“You didn’t think it was strange, that he never cal ed you after that night?”
Angie shook her head. She sipped her tea. “I was snippy with him, when I left. And then I went back to col ege. And I guess I figured that he’d decided he didn’t need the drama. He just moved on. And, honestly, I did too.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“You said you ordered pizza,” Camila said. “Maybe we could talk to the pizza guy. He could at least corroborate the early part of the night.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Angie said, screwing up her nose. “That was Derek Rawlings. The delivery guy, I mean. I knew Derek a little because his brother Claude was in my year in high school. Anyway, Derek died years ago. In a car accident, I think. But he real y wouldn’t have been much help to you. He just dropped the pizza off, got paid, and left.”
Camila nodded. She looked a little disappointed. She must have known it would probably have been a dead end, but it was hard to have another possible lead, however slight, shut down. She leaned forward. “You know, Angie, no one heard from Neil after that night.
He disappeared.” There was a touch of drama to her voice and Angie made another face.
“I don’t think that’s right,” she said.
“Oh?” Camila said.
“When I spoke to his landlord, he’d only been gone a few days.
So that means he was stil in his place for a couple of weeks after the murder. And I don’t think it’s right to say that he just disappeared.
I mean, I think I heard he was living in North Carolina.”
“Do you know where?” Camila asked quickly. But Angie shrugged helplessly.
“God, I don’t know. I can’t even remember who told me that. But I’m sure I heard it from someone.”
“Do you know where we could get in touch with his sister?”
Camila asked.
Angie thought for a moment. “I don’t, but I probably know someone who does. I have a friend who has a sister who was in her class, I think. If you give me your number, I can try to find out for you.”
Camila and Hannah looked at each other. “We’re just here for the day,” Hannah said, careful y, feeling again the need to appear to make a genuine effort. “Is there any way you’d be able to cal her now? We don’t want to push.”
Angie stood up, looked around for her phone. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “She’l be at work, so she might not answer. I can give it a shot.” But she had better luck than she’d anticipated. Her friend answered the phone and seemed interested in helping out. A couple of minutes later she cal ed Angie back with a phone number for Sophia Prosper.
Camila and Hannah stood up, and Hannah offered her hand for a shake. “Thank you so much, Angie,” she said. “We’re so grateful.”
Angie walked them out. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb to wave them off. She looked sad.
“It al feels like a thousand years ago now,” she said. “I got married. I have two children.” She nodded back toward the inn.
“When my parents retired I took over this place, which I can tel you was never in my plans when I was twenty-two. But I’ve lived a life. It might not be perfect, or what I thought my life would be, but I’ve lived a whole life. Michael though, al this time, he’s just been in prison. If he didn’t do it, can you imagine what that must be like?”
Hannah nodded gravely and thanked Angie again and said goodbye and al the while she thought about what Dandridge had done, al the pain he had caused, the lives taken, al the lives destroyed. No prison term would be long enough.
LAURA
DIARY ENTRY #5
Monday, August 15, 1994, 11:00 a.m.
I’m way too excited right now! I have the day off, and right about now Tom wil be driving Mike to the airport, which means he’s going to be with me by lunchtime. I keep tel ing myself to calm down. Just because he’s going to stay on the island for another couple of weeks, that doesn’t real y mean anything has changed. He’s stil going to go back to col ege in Virginia. And I’m . . . what? Going to go back to Boston? To live on the fringes as my friends get on with their lives? I have to find a way to get enough money to go to col ege myself. I have to build my own life. If I were in school, maybe the gap between me and Tom wouldn’t be so wide.
Monday, August 15, 1994, 2.00 p.m.
He’s late. I wonder if the traffic was bad? It shouldn’t be, not on a Monday morning. But maybe something happened on the bridge to the mainland. If there was an accident, that could slow things right down, or stop it entirely. I guess I’l eat something, and read, maybe, and just wait.