Swim Deep

by BETH KERY

  “You don’t think the Analyzer worked?”

  “Do I think it could tell if people were lying? Yes, I believe it did that, if inconsistently. It certainly wasn’t any more reliable than existing polygraph equipment that uses blood pressure or respiration as measures. The true power of the Analyzer was Noah himself. He had such a large personality, such charisma and magnetism about him, that when he informed people that they were lying—because he had the scientific proof in front of him, didn’t he, given his machine?—people believed him. He actually convinced them that he knew their truth better than they did, that he knew they were lying, even when they weren’t. Eventually, they’d confess to all manner of supposed lies, betrayals, and sins, all because Madaster said they’d committed them. All because it served his purpose.”

  “He was practicing brainwashing,” I said softly. “Not lie detection.”

  “Exactly. He would have created a slave race around him if he could have, their entire purpose being to prove that he was the rightful authority of whatever sick little world he’d created. I know it sounds like I’m being melodramatic, Anna, but I’m not.”

  Emotion vibrated in his deep voice. For a few seconds, our stares locked. I almost tasted Evan’s disgust in that moment.

  His hatred.

  “The Analyzer was his downfall, though. It was the reason he eventually had to step down as governor,” Evan said after a pause. “He was absolutely paranoid about anyone who worked for him. But his need for complete control escalated to epic levels with his staff and advisors once he reached the governor’s office. He constantly suspected leakers, that he was being undermined by someone in his inner circle.

  “That’s when he began to insist staff members submit to questioning, using the Analyzer. I know it sounds unbelievable, in this day and age. But I swear to you, it happened. He set up his own miniature Inquisition in the governor’s office. And he got away with it for years.

  “From what I’ve come to understand, the working environment at the governor’s office was nothing less than pure misery and fear. Still… people did exactly what he wanted for years. It may have been hell, but Noah managed to always convince people things could be worse, if Noah decided you were no longer loyal to him.

  “His authority wasn’t inviolate, though. He made the mistake of pushing too far, growing too bold… too drunk on his own power. A young—very courageous— female aide broke her silence to the press. She reported that Madaster had touched her inappropriately during the questioning process. After she spoke out, several other employees went public about both emotional and sexual abuse by Madaster, sometimes while he used the Analyzer on them, sometimes not.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Evan frowned. “All charges were eventually dropped.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Madaster has a way of silencing his enemies.”

  “You mean… he just got away with it?” I asked, outraged at the idea.

  Evan shrugged. “Charge after charge came in against him, and he was eventually forced to resign. But he never went to court for any allegations. One by one, the charges were dropped. The news stories faded.”

  He glanced up and noticed my disbelieving anger.

  “He’s got a powerful team of lawyers who will do anything short of murder for him, and I’m not entirely convinced they wouldn’t do that. Trust me, I’ve been doing battle with them for seven years over my ownership of the North Twin. But in answer to your question: Yes. Noah Madaster got away with it. He’s never been punished for his crimes. Not one.”

  “That’s outrageous,” I said, sitting back in my chair, stunned at the unfairness.

  Evan leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. I got the impression he really wanted me to understand something.

  “It is outrageous, yes. But remember I told you Madaster is a snake? A spider? He taps into people’s weaknesses and ultimate fears, and spins those vulnerabilities to his benefit. He does it as easily as he breathes. A man like him will never be trapped by the black and white language of the law.”

  I swallowed with difficulty, my mind churning over everything Evan had told me. Finally, I exhaled.

  “I suppose he has been punished though, hasn’t he?” I asked quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That fall that he had,” I said, staring out at the black lake and star-dusted sky. “He’s like a prisoner in his own body, isn’t he? Living in that huge mansion, up in that tower… bound to his wheelchair. For someone who thrived on power and control, he’s lost the ability to manipulate even his own legs.”

  “You sound like you’re feeling sorry for him.”

  I blinked at the sharpness of his tone. Had I been feeling sorry for Madaster, for the owner of that bloody, clenched fist protruding out of that window? One thing was for certain: I’d never witnessed a more distilled image of helpless, frustrated rage in my life.

  “No, not feeling sorry for him. I was just thinking how ironic and ruthless fate can be, how sometimes it gives a person exactly what they’ve earned during their lifetime.”

  Evan grunted softly. “It’d take Noah Madaster a thousand lifetimes to ever begin to pay for his crimes,” he said with a tone of finality before he stood and picked up his plate and half-eaten dinner.

  The entry road was cleared. A maintenance crew came out to set up reinforcements in the areas where the geologist had recommended.

  I’d grown increasingly uneasy painting up at the overlook, ever since discovering that the Madasters lived next door. My work had suffered because of my discomfort about being observed from the South Twin’s tower. I often turned and looked over my shoulder at the circular row of windows in the distance. The one Madaster had punched had been covered with cardboard and duct tape. I was a little amazed, given their wealth and means, that no one had been there to repair the glass yet.

  But despite that telltale prickling on the back of my neck, I never saw any movement or the outline of anyone in the windows. It must be my imagination at work.

