My mind raced. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are, Stella.” Again he shone his light in my face. I winced and shielded my eyes with my forearm.
“I’m not, I swear! I did exactly what you told me to!”
His teeth glimmered in the dark as he pulled Bad Billy’s antique six-shooter from his waistband. My heart leaped to my throat. So much for reaching the guns before he did.
“Then why”—he fingered the gun—“did I see the three of you together by the pool, not five minutes ago?”
I froze, searching for an answer that might satisfy him. “You didn’t,” I managed. “It must have been an optical illusion. It was probably a tree branch or something—it’s so dark—”
“Lightning, Stella.”
Damn. I remembered the ill-timed flash of lightning as we passed the pool. There’d be no convincing him.
“Where are they?” he demanded. He hovered over me, the gun dangling from his hand. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
My heart was now beating so wildly I could hardly breathe. But this was my ex-husband. I’d once loved this man and thought he’d loved me. Surely he wouldn’t kill me. Courage. “Or what, you’re gonna shoot me?” I challenged.
“I’d prefer not to,” he said evenly.
Time slowed. I could feel my chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. “It wasn’t Jackson who wanted to cast me in this film, was it?”
He gave a slight shrug.
I knew I should stop, but I had to know. “Why did you ask me here?”
“You were right for the part.” His voice was flat. “I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the role.”
Now he was mocking me. “It didn’t have anything to do with the memoir I wanted to write?”
He adjusted his grip on the gun. “What are you getting at, Stella?”
I steeled my nerves. I knew what had happened now, though I still couldn’t fathom why. “Iris didn’t die of an overdose, did she? You killed her and covered it up with a car wreck so that no one would ask questions.”
For the briefest moment, his eyes met mine, and I knew I was right. I sensed the movement of the arm that held the gun, but I never had a chance.
Taylor
I awoke to pitch black and the sound of the wind and rain pummeling the roof above me with force. As I came to, a searing pain gripped my stomach. I gasped. It felt as though a cat was trying to claw its way out of me. I was disoriented, my brain foggy, my body heavy. My jaw throbbed. But it was nothing compared to the fire in my stomach.
Where was I? I could hear the violent ocean all around me but could see nothing. I felt along the surface I was lying on: cold and hard, walls about three feet high with rounded edges. A soaking tub. Why was I in a tub?
I felt something move at my side and shrieked, jumping out of the way. It was furry and small. A rat? What the hell? As I scrambled out of the bathtub, I stepped on the creature’s foot and it yelped. Or barked. I reached into the tub and took out a shaking Mary Elizabeth. Thank God. But why was I in a tub with Mary Elizabeth?
My stomach cramped as I stood, and I sat down hard on the floor with the little dog in my arms. I felt a cold wet in my pants. Had I pissed myself? Miscarried? I was pregnant. I knew that much. Or I had been. If the pain in my stomach was any indication, I wasn’t anymore. Unless, maybe I had food poisoning? I clung to the thought hopefully, though I knew that with the circumstances, it was unlikely. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure how I’d ended up here. I remembered last night with Rick. I remembered the storm approaching this morning, remembered moving the plane and boat up an hour…but then what?
Something nagged at the corners of my mind. I’d decided to quit my job. I was going to confront Cole. Had I? I set Mary Elizabeth on the floor and slowly stood, then felt my way along the wall to where the door to my bedroom should be. But it wasn’t there. Instead I found the sink. Odd. I felt around the counter for anything that might produce light, coming up with a book of matches. Hardly believing my luck, I struck a match. Sulfur dioxide burned my nostrils as the dark came to life in flickering gold. I wasn’t in my bathroom. This one was oriented opposite of mine, the countertop cluttered with high-end men’s toiletries and prescription pill bottles. Resting between the sinks was a black baseball hat that read “POWER PICTURES.”
Shit. I was at Cole’s.
