Page 61 of The Cottage on Plum Island
As they passed the first and second aisles of the large garage spaces, that bad feeling intensified, and Harley instinctively knew where he was going to find Jennifer.
“Take the next right,” Harley instructed Duncan. “Go down to the last garage on the right.”
As they neared the storage space, Harley saw the light shining from his storage garage, and he knew that was where he would find Jennifer. He held his breath as he bolted from the car the minute it stopped and dashed into the storage space.
“Jennifer!” Harley barked.
He froze when he saw a white Ford sedan parked inside. Both front doors were open, and the smell of car fumes lingered in the air. Someone was in the passenger seat of the car. Harley swallowed as his heart thudded against his chest. He stood staring at the car for a few seconds. He drew in a breath and was about to walk toward the car when a voice stopped him.
“Harley!”
Harley turned toward the voice as Andrew Gains stepped into the garage.
“Andrew?” Harley frowned; his voice dropped, and the fear clawed at his throat as he asked. “Where’s Jennifer?”
“Over here,” Jennifer stepped out from behind Andrew, holding her stomach and looking green.
“Are you okay?” Harley asked, relief flooding him as he walked toward her, but Andrew stepped in front of him, blocking his path to Jennifer.
“I’m fine. I’m not good with blood, gore, or—“ Jennifer told him but was cut off by Andrew.
“Where have you been all day, Harley?” Andrew asked him as the man observed Harley with shrewd eyes.
“I had some family business to take care of.” Harley’s frown deepened as he looked at Andrew suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling you’re…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened.
Fear once again coursed through his veins as he spun around, and before Andrew or Jennifer could stop him, he dashed to the car. Harley’s heart seemed to stop beating for a few seconds as his breath caught in his throat when he saw the lifeless figure in the driver’s seat. His heart kicked into gear again, hammering uncontrollably as his eyes scanned the familiar face and standard hospital-sweat pants and shirt.
“No, no, no, no!” Harley’s voice was barely a whisper as he fell to his knees.
As Harley’s head dipped into the car, his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of bleach. But he ignored it and was about to reach out to feel for a pulse and check the back of the figure’s neck for a scar, but Andrew grabbed his hand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Andrew warned him, glancing around the room. “I’m sure your fingerprints are all over this place,so you don’t want to touch anything else here.” He pulled Harley off the floor. “You especially don’t want to touch the car or the body.”
“I need to see which one of the—“ Harley swallowed, unable to fathom the thought.
“It’s Clair,” Andrew told him, his voice low and compassionate.
“Are you sure?” Harley looked at Andrew questioningly. “You can tell the difference when they are awake and talking.” His head turned back to the woman in the car. “But when they’re sleeping, it’s more difficult.”
“Harley, it’s Clair.” Jennifer stepped around Andrew, taking Harley’s hand and pulling him away from the car. “Please do as Andrew says and move away from the crime scene.”
“How can you be so sure it’s Clair?” Harley’s mind was reeling, his thoughts scattered, as his brain tried to make sense of it all.
“Because Angela is with Andrew’s mother,” Jennifer said, surprising Harley.
“How did Angela end up at Andrew’s mother’s place?” Harley asked, confused.
“It’s a long story,” Jennifer told him, turning as they heard footsteps.
Harley glanced around and saw a bottle of open bleach standing near the back wheel of the driver’s door. “Were you cleaning over here?” He looked from Andrew to Jennifer.
They both shook their heads.
“No, that was there when we came in,” Andrew assured Harley.
Before he could ask more questions, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and a voice.
“Mr. Donovan is everything all…” Duncan stopped at the garage door, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Is that?” He pointed at the car. “Are they…”