  Still, that feeling of being watched persisted.

  The days flew by. I had an appointment next Tuesday to show a series of my Tahoe paintings to Lauren Dewerson, the gallery owner Evan knew. Despite that deadline, I found myself setting aside my brushes and leaving the overlook before I’d made any decent progress on the last painting for the series.

  Evan was sipping coffee in the kitchen when I trudged inside one morning. Upon seeing him standing there next to the counter, I smiled to cover my frustrated expression and feeling of failure.

  “Taking a break?” I asked him, coming around the island and going up on my toes to kiss him. He cupped my shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding a coffee cup.

  “Kind of,” he said, his manner relaxed as he rubbed my upper back and arm. I always loved the feeling of his big, massaging hand on my body. He gave me so much pleasure without ever seeming to realize he did it.

  “I was about to walk up to the overlook to find you.”

  “Why?”

  “I just got news that I’m going to have to be in San Francisco this weekend. One of the bank’s chief legal officers is flying in from the Netherlands. A meeting has been planned between him, the chief legal officer from the U.S. bank, and me, unfortunately. I couldn’t get out of it. But we can stay at the condo for the weekend. I’ll take you out to dinner Saturday night after the meeting. Anything you like.”

  “I can’t leave, Evan,” I said anxiously. “I mean… I want to, but I have that meeting with Lauren on Tuesday, and I’m having a horrible time with this last piece.”

  His expression grew somber as he studied my face and continued to massage my shoulder muscle.

  “You’re having trouble painting up there, aren’t you? Knowing that the Madasters are living in the South Twin?”

  I didn’t
respond, finding it difficult to put my discomfort into words.

  “I can imagine me telling you about Madaster’s character didn’t help your uneasiness any,” Evan said.

  “I’m glad you told me about him. I wish you’d talk to me more about what’s going on in your head.”

  He stared down at me, his gaze thoughtful.

  “I’ll show you another spot where you can paint,” he finally said firmly, as if he’d just come to a decision. “It’s not quite as picturesque as the one you’re on now, but the view is beautiful there, and trees will shield you from the tower.”

  “Really?” I asked hopefully at first. Then reality hit. “But I wanted this series to all be from the same perspective.”

  “Is it really that important? It doesn’t matter if one of them is from a slightly different angle or not.”

  “It does matter. The concept for the series is to paint the same view at the same time period everyday, and try to show the differences in light caused by weather, cloud formations, and the gradual alteration of the sun as the season slowly changes. It’ll ruin everything to have a painting from a different perspective. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Hey,” he said gruffly, because I’d been staring at his chest while my mind spun anxiously. I looked up at him. He squeezed my shoulder. “Lauren is going to love your stuff, honey. You’re incredibly talented. I know you’re a perfectionist, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.”

  I smiled, a feeling of relief penetrating my anxiety. That was the effect his praise and reassurance had on me. No one else could have soothed me about that topic. He was right. I was a perfectionist when it came to my painting.

  “But what about San Francisco?” I asked.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. Our security system could work for Fort Knox,” I said dryly, referring to the fancy, high tech wireless system that covered every square inch of the mansion. Despite my assurance to him, however, a vivid picture of the nightmare woman standing by our bed jumped into my mind’s eye.

  I would be alone with Evan gone.

  Alone with her.

  I didn’t think I showed the slight shock of fear that went through me. Nevertheless, Evan resumed his casual massage on my shoulder, as if to calm me.

  “How about if I ask Valeria if she can come out and stay while I’m gone?” he suggested. “That way, you can paint all weekend if you want.”

  “That’d work,” I said, brightening at the idea.

  He watched me for a few seconds from beneath a lowered brow.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It still makes me uncomfortable, the idea of you being here without me.”

  I went up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his.

  “Come on, Evan. What could possibly happen?” I whispered against his lips.

  Chapter Ten

  Evan planned to leave for San Francisco that Friday after lunch, but I noticed he lingered over his coffee extra long after we’d finished eating.

  “Don’t you need to get on the road?” I asked him.

  He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, flipping his newspaper. I’d watched him pack a suit earlier for his meeting. But for the drive, he was dressed casually—and very attractively—in a soft-looking, light gray running shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the unique color of his eyes.

  I’d felt a powerful urge to run my hands all over him during our lunch, but had refrained, of course. His imminent departure weighed heavy on me, even though I was determined not to show it. It would be the first time we were separated since we’d been married.

  “I’d forgotten Valeria couldn’t be here until after her class was finished. I’m not crazy about leaving you here alone with the construction crew downstairs,” he explained after a pause.

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Evan. You know I’ll be fine. You yourself have told me that you know the supervisor—Keith Vankamp, isn’t it?—personally. You went to school with him, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. He’s a good guy. Very thorough. Trustworthy. But that’s the thing. Keith is off today. He texted me this morning that his seven-year-old fell off the jungle gym at the park and broke his arm and nose.”

  “Ouch. Poor kid. But still—you said Keith is trustworthy. He’d only hire good guys for his crew, do background checks, the works. I’ll be fine, Evan. You should go now. You’re already going to be hitting evening traffic as it is.”

