Page 49 of Death in the Family
When he reached me he planted his hands on his knees and took a series of long, wheezy breaths. “What the hell, Shana?” he gasped.“What the fuck?”
“You have to take me back to the mainland.” It didn’t seem like an unreasonable request. Whatever Tim’s association with the family, he should want me gone as much as the others. It was leave now or wait for backup to haul me away in cuffs. Tim would have to answer for his offenses—whatever arrangement he had with the family would come out in the end—but it was me who’d take the heat for this case going to shit. The Sinclairs would sue. No paid desk duty for me; I’d be charged with involuntary manslaughter. Would Carson wait for me while I was in prison? All he’d asked was that I leave police work behind so we could be a normal, happy couple like everyone else. Well, he didn’t have to worry about me working ever again, and I’d have plenty of free time to plan the wedding. The irony of the situation was almost enough to make me laugh.
“I’ll turn myself in when we get there. Just take me back.” My voice was steadier than I’d expected. I took some comfort in that.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“I killed a witness. Was he your friend? Did I kill your friend, Tim?”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Tim looked down at my chest and saw the rain coursing over my near-naked breasts. His eyes got very round. “Where the hell is your shirt?”
“You were right. There isn’t a shred of proof out here thatJasper Sinclair was murdered. But you knew that from the start, didn’t you? I bet you know exactly where he is.”
Tim reached for my bare arm, but I yanked it away. “What’s wrong with you?” he said, voice rising. “Can’t you see I’m trying to help?”
“You can help by getting me out of here. Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “I finally get it.”
“No, you don’t. For starters, Flynn’s not dead.”
“What?”
“Lucky for you, your burn fucked up your aim.”
No. I’d seen the blood. The shot was true. “You’re lying.”
“You grazed his shoulder. He’ll be fine.” He paused and gave me a hard look. “It was self-defense.”
Flynn was angry and verbally abusive, but I didn’t remember him threatening me. I’d had no cause to draw my weapon, none at all. “But—”
“I’ll testify to that.”
Why would Tim defend me? It was a trap, it had to be. “Is this the part where you throw me in the river? How much are they paying you to cover up their crimes?”
“Shana,” said Tim, sounding exhausted. “Please.”
“Carson tried to warn me about you. God, I wish I’d listened.”
“Carson what?” Tim’s tone changed then. I couldn’t discern what that meant. “That makes perfect sense, actually.” He said it with a bitter laugh. “How does he manage to fuck me over even when he’s not around?”
“Carson’s just the messenger. You brought this on yourself.”
“For the love of Pete, Shana, help me understand. What is it that you think I did?”
My mouth worked ineffectually. “The Sinclairs,” I stammered. “You know them. They trust you.”
“I knowofthem,” said Tim. “Everybody around here does. And if they trust me, then I did my job. Earlier, while you were interviewing Bebe and Miles? Jade told me her grandmother lived here—right here, in A-Bay—before moving to New York. Doesn’t that strike you as a weird coincidence? And while you were talking to Ned, Bebe said Jasper used to beg to go to Antigua with his dad but he always refused to take the kids. Baldwin never even took Rachel until their last trip, the one they didn’t make it home from alive.”
I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All the evidence I’d gathered against Tim flooded my mind. “But you let Jade leave the parlor. You were supposed to watch them.”
“The kid said she had to pee. How was I to know she’s a lying little shit?”
“Abella was about to tell me something about Jasper. You sent her away.”
“I was worried about you! You disappeared for almost an hour, and when you showed up again your hand was wrapped up like a mummy. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Tim dropped to his haunches, head in his hands. “I don’t know what this is. I thought we trusted each other. What happened, Shane?”
Hearing the nickname, his way of ribbing me like a friend, left me gutted. Again I reached inside the boathouse in search of the switch. I couldn’t stand to be this close to him, couldn’t bear the look of disappointment in his eyes. “Nothing happened,” I said as I fumbled for the light. “You just don’t know me. Not at all.”
He stood up. “You’re goddamn right I don’t. Man, to think Iactually considered trying to talk you out of marrying Carson Gates. I get it now. You two deserve each other.”