I had confronted him. I couldn’t quite determine whether I was making it up or I actually remembered it, but regardless, the outcome seemed obvious. This was not food poisoning.
Another wave of pain seized my stomach, and something warm oozed down my leg. He’d done this to me. The memory lurked just outside of my reach, but I knew it with every cell in my body.
I lit another match and held it up to the crotch of my cargo pants. They were dark with blood. I screamed, pure rage filling every cell in my body. I didn’t know whether I abhorred him more for knocking me up or for knocking it out of me, but it didn’t matter. I loathed him with a hate as pure and deep as the darkness around me. If he’d stood in front of me in this moment, I would have killed him without a thought.
But he didn’t stand in front of me. I was in the throes of a miscarriage during a hurricane; I needed to focus on the present. I struck another match and waved it over the vanity, then the ledge by the window, where I found what I was looking for: a big white jar candle emblazoned with the name of the resort. I touched the wick with the dying match flame and the candle sizzled to life.
Shadows danced on white marble and reflected off walls of glass as I carefully carried my new light source to the door that led to the bedroom and turned the knob. It didn’t budge. My heart sank. Bathrooms weren’t supposed to lock from the outside. I assessed the doorknob, only to find a dead bolt that required a key. Why Cole needed a dead bolt on his bathroom wasn’t relevant. I was stuck, and I didn’t dare consider what he planned to do to me when he came back.
Did he mean to kill me? He could have so easily thrown me into the sea to drown after knocking me out, instead of locking me here in this bathroom. The fact that he hadn’t gave me a sliver of hope he wouldn’t when he returned. Without the fetus I carried, I had no proof anything had ever happened between us. Would my word be enough? He obviously thought not. Or perhaps he figured that without evidence and after experiencing how vicious he could be, I’d be too afraid to speak up.
He was wrong. I didn’t care anymore what it did to my career. I was more determined than ever to make sure that motherfucker never laid a hand on another woman. But to do that, I needed to survive. And that meant getting out of this godforsaken bathroom.
Gritting my teeth against the agony in my stomach, I set the candle on the sink and assessed my surroundings. The storm outside was fierce, and I could tell the ocean was high by the sound of the waves slapping the walls and the underside of the floor, but thus far the bungalow seemed intact. I had to assume Cole had gone up to the lobby to ride out the storm, so I ostensibly had some time to come up with a plan, if only I could think through this pain. I rummaged through his pill bottles, gladly downing a Vicodin with one of the half-empty water bottles that littered the countertop.
Mary Elizabeth whined. My blood-soaked pants stuck to my thighs as I squatted next to her and filled the empty soap dish with water, which she lapped up immediately. I grabbed the candle and wandered into Cole’s walk-in closet, where I selected drawstring gym shorts and the smallest pair of boxer briefs I could find, figuring I could fold a washrag inside to absorb additional blood. As I peeled off my pants and dropped them on the floor, I was surprised to hear a thunk. I dropped to my knees and fingered the fabric, extracting a small gray plastic brick from the lower-leg pocket.
Pockets are useful.
I recognized it immediately as the satellite phone I’d forgotten Rick gave me before he left this morning. How had I not felt it until now? As if in answer, a sharp pang cut through my abdomen. I flipped the phone open and held down the power switch. As the buttons lit up
green, a ray of hope flared to life inside me. The phone was fully charged, the number for Rick’s parents’ satellite phone stored right where he’d keyed it in a million years ago this morning. Could it possibly work in this weather? I extended the antenna the way he’d showed me and pressed dial.
The line crackled as it rang and rang. Finally the voice mail clicked on, sending my heart plummeting. I left a jumbled message detailing my situation, then set the phone on the vanity with the antenna angled toward the window. Lightning flashed, illuminating the world outside for the first time. I gasped at the sight. The lower deck was completely underwater and white-capped waves crashed violently over the terrace beyond the window, only a step down from where I stood. In context it was shocking the floor was still dry; if the sea rose any farther the bungalow would most certainly flood.
