Page 75 of In the Bones
It was Nicole who was flailing now, trying to grasp what she had heard and feeling it flow away through clenched fingers.
“Mikko,” she said evenly, “isn’t Woody your partner on the Rivermouth?”
“He’s one of them,” said Mikko. “Along with Stacy and Terry.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” Stacy said it quickly, forcing Nicole to meet her eye. “Not telling you. I’m sorry, Nic. Terry thought this was best.”
Every cell in her body quivered like a shot bow. Nicole was shaking so hard she feared it might buckle her knees. Images flipped through her mind, of Stacy discouraging her from cleaning Mikko’s house, and disparaging him, and convincing Nicole that Woody would be wise to pull out of the deal. All the while, Stacy had invested too—and not just her, but her secret boyfriend, who Mikko seemed to believe was nothing more than a business acquaintance. What was the end game here? Stacy and Terry must have believed Mikko’s claims that the new Rivermouth Arena would be a smash success. And if they had, they might have convinced themselves that pushing Woody out would get them a bigger piece of the pie.
Blair. That’s who Nicole needed to focus on. If Maureen was right about Blair’s conversation with Molly, then she could have key information about the murderer, and that made her a target.
“He works in construction,” Nicole said again. “He knows Mikko. He was at the party. Who the hell is it?”
“Not Terry,” Stacy said. “He wasn’t even there that night. He was on a project somewhere, hours away. Right, Mikko?”
“That’s true. Terry could not be there. Nicole,” Mikko said, “you must know that Woody’s the most likely suspect. Stacytells me he cheated on you.” Pity warped his mouth. “He was with this woman, this Angelica, the night she disappeared. There, in my house.”
“That’s the story, isn’t it?” said Nicole. “Herstory.” Pivoting, she brought her gaze to Stacy’s flustered face. “Except Angelica’s friend, the only person at that party who cared about her at all, says that’s not what happened. So which is it, Stacy? Did you see them fucking, or didn’t you?”
The room tipped into silence, both Stacy and Mikko muzzled.
“I don’t …” Stacy began, and stopped. She tucked her hands, which were shaking hard, under her arms.
“Which is it?” Nicole pressed. “Did he do it? Did he, Stace? Or is the whole thing”—the terrible knowing that nearly ruined us, the betrayal like a blistering burn that won’t heal—“one big fucking lie?”
Stacy blinked. Under her top, through which Nicole could make out a lacy bra, her chest rose and fell like she’d just climbed a flight of stairs. “You have to understand,” she began, “I didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t my idea.”
“What you wanted,” Nicole said, “was to get between us and cut Woody out of the deal.”
As she spoke, the sun beyond the window faded behind the clouds and Nicole caught a glimpse of her battered reflection in the glass. She had to hand it to Terry Martino; the man had balls. He’d compelled Stacy to convince Nicole that both Mikko and the business were trouble. Deployed his girlfriend to fabricate a one-night stand at the hockey star’s home that he hoped would turn Nicole against Mikko for good. How far, Nicole wondered, would he have taken his mission to gain control over the business? She was willing to bet both her assault and the anonymous report about Woody’s side hustle were part of his attempts to cause chaos and destabilize every part of their lives.
Stacy was looking at Nicole with watery eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, Nic. Not you, and not Blair. I treat her like my own daughter. She wants to go into real estate because of me. Just ask her.”
If she said anything more, Nicole didn’t hear it.
By the time the door had closed behind her, the latch meeting the metal plate on the jamb, Nicole had driven Stacy Peel from her mind. There was only room for Blair now. Blair, and the man who’d killed Angelica—because Stacy’s comment had freed a memory Nicole didn’t know she had. A moment from weeks back, when she and Blair were talking about senior internships. As they discussed the idea of the real estate office, Nicole had inquired about Blair’s friends, wanting to know their internship plans. And Blair had told her all about them.
The hotel hall swam before her as she dug out her phone, praying to every god there ever was that, somehow, her sister had come to the same conclusion.
Knowing in the marrow of her bones what could happen if she hadn’t.
SIXTY-TWO
Tim
“Pick up, pick up,” Tim muttered as he dialed Mikko’s number for a third time, but again the call rang out with no reply. “His phone must be silenced.”
“Drive faster,” said Mac. All she could think about was finding Blair.
Through the windshield, Tim could see the white lighthouse perched at the uppermost point of the peninsula, nothing but wide-open lake beyond. It had been strange driving past Mikko’s house, knowing how much they’d learned since he first stepped through the door. Acknowledging how much they still didn’t know. What they lacked were the ligaments that would link every part of the case, connecting joints with bone. Blair was central to that. Blair and Molly, if the woman was lucky enough to survive the night.
“Nic’s calling,” Mac said, looking down at her phone. “I’ll put her on speaker.”
“Maureen!” Nicole’s voice sounded raw, her pitch harried. “Are you with her? Do you have Blair?”
“We’re just pulling up. I see the Toyota, so she’s definitely here—and there’s another car too. Well, that explains why she’s been MIA.”
“No.” Nicole’s delivery of the word raised all the hairs on Tim’s arms. When she spoke again, her voice was shaky. “I saw Mikko and Stacy. I asked them about the party. Maureen, I think I know who killed Angelica.”
