Then I noticed that the driver kept glancing in the rearview mirror.
“What are you looking at?”
“Same car behind us the last ten minutes, making all the turns,” he said.
With a jolt of fear, I twisted around to see. It was that Ford Fiesta again. Its headlights glared at me, and its windshield was obscured by rain, so I couldn’t see the driver. To spend several hours at my motel, get in an Uber, and find the same car behind me? No way that was a coincidence. Someone was following me.
“Is it the paparazzi? You’re famous, right? An actress? Yeah, I recognize you,” he said.
“I wish. Can we lose him?”
“Why? You know this guy?”
“I have no idea who that is. It’s just creepy.”
“Ah, he’s probably just on the same Google Maps route as me. Happens all the time. The phone takes you a weird way, and everybody else goes that way, too. Look, he just turned off. Gone now.”
True, the car was no longer behind us. I wanted to believe that meant it hadn’t been following me, but that seemed unduly optimistic. I kept checking behind us, waiting for him to come back.
“Wait, I got it now. You’re a model, right? To show up so late, you gotta be someone special,” the driver said.
“I’m nobody. I’m late because of the rain.”
“This late, they might not let you in. An hour ago, I took somebody else, and the front gate was already closed,” he said.
“There’s a gate?”
“Of course. And guards checking names off the list. High security for a party like this.”
How could I not have reckoned with Nina Levitt having security? What if I got caught trying to crash? Connor might find out. He’d think I was trailer trash. I looked ahead, straining to see the houses. The rain was letting up, but the street was dark and parked up heavily with cars on both sides. Fabulous cars—Porsches and BMWs and Mercedes, every last one beautiful and new. I couldn’t see the houses. On either side of the road, high walls blocked my view. When the Uber’s headlights shined on them, they looked like they were made of leaves.
“Where are the houses? Are those—walls?” I asked the driver.
“Hedges. They got tall hedges around the houses out here, so nobody can see in.”
“Windswept, too?”
“Part of it, yeah.”
“If the gate’s closed, and there are hedges, how will I get in?”
“Is there a number to call, on your invitation?”
“I forgot my invitation at the hotel.”
He glanced at me suspiciously in the rearview mirror. “It’s not a smart idea to crash.”
“I’m not crashing,” I said, but my voice sounded like a guilty child’s, and the driver wasn’t fooled.
“You crash, they’ll arrest you for trespassing.”
At that, I blanched. When he saw the look on my face, he stepped on the brake.
“You should get out here,” he said.
“Please. Take me to Windswept. I’m paying for the ride. What happens after that is my problem.”
“No, look, I was young once, too. I get it, you want to have a good time. You won’t get in the front gate if you’re not on the guest list. But the beach is right there.”
He gestured. Between the parked cars lay a narrow, sand-covered path. As the moon broke through the clouds, I saw the wide swath of empty beach beyond.
“You can walk down the beach to Windswept. It’s maybe five minutes on foot. Sneak into the party the back way,” he said.
That was probably wise. Not only so the guards at the entrance wouldn’t ask to see an invitation, but so Nina—who, I had to assume at this point, had seen a photo of me—wouldn’t spot me.
“You’re sure it’ll work?” I asked.
“No. But it’s worth a try. Anyway, you get caught, you didn’t hear it from me.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tip, but as a waitress, I erred on the side of caution and thrust a ten at him.
“I promise. Thank you.”
Hot, sticky air enveloped me as I stepped from the air-conditioned SUV, and I instantly started to sweat. The rain had subsided to a light drizzle, but the road was a mess, mired with standing water and dotted with potholes. At the entrance to the sandy path, I took off my shoes and carried them. My feet sank into the wet sand with every step, making it an effort to walk. The narrow track sloped downward to the beach, between two picturesque fences made of weathered wood. At the end of the path, I stepped out onto the beach, gasping at its eerie beauty. The grand sweep of sand ran for miles in either direction, suffused with a strange yellow light from the hidden moon. The rain had stopped, but the surf was high. Waves crashed onto the sand, the wind rushed, and gulls cawed overhead. The beach felt utterly wild, and yet at regular intervals stood fabulous mansions the likes of which I’d never seen. Shingled manors, embellished with turrets and gables, with lush lawns, pools, tennis courts, outbuildings. I stumbled along, drinking in the sights, unable to believe my eyes, or to comprehend that Connor lived here.
I heard Windswept before I saw it, in the low roar of conversation and laughter, the sound of dance music floating on the wind. Up ahead, the land arched out into the water. Following the beach around the bend, I came upon Windswept, and stopped in my tracks.
I knew it from photographs, of course. The house is famous. But to see it in real life was to understand its magnitude for the first time. It wasn’t just a beautiful mansion, like the others along this stretch. It was a palace, fit for royalty, built of brick and stone made to last a thousand years. And it belonged to Connor’s wife. How could I think he’d give her up for me, when that would mean giving up this kingdom?
Whether he would or not, we had a child coming. And he needed to know.
