died?”
Matthew shrugs. “Look, I’m not really sure. You know how people are—everyone had crazy theories about what happened to Tina. But the truth came out. And Marissa and I ended up together, so…” He spreads out his hands, as if it were the end of the story.
It isn’t for me, though. I’m about to dig for more when I spot a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye.
“Matthew, is someone else on the boat?”
“Huh? No, not that I know of.”
By the time he’s finished answering, I’m at the stairs.
I scramble up the first two, then my foot slips on the third narrow wedge of wood and I have to grab the railings hard to keep from falling. I climb the rest of the way a little more slowly and land on the deck, blinking as direct sunlight hits my eyes. I spin around, trying to look in all directions, but for a few moments I’m blinded. When my vision returns, I scan my surroundings, but all the bobbing boats obscure clear sight lines. I glance at the vessels on either side of us, thinking that someone might have hopped into one. But they appear to be empty.
Then I see a man jogging off the end of the pier and heading toward Pearl Street. He’s moving at a good clip, and his back is to me.
Matthew comes up to join me. “Look. No one else is here.”
Someone was though.
I strain to catalog details about the man, but he’s too far away.
The wharf is even quieter now; the men who were working must be taking a lunch break. If someone was creeping around our boat, it must have been him.
I point. “Did you see that guy when you first got here?” I turn to Matthew.
He is watching me with a concerned expression. Behind him is a vast, open expanse of water. “I don’t see anyone.”
I turn back again and realize the man must have already turned the corner or disappeared into one of the few open restaurants.
I slip on my shoes and reach into my purse for my sunglasses. “I’ve got to go. How much longer are you planning to stay?”
“I’m actually about to go, too. I just need to take care of a quick thing here, then I’m going to pick up a few more items for tomorrow night and head home.”
“One more question. Do the police have any more leads on who might have attacked you?”
Matthew shakes his head. His bandage is gone now; the only evidence of his assault is a faint bruise near his hairline. “Not that I know of. Since I couldn’t identify anyone out of the lineup, they weren’t able to make an arrest.”
I say goodbye and walk down the pier, taking in deep breaths of the cold, fresh air.
As I head up the ramp and pass over the retaining wall, I think about various scenarios: Someone could have followed me here. I already know, thanks to the man who came after me in the garage and the fake client who entered my home, that Acelia employs far-reaching ways to get to me.
Or maybe Matthew was the target. Someone could have crept onto the boat hoping to find him alone.
I’m still not convinced that random attack against Matthew was purely random. Anyone can be hired to do just about anything to us. Even Ray, the homeless guy who hangs out near Marissa’s store, was paid to deliver a threatening note.
I take a final look behind me. Matthew is still standing there, watching me go. Or maybe he’s just taking in the air, too.
I’m passing by the Watering Hole when I spot a small white object in the path the jogger just traced. It’s probably nothing. Still, I veer left and pick it up.