Chương 5
“What?”
“Hannah, listen to me.”
She explained.
Not everything.
Enough.
The envelope.
The photograph.
The hotel ID.
The ring.
Hannah stopped interrupting after the ring.
Finally she whispered, “I’m wearing Dad’s ring.”
“I know.”
“No, Mom. I’m wearing it right now.”
“I know.”
“If that’s his ring there, then whose—”
“I don’t know.”
Hannah began breathing too quickly.
Margaret recognized the sound.
“Hannah.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk to me like I’m twelve.”
Margaret closed her mouth.
There it was: an old wound, arriving punctually during a new disaster.
Hannah said, “Send me a picture.”
“The police have it.”
“Send me a picture.”
“I can’t.”
“Mom.”
“Hannah, stop.”
Silence.
Margaret immediately regretted the sharpness.
Then Hannah said, “He let us bury him.”
Margaret had no answer.
“He let me give a eulogy.”
“I know.”
“I stood up there and talked about how he taught me to ride a bike.”
“Honey—”
“He was alive?”
“We don’t know everything yet.”
“Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not.”
“You always defend him.”
Margaret looked toward Daniel.
He was watching her.
She turned away.
“I’m not defending him.”
“You did when he stopped speaking to me.”
“That was years ago.”
“Exactly.”
Margaret pressed two fingers against her forehead.
“Hannah, I called because you needed to know before somebody else told you.”
“Who else knows?”
“Police. Hotel staff.”
“Oh, great.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are reporters going to find out?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about his death certificate? Insurance? Mom, you got insurance money.”
Margaret’s stomach tightened.
The life insurance.
One hundred eighty thousand dollars.
Most had gone toward the mortgage, funeral expenses and debts.
She had never considered herself fortunate, but neighbors had said Thomas had taken care of her.
If Thomas had staged his death—
“Oh God,” Margaret whispered.
“What?”
“The insurance.”
Hannah understood.
Neither spoke.
A fresh consequence had entered the room.
By morning, Margaret was no longer merely a widow discovering her husband might be alive.
She was potentially the beneficiary of fraud.
Hernandez could not tell her much. Federal investigators might become involved. The original death investigation was in another state. Jurisdiction would be complicated.
Margaret heard only fragments.
Insurance.
Identification fraud.
Possible financial crimes.
Human remains.
Daniel was asked to accompany officers for a formal interview.
Before leaving, he stopped near Margaret.
Hernandez watched him.
Daniel said, “Thomas gave me one instruction if we got separated.”
Margaret waited.
“He said you’d know where to go if I said, ‘the ugly blue boat.’”
Margaret stared at him.
For several seconds she said nothing.
Then she looked away.
Hernandez asked, “Does that mean something?”
“No.”
Daniel studied her.
Margaret met his eyes.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then I must have misunderstood.”
Police took him away.
Emily sat behind the reception desk.
Margaret stood alone in the lobby as dawn turned the rain-covered glass from black to gray.
The ugly blue boat.
Thomas’s father had owned a small fishing boat painted a color Thomas insisted was navy and everyone else called blue.
It had been ugly.
After his father died, Thomas stored it for eleven years at a marina near Annapolis because he could never bring himself to sell it.
Eventually Margaret thought he had.
Apparently not.
She told no one.
That was her first deliberate mistake.
It was also her first decision that belonged entirely to her.
At seven fifteen, Margaret went upstairs, showered, changed into the same clothes because she had packed badly, and sat on the edge of the hotel bed.
Her phone contained fourteen missed calls.
Hannah.
Her sister-in-law.
Two unknown numbers.
Margaret called Hannah.
“I’m going somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Mom.”
“I need you to stay home.”
“You cannot tell me Dad is alive and then tell me to stay home.”
“I can, apparently.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
“Are you with the police?”
“No.”
“Then don’t go.”
Margaret looked at her reflection in the dark television screen.
Messy gray hair.
Weathered face.
A woman who looked older than she had yesterday.
“Hannah, your father left me something only I would understand.”
“And you didn’t tell the police.”
It was not a question.
Margaret said nothing.
“Oh my God.”
“I need to know why.”
“So do I.”
“This is between him and me.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Hannah’s voice sharpened.
“He died on me too.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
There were moments when motherhood required surrender.
This was one.
“You’re right.”
Another silence.
Hannah sounded surprised.
Margaret almost smiled.
“I’ll send you the location when I get there.”
“No. You tell the police.”
“I will.”
“Mom.”
“I said I will.”
“When?”
Margaret looked at the brass key, now sealed in a police evidence bag and no longer hers.
“I don’t know.”
Hannah swore.
Margaret let her.
Then she called a taxi.
The marina was fifty minutes away.
The rain had weakened to a cold drizzle.
Margaret spent most of the ride staring through the window.
She had expected fear.
Instead she was angry about small things.
Thomas had missed Hannah’s wedding anniversary.
Thomas had missed Margaret replacing the furnace.
Thomas had missed their neighbor Gary accidentally cutting down half her lilac bush because he thought it belonged to him.
Thomas had missed everything and had apparently chosen to.
The driver asked if she wanted music.
“No, thank you.”
Five minutes later Margaret said, “Actually, yes.”
He turned on an oldies station.
A song Thomas liked came on.
Margaret nearly told him to turn it off.
She didn’t.
At the marina office, a sleepy clerk looked up from his phone.
“I’m looking for a boat.”
“That’s usually why people come here.”
Margaret stared at him.
He straightened.
“Sorry.”
She gave Thomas’s father’s name.
The clerk searched.
Nothing.
Then she gave Thomas’s name.
Nothing.
“Blue boat,” Margaret said. “Twenty-two feet. Old. Probably registered under some ridiculous name.”
“What name?”
“He wanted to call it Second Chance.”
The clerk typed.
Margaret remembered arguing with Thomas about it.
Second Chance at what?
He had shrugged.
May you like
Fishing better.
She had told him boats were holes in the water into which men poured money.
