Lucy was quiet, apparently taking this information in.
“So my question is, why? Can you think of any connection, any connection at all, that Arnie might have had with the Hamlin family? However tenuous?”
Lucy shook her head. “No. I really can’t.”
“Please try,” Alexia pleaded. “There must be something. This is serious, Luce. Billy’s daughter and his business partner, Milo Bates, were both murdered.”
“I know that,” Lucy said calmly.
“When I told you about Billy Hamlin coming to find me in London, the last time we walked out to this side of the island . . . when I told you about my past . . . had you ever heard his name before?”
Lucy was smiling, but it was a strange smile. There was something off about it, something unfamiliar and not quite right.
“Maybe Arnie mentioned him?”
“Arnie never mentioned him.”
Lucy stood up and began pacing slowly back and forth, between the cliff edge and the bench.
Alexia wondered if Lucy was angry. If she’d somehow gone too far in mentioning Arnie. She tried to backtrack.
“I’m not accusing Arnie of anything. It may be he had nothing to do with the phone calls, or the murders. I don’t know.”
“You’re not accusing him,” Lucy repeated robotically.
Something was definitely wrong. Had Lucy gotten too much sun?
“But Arnie’s company’s name popping up like that, not just once but multiple times, everywhere. It can’t just be a coincidence. There must be some form of link.”
“Of course there must!”
Lucy laughed loudly, but there was no joy in the sound. It was more of a cackle, bordering on the hysterical. She was squatting on her haunches now, rummaging in her backpack. Alexia thought. Good. She clearly needs some water. And some food. The shock must have been too much for her. Either that or we’re both getting too old for midday hikes through . . .
Her thoughts trailed off.
Lucy Meyer had pulled out a gun. Pointing it right between Alexia’s eyes, she had stopped laughing. Hatred blazed out of her like light from the sun.
“It’s you, Alexia, don’t you see? You’re the link. Although I must start calling you by your real name. Toni. Antonia Louise Gilletti, sly, scheming, hateful bitch that you are ! Everything that happened, all the death, all the pain—it was all because of you.”
Chapter Forty
Summer Meyer threw her bag down on her bed, then lay down wearily beside it. She felt desperately tired, but not the kind of tired that would ever lead to sleep. Instead her body twitched with the restless exhaustion of the emotionally shattered. Staring at the ceiling, which was still half covered in glow stars from her childhood, she felt as wired and tearful as junkie in withdrawal.
I have to talk to Mom.
Arnie had told her in the car that Lucy had left on a hike this morning and wasn’t expected back till late afternoon. “She’s with Alexia.”
This brought Summer up short. “What do you mean? Alexia’s in England.”
“Nope. She’s with your mother.”
“Dad, she’s been all over the news in the UK. This business with Teddy. I saw her on TV.”
“Yes, well, all I can tell you is she telephoned your mother and said she had something important to discuss with her. So important it couldn’t be dealt with over the phone, apparently. She flew in last night.”
This threw a major wrench in the works. When Summer confronted her mother, it had to be alone. She would tell Alexia, of course. Alexia had the right to know the truth about her son’s relationship with her so-called best friend. But there was no way Summer could say what she had to say in front of an audience.
On the other hand, the idea of waiting until nightfall was unbearable. She already felt stretched to a breaking point. Six more hours and she’d be foaming at the mouth.
Not sure what else to do, she took a shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into cooler, more comfortable clothes: a pair of cutoff jeans and a thin cotton shirt from James Perse.
“You look cute, honey.” Arnie smiled warmly as she came downstairs. “Shall I get Lydia to make us a late lunch?”
“No thanks, Dad. I couldn’t eat.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t eat. You have to eat, Summer. Are you sure nothing’s the matter?”
“I’m fine, Dad. A bit nauseous, that’s all.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Pregnant? Jeez, Dad, no! How could I possibly be pregnant?”
“Well, go sit outside, then, and Lydia will bring you out some cheese and fruit. You can manage that much at least.”
