He didn’t answer, and Tessa took a step forward, almost but not quite daring to turn the corner and come face-to-face with Lyons.
“I’m trying to cover my tracks,” he whispered. “It is so much easier to tell the truth than a lie, and if I didn’t tell you anything at the pier, I didn’t have to lie to my sisters.”
Tessa had no idea what he was talking about. “Why are you doing this?”
“Blood isn’t always thicker than water,” he said. “That might be something for you to learn too. Anyway.” He extended his hand again, this time lower. “I’ll leave that item for you at the front desk. I can’t do all the work either, but you should look for a couple of documents.”
“Doesn’t all evidence have to be given to both sides in a trial?” she asked.
“Only a criminal trial,” he said. “This is a civil matter. You don’t even have to show up to the hearing, though you absolutely should.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“Not necessarily. Your husband could do it. Or coach you how to represent yourself. Most people get a lawyer for peace of mind, and because we do know the law.”
Tessa leaned against the building as a dog started barking. Somewhere—and it could’ve come from anywhere—a car door slammed. The water surrounding Nantucket had a way of capturing a sound and throwing it around in the sky, making it hard to pinpoint where it had come from.
At least she could see in every direction. The blackness out at the point draped much thicker over the world, which was why there were two lighthouses out there. If she could get past this building and the delicatessen next door, she’d be able to see their beams.
“What should I look for?” she asked.
“Birth certificates,” he said. “Of everyone involved. Me, you, Janey, Richard. Everyone.”
“Do you already have them?”
He didn’t answer, which Tessa actually took to mean yes. Why couldn’t he just give her copies of those too?
“What else?” she asked, thinking she’d get every legal document she could. Birth certificates. Death certificates. Marriage licenses and certificates. Dates of divorce, any knowledge of wills, anything she could.
Mom had left some items for Janey, but Tessa hadn’t really looked through them. She’d given them to Ron, and then Sean, to look through. Her husband had said they were useless. Sean hadn’t given his opinion.
Lyons didn’t answer, and Tessa edged forward again. “Lyons?”
Footsteps came toward her, but they were decidedly not male. Tessa shrank back, pressing into the ridged building and hoping whoever it was would keep going right past her. She stepped into the bushes just as a woman cleared the corner of the building.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, looking left and right. She didn’t bother to keep her voice down, and Aleah Martin looked mad enough to commit those murders Tessa had read about.
She pulled in a slow breath and held it, not daring to move her foot another inch, though she could definitely be more concealed by the privets here.
“What did he give you?” Aleah demanded. She swore under her breath when only the crickets and katydids talked back to her. Aleah’s phone rang, and she yanked it from her pants pocket. Janey had described a tall, rail-thin woman who hadn’t been wearing anything in New York.
Tonight, Aleah wore a pair of black pants with a short-sleeved turtleneck sweater the color of pumpkin pie filling. “Yes,” she barked into her phone. “I know he’s not in his room. I swear, Lyons is the slipperiest little eel.” She spun on the heel of her sneaker and went back the way she’d come, leaving Tessa to expel the air from her lungs in one horrible gasp.
She pulled in another breath, and then another, trying to even them out and catch up on the oxygen she’d deprived her body of.
Don’t stand here, her mind screamed at her, and she crashed out of the bushes and vines and hurried toward the entrance to The Sandbar. Three minutes later, huffing and puffing, she arrived in her room.
She closed and locked the door behind her, pressing her back into it and letting her eyes drift closed as she continued to suck at the air.
When she finally felt settled enough to open her eyes and take the next step, her foot came down on a piece of paper.
Another gasp flew from her mouth, and she clapped her hand over it as if she needed to be quiet up here.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the single sheet of paper that had been folded in half and clearly slipped under the door.
She opened the note and read the words, Come see me at the Point tomorrow. We need to talk. ~Riggs
Chapter Forty-Seven
Tessa did not return to the Point the next day. She didn’t have to jump when Riggs said to. She didn’t have to ask him how high.
She spent the morning at the library tucked around the corner from the supermarket, trying to find birth records for Riggs Friedman. Richard Friedman. Anyone.
She couldn’t find them.
She found the woman named Betty Friedman who’d been married to Dennis Martin for a brief stint, as well as to Tessa’s grandfather, Earl Clarke.
Tessa frowned as she went back to the beginning and tried again. The genealogy website she was using allowed her to click on individuals and see more information. Instead of glossing past Betty, she clicked on her.
A whole new world opened up. Someone had kept up with their family history, because Betty’s profile had pictures, documents, and notes attached to it.
Tessa started with the documents, and she clicked on the woman’s birth certificate. Betty Friedman had been born Betty Morris, and she’d married a man named Peter Friedman. The marriage certificate looked authentic, with the ripped edge in the top right corner, and the thick, loopy handwriting from years past.
Tessa had helped many people use the computers in the library in Easton to find their ancestors, and she clicked on the oldest child. Paul Friedman’s birth certificate looked good too, with the mother and father all filled out. He had pictures attached to his profile too, and Tessa paused on them for a few minutes.
