by Jo Raven
That’s some wonky logic right there, especially since it relies on the assumption I’m so good for him—and why not? Why do I have to always doubt it? He’s good for me, and I’m good for him, and we’re great together. Isn’t that what love is all about?
Making each other happy.
Which brings me back to my sister and Griffin, and whether love is enough to make you happy—and didn’t I just say it was?
I’m giving myself a headache.
Until he kisses me, ending the endless vicious circle. “I can hear you thinking.”
“It’s not what you think,” I whisper, though I have no idea what he’s thinking. Spinning my doubts into gold, I ask, “You said you had news?”
“Oh yeah. Come here.” He leads me to the living room couch and sits down, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his lap, his arms around me. “Don’t freak out.”
“What? Why?”
“A body was found. A skeleton, rather.”
“Where you said it would be?”
“Yeah.” There’s a scratching quality to his voice, a caged feeling clawing at the surface, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or fear.
So I nod, at a loss for words. Like everything that took place yesterday, I sort of expected this and yet it hits me like a crumbling wall, flooring me. As exciting as the thought was that his dreams are reality, not finding proof would have been… reassuring.
Who wants their nightmares to turn out to be true?
“Cos,” he says, “I’m going back to Destiny. Alone.”
“What? No way.”
“I can’t put my family in danger. I can’t put you in danger.”
“You’re not making sense,” I say softly, because he’s excited and nervous and so frigging sweet I’m in danger of climbing him and fusing our mouths together for the rest of the day, when I need answers. “Why do you want to go back?”
“I need… to do something.” Cagey look, eye flick.
He doesn’t want to lie to me, so he’s being vague.
“Merc… you know who the murderer was, don’t you?”
He nods, caginess giving way to bleakness. “I think so.”
“Is that why you’re going? What are you going to do, face the murderer?”
“No.” His gaze goes distant. “I’m going to try and make sure I got this right, that I’m not about to accuse a person because my dream told me so. Because I hate him so.”
“Who?”
He just shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. Not unless I’m sure.”
Fair enough. “If you’re not facing the murderer, there’s no reason I shouldn’t come with you, is there?”
He grimaces, but it ends in another smile. “God, I love you, Cos.”
I wonder if it will ever get old, hearing those words from him.
I decide there’s no way.
“Let me change and brush my teeth,” I say in my sexy voice just to hear him laugh, “and I’m good to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Merc
‘Phil Construction’ the sign right inside the fence says, and behind it scaffolds and half-built walls of what will eventually be a store.
Probably.
Asking around Destiny where Ross works got us lots of weird, squinty looks. Folks here don’t care much for Ross the Bully turned Part-Time Drunk and Disorderly.
Shocker.
Cos tugs on my hand, until we’re at the gate, looking inside the construction site. She points Ross out to me, and I nod.
He’s easy to pick out from the other workers, standing tall and apart as they take their cigarette break. It’s fucking weird to see him in a yellow helmet and grimy overalls, his work boots caked with mud.
I push the gate open and prepare to slip inside, when he notices us and starts toward us, face pulling into a tight scowl.
“You again?” he calls as he draws nearer. He puts a hand on the gate, blocking our way. “Whatcha doing here?”
There’s no easy way to say this, is there? “The police found her, Ross. I’m sorry.”
He leans heavily on the gate. “What are you talking about? It was only yesterday you came up with this crazy-ass story.”
“They dug up that place by the river, under the trees. They found a skeleton, and the pendant you described.”
He swears viciously under his breath. “Don’t fuck with me, Merc, don’t—”
“Honest to God. You can call them up right now if you want.” I sigh. “Look, I didn’t come here to make your life miserable.”
He snorts at that, but he’s deathly pale.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cos whispers, and he grimaces.
“Who did it?” he breathes.
“They don’t know yet,” I reply.
“And you don’t remember? You saw the guy. You say you remember all sorts of things, that you remember my mom dying—” He stops, looks away.
Yeah. I wish it was that simple. “Look, I came to ask you something.”
“Shoot.” He says it grimly. He looks like he means it literally.
“You know how I kept seeing the swan and the ax in my dreams?” At his blank look, I continue, “I also see a huge eye watching me. Does that tell you anything?”
“Does that…? Have you lost it? What eye?”
“Maybe it was a tattoo or a logo on his jacket. Something like that.”
“You know what, you’re a crazy son of a bitch.” He turns and starts walking away. “Leave me alone, Merc.”
“Wait. Please don’t go.”
That’s Cos, not me. I expect him to turn and fling some insult at her, and then I’ll punch the shit out of him, but he just stops. She has an effect on him—or maybe it’s her gentleness?
Kindness, I think again, kinda randomly. Like when I called and asked how he was. It catches him off guard, confuses him. Maybe it reminds him of something. If it’s of his long-dead mom, or a time when things were simpler, I’m not sure I want to know, not sure I want to feel sympathy.
In fact, I’m sure I don’t want to feel anything but rage for him.
Can’t feel it though, not today, after telling him his mom is dead, has been dead all this time, and even worse...
