Page 33 of The Note

“What do you mean?”

“Drugs, for example?”

“I mean, weed, yeah. That’s like legal now.”

“Nothing else?”

“Some coke on occasion, but very rarely. Back when we were in our twenties? Yeah, that was pretty regular, and he did go on a bit of a binge after college when he was going through a rough time. So if I’m telling you all this, it means I’mbeing honest. These days, it would only be if it’s going around at a party or something. So if you’re thinking this a drug thing, it’s not.”

The local market for recreational cocaine was relatively well mannered, but Carter knew that summer could bring in some rougher dealers from out of the area, drawn to visitors who didn’t have access to a regular supplier.

Another call was coming in to Carter’s phone. A 401 area code again. Not the mom, not her lawyer. He thanked Simon for the information and switched to the incoming call.

“Is this the East Hampton police department?” The woman was slightly out of breath. Tentative and nervous.

“Yes. Detective Carter Decker. This is my cell.”

“You’ve been looking for Dave Smith?”

“Yes. His mother has reported him missing.”

“Then I think you’ve been looking for me. My name’s Christine Harper. I just saw him Saturday.”

“And you’re not with him now?” Carter asked.

“No. I’m in New York City. Or at least I was. I’m on the train now.”

“Going where?”

“I was planning to go back home to Providence until my phone blew up with people looking for me. I managed to get on the Long Island Railroad right before they closed the doors.”

“So you’re coming back out here?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m sorry, are you meeting Dave? Where is he?” He felt like he was one step behind during this entire conversation.

“No, I’m meeting you. Or someone else from your department. I assume you have questions.”

“I do, and I’ve been trying to ask them.”

“I promise you, I have no idea where he is. But I’d prefer to talk to you in person. That’s why I almost face-planted down the stairs running for this train. If I sound weird, it’s because I’m still catching my breath.”

“I’m not sure that’s even necessary, Christine.”

“It is, Detective. Because it sounds like I’m the last person who saw Dave, he would never ignore his mother for two days because he’s scared shitless of her, and if you haven’t already done so, you’re going to go to our hotel room and find a shattered statue of a bird that I threw at him the last time I saw him. So, yes, I think you need to see me in person.”

19

Lauren Berry was twenty-six years old, three years into her work at Wildwood, when she first noticed that Thomas Welliver was flirting with her. He was fifty at the time, but had the voice of a much younger man.

That’s how she first flirted back, telling him he had a good voice:You could make a fortune in voiceover work.

I already made a fortune doing something much easier.

“I miss you.” Even twenty years later, he still had histimbre.

“No, you don’t,” Lauren teased. She had come inside to pour herself a glass of water. Kelsey was deep into a novel on her chaise longue, and Nate was swimming laps. She decided to put together some tortilla chips and guacamole, but was dawdling to have time inside with Thomas and some air-conditioning. “That’s not how we do.”

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