I just get this feeling theres more than meets the eye. Now I know there is.
You mean that car? Lorne shrugged. Doesnt prove a thing.
He was aiming for her. I saw it. As soon as she stepped into the street he hit the gas.
He?
He, she. It was dark. I didnt see the driver. Just the license plate. And the taillights. Big car, American. Im pretty sure.
Color?
Dark. Black, maybe blue.
Lorne nodded. Youre not a bad witness, Chase.
What do you mean?
I had Ellis check on that license number. Matches a brown 88 Lincoln, registered to an island resident.
Who?
Mr. Eddie Lanzo. Ms. Woods next-door neighbor.
Chase stared at him. Her neighbor? Have you brought him in yet?
The car was stolen, Chase. You know how it is around here. Folks leave their keys in the ignition. We found the car over by the pier.
Chase sat back, stunned. So the drivers untraceable, he said. That makes it even more likely he was trying to kill her.
It just means it was some crazy kid out for a joyride. Got his hands on that wheel, got a little overwhelmed by all that power, pushed too hard on the gas pedal.
Lorne, he was out to kill her.
Lorne sat down and looked him in the eye. And what are you out to do?
Learn the truth.
You dont believe she did it?
Ive been hearing some things, Lorne. Other names, other motives. Tony Graffam, for instance.
Weve looked into that. Graffam was off the island when your brother was killed. I have half a dozen witnesses wholl say so.
He could have hired someone.
Graffam was in big enough trouble with that north shore development. Charges of bribing the land planning commission. That article wouldve simply been the last nail in the coffin. Anyway, how does this tie in with what happened tonight? Why would he go after Miranda Wood?
Chase fell silent at that question. He couldnt see a motive, either. Other people in town might dislike Miranda, but who would go to the trouble of killing her?
Maybe were looking at this the wrong way, said Chase. Lets ask a more basic question. Who put up the bail money? Someone wanted her out so badly he put up a hundred thousand dollars.
A secret admirer?
In jail shes safe. Out here shes a sitting duck. You have any idea who bailed her out, Lorne?
No.
The money could be traced.
A lawyer handled the transfer of funds. All cash. Came from some Boston account. Only the bank knows the account holders identity. And they arent talking.
Subpoena the bank. Get the name on that account.
Itll take time.
Do it, Lorne. Before something else happens.
Lorne went to the sink and rinsed his coffee cup. I still dont see why youre getting into this, he said.
Chase himself didnt know the answer. Just this morning hed wanted Miranda Wood put behind bars. Now he wasnt sure what he wanted. That innocent face, her heartfelt denials of guilt had him thoroughly confused.
He looked around the kitchen, thinking it didnt look like the kitchen of a murderess. Plants hung near the window, obviously well tended and well loved. The wallpaper had dainty wildflowers scattered across an eggshell background. Tacked to the refrigerator were snapshots of two little towheaded boys nephews, maybe? a schedule of the local garden club meetings and a shopping list. At the bottom of the list was written cinnamon tea. Was that the sort of beverage a murderess would drink? He couldnt picture Miranda holding a knife in one hand and a cup of herbal tea in the other.
Chase looked around as Dr. Steiner shuffled into the kitchen. Some things on the island never changed, and this old grouch was one of them. He looked exactly the same as Chase remembered from his boyhood, right down to the wrinkled brown suit and the alligator medical bag. All this to-do, the doctor said disapprovingly. For nothin but a muscle strain.
You sure about that? asked Chase. She was sort of dazed for a minute. Right after it happened.
I looked her over good. Shes fine, neurologically speaking. You just keep an eye on her tonight, young man. Make sure she doesnt get into trouble. You know, headache, double vision, confusion
I cant.
Cant what?
I cant stay and watch her. Its awkward. Considering
No kidding, muttered Lorne.
Shes not my responsibility, said Chase. What do I do?
Dr. Steiner grunted and turned for the kitchen door. You figure it out. By the way, he said, pausing in the doorway, I dont do house calls. The door slammed shut.
Chase turned to find Lorne looking at him. What?
Nothing, said Lorne. He reached for his hat. Im going home.
And what the hell am I supposed to do?
That, said Lorne with an I-told-you-so look, is your problem.
Miranda lay on the living-room couch and stared at the ceiling. She could hear voices from the kitchen, the sound of the door opening and closing. She wondered what Chase had told them, whether Tibbetts believed any of it. She herself couldnt believe what had happened. But all she had to do was close her eyes and it came back to her: the roar of the car engine, the twin headlights rushing at her.
Who hates me so much they want me dead?