  I thought I’d convinced him when he stood. But it seemed that between getting his suitcase and finishing up a few things in his office, he still was there by the time Valeria arrived. Once she was there, he suddenly was raring to get on the road. I wasn’t fooled. He’d hung around intentionally until Valeria came.

  “I’ll text you just as soon as I get to the condo,” he said as we stood next to the car. “Don’t forget to set the security system just as soon as—”

  “The construction crew leaves and Valeria and I are in for the night. I know, Evan. Stop worrying, and just drive safely,” I insisted, going up on my toes to kiss him. He opened his hands at my waist and pulled me closer.

  What began as a short goodbye kiss grew steamy. Hungry.

  “You’re not making it easy, Evan,” I panted softly a moment later as he ran kisses along my temple. He nuzzled me with his nose and I tilted my mouth up again.

  “Maybe I don’t want you to think it’s easy, separating from me,” he said gruffly. He gave me one last kiss; it was swift, hard, and guaranteed to make me bereft when he moved away a few seconds later.

  It felt like a hole slowly opened up in my chest as I watched him drive away.

  I suspected he’d been teasing me about not wanting to make our separations easy. But if he had wanted to make this hard on me, he’d succeeded in spades.

  Valeria and I spent a productive afternoon. We inventoried the storage contents of the boathouse, and made a big pile of things to throw away. Valeria did a thorough check of all the scuba equipment.

  During our search of the boathouse, we discovered four different sets of keys in a box, each of them with a tag and boat description on it, like Cuddy Cabin, Cruiser, and Speed.

  One set merely said, The Survivor.

  An uncontrollable shiver passed through me upon seeing the name of Elizabeth’s boat. It again struck me as especially sad… tragic, that she’d chosen that name.

  “Should we take some of the boats out, to see what kind of condition they’re in?” Valeria asked me.

  “Sure,” I replied, because I didn’t know what else to say. I imagined what I’d do when we came upon Elizabeth’s wooden sailboat. Did I want to walk the boards where her bare feet had passed? Did I need to see the last things she’d witnessed before she’d gone overboard into the deep, cold waters?

  I honestly didn’t know if I was attracted to or repelled by the idea.

  Nevertheless, I left the storage facility with Valeria to inspect the boats. We followed the dock to the covered boat slip.

  I felt self-conscious walking out on the dock, just like I had earlier when we approached the boathouse from the beach. Truthfully, I hadn’t been able to forget Noah Madaster the entire time we were at the boathouse, even when we were behind the closed door. I wondered if Wes had given him the message about the boathouse and its contents being allocated to Evan’s property. And if Wes had told him, had the information calmed Madaster, or upset him even more?

  Whatever the case, there were no incidents coming from the South Twin that afternoon. All was quiet. The big, brooding mansion might have been as deserted as we’d once believed it to be.

  When we entered the boat slip, I had my answer as to whether or not I was morbidly curious or disgusted by the idea of getting on Elizabeth’s boat. Only the three motor craft were moored side by side. The fourth birth rem
ained empty. I heaved a sigh of relief.

  I wondered if her boat had been sold, and if so, by whom? Did Evan even realize Elizabeth’s boat was absent? Surely he did, since he said the boathouse and its contents had been allocated to him. Although Madaster hadn’t known that. I thought of the men hauling out the scuba equipment, mostly likely at Madaster’s request. I doubted he’d have any compunction about selling or destroying his daughter’s boat, no matter to whom it legally belonged.

  We found that all three of the crafts had gas in them and were ready to use. I was comfortable piloting the cuddy cabin and the speedboat. My parents had owned a summer cabin on a lake in downstate Illinois, and we’d gone there during summers for most of my childhood. Jessica and I were both proficient at driving a speedboat. But I felt less certain about the enormous cruiser, which contained two berths, a galley and large lounging and dining area. Valeria took over for the cruiser’s test run. I was comforted to see how confident and easy she was, piloting the big boat with all the complicated looking controls.

  “Ever since we were fifteen or sixteen, my brother and I both worked at the local resort’s dock during the summers,” she explained from behind the wheel of the cruiser as we glided along the cerulean blue Tahoe waters. “We valeted people to the resort once they’d buoyed their boats, but they used to pay us to get their boats out of dry dock and into the water, as well. They’d give great tips,” Valeria said with a grin and a wink.

  It was such a gorgeous afternoon, we decided to take the cruiser for a longer ride. I laid out on the deck as Valeria drove, soaking in the amazing views and hot sun.

  “Doesn’t Evan like to go out on the boats?” Valeria asked me later as we walked along the beach toward the North Twin. She noticed my sideways glance. “I just asked because you didn’t seem to know anything about the boats, before we went out there today. I would have thought you and Evan went out on them regularly.”

  “I don’t know why we haven’t for sure,” I said, frowning. “Evan loves yachting and diving. A friend of ours from San Francisco—Tommy—and he used to crew together on a yacht. But Evan’s first wife died in a boating accident, here at Tahoe,” I admitted slowly.