“Matthew, I—”
He waved me off. “It’s okay, Erica. I know you’re worried about Tweety … and now Kit Kat. And it’s not like Grady hasn’t asked me the same thing.” He rolled his grip over the steering wheel. “You’d think with all the people asking me, I’d have a better answer by now.”
I waited, giving him a moment to work through whatever it was he was feeling.
“Truth is, I don’t know the answer to that question.” He looked off again at the road. “I don’t know if my mother killed my father. How crazy is that?” He pulled the car into the winding drive of the manse. “I was kidding—if you can call it that—the other night at the fairgrounds, but I’ve found out a few things since then.”
“What things?”
“You mentioned Marg Johnson the other day. Don’t listen to anything she says.”
“Why?”
“You’ve probably heard that my father was less than faithful.” He took a shaky breath. “Well, turns out, they had a relationship.”
“What?”
“For years.” He shook his head. “My mother just turned a blind eye to it.”
“Wow. I—”
“This thing with Tweety, though? Apparently that was something she couldn’t ignore.”
Matthew drove the car to the side of the house and cut the engine. He didn’t say anything or move to get out. I didn’t either. I couldn’t. Not with him sitting there, staring out the window … looking so sad.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed his hand. I had only meant it to be a gesture of sympathy, but when our fingers touched … something passed between us.
“I can’t imagine what this has been like for you. All of it. I’ve been so focused on the twins,” I said, shaking my head. “I haven’t even asked if you knew Mr. Clarke well.”
He nodded, hand still on mine. “I didn’t. Not really. I mean, from what I knew he was a good man, but—” He cut himself off with a shake of the head then looked up at me.
I could barely breathe with the intensity of his gaze. Actually, I didn’t want to breathe if it broke whatever it was that was happening between us, and that was … not good. I gently pulled my hand from his. “I think maybe I should say something here. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I—”
Suddenly someone’s hands crashed against the windshield.
I screamed, and Matthew’s elbow knocked the horn.
The person on the other side of the glass laughed.
“Jesus, Freddie.”
“You two,” he said, voice muffled by the glass. “You should have seen your faces.”
I swung the car door open, sending Freddie scuttling back. Yup, there was all that nice anger back. “You and I need to have a talk.”
“Oh no.” He waved out some jazz hands. “Is Dad still mad at me?”
“You know what? Go to the boat,” I said with a point. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah, no,” he said, backing up two steps. “I’ll just wait over here. Seeing as there’s a killer on the loose!”
I took a breath and turned back to Matthew. “So…”
“Erica, really you don’t have to say anything. It’s been a crazy day for the both of us.” He opened his door, but kept his eyes on me. “I know you and Grady have something. I can respect that.”
“Thanks. I—”
“But,” he said, cutting me off with a smile, “if that something, turns out to be nothing … I’d like to be the first to know.”
“Understood. I feel the same.” I winced and made a fist with my hand. “I mean, feel is probably not the best word.” I jumped out of the car. “I should go now.” I hustled over to Freddie, throwing a quick wave over my shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”
I didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s go,” I said, yanking Freddie’s arm.
“You’re mad.”
“Little bit.”
“But you also seemed kind of … fired up.”
“Kit Kat is in the hospital,” I said tightly. “Someone put her there. That someone is going to pay.”
“Okay,” Freddie said, stumbling while trying to keep up with me. “But what exactly does that mean?”
“It means no holding back anymore.”
“Right. Well, I gotta say, part of me loves this side of you, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m also a little afraid.”
“You should be.”
Freddie stopped walking, but I didn’t wait for him. It wasn’t until I had almost made it to the boat that I turned back around and shouted, “What are you doing now?”
“Just writing YOU SHOULD BE on my hand,” he shouted back. “I want to remember this moment. For the pilot.”
“You know what else you write on your hand?”
“What?”
“Freddie pushes Erica too far, and she drowns him in the lake. I like that episode.”
“What? Oh … good one. Coming!”