“About how they disappeared during Hurricane Katrina? He said they were trying to save his baby sister. Why?”
I chewed on my lip. “Because I keep seeing wet footprints—a woman’s. I just saw them again next to Beau’s motorcycle. And I’m pretty sure he saw them, too.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“Is it ever?”
He kept his arm around me as we neared the front door, stopping as all the lights in the house flickered and then shut off. Even the generator was silenced. An irate scream and a stream of choice words from Harvey Beckner followed two crew members as they ran out of the door toward one of the trucks parked in the drive.
“Is that Louisa?”
I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Who knows? It’s an old house, remember. It’s bound to have electrical problems.”
As if on cue, a Hard Rock Foundations truck pulled up to the curb in front of the house.
“Marc must have called Rich Kobylt,” Jack said. “I need my coffee before I can handle a glimpse of his rear end this early in the morning.”
He reversed our direction, guiding us through the garden toward the back door, while I felt grateful for a reprieve that had nothing to do with our handyman. The generator buzzed on and then off again, and I whispered a silent thanks to Louisa.
CHAPTER 13
After dressing, I headed toward the garage for my car, belatedly remembering it was parked on the street somewhere between Legare and Logan. I wound my way through the line of vehicles in the driveway, thankful for the blue sky and balmy temperatures that made parking outside tolerable. If the filming was still going on once the weather warmed up, we’d have to figure out an alternate parking situation, so I wouldn’t melt walking to my car or self-combust getting inside it.
I had made it only to the street when I heard Jack calling my name. I turned as he jogged to catch up.
“I thought we had our meeting with Yvonne this morning,” he said.
“That’s where I’m heading. My car’s down this way.”
Jack looked confused. “I thought we were going together.”
It was my turn to be confused. “We’re meeting with Yvonne together, but I didn’t . . . I mean, well . . . I thought you’d rather we get there separately. Since we’re, um, separated.”
“I think we can manage a short trip together without getting on each other’s nerves, don’t you? Besides, we both have great parking spots on the street and I don’t want to lose them by moving the cars. It’s a beautiful day and we have time, so why don’t we walk?”
I glanced at my watch and then double-checked the time on my phone. “All right. I promise to do my best not to get on your nerves.” I began walking quickly toward King Street. I could at least window-shop to distract myself from Jack’s words and to stop myself from asking what he’d meant about getting on each other’s nerves.
Jack’s long strides easily caught him up to me. He gently took hold of my arm, bringing me to a stop. We faced each other, his hand still on my arm. “I’m sorry. That came out the wrong way.” He looked up at the sky, shook his head. “Heaven knows my nerves are the least of my problems. They all seem to leap to attention whenever you’re near. It makes it very hard to concentrate, which I need to do to figure us out. All of us. Our problems are certainly not physical.”
I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to put words to my frustration like my string of therapists had been trying to tell me to do for years. “Really, Jack? What is there to figure out? We love each other. We have a family together. I made a mistake. You’ve already forgiven me. Can’t we just move on?”
He took my head in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine. “I wish I could. It’s just not that easy.”
I wanted to tell him that it was, that we were both fumbling with the intricacies of being married despite being two different kinds of people but loving each other anyway. At least according to my mother, with whom I happened to agree. But I held on to my words, knowing they would bounce off of him. I had met brick walls that were more pliable than Jack Trenholm. And if I had learned anything in the short time we’d been married, it was that he had to reach his own conclusions. That was something I’d figured out myself, without the help of my mother.
I stepped back, needing space between us so I could think clearly. “Come on. You know how I hate being late.” He walked behind me until we reached Meeting Street, where he fell into step beside me. My phone buzzed and I glanced down to see if it was Detective Riley. Despite having the largest text size available, I still had trouble reading it while walking.
“Anything I can help with?” Jack asked.
I almost said no, but I was eager to find out if Detective Riley had had any luck with discovering who’d texted me from the unknown number. I sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind.” I handed Jack my phone.
After a moment, Jack relayed, “Thomas says he’s got a lot of info to share, but he’s unavailable today, working on another case, and wants to know if we can meet with him tonight.”
He handed me the phone. “I’m free.”
“Me, too.”
We stopped at the light at the corner of Broad and Meeting streets, my gaze moving toward the imposing edifice of St. Michael’s, where a bride in a nineteen forties–style wedding gown stood under the portico between two giant columns. Her arm rested in the crook of the arm of a man wearing what looked like a World War II Navy uniform. They were smiling at each other, making me smile, too. Until the man turned to look at me and I saw that half of his face was missing.
“Are you all right?” Jack took my arm and began leading me across Broad Street.
I nodded, watching as a man on his cell phone walked through the bridal couple. “Yes. I’m fine.”