Free Nantucket Nights by Elin Hilderbrand Page A

dead,” Val said, emerging from the car, her face eerily blank and zombielike. “What they’re telling us, Kayla, is that they think she’s dead and they’re not going to spend any more time and money trying to rescue her. She’s a woman, and a black woman at that. Now, if it were a white male out there, if it were a policeman or a fireman out there, you can bet things would be different.” She pointed her finger at Paul, and in doing so, she teetered like a drunk. “You, buddy, are looking at a lawsuit.”
    “What if it were your wife?” Kayla asked Paul. “Would you call off the rescue? What if it were your daughter?”
    “Calm down, ladies. The pilot just asked me if it’s possible this woman’s not out there at all. It’s highly unlikely that if she entered the water at the time you said she did, that our men wouldn’t have picked her up on the radar. The coast guard uses mathematics, Kayla. They know where to look. They also know how long a person can survive in waters like these. I promise you, if they thought Ms. Riley were alive out there, it would still be a rescue mission.”
    “She’s dead,” Val said.
    “Is there any chance your friend swam down the beach instead of out?” Paul asked. “You said she lives in Polpis. Is there any chance she headed home?”
    “Why would she do that? ” Val asked. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “You ladies have had a lot to drink,” Paul said.  “And this thing about her dancing, well, it sounds odd to me, like she was kidding around or something. Maybe she swam down shore and climbed out, and you never even saw her.”
    “Ridiculous,” Val said.
    “Where does she live?” Paul asked. “We’ll check her house.”
    Kayla told him the address; then she said, “Can we come with you?”
     “This is turning into police business,” Paul said.
    “Paul,” Kayla said. “Please. She’s our best friend. We’ve known her for twenty years.”
    “Okay,” he said.
    Kayla climbed into the Trooper, but Val stood in the sand with a strange look on her face.
    “I’m going to ride with Raoul,” Val said. “I want to talk to him about something. Is that okay with you, Raoul?”
    Raoul tossed his keys in the air and caught them. “Sure thing. Hop in. We’ll see you at the house, sweetie,” he said to Kayla. “Think positive.”
    “I’ll try,” Kayla said. A pesky jealousy gnawed at her heart. Why should Val ride with Raoul? Kayla thought about the warm cab of Raoul’s truck, Raoul fresh from bed, and Val sitting next to him with just a towel wrapped around her waist. Val’s linen pants were in the back of the Trooper, along with her ridiculously expensive Italian sandals. She was riding next to Kayla’s husband half naked. Val wasn’t afraid to cheat on her husband; she was fucking Jacob Anderson. Anger, jealousy, and fear surged through Kayla, and she almost slammed into Raoul’s back bumper.
    Why did Val want to talk to him? Was she going to tell him what Kayla said before Antoinette entered the water? Here were other things that money couldn’t buy: loyalty from your best friend or your husband or your wife.
    Their caravan pulled down Antoinette’s long dirt driveway: Raoul and Val in the truck, Kayla in the Trooper, Paul and his partner in a police Suburban. When Kayla saw the cottage, her heart soared. Every light in the place was on, the front door was wide open. Antoinette was home! Kayla jumped out of the Trooper and ran to Raoul, reclaimed him.
    “Oh, thank God,” she said. She tugged on Raoul’s arm like one of the kids: Love me, love me best. Forget what Val has told you and love me. I’m not a murderer after all. “Thank God.”
    “Let Paul go in first,” Raoul said quietly.
    Val pulled Kayla toward the open front door. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “She left us on Great Point thinking she was dead. Now I am going to kill her. Antoinette!”
    Paul Henry and his partner brushed by them; the