Death in the Family Read online

  But is he using you? Flynn claimed his brother was the love ’em, leave ’em type, and that Abella caught him out. I couldn’t picture this woman attacking her boyfriend with so many others sleeping nearby, and there was no chance she could relocate a dead man’s body alone. “Were you fighting last night? Around midnight?”

  “What? No way. I was asleep way before that.”

  If Flynn lied about hearing an argument, I thought, he was a fool. Voices loud enough to reach him through his closed door would have been heard by everyone else on that floor, too. “Have you ever talked about working for Sinclair Fabrics?” I asked, remembering Flynn’s statement. I’d love to, of course!

  “Work with Flynn and Bebe?” Abella looked appalled. “Not a chance in hell.”

  Huh. “Ned does it, doesn’t he?”

  “Not for much longer. He’s being considered for a Burberry campaign, and a bunch of others, too. As soon as one of those comes through, he’s gone.”

  “How does Jasper feel about Ned leaving him in the lurch?”

  “He’s totally okay with it. It’s a huge opportunity for Ned, way bigger than what he’s got now. Jas wants that for him—I do, too. We’re friends, all of us. We care about each other.”

  “You, Jasper, and Ned.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s weird,” I said, “because Flynn made it sound like you were excited about the idea of working with Jasper.”

  She glanced at the closed library door. “I love Jasper,” she repeated. “That doesn’t mean I love his family.”

  “But you’ve only just met them. How do you know you won’t get along?”

  I could see her withdrawing, questioning the wisdom of saying more. I’d hit on something with this line of questioning. The moment I mentioned Flynn’s name Abella started avoiding my gaze. Through her parted lips I spotted a small gap between her front teeth. It made her look like an anxious child.

  “Camilla’s great,” Abella said. “I wish I could have met her sooner. Had more time with her, you know?”

  I nodded. It was a testament to Camilla’s stamina that she was still spending the summers on a relatively isolated island. At her age, her days with the family were numbered. The question was whether Abella’s were, too.

  “What about Bebe and Flynn?”

  “I don’t really know them.”

  Again I mentioned the age difference between Jasper and Flynn. “How are things with them, relationship-wise?”

  “Not all brothers and sisters get along.”

  “So you wouldn’t say they’re close? What makes you so sure? You and Jasper have been together for, what, a few months?”

  “Two.”

  “Two months. You think that’s enough time to get a handle on the subtleties of sibling relations?”

  Again I sensed hesitation. “It’s the way they treat him—Flynn especially. He’s an asshole to Jas, and to Ned, too. Don’t make me go back out there,” she said. “I can’t just sit there while they sip their coffee and pretend everything’s fine!”

  “Abella, if we’re going to find Jasper I need your help. You were with him last night, all night. You were here yesterday, too. If you know anything, saw anything that might explain what happened, now’s the time to talk.”

  She brought her thumb to her lip and scraped her teeth along the nail. Abella’s fingernails were ballet pink and had the high-gloss shine of a professional manicure. She was in the spotlight this weekend, and she knew it. She’d wanted Jasper’s family to be impressed.

  The moment she decided to spill it, Abella’s chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears. The story I was about to hear was going to be different from the one Flynn recounted, no question. I hoped it would be the truth.

  “It’s my fault,” she said.

  My body went rigid. “What’s your fault, hon?”

  “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

  “Did you do something to him? Hurt him, or . . .”

  “No.” She met my gaze with big, watery eyes. “But I know who did.”

  NINE

  The island was a secret paradise Abella couldn’t reconcile with the world she knew onshore. Just that morning she’d been in Manhattan, and now she stood by the water’s edge in a heavy fall sweater while Jasper hugged her to his side and whispered dirty propositions in her ear. He was trying to distract her from what was coming, and she appreciated the effort, but they were out of time. Norton pulled the skiff up to the dock, and out crawled Flynn Sinclair.

  “Your better half’s already here,” Jasper said.

