Chapter 7 Rose’s palms were sweaty enough to leave twin damp spots on her khaki shorts. Her knees trembled as she stood in front of the receptionist at the police station. But she kept lying. The entire time she rambled about her dad’s misplaced glasses, she thought of Trip Gregory’s toothy smile. And when she slipped through the door to her dad’s office, she pictured James kissing Willa. And when she typed two names into the criminal record’s database, the computer dully clicking as it worked, she saw Willa’s blue-tinged lips. But it was the Captain who was on her mind when she selected print and shoved the thick stack of papers into the satchel slung over her shoulder, the Captain holding forth on his yacht while Willa’s body was plucked from the water. That morning, Madge had counted out five one hundred dollar bills, explaining that Rose would probably only need a hundred, but better to be safe than sorry. It annoyed Rose to think that her “type of people” could be paid off with so little.