It wasnt hard to come up with an answer. The Tremain family. Evelyn and Phillip and Cassie.
And Chase.
No, that wasnt possible. His shout of warning had saved her life. If not for him, she would be lying right now on a slab in Ben LaPortes Funeral Home.
That thought made her shudder. Hugging herself, she burrowed deeper into the couch cushions, seeking some safe little nook in which to hide. She heard the kitchen door open and shut again, then footsteps creaked into the living room and approached the couch. She looked up and saw Chase.
Weariness was what she read in his eyes, and uncertainty, as though he hadnt quite made up his mind what should be done next. Or what should be said next. Hed shed his windbreaker. His chambray shirt was the comfortably faded blue of a well-worn, well-loved garment. That shirt reminded her of her father, of how it used to feel to nestle her face against his shoulder, of those wondrous childhood scents of laundry soap and pipe tobacco and safety. That was what she saw in that faded blue shirt, what she longed for.
What shed never find with this man.
Chase sat in the armchair. A prudent distance away, she noted. Keeping me at arms length.
Feeling better? he asked.
Ill be fine. She kept her voice like his detached, neutral. She added, You can leave if you want.
No. Not yet. Ill wait here awhile, if thats okay. Until Annie gets here.
Annie?
I didnt know who else to call. She said shed be over to spend the night. You should have someone here to keep an eye on you. Make sure you dont slide into a coma or something.
She gave a tired laugh. A coma would feel pretty good right now.
Thats not very funny.
She looked up at the ceiling. Youre right. It isnt.
There was a long silence.
Finally he said, That wasnt an accident, Miranda. He was trying to kill you.
She didnt answer. She lay there fighting back the sob swelling in her throat. Why should it matter to you? she thought. You, of all people.
Maybe you havent heard, he said. The car belonged to your neighbor. Mr. Lanzo.
She looked at him sharply. Eddie Lanzo would never hurt me! Hes the only one whos stood by me. My one friend in this town.
I didnt say it was him. Lorne thinks the driver stole Mr. Lanzos car. They found it abandoned by the pier.
Poor Eddie, she murmured. Guess thats the last time he leaves his keys in the car.
So if it wasnt Eddie, who does want you dead?
I can make a wild guess. She looked at him. So can you.
Are you referring to Evelyn?
She hates me. She has every right to hate me. So do her children. She paused. So do you.
He was silent.
You still think I killed him. Dont you?
Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. I dont know what to think anymore. About you, about anyone. All I can be sure of is what I saw tonight. Its all tied in, this whole bloody mess. It has to be.
He looks so tired, so confused, she thought. Almost as confused as I am.
Maybe you should move out of here for a few days, he said. Until things get sorted out.
Where would I go?
You must have friends.
I did. She looked away. At least, I thought I did. But everythings changed. I pass them on the street and they dont even say hello. Or they cross to the other side. Or they pretend they dont see me. Thats the worst of all. Because I begin to think I dont exist. She looked at him. Its a very small town, Chase. You either fit in, or you dont belong. And theres no way a murderess could ever fit in. She lay back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling. Besides, this is my house. My house. I saved like crazy for the down payment. I wont leave it. Its not much, but at least its mine.
I can understand that. Its a nice house.
He sounded sincere enough, but his words struck her as patronizing. The lord of the manor extolling the charms of the shepherds hovel.
Suddenly annoyed, she sat up. The abrupt movement made the room spin. She clutched her head for a moment, waiting for the spell to pass.
Look, lets be straight with each other, she muttered through her hands. Its only a two-bedroom cottage. The basements damp, the water pipes screech and theres a leak in the kitchen roof. Its not Chestnut Street.
To be honest, he said quietly, I never felt at home on Chestnut Street.
Why not? You were raised there.
But it wasnt really a home. Not like this house.
Puzzled, she looked up at him. It struck her then how rough around the edges he seemed, a dark, rumpled stranger hulking in her mauve armchair. No, this man didnt quite fit on Chestnut Street. He belonged on the docks, or on the windswept deck of a schooner, not in some stuffy Victorian parlor.
Im supposed to believe youd prefer a cottage on Willow Street to the family mansion?
I guess it does sound I dont know. Phony. But its true. Know where I spent most of my time as a kid? In the turret, playing around all the trunks and the old furniture. That was the only place in the house where I felt comfortable. The one room no one else cared to visit.
You sound like the family outcast.
In a way, I was.
She laughed. I thought all Tremains were, by definition, in.
One can have the family name and still not be part of the family. Or didnt you ever feel that way?