Last Day (32 page)

Mac Green had relented and decided to let Pete take the polygraph. Reid had questions, a list of them, and he was going to request an interview after the polygraph. He met Jen Miano at the crime lab.

“Are we going to arrest him today?” Miano asked.

“I’d like to,” Reid said. “But we’re not there yet.”

“Jed is interesting.”

“Yeah, but he has an alibi,” Reid said. As soon as he had left Jed at the Paradise Drive-In, he’d called Lainie Stewart. She had told him that Jed had stayed in the main house with the family. His bedroom was between her grandson Terry’s room and the master suite where she and David slept. He had given art lessons in the living room of their guest house, reconfigured as an art studio, and had been with the family the whole time, including meals.

Reid had then checked with the ferry operators, determined that Jed had taken the boat only twice—on his way to and from the island. He hadn’t brought a car. The Stewarts had arranged for him to be driven back and forth to Black Hall. Reid had confirmed that fact with William Nelson, the owner of Admiral Limousine Service. The Stewarts
were favorite longtime customers, and whenever they called, Nelson drove the passengers himself, as he had with Jed.

“Pete has an alibi too,” Miano reminded Reid.

“True, but the time line works against him,” Reid said.

“Jed was in love with Beth.”

Reid nodded.

“Then there’s the baby,” Miano said.

Reid felt the breath rush out of him.

“Don’t feel too bad,” she said. “Who would think of a paternity test? Pete was the cheater! Not one thing made us think Beth was anything but faithful to Pete.”

“Thanks,” Reid said, appreciating that she was trying to make him feel better. To everyone, Beth had been an angel. Humberto Garcia, the coroner, hadn’t tested Matthew’s DNA, and Beth’s body had been released to the family for cremation.

“What the hell was Beth Lathrop doing with a guy like that?” Miano asked. “It doesn’t track. He seems like kind of a loser.”

“He’s not, actually,” Reid said. “I could be wrong, but he seems like a decent, stand-up guy.”

“Yeah, but
homeless
?” Miano asked.

Reid remembered what Leland Ackerley had said about Beth: that she loved and nurtured artists whose talent she believed in. And how Jed had said she took care of everyone.

“Well, if she wanted to get in Pete’s face,” Miano said, “she couldn’t have done better than choosing a homeless con. A
younger
homeless con. So much for the perfect Black Hall life.”

“Only on the outside,” he said.

“You know, if it turns out Jed’s the father, it would make a hell of a motive for Pete,” Miano said. “Jealousy over Jed
and
wanting to be rid of Beth so he could be with Nicola. Plus, the baby. Whose was it? I know, I know. The damn paternity test.”

“Right,” Reid said, feeling his chest constrict.

Pete and his lawyer had arrived. Mac Green had a full head of white hair, and he wore a perfectly tailored gray pinstripe suit. He had represented several of Reid’s suspects over the years, and Reid had a grudging respect for him. He did a good job for his clients without resorting to dirty tricks that Reid considered the stock-in-trade of many defense attorneys.

Pete sauntered over to Reid and Miano. Like his lawyer, he was dressed in a suit instead of his usual beach boy garb.

“Looking sharp, Pete,” Reid said. “You look as if you’re dressed for court.”

“I want you to know how seriously I am taking this.”

“This?” Reid asked. “The polygraph?”

“The fact my wife was murdered and you’re wasting time harassing me instead of doing a real investigation.”

“Harassing you? Correct us if we’re wrong,” Miano said, “but aren’t you the one who pushed for this?”

“Pete, we’re ready,” Green called sharply, and Reid could see the lawyer wasn’t happy with his client baiting the police.

“What a cocky son of a bitch,” Miano said when Pete and Green stepped away. “What makes him so confident?”

Reid didn’t reply. He felt nervous. She was right. Pete held himself with total assurance and an air of martyrdom, as if a great injustice was being done. Reid was looking forward to the results wiping that look off Pete’s face, but something told him not to be too sure just yet.

An hour later, when it was all over, his misapprehension was confirmed. Pete passed. The examiner had paid extra attention to his answers to questions about Jed, Nicola, and Beth’s last day. He told Reid and Miano there was no ambiguity: the machine had picked up no lies or signs of deception.

