Deadline (Sandra Brown)

blow to her face, and taste her fear of him.
    “Did you call the police?”
    She shook her head. “I waited until he’d passed out, then got the boys up, left the house, and drove to Daddy’s. When he saw my face, he became livid. I was afraid he’d do something rash, and it was all I could do to keep him from going after Jeremy and extracting his pound of flesh.
    “Short of that, he wanted me to file a police report. But I just wanted to be away from Jeremy and out of the marriage as soon as possible. I moved into the Jones Street townhouse and filed for divorce that week.
    “Jeremy contested it, but when he realized the futility of that, he fought me over child custody. He dragged his feet, intentionally created delays. I persisted. You heard in court how it all played out.” She finished the last of her wine, then looked across at him. “Long answer to your question about my life with him.”
    He returned to the rocking chair, spread his knees wide, propped his forearms on his thighs, and clasped his hands between them. He turned his head toward her. “It’s an ugly story, Amelia.”
    “Which you promised not to write.”
    “I did, and I won’t.” Then he looked past the railing toward the dunes and the beach beyond. The only sounds were the squeak of the rocking chairs and the whish of the surf. When he looked at her again, she knew what his next question was going to be before he asked it.
    “Who took the photographs from under the doormat?”
    “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
    “Last night, I watched the four of you pile into your car. You stopped and picked up Bernie at his house. As soon as you were out of sight, I carried the photos over here and placed them there.” He pointed to the jute doormat. “Then I got in my car and drove to the village. When I got to Mickey’s, I couldn’t have been more than five minutes behind you.”
    “You saw us leave Mickey’s parking lot. I dropped Bernie at his back door. As we were getting out of the car, I asked Stef to take the boys upstairs and start the bedtime ritual. I came straight out here and looked beneath the mat.”
    “Somebody took them while we were all in the village.”
    “But who?” She wet her lips. “Maybe someone on the beach saw you leaving something and—”
    He was shaking his head even before she finished. “The beach was deserted. I checked.”
    “But someone must have seen you.”
    “Exactly. Someone saw me because someone is watching.”
    “Other than you.”
    “Other than me. Tell me about the beach ball.”
    She remembered his bewilderment when she’d mentioned it earlier. “It was nothing.”
    “Then why not tell me?”
    She did.
    “It miraculously reappeared after being thrown away,” he said. “Patched and inflated.”
    She shifted uneasily in her seat. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
    “There is. Someone is making it his business to know everything that’s going on in your life.”
    “I don’t believe that.”
    “I think you do. Yesterday, when you were flaying me alive, you told me that you’d been feeling afraid, that you’d sensed—”
    “Yesterday, I was upset and angry, talking out of my head, trying to make you feel bad for spying on me.”
    “You were just spouting nonsense?”
    “Yes!”
    “Amelia.”
    She shot from her chair and escaped to the railing as he had earlier. He followed, coming to stand close to her, close enough for her to feel his body heat.
    “You’re afraid he’s still alive, aren’t you?”
    She turned to him. “No!”
    “Denying it to me won’t make you fear it any less. Nor will it make it untrue.”
    “He was killed by Willard Strong.”
    “His body was never found.”
    “But there was forensic evidence.”
    “Of what kind?”
    “His blood on the ground inside the dog pen. A piece of scalp…” She buried her face in her hands. “God, what that man is accused of is too horrible to think about.”
    “I agree. But I question that Jeremy’s fate was the same as Darlene’s.”
    “All right. Maybe not. If not, Willard dumped Jeremy’s body somewhere in the marsh. He sank it. Or it washed out to sea. There are alligators.” Her voice carried a plea that he agree with at least one of those possibilities. But he just looked at her with a mix of skepticism and sympathy, which were equally vexing. She demanded, “Then where is he?”
    “I’d like to know.”
    “Why would he disappear?”
    “For the same reason