Page 49 of Such a Quiet Place
I KNEW THEY’D BEcoming.
The police had taken our statements the previous night when we were all out there, in the street. They’d looked at the angle of the houses, the corners of the clubhouse, asking if there was any footage.
But it was Margo who shook her head. Who explained it was a policy not to record at the pool, where we were half-dressed. Who shared that none of the houses on the street had a good angle anyway.
The group of officers from the Lake Hollow Police Department scanned the crowd of us, and we stared back, wide-eyed and silent. Every one of us understanding: She had died in plain sight, with no one noticing, in the one place there were no cameras, with no witnesses.
How very different from what the police had experienced after the Truetts’ deaths. Where everyone here was a witness with something to say, something to share, something to prove.
So I was not surprised to see a man on my front step now. This man, so obviously part of the investigation with his gray button-down and black tie, regardless of the soaring temperature and humidity. This was where Ruby had been staying, and I’d told them as much last night.
When I opened the door, I tried to place him from the sea of faces last night. But he seemed out of place, a stranger. Last time, Chase Colby had been part of the investigating team—to put people at ease, we thought. But also, as we learned, to gain access. To share what he learned on the message board, send the detectives our way. To save the recordings we’d posted from our security cameras and forward them to his superiors.
“Ms. Nash?” the man said, rocking back on his heels. “I’m Jay Locke, a special agent with the Bureau of Criminal Investigation. We’re with the state police. Can I have a moment of your time?” He looked to be about my father’s age, silver hair streaking through the brown, a weathered face, sharp blue eyes.
“Yes, I’m Harper.” I opened the door farther, but he lingered on the front porch. His shoes were a shiny black, unmarred, and a dark car with tinted windows was parked behind him at the curb.
He smiled. Then he leaned backward and jabbed a finger at the camera over my door, angled at the porch. “That record whenever there’s movement?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “It’s a webcam. I can sign in to see who’s on my porch when someone rings the bell, but not much else.”
He nodded, then crossed the threshold, his shoes echoing on the hardwood. “Seems to be the preferred method of security around here. Several of your neighbors said the same about theirs.”
I didn’t know why he wanted access to my camera or anyone else’s. Ruby hadn’t left the pool last night. I pictured her again, lowered to the ground by Tina and Paul, and ran my hands over my arms, chasing away the chill.
Agent Locke extended his hand my way in a half-hearted gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve led with that. I’m really sorry for your loss.”
I nodded, unsure what to say. I didn’t deserve any condolences, wasn’t sure her loss could be mine to grieve. The sharp sting of her death, exacerbated by the guilt that I could have prevented it—and something worse: the muted, whispered relief that she was gone.
“So, Ruby Fletcher was your roommate.” He said it as a statement, though it looked like he was waiting for me to answer.
“She was staying with me,” I clarified.Roommateimplied an agreement, not that someone had taken up residence in your house with or without your consent. “Do you know what happened toher?” I asked. Mac had mentioned the alcohol, but I didn’t know why an agent from the state police would be in my house, asking about camera footage.
“We’re waiting on the autopsy report,” he said. “In the meantime, I was hoping you might have some more insight about last night, as her roommate.”
“Sorry, I really don’t. I wasn’t there when…” My gaze drifted out the front window, my words trailing off.
“Okay, so let me just make sure I’ve got it all down right,” he said, pulling my attention back. “The guys last night got your statement, I know, but we like to do our own legwork at the BCI. So you left the party pretty early.”
I nodded, a beat behind, realizing his statement was really a question and he was waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I heard the echo of Mac’s words, promising that no one had said anything about our fight. “Yes, I was tired,” I said, trying to appear at ease, standing several feet apart from this stranger in the foyer of my home.
He was watching me closely. “And where was she when you last saw her?”
I flinched. “On that lounge chair. The same chair. During the fireworks, I saw her there.”
His gaze also went to the front window, eyes narrowing slightly, lines in his skin radiating outward. “How did you find out something had happened to her?”
“We have a neighborhood watch. Margo Wellman saw her after everyone was gone. Still lying there.”
She’d been the one to tell the police last night. Her voice wavering, breath coming too fast, hands shaking. She said she’d seen Ruby lying on the lounge chair on the pool deck as she circled past on her first walk-through. Went to get Paul to tell Ruby to move. Didn’t want to approach on her own. It was Paul who saidsomething was wrong with Ruby. Who called 911 and told Margo to get help.
Agent Locke continued. “Yes, I heard about the neighbor on watch. She mentioned running to get someone else for help—Tina Monahan?”
“Yes, Tina is a nurse. Two doors that way.” I jutted my thumb to the left.
“Makes sense, then, that Margo would stop here on the way back. With you being Ruby’s roommate.”
I nodded, not sure what he expected me to contribute. I was one of the first to leave the party—it was the only thing people seemed sure of. Last night, no one could agree who was the last to leave. Everyone took their things when the fireworks ended, then they scattered.
