“I don’t know,” Rowan said, not having considered this. She tried to imagine James running all of them down, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Foley spun in her chair to face a tiny window overlooking a cluster of gray buildings. “Well, nothing you’ve told me is useful, unfortunately. I’ve interviewed all of those people, and they all have solid alibis.”
Corinne dug her fingernails into the couch. “Will? How did you know to interview him?”
There was a trace of a smirk on Foley’s face. “Because I’m an FBI agent, Corinne. I do my homework. I’ve had you followed. I know you’ve been spending time with him. I didn’t know how that pertained to Poppy, but I did know that he used to live in Meriweather, and I thought there might be a connection. I spoke to Mr. Coolidge myself; dozens of people can vouch that he was at the Union Square market that morning.”
Corinne’s face paled. “You were following me?”
“I had to. It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“Does anyone else in the family know about . . . him?”
Foley straightened some papers. “No. Though I have to say, I’m getting a little tired of covering things up for you people.” She glanced at Rowan.
Rowan felt a discomforting gust of emotion that she couldn’t quite identify, at Foley’s tone of voice. She leaned forward. “But what about James? I spoke to my doorman. James left just after I did the morning Poppy died—he could have reached the office and pushed Poppy in time.”
“I spoke to James too,” Foley said, shaking her head. “He also has an alibi for that morning.”
“Yeah, my apartment.”
Foley frowned. “Actually, not your apartment. He was somewhere else.”
“Where?” Rowan demanded.
Foley didn’t say anything for a moment, looking around at all three of them. Finally she sighed. “He was with a woman named Amelia Morrow.”
Rowan’s brain felt scattered. She knew that name . . . why? Then it came to her: Poppy’s daughter’s birthday party. The mom whose daughter had called biathletes “bisexuals.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth. He’d gone from one woman’s bed right to another’s? Had Poppy known?
Foley looked at Aster. “And before you even say it, your father didn’t kill Poppy either. He was prepping for the Singapore call that morning, and dozens of people saw him. I don’t know what that e-mail between Mason and Poppy meant—that’s their business. Nor do I know about that transaction. That’s for an auditor to figure out.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at them hard. “I appreciate how much you care, ladies, but from now on, leave the police work to me, okay?”
Then she rose, which seemed like a clear signal for the others to leave. Rowan opened and closed her mouth, feeling slighted and patronized, but she didn’t know what else to say. She strode numbly and quietly down the hall like a reprimanded dog.
Foley walked them all the way to the elevator, phone in hand. As she pressed the down button, Rowan cleared her throat. “If it’s not any of the people we thought, do you know who it might be?” she asked desperately. “Any inkling at all?”
Foley’s gaze didn’t lift from her phone. “When I know something, you’ll know something.”
“Does that mean you don’t know anything?” Aster cried. “What about Natasha? Have you found anything out about where she was that morning?”
“Have you even been interviewing people?” Rowan demanded. “Danielle Gilchrist told me you never contacted her.”
“I spoke to Danielle on the phone. She didn’t know anything helpful,” Foley answered in a surly tone. “Seriously, guys, just let us do our jobs.” There was a ding, and the car doors swished open. Foley practically shoved them all inside.
They rode down in silence. Aster scowled at the closed doors. “She didn’t have to be so rude.”
Corinne tugged at her collar. “I can’t believe they were following me.”
“They’ve probably been following all of us,” Rowan said bleakly. Her face burned at the thought of agents watching her steal into James’s apartment and pretend to be a mother to James’s children. They’d probably seen her find out about Evan too—in fact, they’d probably known about Evan long before she did. It felt like even more of an invasion than the reporters or the gossipmongers on the Blessed and the Cursed, probably because Foley was supposed to be on their side.
A garbage truck passed, bringing with it the foul odor of everyone’s mingled trash. “Well, I guess we’re back to square one,” Rowan said bleakly, turning back to her cousins.
Corinne and Aster nodded. And then they parted ways, Rowan sliding into her town car. “Take me home,” she mumbled to the driver. She supposed there was no risk now of James lying in wait for her. He was a cheater, not a killer.
But the fact that he’d been cleared made her more afraid than ever. It felt as if anyone could be after them. Anyone could be watching. Any one of them could be next.
25