  “Better at what?” Flynn replied. “Making bad choices, or being an ungrateful prick?” Flynn didn’t hug his brother or even shake his hand, and Abella assumed Flynn was in a shitty mood after the five-hour drive from Manhattan. Jasper turned his back on Flynn and offered to help tie up the boat, but Norton waved him away.

  “One last run to the market before the weather turns,” Norton said.

  “Seriously?” said Jasper. “You were just there yesterday. Aren’t you supposed to be getting things ready inside?”

  Her boyfriend’s comment struck Abella as rude, and that wasn’t like him at all. Something was grating on Jasper, though she couldn’t imagine what it was. Norton’s smile, when he managed one, was forced. Abella’s was, too.

  “Lots to prepare,” said Norton amiably. “Won’t be long.” Pushing off, he revved the engine and headed back to shore.

  Flynn stared at his luggage with distaste. The job of lugging it up the steps was on him. “Nice you two could get here so early. Some of us have to work.”

  “Meet Abby,” Jasper said in a way that told Abella he’d taken a ribbing from Flynn before and had no interest in engaging with him again. Flynn didn’t leer at her exactly, but his eyes lingered on her longer than was polite. It made her uncomfortable.

  Jasper did his best to keep the conversation going as they climbed the steps. By contrast, Flynn moped in silence the whole time. All Abella wanted was to get away from him and flop down on the couch with Jasper to savor their last few moments alone before she was put on parade. So she was thrilled when, as soon as they got to the house, Flynn went straight upstairs.

  “There he goes, off to kiss Nana’s ass. Now do you see why I didn’t introduce you sooner? What a prick,” Jasper said. “He won’t let up.”

  “On what?” Abella asked.

  “On who. Flynn treats Ned like shit. I swear, he can’t control himself. If I’m not around he immediately goes searching for someone else to abuse. Actually, he does it whether I’m there or not.”

  Ah, thought Abby. So that’s what caused Jasper to snap. He rarely talked about his siblings, and Abella had thought better of prodding. “Is he really like that?” she asked.

  “An alpha male? A natural-born sadist? Yeah, he is.” Jasper blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. It’s just fucking embarrassing, that’s all.”

  On the mahogany coffee table in the parlor a little clock ticked steadily. Abella could hear the flagpole clinking in the mossy enclosure that stood in for a front yard, the erratic snap of the Scottish and American flags that flew when Camilla was on the island.

  “Maybe it’s a competition thing?” Abella said it carefully. She didn’t want to talk about his family. This was dangerous territory, and they were still in their honeymoon phase, when serious conversations were better kept at bay. “That’s how it is with me and my sister. She can’t stand it when I win.”

  She was cautious with her words for another reason. Abella wasn’t supposed to know as much about her boyfriend as she did. He wasn’t one to brag, but her due diligence on the new man in her life had revealed a highly accomplished individual who excelled at everything, and always had. The Internet divulged that in grade school Jasper was a regular installment in his Westchester Cou
nty town’s local newspaper, three-time winner of the district’s geography bee. When his middle school won the statewide math competition, Jasper took the individual first prize. His high school lacrosse team, one of the best in the country, won countless tournament titles. What older brother would be comfortable competing with that?

  “Let me tell you a story,” Jasper said. Abella didn’t like his tone. She could feel his heartbeat through his ribs. His body heat was rising. “Flynn had just finished his junior year. School was over for the summer, and report cards were coming in. My parents called us both to the kitchen. Flynn wasn’t good at school. Usually they let that slide, but he was a year away from college and his grades were worse than ever. I guess they figured it was time to get real.” He snorted, as if he couldn’t believe it took his parents as long as it did, or imagine how Flynn could be such a loser. “They took away his car, gave him a curfew, did everything they could think of. On some level I think they knew it was meaningless, that they’d end up making a huge donation to Dad’s alma mater and the school would take Flynn no matter what. But they tried.”

  Absently, Jasper looped a strand of Abella’s hair around his finger and examined its healthy shine. “Flynn was pissed. Then my parents turned to me and said I’d been invited to join the gifted class in the fall. This was kindergarten. I was, like, five years old. I had no idea what they were even talking about, but they looked excited, so I got excited, too.