He heads back toward us. “Okay, let’s have it. Who do you think did it?”
“Our dad.”
He snorts, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Yeah, right.”
I keep my mouth shut. How did I erase it from my memory? The last part—the house, the stream, the man. How didn’t I connect what I know to the dreams, to the clues inside the fucking dreams?
How close Jasper Jones’s house is to Little River, and to that particular bend. Ross’s house.
“Yesterday,” I say, “when we left, you vanished. But you didn’t, not really. You went home. It’s nearby.”
“I don’t live there anymore.”
“You went to confront him. You suspected it, Ross.”
“Fuck you.” He’s glaring at me. “Fuck you and fuck this shit. Go away, back to your awesome little life. I’ve got work to do.”
He isn’t that much older than me, but right this moment, he looks about a hundred years old, face drawn, eyes empty, mouth a slash. He’s my shadow self, I think, my dark counterpart, my reversed twin. He got the abusive father. I got the nice mom. His mom died, while mine got a kind boyfriend. He’s facing a life tinged by his past, where I’m looking at a future with the sweetest girl.
It’s almost as if my nightmares belong to him by right, and I only borrowed them, carried them for a while before returning them to him.
No wonder he’s so fucking mad at me.
I take Cos to one of the two diners in town. Mom used to work in this one for a while when we lived here. We’re mostly quiet as we order. She asks for the strawberry milkshake I remember always asking for as a kid, and I get coffee in an effort to shake off the exhaustion I drag behind me like a leaden ball.
Betsy, who’s as much part of the diner as the
building itself, trademark half-smile in place, takes our orders of burgers and drinks and returns with the coffee jug to fill my cup.
“How’s your mom, sweetheart?” she asks me, and I tell her Mom is fine. “I saw your father recently,” she whispers way too loud, leaning over me so much her smell of cheap perfume and sweat makes my eyes water. “Jasper.”
“Oh, that father,” I say in a half-hearted attempt at a joke.
“He’s a bad apple, that one,” she says confidentially, and glances up at the security cameras. She seems to think she’s secretly starring in a thriller. “The way he treats his employees. The way he treats his son. It’s shameful.”
Imagine if she knew half of what I’m suspecting Jasper of.
She leaves us with a shake of her head meant to convey how shameful it all is, and soon after brings us our burgers and Cos’s milkshake. I keep catching her eyes on me, and I bet she’s dying to ask me about my childhood, my life here, about Jasper, and Ross, and Betsy and everything, but is holding back, sensing I’m not in the mood right now.
I appreciate that.
We’re halfway through our meal, when my phone rings, and it’s Ross.
“What was that ax like?” he asks without preamble. “In your memory.”
I’m not surprised. I think I sort of expected his call. “Double edged.”
An exhale of weariness. “Old. Double-edged. Rusty.”
“You found it.” It’s not a question.
A silence. “It’s in the shed, where it’s always been. You know, it always struck me as odd. Dad was never one for cutting wood. In fact I never remember him using it.” A pause. “The surface is rough. A dark residue of something.”
A chill goes through me. “Where are you?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“Are you at the house? In the shed?”
“I said—”
“Ross, get the hell out of there. Stay away from your dad.”
“Look, I’ve lived with the guy for most of my life. Now I should worry? Fuck off.”
“Now the police are sniffing around that spot by the river, asking questions. Steer clear of him, got it?”
“What the fuck do you care if anything happens to me?” He sounds genuinely curious, and I have no answer to that.
“Just do it,” I say with more calm than I feel.
“It wasn’t Dad. He can’t be the killer.”
“Why the hell not? He used to beat you. Beat everyone around him. He’s a bully. And he’s got the ax.”
“That doesn’t make him a killer.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I hiss, throwing my paper towel away, pushing to my feet and stalking out of the diner, Cos at my heels. “I bet he has a jacket with an eye on it. Like a masonry sign, or a biker club logo. I’d bet my right nut on it. Since you’re back home, why don’t you take a look, see if you find it?”
“Why don’t you come look for it, smartass?”
“Ross… Just get out,” I mutter, my anger seeping out of me. “I’m telling you—”
The line disconnects with a click, and Cos wraps her arms around me, a red-hot circle keeping me together as I think what to do next.
We walk back to my car in silence. Cos has her hand in mine. I can’t even remember when she took my hand, or when I took hers. Funny how such a small thing, just the slight grip of her fingers, can be such an anchor.
How a random girl could become so unique and important to me, in such a short time.
Maybe it was destiny. Destiny is a place where impossible things happen, sometimes good, sometimes bad, where unexpected stories unfold.
I open the door for her, and she climbs into the car. Going around, I get behind the wheel and start the engine, putting on “Riptide” by Vance Joy because it seems somehow appropriate.
“Merc?” She asks, in hushed tones as I roll down the window and drive out of town. “You sure your dad is the one?”
As much as any crazy person with self-fulfilling dreams can be. I shrug. “I’ve gone this far, might as well tell the police what I think.”
“But Ross doesn’t think it’s true.”
