The Bone House - Brian Freeman [86]
'Amy?'
It was Gary, downstairs, calling up to her.
'I'll be right there.'
She froze with the clothing in her hands, wondering if she should steal it for the police. Sooner or later, he would wash the shirt. The panties? He'd find them and throw them away. She hung on to the clothes as she tried to decide what to do. The gears in her brain weren't functioning. She felt the room spinning again, and she grew dizzy as she got to her feet.
'You OK, Amy?'
'Uh, yeah,' she called. 'I have to use the bathroom.'
She returned to the hallway and saw an open door on the other side of the stairs that led to a toilet. She went inside and closed the door behind her. She nearly fell against the door as she did, and when she tried to twist the lock, her fingers slipped. She winced as her head throbbed. She spotted a floor-length linen closet, and without thinking, she opened the door and shoved the thong and the T-shirt inside, hidden under a stack of clean towels.
Amy dug in her pocket for her phone.
Hilary sat at the kitchen table of Terri Duecker's condo in Fish Creek, with a mug of blackberry tea steeping in front of her, sending up a warm cloud of steam. She knew the rental cottage well. It was their winter residence on weekdays, when the ferries didn't run late enough to take them home. Right now, it felt empty and too quiet, and she was conscious of being alone. She knew she'd made a mistake. An immature, impetuous mistake.
She'd driven to the ferry after meeting Peter Hoffman, but she'd watched it leave, rather than driving on to the deck. Fifteen minutes later, she'd called and lied to Mark and said she'd missed it. Cab Bolton was right. She never missed a ferry. If she was anything in life, she was organized and efficient about her schedule.
Terri had looked at her strangely when Hilary returned to Fish Creek, but she didn't ask any questions. She'd simply said, 'Sure,' when Hilary asked if she could stay in the condo for the night. Her face full of concern, she'd also asked if Hilary needed anything, and Hilary had lied again and said no. In truth, she needed her faith back. She needed Mark. She needed to know the truth.
He'd called twice, and she'd ignored the call both times. She didn't want to talk to him until she knew what she was going to say. Now, in the silent apartment, with the aroma of her tea wafting through the kitchen, she realized she was ducking the hard path and hiding from what she had to do. She was also making a mistake she'd long ago sworn never to make, by judging Mark based on what someone else said, instead of relying on her own instincts.
She picked up her cell phone, which was lying next to the mug of tea in front of her. She punched the speed dial for their home phone.
'Hey, I've been trying to reach you,' Mark said.
'Yeah. Sorry. I was picking up dinner at a restaurant, and then I was talking to Terri. I couldn't grab the phone.'
'No problem. I miss you here.'
'Me too.'
'Is everything OK? You sound strange.'
'No, I'm fine,' she murmured, but she wasn't fine, and she didn't want him thinking that she was. 'Actually, babes, it was a tough afternoon.'
'How so?'
Hilary steeled herself. Say it. That was how it was supposed to work between them. No secrets, it looks like Cab Bolton has a witness. Someone who saw you on the beach with Glory.'
'Son of a bitch,' Mark said. 'I was afraid of that.'
'There's more.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, the witness saw you and Glory kissing.'
Mark was silent. She could hear him breathing. Finally, he said, 'That's why you didn't come home. You believe it.'
'I don't know what to believe.'
'Do you need me to deny it? OK, I'll deny it. It didn't happen. I didn't touch her. But if you're not sure, I don't know if it's going to help for me to say so. How can I prove it to you?'
'You don't need to prove anything to me.'
'It sounds like I do.' His voice was cold and disappointed.
'I was wrong to doubt you.