Page 39 of Two Couples

I shivered even though it wasn’t at all cold. “She might be scared. Maybe she didn’t see it happen, but she found the body and the note. It could be she thinks the note was threatening her, or her mother.”

His laugh was sharp and bitter. “I suppose she might have thought she had a good reason not to report it. That attitude seems to be in the atmosphere.”

I didn’t like his snarky comment, but I said nothing. We turned and started back toward our house. Emily and Keith were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t understand. Weren’t they concerned about Jordan recording our conversation?

We went into the house where there was still no sign of Emily or Keith.

“They must have gone to bed. I thought they’d want to know what Jordan said.”

“They probably assumed she’d deny it,” Patrick said. “But she didn’t even bother to do that.”

“I need to finish cleaning up the kitchen.”

In response, he kissed me. Twenty minutes later, when I entered our bedroom, he was asleep.

The thought that Jordan might have captured our entire conversation made me sick with worry. I comforted myself by deciding the phone couldn’t possibly pick up what we’d said from that distance. I would put it out of my mind and focus on getting our vacation back to something close to normal.

TWENTY-NINE

SAMANTHA

I woke in the morning to find Patrick’s side of the bed empty and slightly cool to my touch. I sat up. My first thought was that he’d gone for a run, but his sneakers were on the closet floor. Instead, his hiking boots were gone. I didn’t understand him going hiking so early. He must have left the minute the sky started to grow light because it was only six thirty now. I checked my phone to see if he’d texted his plans. There was nothing.

After two cups of coffee on the deck, breakfast, and some yoga in the spacious living room, I still hadn’t heard from Patrick. I sent him a text, knowing it was probably futile. He was likely in an area with little to no service.

He often went hiking alone, despite my worried thoughts—what if he fell and injured himself and couldn’t make his way back? He brushed off my worries as paranoia. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve been hiking my whole life.”

I didn’t care if he knew what he was doing. He could still have an accident—trip on a tree root or slide down a sharp drop off the side of a trail.

I tried working on a jigsaw puzzle. I refused Emily’s suggestion I join them on the sandy shore. I tried reading a book, but found myself checking my phone every time I turned the page. For lunch, I heated up a bowl of leftover spaghetti, then only ate half of it. I wanted to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, but the idea of sitting alone on the deck, looking down at the pool where I’d made that horrific discovery was too overwhelming.

By three in the afternoon, my worries had mushroomed. He’d taken his day pack, so he probably had a few power bars even if he hadn’t made a sandwich. Still, it was upsetting that he hadn’t been in touch, that he hadn’t told me where he was planning to hike.

As if my worries were looking for fuel, the note left in the juice bottle grabbed my mind again, refusing to let go. Had he gone hiking? Just because he was wearing his boots didn’t mean he’d looked for a marked trail. It was more likely he was wandering around searching for a grave. Worse, had the killer returned? Were we still being watched? I wished now that I’d told him about the other notes I’d found.

When Emily and Keith returned from the beach, I told them about Patrick.

“That’s a long time,” Emily said. “It’s so disrespectful to disappear without telling anyone where he was going. Especially you.”

“He hikes alone all the time. I don’t think he was being disrespectful.”

“Oh.” She looked anxious, which made me feel worse. “Do you think he was hurt? He’s been in such a bad mood. That can make your muscles tense and then you’re more prone to having an accident.”

Her words felt like an attack. I was worried about him and she was acting like he didn’t care about me. “He hasn’t been in a bad mood. He⁠—”

“Should we go look for him?” Emily asked.

“Give the guy his space. It’s hours until dinner. He’s been so wound up, maybe he needed to get his head straight.”

I didn’t think that was likely. Nothing was going to change Patrick’s mind. I doubted he was out soul-searching about how it had been a bad idea to want to put ourselves in the hands of the sheriff. I didn’t like how they were turning my worry into criticism of my husband. He wasn’t callous, he was just trying to do what he thought was right. “I’m getting scared.” My wobbly voice emphasized my fear.

Emily pulled a hair tie out of her pocket and twisted her hair into a messy bun. “Let’s go look.”

“Where would we even start?” Keith asked.

“We should at least try,” Emily said. “We need to save him from his own stupidity.”

“Emily!” I knew they were upset with Patrick, but why were they turning on him like this? Especially when they saw how scared I was.