“Ross knows it’s true. Which is why I’m going to the police.”
She gives me a curious look. “What convinced him?”
“I think he believed me from the start, but had to find the clues. He thinks he found the ax.”
She nods, eyes a bit wide. “And now? Will Ross be okay?”
The thing with Ross… I shouldn’t be able to read him so clearly. I didn’t grow up with him—we shared nothing except punches, and our relationship growing up consisted of him bullying me and me hating him. But I can read him, and he figured this out before I did.
He’s convinced our dad killed his mom, and he’s going to face him, confront him about it. Maybe yesterday his dad was out. but today…
Today I need to get the police there before something bad happens.
Why didn’t I think of this then, the second Ross walked away?
“Cos, call Matt for me?” I dig my phone out of my pocket and pass it to her. “Tell him what happened, and tell him to send the police to Jasper Jones’s house.”
She does that, because she’s awesome like that, sweetly explaining to Matt that I think Jasper is the killer, and that Ross may be in danger.
I can hear Matt swearing to hell and back even though the phone isn’t on speaker. Cos holds it away from her ear and makes a face at me.
But hey, it’s done, and at least I may have saved Ross from death by ax. Or by dad.
Either is worth it.
We’re almost in St. Louis when Matt calls back.
“Merc, are you listening?” his deep voice booms from the speaker Cos switches on so we can both hear. “You were right. That motherfucker dad of yours attacked Ross. The police have taken him into custody.”
“Oh shit.” Cos gives me a wide-eyed look.
“I was right about Jasper attacking Ross, yeah. But is Jasper the killer?”
“John Elba is on the scene. They don’t know yet,” he says.
Of course not. No clues.
“I told him about your suspicions about Jasper. He was unsure, because you have history with him and no proof, but him attacking Ross has convinced him to look in that direction.”
“Good.”
Though Ross is right about one thing, at least: A bully isn’t necessarily a murderer. No matter how much I hate Jasper, that’s not proof.
I turn the car around and back to Destiny. All roads seem to lead there these days, all dreams.
Well, the bad ones, anyway.
“How’s Ross?” I ask. “Is he okay?”
There’s a funny pause, as if Matt is debating what to say. “He’ll survive. He was taken to the nearest hospital, but the old man missed. Too drunk to aim well, probably, and thank God he couldn’t find his gun. He threw a knife at his son.”
“Oh my God,” Cos whispers.
“Hit Ross in the shoulder,” Matt goes on. “He’ll be fine. To be honest, I think the boy’s mostly in shock.”
“Yeah.” Who would blame him?
“Are you coming back?” Matt asks brusquely.
“No, I want to talk to John Elba first. And maybe Ross.”
“Suit yourself. I told you all they’ve found out so far.”
“Thanks, Matt. I owe you.”
“And don’t you forget it, kiddo.” His voice changes, softens. “Look out for him, Cosima, girl. Don’t let him fool ya. He acts like an angel one minute, then goes and gets involved in a murder investigation the next.”
She snickers.
Traitors, both of them. “You know what this angel has to say to you?” I mutter, and reach sideways to end the call, ending Matt’s guffaw.
And so we drive to that fucking neck of the woods, that fucking bend of the river, that’s now crawling with police cars, cops and dogs who start to bark as I park and we get out of the car.
Cos looks a little lo
st, and although the unreal quality of what is going on hits me, I find myself going to her, taking her hand.
So that’s what keeps happening, and I find our hands tangled together every time. We gravitate toward each other, like planets caught in the same trajectory.
John Elba spots us and walks toward us. I remember him from the time my sister Octavia had a stalker and he ended up kidnapping her, right after she met Matt, some years ago. He looks just the same as he did then—whipcord thin, dressed formally in a dark suit, dark eyes shrewd and gleaming.
“So you’re the dreamer,” he says, extending a hand for me to shake, and somehow it doesn’t sound like an insult, or even a metaphor.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I remember you. How’s the family?”
“Fine. They’re fine.”
We shake hands, and then he shakes hands with Cosima who says nothing.
“What a story,” Elba says. “Never expected anything like this here. It’s such a quiet little place.”
I want to point out he caught a stalker-about-to-turn murderer in this quiet little town three years ago, when that psychopath had kidnapped my sister, but I don’t. “Have you discovered anything else?”
“Actually, yes. I’ll tell you as long as you don’t go to the papers with it.” He claps my shoulder, hard, before I open my mouth to reply, grinning widely. “Just kidding. So yeah, we found another skeleton.”
Cos makes a faint sound, and I turn to her, pulling her against my side.
“Another woman, from the looks of it,” Elba goes on. “We’ve got a team excavating the bones. I wouldn’t recommend going that way.” He waves a hand at the center of the activity. “Crime scene and all, if old.”
“That’s okay. What about Jasper Jones?”
“Your dad, right?” He looks pained. “Matt says you believe him to be the killer.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
“That night, I saw him at his house. He came after me.”
“You sure you remember that?”
“He hasn’t been wrong so far, has he?” Cos asks, her voice not so sweet anymore, and I love how she’s got my back.