Twenty minutes later, I’ve filled Martina in on everything I can think to tell her about how I got the job with the Bellamys, my budding friendship with Caden, finding the card and flash drive, and the fire last night. She’s heard about the fire already; I’m sure the whole town knows by now.
“Mrs. Talbot would let Zoe take the horses out sometimes,” I add. “So she must have been pretty familiar with the Windermere stable. It makes sense that Caden would leave a message for Zoe there.”
“How do you know that?” Martina asks. “About Zoe and the horses?”
“It was in your podcast,” I say. “Wasn’t it?”
Martina gives me a funny look. “I don’t think so.”
I shrug. “Or maybe I read it online.” But I really can’t remember. I touch my fingertips to my temples. It’s like it just arrived in my brain, sourceless. Or like it’s been stored there for months.
“I need to get back to work,” Martina says when the blond girl gives us the hairy eyeball for the third time. “No special privileges for the owner’s kid.”
“Right, sure. Do you think you can do anything with these? I made copies, but it’s not like I can return the originals now.” A part of me says I should take what I found to the police, but I was trespassing. I stole this stuff. Can they do anything with illegally obtained evidence? Even if they could, I’m not sure I want them to. Not until I know more, not until I’m sure Caden had something to do with Zoe’s disappearance. Because if he didn’t, whatever happens to him next will be on me. And that’s not a mistake I could live with.
She slips them into her apron pocket and stands, pushing back her chair. “I’m not exactly CSI, but I’ll check them out. I might recognize the girl, or be able to figure out who she is. Give me your number; I’ll text you.”
We exchange numbers, and I slip my phone back into my pocket. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“We keep this between the two of us. No podcast, no throwing shade at Caden unless we uncover something real. And if we do, we go to the police.”
Martina nods. “Agreed. This stays between us.”
“And just avoid Caden for now,” I repeat. “No matter what you find. Either he already knows his stuff is missing and burned down the stable to send a message …”
“… or he has no idea it ever went missing and thinks his stuff burned in the fire.” Martina’s eyes flash as she finishes my sentence.
“Exactly. I really want to believe he’s innocent. But if he did burn the stable down, he might be … dangerous.” The word sounds weird in my ears, but I know it could be true.
“Yeah, I doubt Caden Talbot’s villainous capabilities, but I agree, safety first. And what I don’t doubt is that boy’s ability to harbor secrets. I knew he was hiding something.” She narrows her eyes and reaches back to tighten her long brown ponytail. “I’ll text you. Soon as I find something.”
“Are you going to buy anything?” the blond girl asks when Martina has vanished again into the back and I’m still standing at our window table. It’s not like they’ve had a flood of customers in the twenty minutes I’ve been here; I’d feel worse if she’d been doing anything aside from standing behind the counter and flipping through her phone while Martina and I were talking, but I do probably owe them a sale.
“Coffee,” I say. “With sugar.”
* * *
On Tuesday morning, it’s like the holiday weekend never happened at Clovelly Cottage. Tom is already en route to the city by the time I wake up, and Emilia’s usual breakfast spread is laid out on the soapstone countertop. The Paulson-Gosses got back with Paisley late last night, and this morning she’s bright eyed, tanner than ever, and ready for the beach.
We post up at our usual spot, me underneath the Bellamys’ red-and-white striped umbrella—layered in aloe, then sunscreen, then a T-shirt—and Paisley splashing around in the water.
“You’re burned,” she comments when she comes into the shade for a snack break. I pass her the bag of pretzels.
“Red like a lobster,” I agree. “I spent too long in the sun on Saturday.”
“What were you doing?”
“My friend Kaylee came to visit from Brooklyn, and we went to a party.”