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“The Beaumonts have a reputation for being ruthless.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” My gaze once again falls to the business card in my hand. “Alexandria Stone. With all due respect, Vanessa, if I’m being accused of murdering my wife, I’m not sure I trust a woman to handle the case.”
“Alex has a reputation for being one of the toughest criminal attorneys in the country. They call her Stone Cold Alex. Trust me, you want her on your team.”
“If you say so.” I remove my wallet from my pocket and slip the card inside.
Vanessa gives me a tight smile. “In the meantime, keep up with your therapy, and be aware of your surroundings at all times. If you need to reach me, send me a text, and I’ll make arrangements to meet in person.”
As we walk back to our cars, I have an eerie feeling we’re being followed. And I cast frequent glances in my rear-view mirror on the drive home. I’m terrified I’m going to lose my children, and when they greet me at the door at Marsh Point, I lift both of them into my arms, hugging them tight.
Ashton appears in the doorway. She can tell from the look on my face something is wrong. She takes the girls from me. “Your daddy had a bad day. Let’s go watch a movie in the family room and give him a chance to unwind.”
I go into the kitchen and sit down at the table, staring blindly out at the marsh. When Ashton enters the room, she clicks on the television to drown out our voices while we talk.
I tell her about my meeting with Vanessa. “I don’t get it, Ashton. What new evidence could they possibly have?”
The color drains from Ashton’s face as she looks past me at the local news program on television. “It might have something to do with that.”
I crane my neck to see a video of Julia and me emerging from her cottage on Saturday night.
I jump up from the table and hurry over to the television, but the segment has already ended. “Quick! Rewind it.”
Ashton clicks a button on the remote to start the segment over. I recognize the reporter’s mop of curly brown hair. He’s the guy who accosted me in front of the police station. The banner across the bottom of the screen tells me his name is Ethan Striker. According to Ethan, I was having an affair with the mystery woman in the video, and I murdered my wife to be with this woman and keep custody of my children.
A series of photographs shows Julia and me together—returning from a boat ride and leaving the Clam and Claw on Saturday night. The last one is a fuzzy shot of us kissing in the corner of the veranda.
My temper flares, and I jab my finger at the television. “This dirtbag has been following me. He’s been trespassing on our property. I didn’t even know Julia when Tracy died. She wasn’t even living in Water’s Edge at the time.”
The video of us emerging from the cottage replays. Our hair is windblown from our walk on the beach, but the context of the report gives the impression we had just spent hours in bed together.
I take deep breaths as I count to ten, the first coping mechanism for dealing with anger Clemmy taught me at our session earlier today. “Poor Julia. When she agreed not to keep our relationship a secret, I’m sure she didn’t have this kind of coming-out party in mind.”
Ashton sets down the remote and massages my tense shoulders. “How much have you told her about the custody hearing and potential murder charges?”
“I haven’t told her any of that. Only that I’ve been seeing a therapist to deal with some stuff. I didn’t want to scare her off.” I tug my phone out of my back pocket. “I need to break the news to her before someone else does. She may have already seen the news story.”
“Good luck with that,” Ashton says, giving my shoulders one last squeeze.
“I need some air. I’m going out in the boat. Keep an eye on the girls and don’t wait on me for dinner.” I head across the room towards the veranda, stopping when I reach the door. I turn back to face my sister. “I’m sorry, Ashton. I’m being presumptuous in assuming you’ll take care of my children. I don’t mean to dump my responsibilities on you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Striding across the room, she opens the door and motions me out. “Go! Take as long as you need. We’ll eat now and save you some food for when you get back.”
“You’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I peck her cheek before leaving the house. The fresh air clears my head, and I ride out to the mouth of the inlet before placing the call to Julia.
She answers on the first ring. “Will! This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“I wish I was calling on a more optimistic note.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” she says, her cheerful tone now gone. “What’s wrong?”
“You and I were the stars of the six o’clock news.” I tell Julia about the custody case and about my in-laws pressuring the local police to arrest me for my wife’s murder. She doesn’t mutter a sound while I talk. “I’m so sorry. I never intended to put you in the middle of my drama.” More silence fills the line. “Julia, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” she says in a small voice.
“I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“I’m upset for you, Will. You’ve already been through so much.”
