That’s why the family moved up here. I think Mr. Enright thought the change would do her good, but the raging started up again. She’d scream for hours, threaten the boys, throw things in the house if one of her rules was slightly disobeyed. Mr. Enright was gone on work trips often. When he came home, she turned on him as well. To hear Mark talk about it, it seemed every day in that house was a nightmare. John was the oldest, so he was able to get out first, for college. Patrick and Mark didn’t tell anyone how bad it got after that. They were afraid. We were practically kids then. We didn’t know what to do. And then the worst happened, and …”
Kerry left the sentence unfinished. She slowed the SUV and shifted into park. That’s when Claire saw the sign in the headlights’ beam:
THE VIOLET INN
SEASIDE BED & BREAKFAST
“I’ll say this,” said Kerry, turning to her. “Mark was a good friend of mine. What happened to him was wrong. He was ruled innocent, but this town would never look at him the same way. Those things Cathy said, they were more vicious twenty years back. Most people here still think Mark got away with murder.” Kerry shook her head. “Rumors last forever. They change everything.”
“You thought Mark was a good person,” Claire said, tentatively.
“He was,” Kerry said. “I know you might think I’m biased, but my going into law enforcement? What happened here played a big part in that. I’ve looked over the evidence since, read every document from that trial. You might call it a pet project of mine. I can tell you, there’s no doubt in my mind he was innocent.”
“But Cathy said Patrick testified against him. Wouldn’t Patrick know best what happened in that house? And John … if he believed Mark was innocent, why wouldn’t he come back to town to defend him?”
“You have a sister, Claire,” Kerry said, her expression flat. “Tell me, is it always black and white at home?”
Claire stared at Kerry, her torn heart juddering.
“Family’s complicated,” Kerry added, “wouldn’t you say?”
Claire coughed the answer: “Y-yes.”
“If you were to ask me, I’d tell you his girlfriend knew him best. Leslie stuck to that boy through thick and thin. She’s the reason he got acquitted, everyone knows. Only eighteen, and they ran without a cent to their names.” Kerry let out an unexpected laugh. “Nothing but that damned turtle of his. Won him at the county fair and named him Tortue. Know what that means in French? Turtle. Mark could be bizarrely simple like that.”
Claire’s throat had gone dry, though she wasn’t sure why. Heat poured from the dashboard vents, flushing her face.
“I wish they’d kept in touch,” Kerry murmured. “Lots of nights, I wonder what happened to them.”
Discomfort fitted over Claire like a second coat. She shrugged under its weight, feeling this moment was private, and she was an intruder on Kerry’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. Then, looking toward the inn, “Thanks for the ride. I’ll get out of your hair.”
She opened the door, setting one foot out.
“Claire.”
Her muscles tensed. This was it: the moment Kerry cried “Gotcha!” and took her in to the station for her sins.
“You and your friend, and your sister—you take care, okay?”
“I … of course,” Claire said, stepping out the rest of the way, eager to be gone.
Kerry was studying her, a stitch worked into one brow.
“Is something wrong?” Claire dared to ask.
Kerry shook her head, eyes clearing as though she’d been nudged from a dream. “No. I’m thinking too hard of them, I think. Sometimes I see their faces in total strangers.”
Claire edged away from the car.
“Well, thanks again!” she shouted, forcing a smile and shutting the door. She hurried down the drive, up the stairs of the inn. She turned the handle of the front door, and to her overwhelming relief, it gave way.
The room inside was cozy, papered in cheery yellow wallpaper. A fire burned in one corner, and a sign on the counter ahead read RING BELL FOR SERVICE. There was no need to ring, though. A commotion sounded from upstairs, and moments later a woman dressed in an oversize sweater came bounding down.
“Oh, heavens!” she cried. “Was that door unlocked? I’m sorry, dear, but we’re not open. Not for Christmas. No rooms tonight.”
Claire still felt overheated from the SUV.
“I-I-I … ,” she stammered. “That’s okay, I don’t need a room. I just wondered if I could use your phone?”