I walked on. A hundred feet ahead, people milled on the beach in front of Windswept. Guests from the party, presumably—beautifully dressed, holding cocktails, out for a stroll now that the rain had stopped. Above their heads, a sweeping stone terrace was surmounted by a tent large enough to hold a three-ring circus. Noise and music emanated from inside. That’s where the party was, and where I’d find Connor.
A man in a dark suit stood by the terrace stairs. A couple of guests walked up to him. He stopped them and spoke to them briefly before letting them pass. This must be the security that the Uber driver had warned me about. As I walked toward the house, the man’s head tilted in such a way that I knew he was looking in my direction. As an unaccompanied woman coming from the far end of the beach, I was a plausible candidate for a crasher. He stepped away from the stairs and looked up and down the shore, but the casual nature of the surveillance didn’t fool me. He was checking me out while pretending not to. I didn’t know what to do. If I tried to go up the stairs, he’d intercept me, like he’d done with the others.
The security guard was staring at me now. He left his post and started walking in my direction. My heart pounded. The Uber driver thought they might be arresting people for trespassing. Was I on private land here? I had to get away before the guard intercepted me. To my right, a brick footpath, narrower than the path I’d taken to access the beach, turned upward and ran alongside a manicured lawn. It must lead back to the street. I turned onto it and kept walking, afraid to look over my shoulder. There were footsteps behind me. I sped up. The footsteps did, too.
“Sir! Stop right there, you’re trespassing,” a man shouted.
Sir? Yes, it was dark, but with my long blond hair, it was odd that he’d mistake me for a man. A scuffle broke out behind me. What the hell?
“Let go of me, asshole! I’m with her.”
At the sound of the second voice, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Derek.
I heard the soft thud of a punch, followed by a grunt, and whirled to see the security guard and Derek in a clinch. Derek stared past him, looking right at me. The rage in his eyes made my blood go cold. That must’ve been Derek in the Ford Fiesta. He’d f
ollowed me here from New Hampshire. It wasn’t me who’d attracted the guard’s attention on the beach a minute ago. It was Derek, with his jailhouse fade, clad in gym shorts and a tank top that showed off his bruiser body. He’d been right behind me as I walked toward Windswept. With the waves crashing, and the soft sand, I hadn’t heard his footsteps.
And was that Derek all along, following me in the Suburban? Had he actually tried to kill me? Thank God for that guard. It was plain, dumb luck that he’d stopped Derek before he grabbed me. They were evenly matched. Gritting his teeth, the guard pushed Derek back into the bushes. Derek got his arms loose and started pummeling the guy’s ribs. They grappled, toppling over into the grass.
I wasn’t sticking around to find out how this ended. I ran.
19
I ran down the path and skidded onto the beach, panting. The stretch of sand was empty now, ghostly in the glow of the moonlight. The steps to the terrace had been left unguarded. Seeing Derek had scared me so much that I was tempted to get the hell out of there before he came looking for me. But this was the chance I’d been waiting for. The guard was occupied with Derek. I could sneak into the party, find Connor, and tell him my news. It was now or never.
Under the tent, the bodies were tightly packed, and the air was overheated and humid. A band played at one end, in front of a dance floor jammed with guests swaying to the music. I felt conspicuously underdressed amid the beautiful, lavishly turned out women. Surely, somebody would stop me and demand to know what I was doing here. But as I melted into the crowd, I realized that these people had been partying for hours, on somebody else’s dime. They were drunk and happy and not the least bit interested in me. The bigger problem would be locating Connor in the vast sea of people.
I weaved my way across the terrace in one direction, then back in the other, several times with no luck. Just outside the tent, people came and went through French doors that led into the house. The party continued inside. Maybe Connor was in there. Nobody stopped me as I stepped into a spectacular ballroom with high ceilings and a glittering chandelier. It was less crowded inside than on the terrace, and a quick scan told me Connor wasn’t here. I took a moment to appreciate the grandeur of the room. All along the walls, tables staffed by waiters in tuxedos groaned with beautiful food. I’d barely eaten in days, and suddenly, not only did I feel better—I was famished. I went from table to table, piling up my buffet plate high with slices of roast beef, perfect little roasted potatoes, mini-tacos, wedges of cheese—anything that caught my eye. I took my haul and skulked like a thief back to the tent, where I faded into the crowd, found a dark corner, and stood there, stuffing my face.
Naturally, that was the moment I spied Connor. He was with Nina and two other people. The surging crowd eddied around them, and the lights picked them out as if calling on me to pay attention. Seeing Connor took my breath away. Tall and tan in a white shirt and cream-colored blazer, he positively shined in the light. I wanted to be with him, touch him, feel his skin, taste his mouth, hear his voice. But as I watched, he pulled at Nina’s arm, and she flinched away. Seeing them together—in real life, not just in the tabloids—shook me. He wanted her attention. She wouldn’t give it. I felt sick with shame for getting involved with a married man, yet riven by jealousy, seeing him with his wife. He belonged to her. Not me. Coming here was a mistake. Unless—was I misunderstanding? Maybe she flinched because she was angry. Maybe she was angry because he’d told her he was leaving. If only I could talk to him and find out.