“Well then,” Green said as he and Pete walked toward Reid and Miano. “I hope this means you’ll be moving on.”

“Not quite yet,” Reid said. “We have a few more questions.”

“I think Pete has been helpful enough for today,” Green said.

“Yeah, it’s true,” Reid said. He smiled at Pete. “Beautiful day out there. Going to go sailing?”

“No, I have other things to do,” Pete said, sounding haughty.

“Ever do any night sailing?” Reid asked. “Get away from land, look up at that canopy of stars in the sky?”

“Where’s this going, Detective Reid?” Green asked.

“Just thinking of how nice it can be to get away from it all,” Reid said. “I’d sure like to.”

“As it happens, I do enjoy sailing at night,” Pete said. “Ocean races especially—Newport to Bermuda. Out there in the Gulf Stream, bioluminescence flashing against the hull. Do you know what
bioluminescence
is?”

“Sea creatures that glow in the dark?” Miano asked.

“That’s right. Very good,” Pete said.

“Gee, thanks,” Miano said. She glanced at Reid. “I got it right!”

“One up on me,” Reid said. He saw Pete grin.

“Let’s go, Pete,” Green said.

“Did you ever do, that thing—I forget what it’s called?” Reid asked, tapping his forehead as if he was trying to come up with the word. “You know, when you point that instrument at the sky to figure out where you are?”

“Celestial navigation,” Pete said. “And that
instrument
is a sextant. Yes, I’ve done it. It’s very mathematical. Really just angles. If you can do geometry, you can steer by the stars.”

“Steer by the stars,” Reid said. “I like that. Really nice way to describe it. Easier than celestial navigation! Well, enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen.”

Green shook hands with both detectives. Pete stood back, then turned to go.

“Hey, Pete,” Reid said. “I almost forgot. I met your friend Martin.”

“Who?” Pete asked.

“Martin Harris. You know, the astronomy expert.”

“I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about,” Pete said. He and Mac Green left the building. Reid wiped the gee-whiz expression off his face and narrowed his eyes as Pete walked away.

“That was genius,” Miano said. “That bit about sailing at night. Steer by the stars.” She punched Reid’s upper arm. “Too bad he didn’t admit to knowing Harris. Think he was telling the truth about that?”

“Hard to say.”

“Then again, he just beat the lie detector,” Miano said.

“It didn’t show deception, that’s for sure,” Reid said.

“Come on—like any good narcissist, he doesn’t register emotion the way normal people do. Cool as a cucumber.”

“He never got riled,” Reid said.

“Let’s get a warrant for his computer, look for articles on how to outsmart the machine. He probably researched it!”

Reid stood still, thinking. He pictured Pete sitting across from the examiner, strapped to the machine. Pete had stared straight ahead, no change of affect no matter what he was asked. He’d barely blinked.

“We still have time of death going for us,” Miano said. “Other than body temp, everything points to Beth having died the morning Pete left. Thank God for stomach contents.”

“You’re right,” Reid said. The autopsy had shown that Beth’s last meal had been eggs, melon, and blueberries—exactly what Pete had said they had had for breakfast before Ackerley picked him up.

“Those polygraph questions,” Miano said, giving an exaggerated shiver.

“What about them?”

“The way he recounted their last minutes together. That he hugged and kissed her, that he told her he loved her, and then left.”

“Shit,” Reid said, suddenly getting it. “That’s exactly what he
did
do.”

“But if she was already dead . . .”

“Jennifer, I think you’re right. He
did
research the polygraph.”

“Okay . . .”

“But
before
he killed her, not afterward. It’s why he’s been insisting on taking the test!” Reid said, excitement building. “Because he knew that if he
actually
hugged and kissed her dead body, told her he loved her after he’d smashed her head in and strangled her, the machine wouldn’t detect a lie when he told the story.”

“Because he’d be telling the truth,” Miano said. “But when he was directly asked if he killed Beth . . .”

“His research would have taught him how to control his breathing. He might not have been able to keep it up through the whole slate of questions, but for one, he nailed it.”

Reid’s heart was pumping with elation at the breakthrough.

“We’ve got to get his computers,” Miano said. “House and gallery.”