There was something off about them, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Old black and white photographs could be grainy, and when scanned in, and they could become downright blurry.
She clicked on Richard next—who was Riggs. His birth certificate looked good, again all the lines filled in. He only had a few photographs, and the last one showed him with his siblings, Paul on his right, and Barbara on his left.
The caption said: The Friedman kids before Richard passed.
Tessa blinked, sure she’d read it wrong. She went over the words again and then again, her pulse pounding faster with each time she read the simple words.
“Richard’s dead?” she whispered. The note had been added by the profile Joy Friedman, and Tessa hurried to copy it down on the paper she’d been taking notes on.
She clicked and clicked again and sure enough, his death certificate had been attached to his file. She opened that, and this particular Richard Friedman had died when he was only twenty-three years old.
A few clicks later, and she had the name and location of the cemetery. She could probably find it online, as she knew more and more cemeteries had online catalogs now. Real pictures of the graves and everything, so people didn’t have to travel long distances to find their loved ones.
Her stomach pinched, making her uncomfortable, but Tessa couldn’t stop searching now. She printed the legal documents for the whole family, including Paul’s and Barbara’s, and then printed the picture of the three of them where Richard was definitely in his early twenties.
She continued with her research, pulling and printing any birth or death certificate she could for anyone involved. Earl Clarke, his wife Heather.
Gregory Clarke, and his wife Lydia.
Tessa had her own birth certificate at home in Easton, and she’d taken a picture of Janey’s.
She’d just started researching the Martins to pull anything she could from De
nnis’s line when she heard yelling from the direction of the front desk. She had no reason to believe it had anything to do with her. Probably someone who’d had too much to drink at lunch and wandered into the library. Tourists could consume copious amounts of alcohol at any time of day.
In fact, Tessa could use a drink right now.
Her chest tightened as if someone had encased her in rubber bands and kept pulling, pulling, pulling them. She struggled to breathe, and when her ears heard her name, she got to her feet. Stuffing everything into her purse as quickly as possible, she left a twenty-dollar bill on the desk for the computer fee and printouts and ducked out the side door.
She kept her head down as she strode away from the library. The ferry station was a good mile from the library, but she didn’t want to return to the hotel for the car. They’d have to get it out of the valet parking, and she didn’t want to wait. She didn’t want to use her credit or debit cards either.
Would Riggs be able to find her everywhere she went?
“I didn’t use my debit or credit card at the library,” she said. “How did he know I was there?” She hadn’t seen him, but as her body calmed and the adrenaline wore off, she was able to place the angry voice in the library as Riggs Friedman’s.
Except he wasn’t Riggs Friedman.
At least not the one that came through Betty, who’d been married to Earl. He couldn’t be.
Tessa wasn’t cut out for danger or intrigue. She much preferred it in her television, movies, or books. She’d seen enough to know she needed money, and she needed to collect facts before she approached anyone.
At the ferry station, she risked using her credit card to get as much money from it as she could, which was five hundred dollars. Enough to get a ferry ticket and rent a car.
She waited until the very last minute to board the ferry, watching to make sure Riggs didn’t. She darted on as the workers started to untie the plank, and she was the last onto the boat.
Hurrying around to the opposite side so Riggs couldn’t see her if he happened to show up in the next five minutes as they got far enough away from the dock to really get going, Tessa found an empty spot on a bench and sat down. She clutched her purse in her lap and stared straight ahead.
Her stomach ached with the want of food.
Her mind spun.
Her watch bleeped out an alarm, and she looked down at it.
Noon.
She was supposed to stop by the front desk at The Sandbar after noon to pick up some mysterious item from Lyons Martin.
Anxiety spiked inside her, because what would happen if she didn’t? Would Riggs be able to get it? Would Lyons simply take it back?
She didn’t have the man’s phone number, and she wouldn’t use it if she did. Her guts tightened as she pictured Aleah’s angry face in the moonlight and heard her say that her brother was a slippery eel.
Were she and Minerva holding him somewhere against his will? Perhaps he hadn’t even been able to get over to The Sandbar by noon.
She silenced the alarm and folded her hands again, ever the proper middle-aged woman simply riding the ferry back to the mainland.
Nothing to see here.
Absolutely nothing.
Her phone rang, and Tessa fished it out of her purse, nearly dropping it when she saw the name on the screen.
Bobbie Friedman.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“He’s really dead,” Tessa said, looking down at the headstone. “I’m looking right at the grave.”
Janey exhaled heavily, and Tessa was just glad her sister had picked up her call. “And you’re in Boston?”
“That’s right.” Tessa looked up and out toward the ocean. The cemetery where Richard Friedman was buried sat on a hill, and she felt like she could see the entirety of the world from this single vantage point. “If he’s not Richard Friedman, who is he?”
“He could be anyone,” Janey said, the desperation and helplessness in her voice painting through Tessa with thick, dark strokes. She had not told her sister why she’d decided to look into the birth certificates and other legal documentation of Riggs. She’d simply said she’d “done some digging,” and discovered that Richard Friedman was in fact, dead.
