Danielle slowed the car ever so slightly. “That’s impossible. It wasn’t me.”
“It was you,” Aster insisted. Her heart was pounding at triple time. “It was your hair, your dress. I’m sure of it.”
“I was at home, sick,” she insisted. Danielle glanced at the women in the backseat, then at Julia.
Aster’s head felt as if it was splitting in two. All at once pieces began to fall into place, pieces that had nothing to do with Katherine Foley. Danielle knew Meriweather; she certainly could have had a key to the estate. Working in HR, she had free rein in the building, and access to all sorts of personal employee information. She could have simply knocked on Poppy’s door that morning, and Poppy would have let her in, thinking she had an innocent question. And then . . .
But why? Because Aster had rejected her? Because, perhaps, Mason had rejected her? Wasn’t it enough that they’d been together in the first place? Wasn’t it enough that Danielle had already gotten a job out of that affair?
“Seriously, I was nowhere near the office,” Danielle said again.
Corinne looked questioningly at Aster. Aster closed her eyes. Reality seemed to twist on its axis. She had no idea what to believe. She looked out the window at the foggy night sky, and a chill crept up her spine. They were on the bridge out of town—the very same bridge they had plummeted off a few weeks ago. The bridge where they had almost died.
“Stop the car,” she commanded. “Stop now.”
Danielle hit the brakes. The car skidded. Everyone screamed as they lurched to the left. The car slid almost to the edge of the bridge, but the brakes finally engaged, and they stopped moving. For a moment, everything was silent. Then Aster wrenched the door handle, desperate to get the hell out of that car, away from Danielle. This felt all wrong suddenly. Something bad was going to happen.
“Not so fast,” came a voice.
Aster froze, the door hanging open, and turned back to look inside the vehicle. There was a flash from the front seat, a glint of silver winking in the overhead light. Aster gasped—a gun.
Only, Danielle wasn’t the one holding it. It was Julia.
“Mom!” Danielle gaped at the gun. “What are you doing?”
“Everyone, please get. Out. Of. The. Car,” Julia said very slowly.
Danielle fumbled for the door handle and shakily climbed out of the vehicle. Aster didn’t remember actually moving, but she must have, because the next thing she knew, she, Corinne, and Rowan were outside on the bridge. Thunder rolled angrily overhead, and the sky was pitch-dark. Aster felt in her pocket for her phone, only to realize she’d left it in the car.
Julia stepped forward, aiming the gun at the three Saybrook women. “Against the railing, you three. Now. Danielle, you come over here with me.”
Danielle’s face was pale. “Mom. I don’t understand.” She stepped toward her mother. “Is this because of what Aster was asking me about that surveillance tape? I wasn’t there. I didn’t kill Poppy. I swear.”
“Please, Julia,” Rowan tried, using her calmest voice. “What’s going on?”
“All these years, and you still don’t know?” Julia challenged, pointing to Danielle. She looked at Aster. “Even you? You have no idea who Danielle is to your family?”
Aster stared at the gun, then at Danielle’s face. Her old friend’s bottom lip was trembling. Danielle is my father’s mistress, she wanted to say, but suddenly she wasn’t sure if that was the right answer. You’re like a sister to me. I can’t lose you. The words looped in Aster’s brain on repeat. She looked up and met Danielle’s eyes in the mirror—bright blue eyes, so much like Aster’s. They used to love that; it was part of the sister act they would put on at bars.
She recalled the day she’d caught Mason and Danielle together. The way he’d held her . . . it had been so tender, loving. And then there’d been that earlier look, that day on the bluffs—the way he’d stared at Danielle with an almost ferocious intensity. But was it sexual? Suddenly Aster was no longer sure. Now that she thought about it, it was almost the same look that had been on his face tonight, when he’d mentioned his family in that speech about Poppy. An expression full of love, yes; but also protectiveness, and a little bit of regret.
“You were never having an affair with my dad, were you?” she said slowly. “You’re his daughter.”
“Ding, ding, ding!” Julia crowed.
Corinne’s head whipped around. “Wait. What is going on?”
Julia grabbed Danielle’s arm and pulled her close. She stared at Aster. “My daughter has known for five years.”
Aster blinked hard, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. She looked at Danielle again. “That was what happened between you and my father that summer. That was when you found out, wasn’t it?”
Danielle’s bottom lip trembled. “He told me not to say anything.”