Pearl’s head swiveled in their direction. Only a quick grab saved her from dropping the tray she was carrying.
Emma’s legs had gone wobbly beneath her. Until now she had almost believed that she could move on past that fake wedding and the nightmare that had followed. But the sight of Philpot, grinning up at her with that missing tooth, brought it all back.
“So I take it things didn’t work out between you and ol’ Boone. Pity. I thought you made a right handsome couple.”
A few other people were turning their heads to look. Emma felt as if an iron band had clamped around her ribs. She could barely breathe. She glanced around to see if David had heard. He was nowhere in sight.
“So are you going to take my order, Mrs. Swenson?” Philpot asked, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
Emma’s hands shook, blurring the pad in her vision. The pen clattered to the floor. Nausea crept up her throat. She’d never had a panic attack in her life, but right now she couldn’t do this.
“Excuse me, I’m not feeling well,” she muttered, and fled the dining room.
Pearl found her a few minutes later in the employee rest-room. She was splashing cold water on her face. “Are you all right, honey?” Pearl asked.
At the sound of a friendly voice, Emma shut off the water and turned around. She still felt unsteady, but the worst was over. “Sorry, this isn’t like me at all,” she said. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Never mind. I know that man. He’s a real scumbag. Did he say what it sounded like he said—that you were married to Boone Swenson?”
“I’m afraid so. But it’s a lie. It’s a long story, Pearl, and you don’t have time to hear it. We both need to get back to work.”
“It’s all right. David’s there. He can fill water glasses and bring orders for a few minutes. But I think it might help you to talk—and as your supervisor, it would help me to know what you’re dealing with.”
Emma gave her the briefest possible version. Even so, her story was longer and more wrenching than she’d expected it to be. By the time she’d finished, she was drained of words and emotion.
Pearl wiped away a sympathetic tear. “You poor baby, you’ve really been through it.”
“The thing is, I mustn’t feel sorry for myself,” Emma said. “If I do, I’ll never be able to move on. I thought I had moved on until that horrible man came in today. When he looked up at me and smiled, the whole nightmare came crashing in on me. And when he called me Mrs. Boone Swenson, I wanted to die of shame. The worst of it was, I could tell he was enjoying himself.”
“Well, don’t worry, dear.” Pearl squeezed Emma’s shoulders. “Whatever happens out there, I’ll have your back. And I’ll wait on that slimeball myself—even though I might be tempted to slip a good, strong dose of laxative in his beer.”
“Do you think David heard what he said?”
“I’m pretty sure he was in the kitchen. But don’t worry. If he did hear, I’ll make sure he knows the truth. Now what d’you say we go out there and show ’em what we’re made of?”
Heartened by Pearl’s support, Emma followed her back to the dining room. After what had just happened, all she could do was hold her head up and go back to work. But a new fear had taken root inside her, and she could feel it growing.
Since Philpot knew she was working here, it would only be a matter of time before word got back to Boone.
She cast a furtive glance toward his table, hoping she wouldn’t catch him looking back at her.
The table was empty.
* * *
It was late afternoon, the sun already low in the sky, when John arrived back in Ketchikan. He thought about calling Emma, but since he knew she’d be working, he went straight to the police station.
Traverton was just leaving to go home, but when he saw the photos on John’s phone, he called his wife and asked her to hold dinner. After they’d transferred the photos to the police database, they brought up the shots of the glasses on Traverton’s computer.
“They’re just like Philpot described,” John said. “Boone’s first so-called bride wore big glasses with thick lenses. If they were anything like this pair, she was probably too nearsighted to get by without them. She would never have gone off on her own and left them behind.”
“You’re saying Boone might have killed her?”
“I didn’t say that. But something must’ve happened to the woman. I hope you’ll agree that this justifies a search of the area—maybe with a cadaver dog.”
“Yes, but the decision to search would be up to the state troopers. It would involve their men and equipment.”
“You could recommend it, based on the evidence.”