  “Afterward, Flynn and I went outside and Flynn patted me on the back. ‘Good job, Jas,’ he said. ‘You’re a fucking genius.’ He swore all the time around me, and my parents didn’t catch on for years; the first and only time I cussed in front of them, Flynn got the blame for that, too. So we’re out in the yard, and Flynn’s got this big grin, and I remember thinking, wow, my big brother’s proud of me. It felt so good—and then it got even better. Flynn asked if I wanted to toss around the football. He played for the high school, was pretty good at it, but he’d never once played with me. I was so psyched. I was a scrawny kid, but I gave it all I had when I threw that ball because I wanted to impress him even more. Flynn caught it and whipped it back, hard as he could. Straight at my face.”

  Reflexively, Abby brought her hands to her nose. She could almost feel the crushing blow, the hot geyser of blood and confusion and fear Jasper experienced that day, as if she’d taken the hit herself. She’d noticed the bend in his nose, of course she had. He’d never mentioned how he got it.

  “Flynn doesn’t deserve excuses,” Jasper said. “He’s an asshole, yet somehow he always gets what he wants. He slacked off all his life and now he’s fucking CFO. Flynn thinks he’s my boss. Can you believe that?” Jasper stared out the window, his mouth a fixed line. “It’s not about competition for him, Abby, it’s about control—over me, and Ned, and everyone else. The only thing that keeps me from smashing his face in is knowing it can’t last forever. One of these days, his luck’s going to change. And he deserves what he’s got coming.”

  The wind was picking up. Beyond the window tree branches stuttered and swooped upward, buoyed by gusts so strong they shook the leaded panes. Abella sank deeper into the crook of Jasper’s arm and used the pad of her thumb to buff a tiny smudge from her pinkie nail. She didn’t know how to comfort him, not about this. In the hallway, the staircase creaked. She sensed Jasper stiffen, and a second later Flynn passed by the doorway with his laptop under his arm. He paused to glance disinterestedly in their direction before entering the library and slamming the pocket doors closed behind him.

  “I better check on Nana,” Jasper said. “God knows what Flynn said to her. I swear her blood pressure spikes when he’s in a half-mile radius.” He lifted his arm from around her shoulder, and instantly Abella felt cold. “Maybe she wants to play a round of rook with us. You in?”

  Abella loved this about Jasper: his thoughtful nature, his devotion to his grandmother. He was everything Flynn wasn’t. “Sounds like fun,” she said.

  “We’ll need a fourth.”

  “Ned?”

  “Definitely. Will you track him down? He’s probably up in Flynn’s room. With everything going on between them right now, my bet is he’s keeping a low profile. He doesn’t want to stir shit up with everyone around.”

  Abella felt a twinge of pity for Ned then. She knew he and Flynn were having problems; Ned often talked to her about them, and the anecdotes he shared were almost always negative. After hearing Jasper’s story, Abella told herself she’d be both more attentive and more supportive of her friend. Why Ned was still wasting his time on a man like Flynn, she had no idea.

  She set off to find him, but Ned wasn’t upstairs, or anywhere else Abella searched on the second floor. After Abella met Jasper and Flynn’s sister, Bebe, earlier, Bebe had announced she was going to her room to take a nap. Through Jade’s door Abella could hear the girl talking to her father. With Camilla on the third floor, Flynn working downstairs, and Norton still at the market, the rest of the house was quiet. Where could Ned be?

  Wandering the Sinclairs’ home alone felt like an invasion of their privacy, but Jasper had asked Abella to find Ned, and she intended to do it. Back on the main floor she checked the kitchen. A full wall of windows framed river and sky, and the white cabinets and marble counters were bathed in a ghostly, colorless light. There was a door nearby that concealed stairs to the cellar, but it seemed unlikely Ned would be down there. On the far side of the kitchen she found a mudroom that led outside. Abella could see a shed, the outbuilding teetering on the edge of a high cliff about fifty yards from the house.