“He knew Daddy and Dale,” Tessa mused. “I wonder if he’d know more about him.”
“Uh.” Janey held onto the sound, as if she was trying to think really hard. “Dale said something about him being a friend of Daddy’s from college. But Dad had gone on to med school, and I guess Riggs had dropped out.”
“Daddy went to UMD,” Tessa said. “So this guy must’ve as well.”
“Yeah, along with thousands of other people,” Janey said, plenty of snap in her voice.
Tessa didn’t let it strike her nerves, the way she might have in the past. She almost felt numb, and she hadn’t even had a drink that day. The sun glazed everything in a hot haze, and while Tessa normally worried about sunburn sweat, today, she just stood in front of Richard Friedman’s grave and soaked in the sunshine.
She felt like it couldn’t touch her, and she wasn’t sure if she should be happy about that or not.
“I’ll dig around some more,” she said.
“Or we could just ask Riggs who he is,” Janey said.
Tessa almost scoffed, but she managed to turn it into a sigh. “Are you in Jersey?”
“Yep,” she said. “At lunch with Milford.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tessa wasn’t really that sorry. If her sister didn’t want to be interrupted, she certainly knew how to send a call to voicemail. She’d done it plenty of other times before.
“It’s okay,” Janey said with a sigh.
“Are we not liking Milford anymore?” she asked, feeling like this was the last thing she should be worried about. Her sister’s personal life meant nothing until Tessa knew who Riggs Friedman really was. He’d been living a stone’s throw from the cottage on Nantucket for decades. Why? What did he want?
Bobbie and Riggs had offered to buy the cottage. Full market value. No questions asked. No repairs needed. Could there be something inside it that Tessa didn’t know about? Something valuable?
She’d let Bobbie’s call go to voicemail, where she’d promptly listened to the message the older woman had left.
Just wondering what you girls are doing this weekend. The Hawden House is having their summer tea parties this next week, and I wondered if you wanted to attend. Lydia used to love going so much.
She’d let the words hang there, and she’d certainly sounded sad to be speaking about Mom. Bobbie had then cleared her throat and ended with, Let me know. I’d be happy to get tickets and go with you two.
She seemed just as kind as she’d always been, and Tessa had actually felt guilty for thinking the woman was calling just to figure out where Tessa was.
She’d silenced her phone since, and turned off the GPS, just in case. She had no idea how someone would trace a phone, but she’d seen it done in Hollywood, and she firmly believed there was truth in those spy movies.
“I like Milford, yes,” Janey said.
“I’ll keep you updated with things,” Tessa said.
“Tess,” Janey said. Seconds of silence poured through the line. “I’m sorry I left.”
“Yes,” Tessa said, clearing her throat too. “I’m sorry I snapped at you yesterday. I was…somewhere outside of my head.”
“Boy, do I understand that.” Janey gave a light laugh, but Tessa couldn’t return it. She didn’t like this new layer of plastic wrap she existed inside of. It was almost like she’d taken everything she’d ever felt, piled it together, and then secured it into one giant ball beneath layers and layers of the best restaurant-grade plastic wrap. She’d have to peel back her control one thin layer at a time to allow her feelings out, and she wasn’t anywhere near that right now.
“I can come back,” Janey said.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Tessa said. “I’m going to stay here tonight if I can find somewhere cheap.”
She didn’t want to use her credit card, and she’d used one hundred and sixty dollars to get to Boston via ferry and rental car.
She still hadn’t eaten, and she thought she could spare ten bucks for lunch and then find a cheap motel to hole up in.
At the same time, she simply wanted to return to the cottage on Nantucket. The bright blue house had always made her smile, and she shouldn’t let a man as despicable and vile as Riggs drive her away.
She was so done with letting men influence her decisions.
The call ended, and Tessa made her way to a sandwich shop in downtown Boston. She ate, and things started to come into focus a little bit better.
Back in her rental, she said, “Fact. Riggs Friedman is a fraud. Two, he went to UMD with Daddy. Three, once Mom and Daddy got married, he ran away from Nantucket and returned with a new wife. Four, he claims to be Janey’s father.”
Tessa needed to figure out who he was, and she put the car back in drive and started south again.
She wasn’t going to stay in Boston that night.
She had a box of photographs at the cottage she needed to examine. Janey had said she’d gone through all of them, and they were just everyday happenings of their summers in Nantucket.
“But there has to be more,” Tessa said. Everything Mom had left for her and Janey had been more than what it had first seemed. The box of photos surely would be too.
Three hours later, Tessa arrived back at the cottage, parking the dark green Mercedes Benz in the detached garage and sitting in it for a moment. She’d passed the Friedman cottage without seeing Riggs or Bobbie out front, and she had security cameras on the house now. They’d triggered when she’d pulled in, so Janey would know she’d left Boston and returned to the cottage.
Tessa didn’t care. She didn’t have to provide a minute-by-minute accounting of her thought processes for her sister.
Drawing in a deep breath, she got out of the car, scanning the open area beyond the door. Nothing. Just the wind and whisper of relaxation this place had always held for Tessa.
The Cottage on Nantucket Page 24