Aster crammed into the backseat with her cousins. “Drive,” she commanded Danielle. “Please.”
Danielle gave Aster a circumspect look, then revved the engine. Julia leaped into the passenger seat and shut her door just as Danielle hit the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. The Subaru swept past another vehicle pulling toward the house. Aster stared into the front window, but she couldn’t make out who was driving. A few of Dixon’s friends had gone to a local bar to celebrate; maybe someone was bringing them back?
Or maybe it was Foley.
“Faster,” Aster urged Danielle.
“Okay, okay,” Danielle said, an edge to her voice.
The night was calm and still. Mist swirled ominously and big droplets of dew covered everything. As the car turned onto the main road, Danielle glanced toward the backseat. “Where to?”
Aster exchanged a worried look with Corinne and Rowan. Rowan took a deep breath. “The airport. We need to get to the Boston bureau of the FBI.”
Aster pulled her lip into her mouth, still feeling prickly about involving Danielle in private family matters. But it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. They needed help now.
Danielle’s eyes widened. “Is it Poppy?”
Rowan shook her head as if to say, We can’t talk right now.
Danielle searched their faces, clearly confused. “Okay,” she finally said, lowering her shoulders. Aster wanted to throw her arms around her for so dutifully following orders.
Everyone was quiet as the car turned onto the winding road that bordered the sea. Aster touched her hand lightly to her lips, thinking about Mitch’s kiss. She wondered if she should text him, to let him know what they’d found on the surveillance video. But by now she was pretty sure that Foley was reading her texts.
They passed a spot in the bluffs that led down to the sand—the very place Steven had led Aster the night he died, where she got revenge on her father for having an affair with her best friend. She looked at the back of Danielle’s head, suddenly feeling a sharp nostalgia for the times she and Danielle used to hang out together. The last time they’d spoken, really spoken, was in this exact spot, the night Steven died.
Aster had remained on the sand after her father had shoved her and stormed off, needing to be alone. She’d rubbed her bruised arm, disgusted by her father’s behavior. He didn’t even seem sorry for what he’d done. It was like Aster and her mother didn’t matter—as if their family didn’t matter.
She’d heard swishing footsteps on the dunes and looked up, her heart lifting. Maybe her father had returned to apologize. But it was another face that appeared through the reeds. Danielle stood on the path, her hands at her sides, her eyes lowered demurely. She was wearing a striped beach dress and flip-flops, her hair loose around her face.
“Aster,” was all she said at first. “I am so sorry.”
Aster felt a sudden flare of anger and, underneath it, hurt. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest and stared at the waves. Sorry for what? she wanted to snap. For sleeping with my father, or the fact that I found out? Mason had probably gone knocking on the Gilchrists’ door and sent Danielle over. What had he said to her? Aster knows, maybe. She’s freaking out. Make sure she doesn’t tell. He’d sent his mistress to do his dirty work.
Aster stared at her old friend, her eyes blazing.
“Aster.” Danielle’s voice cracked. “Don’t you get it, Aster? You’re like a sister to me. I can’t lose you.”
Aster’s chin wobbled. “That’s why it hurts so much.”
Danielle took a step forward, but Aster retreated, throwing her hands up as a barrier between them. “Just go,” she whispered.
Danielle had hung her head. And then, sighing deeply, she’d turned and done just that.
The car went over a bump, jolting Aster back to the present. She blinked at the dark, foggy road in front of them. Something nagged at her brain, a tiny barb she couldn’t locate. She glanced at Danielle’s bright red ponytail in the seat in front of her, thinking.
And then she remembered. During her orientation, Danielle said she hadn’t been at work the morning Poppy had died. Food poisoning, she’d claimed. But now, given what they’d seen on the security tape, that didn’t make sense.
Aster’s palms began to itch. She leaned forward between the seats. “Um, Danielle? Did you say you were home sick when Poppy died?”
Danielle cocked her head, her gaze still on the road. “That’s right. I ate some bad sushi the night before.”
“How long were you sick for?”
Danielle met Aster’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “About a day, maybe two.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Corinne shifted her weight. Rowan looked over at Aster, but Aster kept her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror, waiting for Danielle to look up. “It’s just that we saw you in the surveillance video from the morning Poppy was killed,” Aster said carefully.