Nancy knew this cottage was the right house for her the very first time she saw it. It was one of only three she had walked through when she made the trip to Southampton. The local realtor was highly recommended by Taylor Summers, the agent to whom Ray had turned over his business when he retired six years ago. She loved the open floor plan and the oversized windows that allowed sunlight to flood across the rooms. It reminded her of the gut feeling she had when Ray first brought her to the house on the Cape that she would then rent for herself until it eventually became their family home. She just knew that she would stay.
What sealed her decision to make an offer on this cottage was the view from where she stood now, by the railing above the staircase. The large window over the landing allowed views of the bay at the end of the road. She would be able to begin every morning with a glimpse of the water. Right now, however, what she appreciated was the echo from the living room up to the second floor from which she eavesdropped while her son stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder.
“Can you believe this?” she whispered. “He’s keeping Melissa from talking to her own husband, when she’s the one who hired him as their lawyer in the first place. I thought I liked Mac, but this is ridiculous.” Melissa had asked to speak with Mac alone, but this was Nancy’s house. If he continued speaking to her daughter that way, she would tell him to leave if she had to. Until he showed up, she had Melissa sounding confident and optimistic. She did not want to find her brilliant daughter broken and vulnerable again.
Instead of responding, her son shushed her. “Wait, I can’t hear.”
“I’m seventy-two years old. How can your hearing be worse than mine?”
“Obviously all those years of the devil’s rock-and-roll music, but really, Mom. Shhh.” He had always been able to maintain his dry sense of humor.
She heard the ring of a cell phone from the living room. Charlie, she thought. Maybe Charlie was calling Melissa, despite his lawyer’s heartless advice. Or it could be the police, saying they found Riley. She remembered how every ring of the phone and every knock on the door while her children were missing felt like it might be the end of the nightmare—or confirmation of her worst fears.
The ringing stopped and was soon replaced by the sound of Mac’s voice. Look, this is Charlie.
She and Mike listened carefully as Mac explained why Charlie was calling Mac’s phone instead of Melissa’s. Beside her, Mike shrugged. The rationale did make sense from a lawyer’s perspective.
But then she heard the desperation in her daughter’s voice as Melissa took the phone to speak to her own husband. Charlie, thank God. That’s not me in the video… What do you mean? Go through what?…
Nancy knew what it felt like to be a suspect. Oh, did she know. She could still feel the burn of Adams Port Police Chief Jed Coffin’s hostility when he walked into their house. It was exactly like the first time, after Peter and Lisa. Knowing her past, he thought he had the entire case solved before he’d asked a single question. She had seen the newspaper article revealing that local wife and mother Nancy Eldredge was actually the notorious Nancy Harmon, long suspected of drowning her children in California and getting away with it. Certain that the new life she had built on the Cape was about to implode from the revelation, she must have gone “berserk,” in Coffin’s words, and did to Michael and Missy what she had done to her first two children.
Despite her shock, she could sense at a visceral level that Ray was defending her. Chief Coffin had asked to speak with him privately, as if she didn’t even matter. Instead, Ray had made the chief wait while he placed his hands on her shoulders until she stopped shaking. He had rested his cheek against hers to calm and reassure her before leading the chief into the next room. The mere way he carried himself—tall, unflinching, and self-possessed—made it clear that despite Coffin’s authority, he owed their family a modicum of respect. Even when Coffin read Nancy her Miranda rights and the Boston news outlets parked outside of their house, barking questions that clearly assumed Nancy’s guilt, Ray never faltered.
She could tell from both Melissa’s words and her tone that Charlie was no Ray in this moment when his wife needed him.
Charlie, wait. What do you mean? That sounds so…
Melissa stopped midsentence. So… what? Nancy wondered. Cold? Indifferent? Selfish?
Long seconds of silence followed before Melissa spoke again. He said you set something up for him. Her daughter’s tone had changed. She was addressing Mac again. To give me my one phone call before I get thrown under the bus?
She noticed Mike’s jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He had always been so protective of his little sister.
Charlie needs his suitcase, Mac said. He won’t be coming back here until they find Riley. I’m sorry. I really am.
They heard footsteps approaching in their direction and Mike stood upright, appearing ready to block Mac by force.
“No, do not,” she said firmly. “If Charlie wants to take his things with him, then good riddance.” By the time Mac hit the staircase, she was already in the guest room. A roller bag of men’s clothing, not yet unpacked, was open on top of the dresser. She zipped it and placed it in the hallway.
Mac looked at her awkwardly from the landing. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand, Nancy.”
“Well, good. Then I don’t need to worry about failing to meet your expectations.”
Mike emerged from the guest bathroom and thrust a leather shaving kit against Mac’s chest, harder than he needed to. “Dude, you should go.”
Immediately after the sound of the front door closing, the volume of the downstairs television quickly went from a murmur to a roar. It was a woman’s voice, with the professional tone of a seasoned correspondent. “We’re waiting here in Southampton on Long Island for an update from the father of missing toddler Riley Miller.”