Page 47

I roll my eyes at the obvious attempt to change the subject. “Chet talked to Wade, and Wade said Sienna was asking about you. Not Jax.You.”
Paul frowns at me in the glass. “Wait—who’s Wade?”
“He works at the B and B.”
“Sienna asked this Wade person about me? What about me?”
“I don’t know. Where to find you, I guess. He didn’t give many details.”
Paul shakes his head. “That...that doesn’t make any sense. She stopped me because of my coffee, and she didn’t ask me anything that was even remotely personal. We certainly didn’t introduce ourselves, not until you came along. You’re the one who said the name Keller, remember.”
“Okay, but that’s not how Wade’s telling it. If he told Chet, he’s told everybody else, too, including the police. Sam was already asking where we were yesterday morning from 4:00 a.m. on.”
Paul pulls his toothbrush from a drawer, squirts it with toothpaste. “What did you tell him?”
“That your alarm went off at six.”
His gaze finds mine in the mirror. “You lied for me?”
His words set off an electrical storm in my chest, and the big ball of emotion I’ve been carrying around for two days bursts into flame. “What was I supposed to say, Paul? You left me here to deal with everything, and I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead or what the hell was happening. And then somebody skinned that animal on the back deck and—”
“Wait. What?”
I nod. “An opossum on the back deck. It was disgusting. And when the snow melts tomorrow it’s going to really smell. They also wrote something awful in the snow.”
Paul dumps his toothbrush in the sink and turns to face me. “What did they write?”
“KILLER, in blood. Enough to have come from a cow, according to Micah. I’ve been living in lockdown, terrified whoever killed that poor woman is coming back for me.” I study Paul’s face, the tight skin around his mouth, the way the color has drained from his cheeks again. “What?”
“I’m just... Jesus, Charlotte, I’m so goddamn sorry. I didn’t want any of this to touch you.” He says it quietly, purposefully, like he’s been practicing the words in his head for days.
“Any of what, Paul? That woman was asking about you. You go on an early-morning run around the same time she slides into the lake, and you come back covered in mud and cuts. They pull her out from under our dock, you lie about knowing her, and then you disappear.”
“Hang on, hang on.” He steps closer, his bare feet swishing against the tile. “Do you think I had something to do with that woman’s death? Do you really think I would kill some stranger, then dump her under my own dock? Is that what’s going on here?”
I lift both hands from my sides. “You have to admit it looks bad.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I bite my lip and look at him, and I can see him go still. I see him thinking. The skinned opossum rattled him, got his bones humming before he pushed the subject away into...what? How did this conversation get so turned around? And why does having him home make me feel even more alone, this terrible slippery fear rising all over again? That Sienna washing up under the dock was only the start of this nightmare?
He shakes his head, hurt and disappointed. “I thought you were... I don’t know. Not immune to what people were saying, but I thought you weredifferent. I thought you knew me.”
The skin of my face tightens, and the fire in my chest moves higher, scorching the back of my throat. My body is gearing up for a good cry. Tears hang in my eyes, but I will not let them fall.
“Idoknow you,” I say, my voice high and tight. “That’s why I lied about what time you got up. To give you an alibi.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did, Paul. Because think about it. If I’d said anything else, you’d be in handcuffs right now. Especially after Katherine and the evidence you left all over Jax’s cabin. Micah knew where you were the whole time.”
He watches me for the span of a few deep breaths, and I try to read his expression, but I can’t. Not with the room going foggy with my tears, not with Paul’s bruises and cuts and that one eye bulging like a rotten apple. It’s like looking at Paul in a fun-house mirror, ugly and unfamiliar. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
He moves to the end of the counter, picks up his cell from the charger and punches at the screen. In the bathroom’s silence, I hear Micah’s voice answer.
“Charlotte was mistaken about the time I got up yesterday morning. It was more like five fifteen, and I was out the door fifteen minutes later. I passed Billy Barnes’s place as he was coming out his front door, probably around six or so. Tell Sam if he wants a revised statement, he can drop by tomorrow sometime.”
He presses End, and the phone clatters to the counter. “I’m going to fix this.”