Protest was clearly useless. Summer walked toward the kitchen door.
“Oh, by the way, your mom left this for you.” Arnie handed her an envelope on her way out. “She asked me to give it to you as soon as you landed, but I forgot. Don’t tell her, okay?”
“What is it?”
“Beats me. I usually find, with envelopes, the mystery becomes clearer when you open ’em.”
In normal circumstances, Summer would have laughed at that. Now she took the envelope in silence and walked away.
Arnie Meyer thought, There’s something wrong with that girl. What the hell’s gotten into the women in my family today?
“Get up.”
Lucy Meyer held the gun steady. Her voice was normal again, the same soft singsong that Alexia knew so well. All traces of her earlier hysteria were gone, replaced by a chilling calm. She means business.
Alexia stood up.
“You know, for someone so smart, someone who made it to the top of their game, you can be damned stupid sometimes.”
“That’s probably true. I—”
“Stop talking!” Lucy commanded. “I’m talking. Over there.” She jerked the pistol in the direction of the cliff edge. Slowly, Alexia walked to where she was directed until she heard Lucy say, “Stop.”
“I think the funniest part of all of this has to be you pointing the finger at Arnie. ‘I’m not accusing him of anything.’” Lucy mimicked Alexia’s accent perfectly. “That’s just flat-out hilarious. As if you, YOU, who killed an innocent child, are in a position to accuse anyone of anything! You smug, entitled, self-righteous bitch.”
“You who killed an innocent child.” Alexia’s mind raced.
“This is about Nicholas Handemeyer.”
“That’s right,” Lucy said simply. “Nicholas Handemeyer. The little boy you left to drown. He was my brother.”
Summer ran into the house, Lucy’s letter still in her hand.
“Where did they go, Dad?”
Arnie was slicing bread at the kitchen counter. “Where did who go?”
“Mom!” Summer practically screamed. “Mom and Alexia! Where are they? We need to find them, now! Right now.”
“Calm down, honey.” Arnie rested a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know where they are exactly. Somewhere on the north of the island. What’s the panic about?”
Summer handed him Lucy’s letter. After a few seconds she watched the blood drain from his face.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “Call the police.”
Summer was already dialing.
“But . . . your maiden name wasn’t Handemeyer.” Alexia spoke without thinking. As frightened as she was, her need to understand, to know the truth, was overpowering. “It was Miller.”
“That’s right. Very good,” said Lucy. Finishing her bottle of drinking water, she dropped it on the ground. “Bobby Miller was my high school sweetheart. We married at eighteen. It only lasted six months, but I kept the name. Handemeyer held too many sad memories by then. Terrible memories.” She lifted the gun again, shaking the barrel at Alexia like an angry fist. “Do you have any idea, any idea, what you did to my family? You and Billy Hamlin?”
Alexia said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the gun.
“Nicko was the sweetest kid in the universe, so trusting, so darling. It broke us all when he died, but my mom . . .” Tears filled Lucy’s eyes. “My mom was shattered. She never recovered. She killed herself two years later, on the anniversary of Nicko’s death. Did you know that? Hung herself in our barn with Nick’s old jump rope.”
Alexia shook her head in mute horror. She remembered Mrs. Handemeyer from Billy’s trial. Ruth. How dignified and gracious she’d been in the courtroom. How pretty she was, with her butterscotch hair and brown eyes, so like her dead son’s. She tried to remember Lucy back then, but drew a total blank. There had been a sister at the trial, a girl clasping the mother’s hand. But Alexia hadn’t focused on her at all. She couldn’t bring her face to mind now.
“Dad died less than a year after. His heart just cracked. You took everything from me. And you thought I was just gonna sit back and let you disappear, dance off into the sunset and live happily ever after, without paying for what you’d done? Of course, for decades, the longest time, I didn’t know it was you. Like everyone else, I thought Billy Hamlin murdered my brother. He was the one I needed to punish.”