Page 63 of The Cottage on Plum Island
“I’ll explain later,” Jennifer promised.
Harley’s eyes searched hers, and what he saw in them made him fall even more in love with her—his heart jolted, and his throat went dry as realization dawned on him. Harley stared at her for a few seconds, hoping his eyes didn’t mirror his thoughts or feelings. Now was themost inappropriate time for him to realize his deep feelings for Jennifer.
Not trusting his voice or what would pop out of his mouth, Harley nodded in agreement, and she moved out of his way. He made his way over to Margaret, Randal, and Wallis.
“Change of wardrobe, Wallis?” Harley noted.
“I was all sweaty from worry,” Wallis told him. His shadowed eyes kept darting toward the car.
“Is that really Clair?” Wallis asked, moving the subject away from his wardrobe change. He was looking toward the car. His voice was gruff, and his eyes shone with grief. “Are they sure it’s Clair?” He glanced at Harley for clarification. “Did you check? Are you sure it’s not Angela?”
Harley looked toward Margaret and Randal, who were looking to him for the same confirmation Wallis was seeking. “I’m so sorry.” He nodded, his heart going out to them. “It’s Clair.”
“No!” Wallis said breathlessly. “It can’t be Clair.” His eyes were glued to the car where the medics were gently lifting Clair’s body. “Look!” He patted Harley’s arm and pointed toward the body. “That’s not Clair. That’s the sweat suit from the mental health institute Angela is at.” He shook his head vigorously. “It’s not Clair.”
Before Harley could respond, the older US Marshals stepped to one side of the room, but close enough that Harley, the Wesleys, and Wallis could hear him even though he wasn’t talking loudly.
“The ME is convinced that it’s not suicide but was staged to look like Clair had committed suicide,” the Marshal said into the phone. “There was a suicide note found on the floor beneath the driver’s seat. The ME thinks it slid there when the victim put up a fight against whoever was trying to get her into the car. There was also an open water bottle near the car, and the victim’s shirt was wet. Which could mean she was drugged, and that is how the murderer eventually managed to subdue her.” The man paused. “Yes. The ME says it looks like she managed to scratch whoever did this to her. She’ll get the skin cells from beneath the nails when she’s back in the lab.”
“No!” Wallis yelled, pushing past Harley and the officers holding him back. He rushed toward Clair, who the medics were about to zip into a body bag. “I need to know!”
“Sir, you can’t go there,” one of the officers yelled at Wallis and started to rush after him, but Andrew stopped the man.
“Let him see her. It’s his wife,” Andrew told the officers.
While the police were distracted by the commotion, Randal and Marget saw an opportunity to follow Wallis. Harley went after them. When they got to where Clair’s body was on a gurney, the medics weredesperately trying to stop Wallis, who was standing on the car side of the gurney, from turning the body over.
“I have to prove it’s not Clair!” Wallis shouted at the medics.
Wallis’s eyes grew wild with determination. He pulled Clair’s body toward him. It teetered at the edge of the gurney. “I’ll prove to you all this isnotClair. It can’t be!”
Wallis pulled the long strands of blond hair away from Clair’s neck.
A sorrowful cry escaped through his lips when he found the scar behind her ear from a horse riding accident. “No, oh oh oh.”
Wallis pulled Clair’s body toward him and rolled off the gurney. Wallis grabbed her just in time but kicked over the bleach, slipped, and landed on the floor on his rump, cradling Clair on his lap. Sobs racked Wallis’s body as he sat rocking back and forth with Clair clutched tightly in his arms.
“Clair!” Margaret’s voice broke. She and Randal were about to move toward Wallis and Clair when the ME’s voice split through the air like a gunshot.
“NO!” The ME shouted when she heard the commotion and pushed through the people gaping down at Wallis. “NO!” She growled again, jumping into action. “Quick.” She instructed the Medics. “Get her hands and ensure they don’t touch the bleach.”
But it was too late. Clair’s arms and hands had spread into the pool of bleach Wallis was sitting in. The medics managed to pry Clair from Wallis.
“Get him examined for chemical burns,” the ME snapped, her eyes filled with anger as they fell on Wallis. Harley could see she was trying to contain it, but her tone was clipped as she addressed the family and Wallis. “My condolences to all of you. I know this is a difficult time for you. But I ask that you please follow the police officer’s instructions and allow me to do my job.” She glanced at Wallis and Clair’s family. “If you would please go back behind the police line.” Her eyes fell on Wallis. “A medic will examine you for any chemical burns.”
Randal, Margaret, and Wallis followed the police officer while the ME called one of the forensic teams over. “Why was this left here?” She pointed to the bottle of bleach.
“We were waiting for you to finish before we took it away,” the forensic officer told her.
“You could’ve at least put the cap back on,” The ME snapped. “Get this mess cleaned up.” With that, she stormed out, commanding an officer to get someone to collect everyone at the scene’s DNA. “Not that it probably matters now.” She muttered.
“Wow!” Jennifer gave a low whistle, stepping next to Harley. “She’s fun.”
Harley’s eyes were fixed on the bleach as a thought kept tumbling over and over in his mind—Why was Wallis so convinced it couldn’t have been Clair’s body?His brow furrowed as a conversation from years ago drifted through his mind.
“I’ve been married to Angela for two years,” Wallis said before joking, “and I still don’t know how you can tell the twin sisters apart just by looking at them. I still have to check there’s no scar behind Angela’s ear to ensure I’m with the correct sister.”
But what if Wallis hadn’t been joking? Harley’s mind brought up images of the blood stains on Wallis’s collar. What if they weren’t from a botched shaving job? His brow creased as he remembered there were also blotches of blood on Wallis’s shirt cuff. Harley pictured the gurney and where it was positioned. Wallis had stood near the car when he could’ve just stood at the top of the gurney where Clair’s head was.
