Summer walked across the tarmac in a daze, retrieving her luggage and bracing herself for the arrivals terminal. She did her best to compose herself before the electric double doors whooshed open and she found herself standing in a sea of smiling faces. Everyone was wearing the Vineyard uniform of khaki shorts and button-down shirts, waiting for their friends and relatives to arrive as if this were a normal day, as if the world hadn’t stopped spinning. Summer scanned the crowd. She couldn’t see her dad. Annoyance mixed with relief—at least she wouldn’t have to break the news to him yet. But as she walked out to the taxi stand, there was Arnie, panting as he ran toward the terminal. Catching sight of Summer, he slowed down, walking up to her and pulling her into a bear hug.
“Sorry, baby.”
He smelled of aftershave and coffee and cigars—the dad smell. Despite her best efforts, Summer started tearing up again.
“So good to have you back,” said Arnie, mopping the sweat from his brow. “Do me a favor. Promise not to tell your mother I was late.”
And in that instant Summer realized: I can’t tell him. At least not until I’ve talked to Mom. Not until I know the truth for sure. It’ll totally destroy him.
“Hi, Dad. It’s good to see you too.” She tried to hold them back but it was impossible. There, in her father’s arms, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.
Arnie looked horrified. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
Everything.
“Nothing. I guess I’ve just really missed you, that’s all.”
“Oh, honey. Mom and I have missed you too. But you’re here now. Don’t cry. Come on.” Arnie picked up Summer’s suitcase in one hand and took her arm with the other. “The Jeep’s just outside. Let’s get you home.”
Alexia looked at Lucy’s bulging rucksack with alarm.
“What on earth have you got there? You look like you’ve packed for the North Pole.”
“It’s only a picnic,” said Lucy.
“For who? An invading army?”
“I may have brought along a few other essentials. One should always come prepared.”
Alexia felt anything but prepared. She’d arrived on the island the previous night. Jet lag was still dulling her reactions, making her feel foggy. It had all seemed so straightforward back in England. She would fly back to the Vineyard, tell Lucy what she’d discovered in New York—that Arnie’s company, HM Capital, had deliberately driven Billy Hamlin out of business—and ask her what she knew. Simple.
Only it wasn’t simple. Now that she was here, actually with Lucy, Alexia realized the full implications of what she was about to ask. This was Arnie they were talking about. Lucy’s husband. The man she loved. Alexia was about to suggest that he was implicated, not just in threats and extortion, but in murder too. Lucy would have every right to tell Alexia to stick her theories where the sun didn’t shine.
And really, why should she believe me? At this point I’m not sure if I believe myself.
Alexia had known Arnie Meyer for as long as she’d known his wife. She could imagine him being tough in business, even underhanded if the situation demanded it. But she couldn’t picture him as some sort of psychopath, making threatening phone calls using a voice distorter, pursuing some unknown vendetta, kidnapping and murdering innocent people. Then again, after everything she’d learned about her own husband in the last year, Alexia no longer fully trusted her own judgment.
I won’t accuse him of anything. I’ll put the facts to Lucy. Calmly. Rationally. Dispassionately.
She watched as Lucy laced up her hiking boots, applied sunscreen and insect spray and checked their water bottles. One look at Lucy Meyer’s open, round, makeup-free face reminded Alexia forcefully that her friend’s world was very different from her own. Alexia had become so used to drama and tragedy in the last two years nothing shocked her anymore. But Lucy’s world was still as it had always been: simple and safe and normal and predictable. The very idea that Arnie might have known Billy Hamlin would sound preposterous to her, never mind the thought of him setting out to do Billy and his family harm.
Because it is preposterous. None of this makes sense.
Lucy smiled. “Ready?”
No. Not remotely.
“Ready. Where are we going, by the way?”
Lucy looked at Alexia cryptically. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”
They turned left off of Pilgrim Road, toward the center of the island. Here salt marshes and cranberry bogs were intersected by an apparently limitless maze of sandy tracks, none of them sign-posted. Occasionally other hikers would appear on one of the paths, or four-wheel-drive vehicles would bounce past, their tires partially deflated so they could drive on the dunes. But mostly the whole area was deserted, save for the deer and rabbits that were to be found everywhere on the island.
Lucy walked in front, occasionally consulting her map or stopping to sip from her water bottle. She looked over her shoulder every now and then, smiling at Alexia, checking she was okay. But she made no attempt at conversation. Alexia was the one who had proposed this hike, who had said repeatedly that she needed to talk. Lucy assumed she would do so when she was ready.
An hour passed, then two. It was past noon now and the sun, pleasantly warm earlier in the morning, now blazed above the two women with a punishing heat. Alexia had never been to this part of the island before. She could hear the ocean, the waves crashing wildly against the cliffs, and realized they must be approaching the north shore. Currents were stronger on this side of the island, and the tides were unpredictable. As always, the sounds of the sea frightened her, calling her back to another time, another beach that would always be with her.
“Do you think we could rest for a moment?” she shouted ahead to Lucy. “It’s so hot.”
“Sure,” Lucy called back. “Let’s just get through the moor here to the top of the cliffs. There’s a bench there where we can sit.”
The “bench” turned out to be a roughly hewn log, plunked unceremoniously down about fifteen feet from the cliff’s edge. It wasn’t a sheer drop in front of them. A steep, rocky path that looked like it had been made by deer rather than humans wound down from the clearing to a hidden cove below. But they were elevated enough to have spectacular views across the sound toward Nantucket. Thick gorse and heather moorland stretched behind them as far as the eye could see, just as the blue water rolled out endlessly in front. It made Alexia feel as if she were perched on the edge of the world.
Sinking down gratefully onto the log, Alexia took a long, deep drink of water. Lucy did the same. Suddenly, here in this peaceful, isolated place, Alexia felt ready to talk.
“There’s something I need to ask you about.”
“I figured. The call from London, when you said you really needed to talk to me and to arrange some time alone? That kind of tipped me off.”
Alexia tried to smile but she couldn’t. “It’s . . . not easy.”
“I figured that too.”
“I wouldn’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
Lucy frowned. “Alexia. After all the things you’ve told me over the years, you really think I’m going to freak out on you now? Come on. You know you can tell me anything.”
“It’s about Arnie.”
Lucy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Arnie?”
“Yes. When I was in New York, I met with Jennifer Hamlin’s mother. Billy’s ex-wife.”
“I know. You said. Sally. She was the one who made you decide to forgive Teddy.”
Wow. She must really have been listening at Elaine’s.
“That’s right. She was the one who told me about the threatening phone calls Billy had complained about. She also gave me a bunch of information, contacts and stuff, from when Billy’s mechanics business was still going.”
“Okaaay.” Lucy looked confused.
“The calls from the crazy Bible basher began during the period that Hamlin’s went bankrupt,” Alexia explained, “so she thought there might be a link. Well, it turns out there was.”
Lucy waited.
“The link was a company called HM Capital. Do you know it?”
“Sure. That’s one of Arnie’s businesses.”
“Exactly. I saw his name on the directors’ list. Later I asked Teddy about it, and he told me that Arnie was the founder-owner.”
“That’s right,” said Lucy.
She didn’t seem angry or ruffled so far. Encouraged, Alexia went on.
“Okay. So over a period of two years, HM Capital systematically set about poaching Billy Hamlin’s clients and buying out his suppliers. There are too many connections for it to be a coincidence, especially given that the company had zero involvement in the automotive sector either before or after that time. As crazy as it sounds, Arnie wanted to ruin Billy Hamlin. And he succeeded.”