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Noah nods. “People’s minds usually try to come up with the simplest explanation. Especially around here—no one would think ‘gunshot’ first in Magnolia Bay. Your father said he stayed in bed for about fifteen more minutes and then decided to head out to the grounds and check in on your mom. And that’s when he found her.”
My throat tightens, remembering the 911 transcript.
“But what was the plan?” I say. “Our house has an alarm system. Surely, any burglar worth their salt would know that. And why shoot Mom in the shed? Why not just sneak past?”
“There’s a lot of lawn between the shed and the house,” Noah says. “There’s nowhere to hide really. If your mom saw this person, they might have felt they didn’t have a choice. And then, once the gun went off, they ran. Probably back the way they came, through the garden. That leads out to the far side of your little front vineyard. They could have disappeared into the woods that line the property by the lodge.”
“And what about Dad’s theory?” I ask. “That it was some enemy of his.”
“The sheriff looked into that personally—your dad did not want any negative attention aimed at the company, so he made sure the sheriff operated with discretion. He interviewed former employees, rivals, suppliers who claim they got stiffed.”
“Dad would never stiff anyone,” I say. My father might be a hard man, but there’s nothing he prizes more than his reputation. He’s strictly by-the-book.
“And of course, you were a favorite subject of speculation,” Noah adds. “Even after you were cleared.”
“Isla told me she vouched for me.”
“She did.”
“I never meant to put her in that position.”
“The department kept her name out of the papers.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
“Isla’s my friend too,” Noah reminds me gently. “I wasn’t even a deputy back then, I was still only in training. But I told the sheriff if we released her name, it would only add to the shitshow.”
Silence falls between us. “Was she…after I left, did…” I struggle for the words. “How was she?”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “That’s a question for Isla herself.”
Fair enough.
“You should read the newspaper articles about the case next. There was so much speculation. See what you can glean there. The library will have them all have archived. Or you could just Google them,” he adds.
I have to go to the library today anyway to meet Isla.
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks, Noah.”
“No problem,” he says. “Hey, some of us are going to the beach next Friday. You should come.”
“Who’s ‘some of us’?” I ask warily.
Noah rolls his eyes. “I don’t know if Luke Richards is going. He doesn’t generally hang out with townies.”
“He should. He’s marrying Isla,” I say. I can’t believe they’re getting married on my own goddamn property. Part of me wanted to confront Daisy about that, but for what? Everton needs the money and it’s not like Daisy should be making business decisions based on my feelings.
“Yeah,” Noah says thoughtfully. “I still don’t really get that. They seem so different.”
“She and I were different too,” I point out.
“Nah,” Noah says, shaking his head so that his hair falls into his eyes. “You were never like the other kids who grew up on the Way. Too much like your mom.”
His words settle around me, a sort of comfortable pride. Mom wasn’t born into this world the way Dad was. She grew up in a working-class family in New Jersey. She always kept us grounded.
“Anyway,” Noah continues. “I don’t know if Isla is going either. It’s me and Jake, Joni, Charlotte, and Mike and Emily Cochran. If Mike’s not in the drunk tank again, that is.”
Noah rolls his eyes. Mike’s family runs the kayak and bike rental shop on the water. He was always getting into trouble, ever since we were teens. Looks like that hasn’t changed.