Page 87 of The Night the Lights Went Out
Wade sat back, digesting this bit of information. “I’m sorry, Merilee. I really am. That must have been horrible for you.”
She focused on pushing the swing with her feet, looking at everything except his face. “Oh, it was.”
He waited for her to say more, but she wasn’t ready. Couldn’t even imagine finding the words she hadn’t spoken in more than a decade. Because she couldn’t take the look of recrimination and doubt in his eyes if he knew the rest of the story.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, he said, “There’s one thing I keep thinking about. Who knew about your first marriage? And why would they choose now to talk about it?”
She looked at him with surprise, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I have no idea. No one here knows. Even Michael.” She caught his sidelong glance. “My only excuse is that I was young and stupid and I wanted to put that horrible time behind me. When I met Michael, I simply pretended it hadn’t happened. All I wanted to do was move forward.”
He was silent for a moment. “Heather’s called me a couple of times. She wanted me to know that you’re not the person I think I know. That I should be careful.”
Merilee slid from the swing to face him. “What?”
“I don’t know what she’s talking about, and I don’t care. I hung up each time she mentioned you. I want to say it’s because she’s out of her mind with grief, and she’s looking to blame anyone for her sadness. But I’ve known her for a long time, and I think there’s something more.” He looked up at the hooks holding the ropes of the swing, as if hoping they’d hold the weight of his words. “I don’t think she’s your friend, Merilee. And I don’t think it’s because of Dan’s death.”
Merilee started to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her.
“Let me finish. She wasn’t your friend before, and I know she isn’t now. You haven’t been in a position to hear this, but maybe you are now. When you first met Heather you were vulnerable—newly divorced, knew no one at the school—and she latched onto that. She’s always been really good at seeing the weak spots in people, and yours was your loneliness. I haven’t yet figured out why, because she’s always looking for something in return for anyone she ropes into her circle. But you’re too nice. You don’t really buy into all that brand-name-and-appearances game that Heather and most of her friends like to play. And you don’t play tennis.”
He’d tried for a lighter note, but Merilee was too upset and too angry to go along. Jabbing her finger into his shoulder, she said, “She is my friend, Wade. I know she broke your heart, which is why you have this grudge against her, but I’ve seen her many kindnesses toward me and my kids. Her husband just died and she must be out of her mind with grief and not thinking clearly. There has been some horrible misunderstanding, and if I haven’t heard from her by Friday, I’m going to go to her house and knock on the door and talk to her face-to-face.”
He held her gaze. “You do that. And when she closes the door in your face, just remember that there’s more to friendship than giving people stuff and having your minions do things. It’s about showing your vulnerabilities. You wear yours on your sleeve, so it was easy for her. But did she ever show you hers?”
Merilee couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry. And it wasn’t just his insistence that Heather wasn’t her friend. Because in a small corner of her brain, she had the niggling suspicion that there might be some truth to his words, which would make her the biggest fool out there. Heather had never seemed vulnerable, not even at the moment when she’d come to see why Merilee was screaming outside on the dock. She’d taken Merilee aside and tried to comfort her as all the remaining guests gathered around them.
“We’ve got company.” Wade stood, too, and put his arm around her shoulders right at the moment Merilee realized who it must be. A dark four-door sedan with a man wearing a jacket and tie in the front seat. She’d seen it before, after all.
“Oh, no,” she said, hearing the sob in her voice. “No, no, no.” The backs of her knees hit the edge of the swing, but Wade kept her standing. She had a brief flashback from fourteen years before, another front porch, another dark sedan. Another man found floating in the water.
“Are you okay?” Wade asked.
She couldn’t answer. Because as she watched the man get out of the car and approach them, she suddenly knew that nothing would ever be okay again.
The man showed her a badge that she didn’t look at. “I’m Detective Richard Kobylt from the Gainesville Police Department. Are you Merilee Dunlap?” He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps.
“Yes, that’s me. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was hoping you could come down to the station and answer a few questions about the evening of October twenty-ninth.” He gave her a friendly smile. “Just down to the Sweet Apple police station—no need to go all the way up to Gainesville.”
Breathe. Breathe.She’d been through this before, but it didn’t make it any easier. “But I’ve already told the police everything I know. I heard the dog barking and I followed him—”
“These are just routine questions, ma’am, filling in some blanks in the report, that sort of thing.”
“Right now?” she asked. “I have my children—”
“Sugar and I will watch them,” Wade said calmly. “It’s better to get this over with now. We’ll all be here when you get back.”
“Can I drive myself?” she asked, remembering the humiliation of being driven through her hometown in the back of a cruiser.
“That won’t be a problem. You can follow me if you’re not sure where the station is. Is that your minivan?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ll go ahead and move my car in front of yours.”
She nodded. “I just need to grab my purse and keys and let my kids know what’s going on.” Without looking in Wade’s direction, she went inside. Her hands shook as she picked up her purse and kissed each child on the forehead. A river of ice had taken over her bloodstream, and she wondered whether she’d ever feel warm again. After slipping on her wool peacoat, she stepped outside. She’d told Lily and Colin to stay inside, but she knew they’d be pressed up against the front window, Colin’s binoculars held up to his eyes.
“Thank you for watching the children,” she said to Wade as she walked past him.
He grabbed her arm. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She tried to find her anger again, but it had been buried under the ice-cold blast of fear that rattled her bones inside her coat. “A lot of people think I was responsible for my husband’s death. If the police know about that...” She stopped, unwilling and unable to think beyond that.
