“Then guess what I heard? I heard that Sadie Zimmer left Dr. Zimmer.”
Harper bites her tongue. Sadie left? This is something Harper hasn’t considered: instead of Reed leaving Sadie, Sadie might leave Reed.
“But then I heard she didn’t leave, he left. Dr. Zimmer took a leave of absence from the hospital.”
A leave of absence from the hospital? Harper thinks. She closes her eyes.
“Then I heard that you were gone and nobody knew where you went and no one knew where Dr. Zimmer went, so people are thinking the two of you are on the lam somewhere, like in Natural Born Killers, except not murdering anyone. Or maybe you are leaving bodies in your wake. Nothing would surprise me at this point, Harper, because the stories keep piling up like cars in a highway crash. So anyway, I’m glad you answered your phone. I have your final paycheck. Where would you like me to send it?”
She says nothing. There’s no doubt in her mind that Reed’s “leave of absence” was forced upon him by Adam Greenfield; there’s no way Reed would ever abandon his patients of his own volition. But he left the Vineyard? Where is he? Is he out in America looking for her?
“Harper?” Rooster says.
“I’m here,” Harper says.
“Where’s here?” Rooster says. “Where do you want me to send your check?”
She hates that people are now talking about her and Brendan. She shudders at the thought of Mrs. Donegal somehow hearing the rumor.
“Harper?” Rooster says.
She doesn’t want to tell Rooster where she is. The check is for six hundred and thirty-two dollars or thereabouts, too much to ignore, but she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s on Nantucket. She doesn’t want Sadie finding out, or Drew, or Drew’s aunties, or anyone else. Nantucket is, in so many ways, the perfect place to hide right in plain sight.
“Send it to my PO box,” Harper says. “Number 1888, Vineyard Haven.”
“So you’re here, then?” Rooster asks. “You’re on island?”
Before she can confirm or deny, there’s a beeping noise. It’s her call waiting. The number is unfamiliar, but underneath the number it says: Nantucket, MA. Harper disconnects Rooster without explanation, without good-bye. Let him think she’s in a place with poor reception—the Andes Mountains, the Yukon. It’s the only way.
“Hello?” Harper says.
“Ms. Frost?” a man’s voice says. “This is Dr. Bentz. I’m the principal at Nantucket High School. I’m going to need you to come in right away.”
AINSLEY
Ms. Kerr doesn’t contact the classroom over the intercom. Instead she and Dr. Bentz show up at the door of Ainsley’s American history class in person.
“Ainsley,” Ms. Kerr says. “Come with us, please.”
A murmur goes through the classroom, and Dr. Bentz offers a game-show-host smile. “Don’t let us interrupt your learning about Prohibition,” he says. “It was put in place for a reason.”
Ainsley grabs her bag and slips past Dr. Bentz into the hallway.
Gathered in Dr. Bentz’s office are Emma and her father, Dutch; Candace, Stephanie, and Stu Beasley; and Tabitha. No, not Tabitha—Aunt Harper. Ainsley burps and tastes the eggs Harper made her for breakfast.
She tries to catch Emma’s eye. They are close enough as friends to be able to agree upon a strategy without speaking. But Emma’s face is cast down at the table. Dutch looks pissed. His shaved head is ruddy with aggravation, and his tattooed arms are locked across his chest. Candace looks wounded, her parents solemn. Only Aunt Harper appears sanguine. When she sees Ainsley, she offers a shrug—she has no idea why they are here—and a consoling smile.
The smile brings tears to Ainsley’s eyes.
Dr. Bentz takes the last seat at the table. He seems present and engaged but studiously unperturbed. He loves conflict resolution, Ainsley knows. A poster of Jimmy Carter hangs in his office.
“Emma, Ainsley,” Dr. Bentz says. “We invited you here with your parents and/or guardian today to see what either of you knows about a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin and a baggie containing cocaine residue left in Candace Beasley’s locker.”
Ainsley says, “I know nothing about it. I mean, I heard Candace was caught with alcohol and drugs in her locker, but that’s it.”
Dr. Bentz studies Ainsley as though he intends to paint her portrait from memory. “You’re sure about that, Ainsley?”
Ainsley scrutinizes Dr. Bentz right back. He has an oversize head, a walrus mustache, and glasses that make his eyes appear large and gelatinous. Dr. Bentz is so thoroughly a principal that Ainsley has a hard time imagining him outside the school. She knows that he lives in ’Sconset in a home owned by his wife’s parents and that in the summer, when his in-laws are in residence, he goes salmon fishing on the Copper River, in Alaska. Ainsley feels sorry for Dr. Bentz because he doesn’t get to enjoy Nantucket summers; he must like his job a lot, because why else would he accept such a raw deal?
Before Ainsley can respond with a calm, metered Yes, I’m very sure—Ainsley has spent the last year making lies sound like the truth—Emma speaks up.
“It was all Ainsley’s idea,” Emma says. “Candace stole Teddy away from her, and Ainsley wanted revenge.” Shrug from Emma. “‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…’ That’s a direct quote from William Shakespeare.”
Dr. Bentz clears his throat. “Actually, it’s the other William. William Congreve. And the quotation, Miss Marlowe, is ‘Heav’n has no rage, like love to hatred turn’d, nor hell a fury, like a woman scorn’d.’”
Emma gives Dr. Bentz an indulgent smile, though Ainsley knows she would like to tell him to go pound. “Same difference!” she says, then she pauses for effect. “Back to my story. Ainsley stole the gin from her grandmother’s house, and the cocaine packet she got from Felipa’s boyfriend. Felipa is the housekeeper, from Mexico. Then Ainsley begged me to sneak both things into Candace’s locker.”
Ainsley feels a zing, like she’s been hit in the face at close range by a rubber band. “What?”
Dr. Bentz silences Ainsley with a hand. “And how, Emma, did you gain access to Candace’s locker?”
“She gave me the combination a few weeks ago,” Emma says. “I forgot my chemistry textbook at home, and Candace lent me hers as a favor so that I could finish that day’s assignments. I wrote down the combination.”
Dr. Bentz turns to Candace. “Is this true? You gave Miss Marlowe your combination?”
Candace nods, and Ainsley is so incensed—Emma and Candace are in cahoots—that she blurts out, “No, Emma. You stole the combination of everyone’s locker from the office during a fire drill in the fall.”
“I gave Emma my combination,” Candace says in confirmation.