I needed to get out of here before that happened. But how? And if I did succeed in escaping the bathroom, would the pier that connected the bungalows to the beach still be above water and intact? Sharp claws of fear sank into my skin. I desperately scraped the recesses of my brain for a plan as I wiped myself down with a damp towel and donned the clothes of Cole’s that I had selected, then combed every inch of the bathroom and closet for an escape route.
The closet was completely enclosed, but worst-case scenario had a high shelf about two feet wide that I could get up onto if the water got in and began to rise, and a decently solid step stool I could use to climb up. The door to the bedroom was crafted out of the same solid teak the rest of the bungalow was made of, but above it near the ceiling, a window about eighteen inches high ran the length of the wall between the bedroom and the bathroom. I would have to break it.
My stomach cramped, sending me to the floor, where I curled up in a ball and waited for the torment to pass. When I opened my eyes, I was facing the cabinet beneath the sink. A light bulb went off in my head as I remembered Rick’s lesson in fixing a clogged sink.
Mary Elizabeth licked my ankle while I opened the cabinet and carefully unscrewed the two ends of the U-shaped pipe. It was made of a heavy metal that should work nicely for breaking the window, and the two straight pipes that attached to it could also be detached and used for backup.
A sudden ringing from the counter above me, and I jerked my head back, banging it into the inside of the cabinet as I rose to grab the sat phone. “Hello?” I screamed into the receiver.
“Taylor.” Rick’s voice was tinny and far away. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I cried. “I’m locked in Cole’s bathroom, and the water is almost floor level.”
“… kill that…therfucker…was worried…happened when I didn’t hear…called…too late.”
“You’re breaking up.”
“…the storm. Need to get you out. I can…” The rest was lost in fuzz.
I moved closer to the window, hoping for better reception. “I think I can get into the bedroom by breaking the window above the door with a pipe, but I don’t know if the pier is washed out.”
“The storm tide…water so high…going out so the water…subside…hours.”
“What? Are you saying the water will go higher?” I asked, watching as a wave splashed the window. I waited desperately for an answer, but none came. “Rick?”
The call had dropped. I sat on the edge of the soaking tub with a groan, willing the phone to ring again. After a moment, my wish was granted. “Rick?” I answered.
“Can you hear me better now?” His voice sounded like it was in a well, but at least I was catching all his words now. “I stepped outside.”
“Yes.”
“The tide is going out, so the water shouldn’t rise any higher.” I could hear the wind roaring around him as he shouted into the phone. “The water may seep in, but only a foot or two unless a window or door breaks. Down here the windows have to be made of safety glass, which means if they break, they shatter completely.”
“So I’m safe here?”
“Safer than trying to traverse the pier right now. But you need to get out before Cole comes back. I won’t be able to get over there until the storm passes.”
“I know.”
“Low tide is in two hours, which is around the time the eye should pass over Saint Genesius. The water will be lowest then. That’s when you need to go.”
“But where do I go? Cole’s up at the main building.”
“The post office is made of concrete block. You’ll be fine there. The doors of buildings are left unlocked during storms so that cleanup crews can get in. I’ll meet you there as soon as the storm is over.”
“Okay.”
“Keep this phone on you, and call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
I hung up and dragged the stepladder out of the closet, wishing I were taller. Even standing on the top step only brought me to eye level with the window, which meant I was going to have to rely on my upper-body strength to heave myself through it. Please let it be safety glass. I wrapped my hand in a towel and, shielding my eyes, slammed the pipe into the window. It shattered immediately, sending tiny pebbles of glass raining down and bouncing across the tiles. I breathed a sigh of relief.
As I came down from the ladder, Mary Elizabeth yapped at my ankles. Shit. How was I going to get her through the window? I had to come up with something in case I couldn’t unlock the door from the outside. I’d need the sat phone and the candle as well. I went into Cole’s closet, where I found a perforated gym bag with a long, detachable strap. It would have to do.
