Page 80 of No One Can Know

“Is Marilyn home?” Emma asked. Everything in the house was white. White kitchen, white dining table, white couch in the living room in front of a white marble fireplace. There was a mug of coffee out on the kitchen counter and a stack of dishes next to the sink, which she couldn’t imagine Marilyn tolerating.

“Marilyn moved to Portland eight years ago,” Hadley said. “Married some accountant.” He said this like she’d married a cannibal.

“Sorry,” Emma said, without particular inflection.

“Alison,” he said. She blinked a moment before realizing it must be his new wife’s name. He nodded toward the mantel, where a series of artfully arranged photographs showed Hadley with a blond woman who had to be at least fifteen years his junior. They were outnumbered by pictures of the dog.

“I’d ask you if you want coffee, but somehow I doubt this is going to be that kind of visit,” Hadley said.

She grunted in agreement. He jerked a hand toward the kitchen table, and she took a seat. The dog immediately settled at her feet with a contented sigh. Hadley leaned up against the kitchen counter nearby, forcing her to crane her neck up at him. The heat of the imminent confrontation flickered and faded in her chest, leaving her feeling tentative, vulnerable. He crossed his arms and looked down at her with a frown.

“Emma Palmer,” he said, like her name was a revelation. “You’ve been through the ringer, haven’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His face remained calm. “I mean you’ve had a hell of a life. Losing your parents and your husband so violently,” he said. “I’m saying you’ve been through a lot, and I’m sorry for your losses.”

“You think I killed my parents,” Emma pointed out.

He made a noise like he disagreed. “I think you lied about where you were, and there’s good evidence that your boyfriend—yourfriend, sorry—was in that house,” Hadley said. “I know you thought it was me causing all your problems, but I wasn’t in charge then, and I’m not now.”

“You made it very clear you thought I did it,” Emma said.

“Sure. I did. I’m not completely convinced I was wrong. But Ellis was the one running the show. He was the one fixed on you. He played things nicer than me, that’s all.”

“Nathan called you,” she said. That was why she was here. Nothing else.

“Did he.” He looked at her steadily.

“He talked to someone right before he died. I called the number. You answered. It was you,” she said, but the corner of his mouth curled and her certainty wavered.

“That was you, then,” he said. “Do me a favor, Emma. Google that number.”

Emma hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she pulled out her phone and did as she asked. The first result was a directory for the Arden Hills Police Department.Chief Craig Ellis.

“I answer the chief’s phone when he’s out. All of us do, from time to time,” Hadley said, and Emma remembered now the card Ellis had handed to Nathan, that night with the fire. “Yes, your husband called the station the night he died, a fact that Detective Mehta is perfectly aware of, for the record.”

“Why?”

He gave her a considering look. “I am not your enemy in this situation, Emma. I could be a help to you. And God knows you need all the help you can get. Your husband is dead. Shot. By someone who knew how to avoid the cameras on the house.”

“Meaning me.”

“Did you know that someone was sending threatening messages to Addison James?” Hadley asked, and Emma startled.

“Threatening messages? No. About what?” She couldn’t help the edge of hysteria that crept into her voice.What now?she thought. What new thing was going to become her fault?

“About leaving Nathan alone,” Hadley said, which she supposed should have been self-evident, given that he was asking her about it. He scratched his jaw with the side of his thumb. “Not you, then.”

Emma gave him an appalled look. “No. Not me. I wouldn’t have.”

“No, from what I can tell, you have never once managed to stand up for yourself,” Hadley said.

She rocked back in her chair as if physically struck. “Excuse me?”

He spread his hands. “You’ve been lying since the night your parentsdied, but if you didn’t kill them, that means you were covering for someone else. Even when it destroyed your life, you kept lying. Then you know about your husband’s affair for how long, and you don’t say a word to him? That person doesn’t go threatening the mistress. But then I have to ask, who would be sending Ms. James those notes? And I’m wondering, who is Emma Palmer going to lie for? And the only thing I can think is how close you three were. So why did you stop talking to each other? You know something about one of your sisters, don’t you?”

He was almost right, she thought. Except that they hadn’t been close, really. They’d been utter strangers to one another. All that loyalty had been an invention of her own mind, in the end. A wish for a sisterhood she didn’t really have.

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