Page 71 of The Summer that Changed Everything

“Honestly? I don’t know where I’d be without her. I’m not the same man I was before she came into my life, Ford. Whatever happened in the past—I was an entirely different person.” He wanted Ford to understand, just in case the truth ever came out, that he didn’t deserve what would happen to him. The night Aurora died was more of an accident than anything else. One thing had led to another and then everything had gotten away from him and turned into something unbelievable. He only did what it seemed he had to do at the time.

“I’m happy for you both,” Ford said.

Chet glanced through the glass doors, looking for Lucy, but the kitchen–living room remained empty. He assumed it would stay that way until he left. “I ran into Lucy the other day,” he said. “Found her walking down my street.”

“She told me.”

“That’s right.” Chet leaned on the banister next to him. “You called while I was helping her find the Zampino place.”

“I appreciate you doing that, by the way.”

“No problem.” He probably should’ve said goodbye and left at that point. He wasn’t getting anywhere. But he couldn’t help pressing just a little harder. “She learn anything of value from them? They remember any details they didn’t disclose before?”

Ford shook his head. “Not really. Just that their rowboat was gone when they went out to clean up that night. They thought someone at the party might’ve put it in the river and let it get away. But it was back, sitting in its usual spot, the next morning.” He took another drink of his coffee. “That’s strange, don’t you think?”

Chet’s scalp began to prickle. He should’ve let the boat float on down the river. But he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the Potomac. He’d been hoping that if he put it back, Aurora’s body would never be found. That would’ve been the best possible scenario, at least for him. “Not really,” he said, using an indifferent tone as he gazed out at the ocean. “We’ve got good neighbors around there. Someone probably found it floating loose and brought it back.”

“They asked all the neighbors. Everyone said they didn’t even know it’d gotten loose.” Ford straightened. “Do you remember if the Zampinos came toyourhouse that night?”

Chet resisted the panic rising inside him, did all he could to appear relaxed and unafraid. “They must’ve. I mean,Ididn’t talk to them, but my parents probably did.” He remembered his folks asking him about the boat. He’d said he didn’t know anything about it. And then, fortunately, just before it took center stage in the discussion around Aurora, the police connected Lucy’s father to the Matteo murders and the investigation abruptly changed direction. From that point forward, NHBPD set out to find evidence against Lucy’s father—not evidence in general—so they could solve all three murders. Because of the timing, they were convinced it had to be one and the same person, and the boat was a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit, so they ignored it.

Although Chet had always been afraid the boat would come up again, after fifteen years of basically nothing, he’d started to believe he was in the clear. If it wasn’t for Lucy, that would still be the case, which was why he was starting to hate her. The boat was the kind of evidence he needed to remain buried—because it led tohim.

“What do you think could’ve happened?” Ford asked.

“We know Aurora was drinking that night,” he replied. “If you don’t want to believe Lucy’s father had anything to do with her murder, maybe she climbed into the boat on her own, got out on the river and somehow tipped over and drowned.”

“The coroner claims she was strangled. He found no water in her lungs, which means she was tossed in the riveraftershe was murdered.”

“You remember that after all these years?” Chet said, acting as though he was impressed. “I didn’t realize you paid much attention to the trial.”

“Lucy was my girlfriend. I didn’t turn out to be a very good boyfriend—my parents wouldn’t even hear of me seeing her again and I let them persuade me—but I definitely paid attention.”

The memory of dragging Aurora’s body down the embankment at his house played like a movie in Chet’s mind. She’d been so unwieldy, so difficult to move. He’d struggled to get her back into the boat. Then he’d struggled to drag the boat back into the water. He’d even capsized while dumping her once he’d gone far enough downstream.

After getting rid of her and flipping the boat over so he could paddle to shore, he’d dragged it out of the water, jogged home to get his truck, came back for the boat, scrubbed it in case he’d left any DNA evidence and returned it to the Zampino house—all without alerting his sleeping parents or being seen by anyone else.

Dawn was peeking over the horizon by the time he got the boat back to his neighbor’s. Fortunately, no one was around when he lifted it off his truck and dragged it through their side yard. They’d all partied until late. But his parents were awake when he got home. He was breathless from running—jogging down the street was quicker than trying to swim the river—when he saw the light in the kitchen through the front window and once again circled around to the back.

The smell of bacon and eggs had filled his nostrils as he let himself in through the side door he’d left open when he carried Aurora out of the house four hours earlier. To this day, he couldn’t eat bacon. The scent was tied to that terrible night, always reminded him of Aurora and the panic and regret he’d felt as his mind raced to find a way out of what he’d done.

He’d also never forget how fast his heart was racing even after he got into bed. The incident was over—he’d done what he could to cover it up—and yet he was so freaked out he was sweating profusely.

He was still awake three hours later when his mother knocked on his door and poked her head in to tell him Aurora’s parents were looking for her.

He’d muttered that he hadn’t seen her, that he had no clue where she could be, and rolled over, facing away from the door while pretending to be half asleep, and his mother had quietly let herself out. Then he could hear her talking on the phone, probably to Patti or Nelson, as she moved down the hall, repeating what he’d told her.

“Maybe the coroner got it wrong, missed something,” he saidto Ford. “After all, people make mistakes.Youthink the police got it wrong, don’t you?”

Ford glanced back at the house. “I wasn’t sure at first,” he admitted. “But yeah, I think they got it wrong.”

Feeling faint as he imagined the police knocking on his door and Kira answering it to hear he was under arrest formurder, Chet grabbed the banister.

“You okay?” Ford asked.

“Just a little dizzy,” he said, waving away his friend’s concern. “Haven’t eaten yet.”

“Can I get you a glass of orange juice or something?”

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