Page 27 of The Note

Thanks to loose-lipped Clark, she knew that the East Hampton police already had her name. But how?

“I was in East Hampton,” she said.

“With anyone or alone?”

“With two friends visiting from out of town.”

“Did you happen to have any interactions with this guy?” In the photograph Danny pulled from his blazer pocket, David Smith was wearing a suit and tie, his light, wavy hair combed neatly into place. It looked like a corporate headshot, but wasn’t familiar from any of the online searches she had done for David Smiths who lived in Rhode Island. “Last Friday, he might have looked more like this.”

It was a second photograph of the same man, this time on a beach, hair windblown, a slim-fit floral-patterned shirt left unbuttoned over his swim trunks. It was the picture that had been onthe missing-person flyer that Lauren had brought home from the farm stand. Side by side, the competing images reminded her of the social media meme—me on LinkedIn versus me on Instagram. Two completely different portraits of the same person, but neither one entirely authentic. “His name’s David Smith. He may have been with a girl—a young woman, I mean.”

She shook her head. Wouldn’t the people who were looking for him know who his girlfriend was? “I don’t know the guy in the first picture, but assuming he’s the same guy in this one, there were missing-person flyers around the Hamptons with that same photo. Why? What’s up?”

“Not real sure, but if they care enough to ask for a courtesy interview from another jurisdiction just because you were born a little Miss Nancy Drew, I gotta think the kid’s family has some suck.”

Danny had been the one to give her the nickname, based on her habit of asking the DA investigators for extra work on her cases. Even if she had all she needed to get a conviction, her curiosity often led to nagging questions that she could not leave unanswered. The investigators probably would have started boycotting her requests if they didn’t occasionally pay off in big ways. May, in short, had been a kickass prosecutor.

She was wondering why Danny would be using the nickname in this context when she realized what must have brought her to the attention ofthe police. Her curiosity. Her inability to accept questions without answers. Her refusal to mind her own fucking business.

It was the detour to Sag Harbor on the way home.

She hadn’t left her name with the restaurant, and had made it a point to park four blocks away. Even if someone managed to write down her license plate after she asked a few questions, it would have traced back to Josh, not her. How did the police find out who she was? And why did they send an investigator from her former office to question her?

“I do love a good mystery, but I’m not sure what you mean, Danny.”

“According to the detective out east—name’s Carter Decker, by the way—they’re retracing the missing guy’s steps to see if he might have gotten into some kind of jam. Guess he had dinner at someplace called Page on Main Street in Sag Harbor. They canvassed the local area. A few people remembered seeing him with a girl. Young woman. The waiter said they seemed fine and normal. Nothing of interest. Then, when the police went to the American Hotel, no one recognized the guy, but the hostess told them an Asian woman had come in Monday asking whether anyone had seen the guy on Main Street. She thought maybe the couple might have been arguing outside. Sonow this Carter Decker wants to know why you were asking around.”

She had only gone back to the restaurant to check if anyone had seen Kelsey leave the note on Smith’s car. She learned that no one at the American Hotel remembered seeing David Smith at all. When May mentioned the possibility of surveillance cameras outside, the hostess kindly volunteered that they didn’t have any, and that from what she’d heard from surrounding businesses, no one had found any footage of the missing man.

If this Detective Decker had known to call the DA’s Office for a courtesy visit, it meant that he knew not only May’s name but also that she had formerly worked at the prosecutor’s office.

“One of my friends saw the flyer at a farm stand. I thought it was possible I spotted him in Sag Harbor when we went there for drinks Friday, but I really wasn’t sure.” The easiest way to maintain consistency with a lie was to imbue it with as much of the truth as possible. So far, so good. “On my way home, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to go back and see if anyone at the restaurant recognized him. They didn’t, so there was really nothing for me to call in to the tip line.” All entirely true.

“But you suggested they might have been arguing. Is there a reason you thought that was the case?”

Danny asked the question breezily enough, butit was good follow-up work. This was it. She either told the truth or she didn’t. She pictured herself telling him about the note. Then she’d have to tell Josh, too, and he would not approve. Josh liked Nice May, not Snarky, Bitchy May. And Danny would tell Carter Decker. And the note was mean. Really, really mean. That’s why it had been funny. People would keep talking about it. Someone would post it online. It would go viral. If she tried to explain that Lauren had been the one to write it, and Kelsey was the one who left it on the car, she’d lose both of them as friends. And the law school could even treat a second round of negative attention as grounds for not renewing her contract.

She was determined to make sure no one ever found out about that horrible note.

“The couple I saw on the street was sort of snipping at each other.” She remembered the two of them, his arm comfortably draped across her shoulders, hers wrapped around his waist. “But, like I said, I have no idea if it was even the same guy. I think I let my imagination get a little carried away from me. Nancy Drew and all.”

“Yeah, when I talked to Decker, I told him it was probably something like that. You know there’s a podcast now about that Washington, DC, case you were so obsessed with?”

“Of course I know. I was listening to it on the drive back from East Hampton. Come to thinkof it, I wonder if that’s what made me itchy for something to amateur-sleuth for a little while.”

“Weird way to spend your vacation, Hanover. I’ll relay all this to Decker, but he might want to talk to you himself.”

“No problem. Let me give you my cell.” She jotted the number down on a notepad they kept on the kitchen island and handed it to him. “How’d he know where to find me?” She tried to keep her tone light.

“Turns out you’re not the only girl detective running around Sag Harbor. The hostess you talked to described you to the servers who were working over the weekend, and one of them remembered you and your friends. They said one of your friends can pound the booze, by the way.”

“How embarrassing.”

“They also said you tipped very generously, so there’s that. Anyway, they found the credit card charges for your table. Lauren Berry split the check with you? That sound right?”

“Yeah, one of my girlfriends.” Great. They had Lauren’s name, too.

“Guess Decker googled you, found your profile, called the law school, and got a message that email was a better way to contact you during the summer. Sweet gig, Hanover.”

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