The couple they’d been speaking with walked away, leaving the two of them alone. They continued talking. Nina gestured angrily. I handed my plate to a passing waiter and took a step forward, then back, my eyes glued to them, unsure what to do. If only he would look over and see me. How could I get his attention? What if I called him, right now? If he had his phone on him, at least I could see whether it rang through, and I’d know if I was blocked, or if he was screening my calls. And if he answered, I could tell him to meet me down on the beach.
I pulled out my phone and swiped his number. From across the tent, I saw him pat his jacket, then pull out his phone. I wasn’t blocked. My heart raced. He turned and walked away from Nina. Before he could answer, someone grabbed my arm from behind. The phone slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor.
“Hey! What the—?”
It was the security guard. Up close, he was scary-big, with a nose that had been broken before, a freshly split lip, and angry eyes.
“Gotcha. You’re coming with me, lady. Now.”
“My phone!”
The security guard grabbed it and forcibly escorted me toward the terrace stairs. I was hoping that we would catch up with Connor, but instead of turning onto the beach, he yanked me back toward the path where he and Derek had been fighting.
“Take your hands off me,” I said, struggling. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
He wouldn’t let go.
“Tell it to the police. They’re waiting to arrest you for trespassing.”
“I wasn’t trespassing. I was running from my ex. You saw him. He’s dangerous. He has a criminal record. He’s been harassing me, and I was afraid.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I swear. Did you arrest him? Where is he now?”
“You tell me.”
“He got away? Please, you have to find him. He wants to hurt me. I’m not safe with him on the loose.”
He studied my face like he was trying to decide if I was credible.
“Tell me the truth. Were you two trying to rob the house?” the guard said.
“No. I wasn’t with him. This has nothing to do with this house. Derek was following me. He’s been stalking me.”
“If that’s true, why weren’t you running?”
The reality was, I hadn’t known Derek was behind me until I saw the two of them grappling on the path. And I was trying to crash the party. But if I told the guard that, he’d have me arrested.
“I—I was running, but, I mean—”
“You know what, lady? Tell it to the cops. Let’s go,” he said, and led me up the brick footpath.
To the left, Windswept loomed. To the right, I saw a paved motor court and a six-bay garage. Cars lined the motor court, parked closely together with numbered tags stuck beneath the windshield wipers. With a start, I noticed a black Chevy Suburban, parked nose-out in the line. It had tinted windows similar to the SUV that had run me off the road up north. It couldn’t be the same one, could it? But, why not? My original theory was that Nina had me followed and had one of her goons run me off the road. If that was true, the Suburban could very well be parked at Windswept. It would have a New York plate on the back, and a damaged passenger door from sideswiping me. I couldn’t tell from this distance. I’d have to examine the car, but the guard had no intention of letting me do that.
We continued on the path, crossing a wide lawn and turning onto a gravel driveway. Up ahead, lights flashed. A police cruiser was parked just inside the open front gates. The guard marched me up to it, and shook hands with the uniformed police officer, who was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with dark hair pulled back under her police cap. They nodded at each other like old acquaintances.
“What the hell happened to you?” the officer asked, tapping her lip in the same spot where his was split.
“Ah, friggin’ mope jumped me.”
The officer looked back and forth in disbelief from me to the hulking security guard.
“Not her. The guy she was with. He got the jump on me and ran off. I went looking for him, but no luck. I found her, though.”
“You didn’t find us together because I wasn’t with him,” I said. “Officer, please, I can explain. My ex-husband attacked this gentleman on the path—that much is true. But I wasn’t with him. I was running from him. I didn’t mean to crash the party. I just turned into the first place I saw to get away from him.”
“Can I see some ID, please?”
I handed her my driver’
s license.
“My ex has a criminal record. I divorced him while he was in jail. He’s really pissed about that. He followed me here tonight. I think he wants to hurt me.”
“Were you a guest at this party?” the police officer asked.
“She was not,” the guard said.
“Let her answer, please.”
“No, like I said, I just ran into the party to get away from Derek. I came to the Hamptons for the weekend. I was—visiting a friend. I noticed a car following me at times, but I didn’t know it was him until I saw him behind me on the beach. I ran up to the house to get away.”
“Did you witness any of what she’s saying?” the officer asked the guard.
The guard frowned. “I saw her walking down the beach with the guy behind her. Not running, though.”
“He was behind her? Not with her?”
“Yes,” the guard said grudgingly. “Then she turned up the path onto the Windswept grounds, and he followed. I went after them for trespassing. He turned around and sucker-punched me, and we fought. He got away.”
“Well, if you saw him behind her, then maybe she’s telling the truth.” The officer turned to me. “Do you have a restraining order against this guy, or anything else that corroborates your story?”
“I don’t, because the cops back home told me there wasn’t enough evidence for one. Derek’s been harassing me ever since he got out. Coming by my work, saying he wants me back. But he wasn’t violent. Not until tonight, anyway, when he attacked this gentleman,” I said.
“Wait one minute,” the guard said. “I found you fifteen minutes later, hanging around at the party. If you were so scared, why not run while your husband was busy fighting me?”
“I did run. I ran into the party and tried to blend into the crowd. I thought I’d be safer with people around, instead of down on the beach all alone.”
The Wife Who Knew Too Much Page 12