Tom asked.
Scott glanced between the two of them, as though expecting to somehow read on their faces what it was they wanted, before finally pulling the door open all the way. “Sure.”
Tom stepped aside to let Meredith enter first, then followed her in. He heard Scott shut the door behind them.
As soon as Tom saw the inside of the room, he understood why Meredith had put them in it. It was twice as big as his or any of the others he’d seen, comprising a full suite. The bedroom portion opened into a sitting area in front of a large fireplace. Rachel sat in one of the chairs there. She looked at them expectantly, clearly having heard their brief conversation with Scott at the door.
“What is it?” she asked.
Scott moved to stand behind Rachel’s chair, allowing Tom to face the both of them.
“I hate to have to ask this,” Tom said. “We were wondering where each of you was in the past hour or so.”
“I’ve been in here the whole time,” Rachel said.
“I told you I went down to get Rachel a bottle of water,” Scott said.
“How long were you out of the room?”
“I don’t know. Maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes.”
Tom couldn’t help frowning at that, his brow furrowing. That didn’t seem right. Sutton Hall was big, but it didn’t take that long to get to the kitchen from here.
“It took you that long to make it to the kitchen and back?” Meredith asked, her voice heavy with doubt.
“I took my time,” Scott said, a hint of tightness—or defensiveness?—creeping into his voice. “There didn’t seem to be any reason to hurry.”
Tom did his best to hide his skepticism. With a killer on the loose, it didn’t seem likely anyone would want to take their time wandering the halls on their own. Especially since Scott should have been worried about leaving Rachel alone in the room....
Then Tom slowly registered what he hadn’t before. The way Scott and Rachel were both holding themselves a little stiffly. The way neither of them acknowledged each other.
Things were tense between them, the feeling heavy in the air. That was why Scott had taken his time.
If he can be believed, Tom forced himself to concede.
Tom studied the face of one of his oldest friends in the world, one of the closest—if not the closest—friends he’d ever had. Could he really believe Scott was capable of hitting Meredith? Of bashing Greg in the back of the head? Or so much worse?
His automatic response was no. He forced himself to ignore it, to really consider the possibility as he took in Scott’s familiar face.
Every instinct still said no, even if a whisper of doubt lurked at the edges of his mind.
“Is this about what happened to Greg?” Rachel asked. “Do you actually think one of us hit him?”
“I don’t know,” Tom said honestly. “But I have to ask.”
“Maybe you should ask Alex,” Rachel said with a touch of bitterness. “He’s the one who seems to have all the answers.”
“We did,” Tom admitted. He figured he was better off not discussing the details of their conversation with Alex. “He said he was in his room the whole time and didn’t hear anything.”
“Well, that sounds suspicious,” Rachel scoffed.
“Didn’t you say the same thing?” Meredith pointed out. Rachel slammed her mouth shut, an angry flush rising in her cheeks.
“It’s not just what happened to Greg,” Tom said. “Someone knocked Meredith down and tried to take her keys.”
Two pairs of startled eyes flew to Meredith’s face. “Did they get them?” Rachel asked.
“No,” Meredith confirmed.
“And you didn’t see who it was?” Scott asked.
“No. Whoever it was attacked me from behind.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Tom,” Scott said. “I didn’t hit Greg and I certainly didn’t try to take Meredith’s keys from her.”
“Neither did I,” Rachel said firmly, meeting his and Meredith’s eyes in turn.
Scott hadn’t defended her, Tom realized, a cold trickle sliding down his spine. He’d defended himself, but not Rachel. It was a far cry from his vigorous defense of her last night, when he said he hadn’t even had to consider the question of whether she was involved in the murders. Did it mean anything? Was he starting to doubt her? Or was he simply letting her confirm her own innocence since she’d been alone in the room and he couldn’t honestly say she hadn’t done it?
Tom simply didn’t know, and that disturbed him most of all.
He was probably overanalyzing the moment, but it didn’t matter. Because looking at