“And Nicola’s,” Reid said. “But I still think we won’t find anything on any of those. We’ve got to look at libraries, public places he could have gone to look it up.”

“Books too,” Miano said. “Check his credit cards for book orders.”

Reid was beaming when he said goodbye and he and Miano went to their separate work stations to start working on the warrants. Two hours later, Miano told him he could leave early, that she’d finish the applications. She had a leave of absence coming up—she needed knee surgery for an old college soccer injury—and she knew he’d be carrying the caseload while she was gone. He thanked her and took off.

On the way home, he took a detour through the center of Black Hall.

He parked in the driveway of the Lathrop Gallery, stared at the historic building. The blinds on the tall windows were closed. The flowers in the stone planters on the front porch hadn’t been watered, and the geraniums had turned brown. Without Beth to take care of the gallery, it looked abandoned. He wondered if Kate would take over.

He circled around back, tracing the steps he had taken twenty-three years ago. The rhododendrons were as thick around the hatchway door
as they had been back then. He remembered what it had been like to hear Kate thumping her feet, the sound that had made him break down the door. He leaned his shoulder against the door now, remembering the force it had taken to break the lock.

If he counted the days and minutes since that day, he knew there would be very few when the Woodward sisters had not been on his mind. He stared at the windows, wondering what secrets the computers inside held. He doubted very much that Pete had left any trail on a hard drive that could be traced to him, but he had hope that they were on the right track.

A message from Kate popped up on his phone.

Can we meet? I have something to show you.

He texted back:

Where?

Kate replied:

My place.

When he got to Bank Street, he saw her sitting on the top step in front of her building. Her tan legs were streaked with salt or silt, silvery in the light, as if she’d been wading in the river. Popcorn lay on the sidewalk behind her and jumped up when Reid got out of his car.

“Let’s talk out here,” she said. “Sam’s upstairs.”

“Okay,” he said, sitting beside her.

“Conor,” she said. “I hate to say this, but you might be wrong about Pete.”

“Why?”

“Have you talked to Jed Hilliard yet?”

“Yes,” Reid said.

“Well, so have I,” Kate said. “I think you’d better look at him more closely.”

“We did, of course,” Reid said. “But he has an alibi.”

“So does Pete. He was on a sailboat, two hundred miles away.”

“Jed was giving private art lessons to some kids on Fishers Island,” Reid said.

“The Stewarts?” Kate asked. “I know them. I fly the family. David’s the one who first mentioned Jed to me. But they’re so sweet—he could fool them; he could have snuck off . . .”

“He spent the nights before Beth’s death in their guest room, and he didn’t return to the mainland until the day after. We have statements from David and Lainie, the ferry operators, and the driver who took Jed to the boat and back to Black Hall.”

Kate paused, looked out at the harbor. She watched the
Cape Henlopen
—one of the big ferries that went out to Orient Point—back out of the dock, turn, and head south down the Thames.

“Well, I have something to show you,” she said. She reached into her pocket and handed him a small, square sonogram in black and white.

“Okay . . . ,” he said, waiting for her to explain.

“I took it from Jed Hilliard’s tent,” she said.

Reid stared at the picture.

“Look on the back,” Kate said.

Reid turned it over, saw that someone had scrawled
Love, B
.

“
B
for Beth,” Kate said.

“So you think . . . ,” Reid began.

“Yes. Jed was the father of her baby,” Kate said.

39

Sam sat on the glider, salt-rusted chains creaking as she pushed back and forth with one toe on the weathered wood floor. Isabel was braiding her hair, and Sam was savoring the closeness when a scratching sound came from under the table beside them. She nearly jumped. Julie crawled out, glanced at them, then disappeared under the faded tablecloth again.

“I see you,” Sam said.

Julie giggled.

“We get it,” Isabel said to her sister. “You’re
so
adorable. You’re the
most
precious. But guess what? Watching people and eavesdropping isn’t nice.”

“I do it, though,” Julie said.

“No fucking kidding.”

“It’s okay, Julie,” Sam said. “Come out and hang with us.”

“I don’t think so,” Isabel said. Sam watched her glare at the rustling tablecloth.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “You okay?”

“I’ll be honest,” Isabel said. “Having you coddle Julie, when I just want to be supportive and understanding of
you
, makes my stomach hurt.”