Page 10 of The Weekend Getaway

“Not necessarily,” said Jason, reading the note that had been passed to him by Chris, who’d read it together with Grace. “I mean, we haven’t seen you in fifteen years. This note could be about something in your life that happened after the party.”

“That’s true,” Chris said. Grace and Mia nodded their agreement.

“Let me see it,” Sarah demanded.

Jason hesitated, then passed it to her. Sarah read themessage, shaking her head. “I doubt one of us sent this. I can’t imagine why you think we would have. All of us have spent the last fifteen years trying to forget that night. I certainly have tried to forget and I never want to think about that night for as long as I live.”

“Sarah is right,” Alex said. “None of us wants to bring up the past, but it’s always with us, something we have to contend with, as I’m sure you know.”

Phil glared at Alex. “Here’s what I know … these notes have nothing to do with anything that happened in my life after that night at the party. Because my life after the party was filled with guilt and shame. I was always depressed. Started drinking. Doing drugs. Fell in with the wrong people. I even overdosed.”

“But you went to rehab,” Alex said.

“You’re sober now, Phil,” Mia said.

“Maybe one of those … wrong people … you were hanging out with sent the notes,” Grace suggested.

Chris nodded. “Maybe you said something when you were, you know … under the influence … and they?—”

“One of you sent the notes,” Phil repeated. “One of you had the guts to send them to me … and now I know what all of you did … and because of that, I’m going to destroy your lives.”

CHAPTER 9

MIA

“What the hell just happened?” Grace bellowed, stomping against the marble floor covering the wide hallway.

Mia sighed, clutching Alex’s arm as he led the way into the library, a large room with high ceilings and glass walls that, according to the property brochure, allowed an unobstructed, immaculate view of the Caribbean Sea. At fourteen minutes after midnight, all Mia could see was their distorted images reflecting at them from the glass.

“Was he serious?” Chris asked, collapsing into one of the two cane chairs in front of the antique mahogany desk positioned in the center of the room.

Mia looked around, thinking the photos online looked better than the actual space, which she would describe as decorated in a Colonial plantation chic style, with gleaming dark woodfurniture, natural fiber rugs, and large potted palms positioned in the four corners. On the walls were framed old world maps of the Caribbean, most of them faded sepia, complimenting the neutral color palette of sand, beige, and pearl.

Alex moved toward one of the divans, and sat, pulling her down next to him.

“He’s going to destroy our lives?” Grace said, her voice shrill with panic and wine. “What the fuck? Who the hell talks like that? What, does he think this is an episode ofDays of Our Lives? Or some ridiculous Marvel movie?”

Chris nodded. “He sounded very much like a supervillain.”

“Relax,” Alex said, leaning back against the couch. “He was obviously drunk.”

“He had been drinking all afternoon,” Mia said, her hand resting supportively on Alex’s thigh. “He was drinking when we got here.”

“Maybe he’s using again,” Jason said.

“Or, maybe he’s serious,” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest as she paced, walking slowly around the divan on the left side of the room.

Grace frowned at Sarah. “Tell me you don’t believe that.”

“Then again … “ Alex leaned forward. “Sarah might be right.”

“Tellmeyou don’t believethat,” demanded Mia, scowling at her husband.

“Phil’s got the motive, means, and opportunity to ruin us,” said Alex, his tone contemplative, gaze circumspect.

Grace snorted. “So, what, now we’re in an episode of … some cop show?”

“Lawyer show,” said Chris. “We’re lawyers.”

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