  Based on its size and shape, she imagined the shed was used to shelter lawn-care equipment, possibly firewood. It was a miniature version of the house, with the same siding and custom windows. Through one of these windows she caught a flicker of movement. A dark shape shifting behind the glass.

  A smattering of raindrops hit the door, and Abella shivered. Without Norton around to make a fire, the house was freezing. It seemed possible Ned could have gone to the shed to get wood. She peered through the glass. She wasn’t mistaken. Someone was out there. Inside that shed.

  She turned the handle and a gust of cold wind slapped her in the face. A dozen oilskin jackets and raincoats pressed in on her from both sides of the mudroom. She chose a long slicker from a hook at random and buttoned it over her clothes. Abella mentioned she’d spent an hour straightening her hair that morning, and she wasn’t about to let the rain ruin it now. Pulling on the hood, she stepped out of the house and began to traverse the yard.

  As she walked, she thought of nothing but finding Ned. This weekend was crucial for Abella, a chance to prove to Jasper she fit in his life like a key in a lock. They’d been dating only a handful of weeks, but she was hopeful he saw her as more than a fling. He’d invited her here, hadn’t he? That had to count for something. Her job situation and status in the country, that stuff would resolve itself. In the meantime, she couldn’t risk a misstep that might make him question how he felt. Her every move had to look effortless. She needed her presence to feel natural, not just to Jasper but to all of the Sinclairs. She wanted them to feel like she’d been there all along.

  Slippery moss coated the rocks and the wind thrashed her from all angles. It made Abella move like a kid on a balance beam, arms windmilling ridiculously, on the verge of wiping out. The closer she got to the shed, the more convinced she was that she was right. Ned had gone to get firewood. A fire would be nice.

  She reached the door. Should she knock? No, that would be weird. Instead, she put her hand on the rusty latch, the iron so cold it felt hot to the touch. She squinted through the window at the darkness inside, and felt a zing of horror whiz down her spine.

  It couldn’t be. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There was clutter everywhere, dangling garden tools and rope and woodworking instruments with mean edges that glinted in the pale light—and in the middle of it all stood Ned. His pants
were a puddle around his feet. In front of him a woman leaned over a sawhorse, Ned’s hand a dark tattoo on the creamy skin of her hip. Behind a wave of dark hair, Abella could just make out the pinched-eye, openmouthed expression of ecstasy on Bebe Sinclair’s face.

  With her heart beating wildly in her rib cage, Abella stared at Ned and Bebe as their bodies bucked and swayed. The scene in the shed was horrible and hypnotic and she couldn’t look away. What she was witnessing was dangerous, and Abella knew it. She couldn’t win. If they saw her, she’d no longer be Jasper’s girlfriend but an infectious disease that could spread throughout the house to compromise the health of countless relationships. Flynn and Ned, Bebe and Miles, Abella and Jasper . . . all were at risk. If anyone else found out what she now knew, she’d be the one blamed. Abella was a stranger, the family would say, only there to spread rumors and cause trouble. They were Jasper’s blood relatives. When they urged him to cut her from his life, he’d listen.

  The raincoat’s hood trapped the heat of her body and Abella felt as if she’d stuck her head in an oven and was waiting, fearful and frozen, for the gas to take effect. Go, she thought. Go now. With a burst of adrenaline she turned and sprinted back to the house. The wind screamed across the open land, shoving her left and right. She was almost at the mudroom door, so close she could see the jackets hanging inside, when the heel of her shoe slipped and she went down on the rocks with a grunt, her pulse thundering in her ears.

  She didn’t need to look. Sprawled on the ground with her cheek against cold stone, she could feel their eyes on her back. Inside the shed, Ned and Bebe were watching. Abella knew this sure as she knew what it meant. She’d seen them. And they had seen her.

  The next few minutes were a blur. By the time she found herself hobbling down the hall toward the parlor, Jasper had set up the game and settled Camilla into a chair. In the hearth a newly laid fire sparked to life. There was firewood in a basket by the wall, there all along. Panting, she stumbled into the room.