Page 74 of The Only One Left

“That you didn’t know was dangerous.”

Carter looks into his empty coffee cup, as if he longs to refill it with more whiskey. “But I should have. I asked Mary to help me prove that I’m related to Lenora Hope. Some people would kill to keep that from happening.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’m really Lenora’s grandson, I might inherit everything when she dies,” Carter says. “Hope’s End. The house and the land and whatever money she has left.”

“Who gets it now?” I say. “Do you know if Lenora has a will drawn up?”

“No. But if she did, I guess everything would be divided up between the two people who’ve known her the longest.”

Mrs. Baker and Archie. The last time Carter and I sat in this exact spot, I wondered aloud why the two of them stayed. Now I think I know why—they’ll get Hope’s End when she dies.

“So one of them killed Mary,” I say. “Or maybe they both did it.”

A corner of Carter’s mouth twitches, as if he wants to say something but knows he shouldn’t.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I say.

“There’s another reason I think it’s my fault.” Carter pauses, still hesitant. “I left the gate open.”

“When?”

“That Monday. I found it open that morning. I guess it got stuck and didn’t close after the guy who delivers the groceries left. Since I assumed I’d be leaving first thing the next day to head to the lab, I didn’t bother to push it shut.”

“So on the night Mary died, the front gate was open the entire time?”

“Yeah,” Carter says with a sigh. “Anyone could have gotten in.”

I become unsteady. A moment of dizziness as I realize the list of suspects, recently narrowed down to only two, has now grown to, well, everyone. Only when it passes can I say, “Who else knew what you and Mary were doing?”

“Tony,” Carter says. “I asked him not to tell anyone, but that’s no guarantee he didn’t.”

“Do you know if Mary told someone?” I say, thinking specifically of Jessie, who, despite being the closest with Mary, seems to be in the dark about everything. Unless it’s all an act. The fact that I’m even considering it makes me feel both guilty and paranoid.

“Not sure,” Carter says.

“What about Detective Vick? Did you tell him any of this?”

“Almost,” Carter says before finally reaching for the whiskey bottle he’s been wanting to grab for the past five minutes. He empties what’s left into his mug and holds it out to me, offering a first sip of the coffee-tinged whiskey inside. “I didn’t want to sound crazy.”

“That was my job, apparently.” I take the mug, have a sip, grimace. It tastes awful but gets the job done. “Which is why, for now, I think it’s a good idea to stay quiet. Even if we told him, I doubt he’d believe us. Especially me.”

“So what should we do?”

A very good question. One I’m at a loss to answer. The likeliest way to get Detective Vick to believe us is to present him with proof that we’re right. Then it will be impossible for him to ignore us. Right now, the only thing I can think of is to go straight to the source.

“We ask Lenora,” I tell Carter. “And get her to—”

I’m interrupted by a noise from outside.

A great deafening, tearing sound that shakes the cottage and everything in it, including me and Carter. We clutch the rattling table as it continues for one, two, three seconds. By the time it’s over, Carter’s coffee cup is shattered on the floor and I mentally feel the same way.

“Was that an earthquake?” I say.

Carter lets go of the table. “I... think so?”

The two of us rise on unsteady legs and make our way outside to investigate. On the terrace, Mrs. Baker, Jessie, and Archie have done the same. All five of us realize at once what just happened—a section of cliff between the terrace and the cottage broke off, leaving a jagged semicircle that looks as if something has taken a bite out of the lawn.

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