“Calling it the next Winter’s Bone isn’t going to change anyone’s mind,” Bull says. He clears his throat. “Besides which, this isn’t the next Winter’s Bone.”

“Are you even a real producer?” Coco says. “Do you have any influence or are you just the person they come to for money to make you feel like you’re part of something important? I watched Snark, you know. It was dreadful.”

“Agreed,” Bull says. “Dog’s breakfast.” He pauses. “And it bombed and I lost my shirt. Which is why I need the next script I invest in to be a big winner.”

“Please?” Coco says. She can’t have this be the end. That script is not only her goal and her dream, not only her reason for being here—it’s her reason for being, period. She takes a step closer to Bull, which is officially too close. She gazes up at him and considers snaking her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. Is she that desperate? Would that change his mind? They must have some kind of agreement.

Bull takes a step back. “Come on now, Coco. You don’t want to ruin everything. I’m not going to let you. I’m a married man.”

“Married?” Coco says. “Leslee has been playing house with Lamont the entire time you’ve been gone, which can hardly surprise you because she throws herself at him every chance she gets. And what about the little massage she was giving Benton Coe on the boat on the Fourth of July? He hasn’t come to finish your garden because he’s afraid of your wife!” She takes a breath. “That night I met you at the Banana Deck? She had her hand on that guy Harlan’s thigh.”

Bull nods slowly. “I love her,” he says. “And she loves everybody.”

Right, Coco thinks. It’s their kink. It’s what makes them the Richardsons, that along with the Amalfi lemons and the crazy parties and the boats they know nothing about.

“My advice,” Bull says, “is to give yourself five or even ten years, until you’ve lived a little and you have something more to write about, then try again.”

Coco feels tears blur her eyes. Five or ten years? Is he joking? She flees Bull’s office before she either flips him off or says something she can’t take back. Out in the hallway—of course, of course—Coco rams right into Leslee.

“Hey!” Leslee says, giving Coco an assessing look. “Are you all right?”

Coco smiles through her tears. “Bull’s home,” she says.

26. Thursday, August 22, 9:45 P.M.

“Hey, Lucy,” the Chief says when he answers the phone. Please, he thinks, tell me you found her.

“Hey, Ed,” she says in a weighted tone that lets him know the news isn’t good. “One of my track-line patrol found what we believe to be Ms. Coyle’s clothes, a pair of white shorts and a pink polo shirt, both size small, washed up on the beach at Smith’s Point. That matches the description of what Ms. Coyle was wearing?”

“We can’t be sure until we see them, though that sounds right.” Ed pauses. “They didn’t see anyone?”

“There were still a couple of picnickers out,” Lucy says. “And one couple banging in the back of a Bronco, which was pretty brazen, since the top was down. But nobody who matched Ms. Coyle’s description. The picnickers and the lovers said they hadn’t seen anyone.”

“She may have taken her clothes off in the water,” Ed says.

“Or she may have swum ashore, ditched the clothes, and made a run for it,” Lucy says. “If she was the one who set the fire.”

The Chief checks his watch. The last ferry of the night left five minutes earlier. “Call the Hy-Line and see if she’s on the boat.” If she is, Ed thinks, she’ll have some explaining to do.

“Copy that,” Lucy says. “I’ll have someone run the clothes out to you in Pocomo to ID.”

“Thank you, Lucy.” Ed hangs up and tells Zara the news.

“I tend to think the former,” Zara says. “She stripped down to have a better chance of making it to shore. Don’t you think?”

Ed isn’t sure what to think.

“Let’s talk to Leslee,” Zara says, and Ed swears under his breath.

Leslee Richardson is a hot mess. Her dress is soaked—she clearly waded ashore—and her makeup is smeared down her face, and yet somehow there isn’t a hair out of place; it’s still long and flowing in barrel curls, and all Ed can think is how much this would annoy Andrea.

The Chief knows how he has to start. “I’m sorry about all of this, Leslee.”

She snarls at him. “No, you’re not. Your daughter’s little friend set our house on fire. She tricked us into hiring her and now she’s destroyed everything we have.”

“Tricked you into hiring her? What do you mean by that?”

Leslee waves him off. Ed doesn’t believe a word that comes out of the woman’s mouth, but if Leslee thinks Coco tricked her, did Leslee take her revenge on the boat?

“Why would she want to burn down your house?” he says. “This is where she lives.”

“She lives in the garage!” Leslee says. “Which you’ll notice is still standing!”

Yes, Ed notices the garage is unscathed.

“She has the codes to the alarms,” Leslee says. “She probably turned them off before we left so the house would be sure to burn to the ground.”

“I still don’t understand what reason she would have—”

“She was jealous that Bull and I were renewing our vows,” Leslee says.

“Jealous because—”

“Coco is in love with Bull. She was always in his office talking to him about books and movies. Once I caught her coming out of his office and she’d clearly been crying. They must have had a lovers’ spat.”

“You’re saying they were involved? Did you ask your husband about this?”

“Of course I asked him, and of course he denied there was anything going on.”

“So there’s no proof, no corroboration that they were together?” the Chief says. Again, Leslee waves a hand, which isn’t an answer. “It’s my understanding that Coco was involved with… someone else.”

“She and Lamont are sleeping together. They think I don’t know, but I know. Coco is the kind of person who isn’t satisfied with only one man.”

Hmmm, the Chief thinks. Sounds like someone is projecting. “How would you describe your relationship with Coco?” the Chief asks.

“We treat her like family,” Leslee says. “Coco has a two-bedroom apartment all to herself. She has the Land Rover at her disposal—Baby, she calls it. We pay her generously.”

“You said you think Coco is jealous of you,” Zara says.

“Very jealous.”

“Did this ever affect the way she did her job?”

“No,” Leslee says. She sniffs. “Coco was good at her job. She was incredibly competent; she followed detailed instructions and never made a mistake. She used common sense when she hit roadblocks, she didn’t complain, she was discreet.”

“She sounds like a dream,” Zara says. “What would make you think she was jealous of you?”

“I know when someone is jealous of me,” Leslee says. “Most women are.” Leslee eyes the Chief. “Like your friend Delilah.”