possibility that she had always just found Murphy annoying. Murphy had only asked questions. Claire had been the one to answer every one of them with a no.
“Claire?”
She was suddenly conscious of tears edging her eyes. “Hmm?”
Kerry looked concerned. “Would you like me to drive you to Barbara’s? It’s a long walk there, and you don’t look that bundled up.”
Claire clenched her hands in her coat pockets. She’d been trying for minutes to squeeze feeling into her numbed fingers. She looked down the darkened road she’d walked this far. Ramsey’s wasn’t open, and this Barbara person probably had a phone Claire could use at the front desk. Worst-case scenario, she could pay for one night’s stay at the bed and breakfast. Maybe she’d even go back to the house early in the morning to apologize to Murphy and take her away.
One way or another, Claire could plan her way out of this.
“Yeah,” she told Kerry. “Actually, that’d be nice.”
Kerry nodded toward the SUV’s passenger seat.
It could be a trick, still, Claire reminded herself. Kerry could know about the lies, trespassing, and abandoned van. Claire could be headed straight to jail.
“Why not,” she mumbled, opening the door and sliding in.
“Seat belt,” Kerry instructed.
Claire obeyed, clicking the belt in place, and Kerry began to drive.
“Sorry for the trouble,” Claire said.
“No trouble,” Kerry replied. “It’s on my way home, and anyway, I’d hate the thought of you walking all that way back, especially if the storm picks up again.”
Claire’s skin prickled. “Is it supposed to?”
“Not according to the latest report. Weather on the coast this time of year can be finicky, though. I’m glad to be off duty. These roads are hazardous after freezing rain. Plenty of accidents in the making. Luckily, most folks here use their common sense and stay put.”
“How many accidents do you see in Rockport?” asked Claire.
“Not many. When they happen, it’s mostly summer tourists. People distracted, looking at the view. All told, they’re few and far between. Portland, though? That was a different matter.”
“You were a cop there?” Claire asked, surprised.
“Eight years. Born and raised in Rockport, though. Eventually, I figured it was time to come back. My wife likes the coast, so that was a plus.”
Claire’s brows shot sky-high. “Your … wife?”
“Five years,” Kerry said cheerily, lifting her left hand from the wheel and waving a bejeweled finger toward Claire.
“Oh. I mean, uh … nice.”
Kerry looked askance at Claire. “You can be a gay cop in a tiny town, turns out.”
“N-n-no, that’s good to know.” Claire coughed. “I mean, I’m the same way. Queer, I mean. Not a cop.”
Kerry laughed loud. “And you can be not white in Oregon. A real shocker, I know. My parents were the first Vietnamese family in Rockport.”
“Was that hard?”
“Yes. It was.”
Kerry didn’t offer anything else on that topic. She flipped a turn signal and headed up a road marked BEACHFRONT. Claire made a mental note.
“Whoo,” Kerry exhaled. “Tell you what, this whole holiday season’s been off. Patrick dying, and now the freak weather. You sure picked a time to come visit, Claire. I hope you’re not too hard on Rockport when you do your reporting. You should come back in June, July.”
Claire nodded vaguely. She was absorbing what Kerry had said. First, about having a wife. Second, about Patrick’s death. She said, “At Ramsey’s, you said you knew the Enrights.”
Though Kerry’s eyes were trained on the road, she arched a brow. “Are we in reporting mode?”
Claire laughed nervously. “No. Off the record. I swear.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I knew them. Mark, especially. It’s a shame, what happened to him. To all of them, but especially Mark.”
Claire swallowed. “You … don’t think he did it?”
“No,” Kerry said, with conviction. “This town likes its gossip, wants its little world to be as dramatic as possible. For them, that meant pinning the blame on Mark. This golden-boy-gone-wrong was a better story than the boring truth that Mrs. Enright wasn’t a good person.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked, in a hushed voice. “You think … she killed her husband? And then herself?”
Kerry drove in silence.
“It really is off the record,” Claire said meekly.
Kerry cleared her throat. When she spoke again, she did so slowly.
“From what the brothers told me, Sophia Enright had so many rules in that house. Not rules you’d expect, either. Neurotic ones, about cleanliness and locked doors and tucked shirts. When the smallest thing went wrong, she went into these … rages. She’d had some kind of incident in California, before.