What Remains of Me by Alison Gaylin Page B

that. Paranoid, but for other reasons. She’d been deep asleep. For hours. And anyway, what were they suggesting? That Kelly had sneaked out of the house to watch Dad kill himself? Were they serious?
    Bellamy said, “You’re lying for her.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    â€œAre you telling us everything, Mr. Marshall?”
    Shane’s eyes opened. “She got up at six,” he said. “I woke her.”
    â€œMr. Marshall. Do you and your wife sleep in separate bedrooms?”
    A direct question. He couldn’t lie to a direct question, asked by a cop. “Yes.”
    â€œWhy?” Bellamy said.
    He put his back to her. “Do you have any other questions, Detective?”
    â€œDetective Braddock,” Bellamy said, “Kelly Lund loves to take long drives at night.”
    â€œHow do you know this?”
    â€œShe doesn’t,” Shane said. “She hasn’t spoken to Kelly since she got out of prison. She’s never been to our house. She has no idea—”
    â€œ Mom told me . She said you once complained about it.” Bellamy looked at the detective. “She’d leave their house late at night and he’d ask where she was going and she’d say, ‘Driving.’ He didn’t want to press her because he didn’t want her to feel trapped. He wanted her tofeel free. You know who Kelly Lund is, right? She’s a convicted murderer.”
    Braddock was watching Shane’s face in a way he didn’t like. “I never said that to Mom,” he said. It was true. He’d told his father.
    Shane didn’t want to talk about Kelly any more, didn’t want to think about her. John McFadden had been the director on Defiance . And it was on that set, while his mother was in Dad’s trailer venting her anger for whatever reason, that John had pulled Shane aside, telling him that Dad was the best actor he’d ever worked with. Don’t tell the gossip rags . . . Bellamy had been on set that day too, ignoring Shane like she always did, running around with John McFadden’s son, whom she called her “pretend brother.” (Her “better brother,” she used to call that kid, when she and Shane were alone and the grown-ups were out of earshot.)
    Shane gritted his teeth. He’d taken a sleeping pill last night, just like he did on most nights. But it hadn’t worked right away—he had a lot on his mind lately, thoughts he didn’t want to look too hard at. Thoughts involving Kelly, her late-night drives, her secrets . . .
    So he’d added a couple more pills. He’d taken five sleeping pills and passed out dead cold until the alarm had woken him. The Shane Marshall Ambien Coma, Kelly liked to call it. Kelly, who insisted on separate rooms because it was the only way she could sleep. In solitary. Kelly, who owned half a dozen hoodies. “I’m going to check on Mom.”
    â€œIf you want justice for Dad,” Bellamy said, “you’ll tell the truth.”
    Shane stopped. Enough . “He committed suicide, Bellamy.” He glared at the detective. “I want to see the note.”
    She blinked at him.
    â€œI want to see the note, Detective. I want to read it and I want to grieve my father’s death with my family in peace.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Mr. Marshall.”
    He exhaled. “No need. I understand. He was a famous man. People want answers, and believe me, so do I. Please show me the note.”
    The detective shook her head, her hair catching the light in a way that made him think again of Kelly this morning, silver hairs glistening among the gold, her face soft on the pillow, yet still that breach between them, that wall she put up . . . I’m sorry, Shane. I can’t . How well can you know a woman who refuses to make love to you? Who hasn’t let you in for close to fifteen years?
    Did Dad ask Kelly to witness his suicide? Did he ask her to assist in