“I’m sorry about this, girl,” I apologized to her as I unzipped the bag and placed her inside with the sat phone, a bottle of water, and matches. “This is the best I’ve got.”
I continued talking to her as I climbed up the step stool. When I reached the top, I blew out the candle and wrapped it inside a towel, placing it gingerly next to the shaking dog, who whined and yelped as I zipped up the bag. Now in complete darkness, I gripped the strap of the bag in one hand, then pushed it through the window and slowly lowered it as far as I could, finally releasing it to fall the last inches to the floor below. Mary Elizabeth barked excitedly—what I thought sounded like a healthy bark, thankfully.
I gathered every ounce of strength I’d built up in CrossFit and hefted my upper body up and through the hole, then with much groaning, scooted myself lengthwise, lying facedown. My stomach cramped as it scraped the remainder of pebbled glass on the windowsill, but the Vicodin had begun to work, dulling the pain to an almost-manageable level. I swung my feet through the window and dropped to the ground.
Felicity
The air is still and close behind the wall of pillows and blankets I fashioned in the housekeeping closet at the back of the spa building. I’ve been here for hours in the dark, vividly imagining the night of my mother’s death while refereeing the battle within my body: head foggy from the pharmaceuticals Stella slipped me, heart racing with the caffeine pills. I feel as though I might tear in two and can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would intentionally take uppers and downers at the same time.
Over the din of the storm outside, the sudden slamming of a door and heavy footsteps in the hall raises the hair on my arms. It can only be Stella or Cole, and from the weight of the tread, I’m guessing Cole. I listen as doors within the building are opened, unknown objects tossed about. I nervously check to ensure I remain completely hidden as the footsteps grow closer. The door of my closet opens; I don’t dare to breathe. Petrified, I watch through the pillows as the beam of a flashlight sweeps the inky darkness.
It’s a man, so it must be Cole. He’s looking for someone. Me, likely. And Jackson. Or Stella, if…
I don’t know what happened once Stella disappeared inside the lobby, but she never returned, and after five minutes Jackson and I bolted, finding refuge in the nearby spa building. We decided to split up to sleep off the pills in case anything happened to one of us, and he made sure I was concealed in my hiding place in the linen closet before tucking himself behind
the extra mattresses in the storeroom.
He must have hidden me well because the door slams as Cole backs out of the closet, leaving me in complete darkness. I inhale, realizing I was holding my breath.
Over the noise of the storm outside, I can barely make out the sound of more doors opening and closing as Cole moves down the hall. Does this mean he’s somehow discovered we’re not in our bungalows? And if so, does he know Stella helped us? Worry prickles my spine.
Still foggy, I carefully push back my pillow fort and sit up, rubbing my eyes. At least I don’t have to wear those irritating contacts anymore. Pins and needles tickle my feet as the blood flow returns. My watch reads 10:57 p.m., which means I’ve been here around three hours. Not enough to fully metabolize the heavy dose of sleeping pills Stella gave me, but the fear and caffeine pumping through my system work as an antidote, the need to live superseding the need to sleep. I remove the small metal flashlight I stored in the band of my shorts and grip it in my palm.
In the hallway, I suddenly hear men’s voices talking excitedly. Cole must have found Jackson. My heart thumps faster as I strain to hear.
“I don’t know.” Jackson’s voice. “I can’t remember.”
A decent line of defense, though I don’t know how well it will work with Cole. “I saw you with them by the pool,” Cole says. “Where is Felicity now?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember, I was in my bungalow alone. What happened?”
Does he really not remember?
“Stella drugged you.” Their voices are moving down the hall in the direction of the waiting room. “She’s got it in her head I killed that woman who overdosed at our house when you were a kid and you helped me cover it up, and she wants revenge.”
The fact that Jackson doesn’t ask any of the myriad questions that flimsy fabrication should illicit makes me think he does remember and is only playing along. “Where is she now?” he ventures.
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