Page 45 of The Getaway

“I don’t know. Were you in here? Was your sister?” She bent forward and tried to see into the corners of the bag.

“Mom. We don’t want to read your stupid work books,” Florence said, the eye roll implied.

Gemma sliced her finger open on a piece of paper and winced. She stuck the fingertip in her mouth and looked up at her daughter, standing there in short shorts and a cropped red sweatshirt that read “Lifeguard” in big white letters across the front, even though her daughter was no such thing. She wasn’t even a strong swimmer, a new terrifying thought that had only just now occurred to her with the ocean potentially encroaching outside.

“What do you want, Florence?”

“I just—” Her daughter’s face fell, and Gemma immediately felt bad for snapping. But this was not the time. She needed to be alone so she could search her bag. Figure out if someone else had been through it. Florence literally never initiated conversation with Gemma. Why now of all times?

“Never mind. Forget it.”

As soon as Florence turned to go, the guilt took over. Gemma scrambled to her feet. “Honey, I’m sorry. I just—”

But Florence slammed the door, and then the only sound was the shouting upstairs and the rumbles of thunder and the shrieking of wind. The world seemed to be pulsating around her. She felt like she could scream. Maybe she actually was going crazy. Maybe this would all end in her being committed. Or thrown in jail. Her throat felt tight, and her eyes stung.

Then she turned around and dove back on the floor, shaking the entire contents of the bag onto the hardwood. The last thing to fall out was a padded envelope addressed to her, along with the very specific, handwritten directions on where to place each of seven little blue note cards.

22

Marley

Marley had gotten Hazel into the shower and then checked on the kids. Tini had settled with them in the one first-floor guest room, which was just across the hall from Hazel and Lincoln’s primary suite, and Juliet, Sean, and Grant went back to salvage what they could of the kids’ toys and clothes. Marley headed back down the hall to the great room. She still hadn’t eaten anything, and she really did feel faint now. Alone in the wide-open space, she went straight to the table and buttered the crap out of a bagel.

“How are you holding up?” asked Magdelena, walking in with a fresh pot of coffee. Her bun was now perfect again, but she hadn’t put on any makeup, and her skin was a bit pale. She looked like she’d aged ten years in one night.

“God, I’ll take some of that please,” she said around a mouthful of carbs.

Magdelena nodded, poured out a cup, then added cream and handed it across the table. She always remembered how everyone took their coffee, how everyone liked their eggs, who was allergic to what. The woman was amazing.

Marley sipped the coffee and closed her eyes as the flavor and warmth soothed her. She took it back—Magdelena was a saint.

“Have you seen Marshall?” she asked.

Magdelena looked toward the front door and shook her head. “I don’t think he has come back yet. He was going to look for Mr. Jacoby’s car.”

“He hasn’t come back?” Marley asked.

She pushed back from the table and went to the sliders to see what it was like out there, bringing her coffee cup with her. Someone had activated the floor-to-ceiling shades, and she had to peel one back a touch to look out. She could see nothing but rain and the potted trees around the pool bent nearly sideways. One of them had given up and fallen over, the terra-cotta pot smashed into bits. She let the shade snap back into place and went back to the table.

“How long has he been out there, do you think?” she asked.

“I’m sure he is fine,” Magdelena said. “The valets put all the guest cars in the small parking lot by the garage to make the party run smoothly. He will have to walk.”

“Oh. Right,” Marley said, her voice tight. She took a slug of coffee, then went back to the table for another bite of bagel. She took a smaller one this time and chewed slowly, not wanting to make herself sick again.

“Were you able to get in touch with Miss Lily?” Magdelena asked, looking wistfully toward the front of the house again. “Sometimes I think she’s just going to walk through the door, and it will be like nothing happened.”

Marley felt that comment in her gut and suddenly wanted to cry. “I know what you mean. And no. Not yet.” In all the drama of the search and then finding the blood, she’d almost forgotten about calling Lily.

Magdelena sighed and picked up the plate at the end of the table to clear it. “Well, if you need anything . . .” She gave a wan smile.

“Of course. Thanks, Magdelena.”

As the chef retreated to the kitchen, Marley went back to pacing. If something happened to Marshall, she didn’t know what she would do. Yes, she was still pissed off about the adoption thing, so pissed off that even now her fist—the one not holding a hot cup of coffee—clenched just thinking about it. The earnest, sad, pitying look on his face when he’d told her he was done. The way he’d treated her like a rabid animal who needed to be tamed when she’d freaked out. But then, if Lincoln had been the one to talk him out of continuing . . . that changed things a bit. Marley knew how much power Lincoln had over her husband. Even as Marshall railed against Lincoln’s values and morals and business practices, he still worshipped his brother at his core. Lincoln had a way about him. Something that made everyone automatically seek his approval. Marshall more than anyone, having grown up in his brother’s magnetic orbit.

She knew that if Lincoln had made a good argument, Marshall would be powerless to ignore it.

A strong, wall-shaking gust of wind hit the side of the house, and she flinched. Marley made a quick vow to herself and any higher being that might be listening that if Marshall walked back through that door safe and sound, she would not let their lack of a child and his unwillingness to keep trying for one come between them. He was her husband. Her family. Her person. She wasn’t going to let a dream that might never have been meant to come true come between them.