by Lisa Jackson
Jewel-Anne’s neck arched defiantly. “Because this is your domain?” She yanked back hard on her wheelchair and faced the door. “I thought you’d be glad that someone believes you!”
“I am. But . . .”
“But what?” Jewel-Anne demanded.
“This is Wyatt’s private office. He’s not . . .”
“What? Come on, Ava, when have you ever cared about his privacy or anything else about him?”
“He might not like it. That’s all.”
“Sure.”
“I do appreciate it, Jewel. And the heat ducts . . . that’s something.”
“I know a secret,” she suddenly said.
Ava lifted her brows, noticing that Jewel-Anne seemed coldly sober and adult, as if she’d stripped off her little-girl mask for the first time in years. “What kind of secret?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Jewel-Anne,” she murmured, exasperated.
As quickly as it had disappeared, the mask returned, Jewel-Anne’s expression becoming sly and secretive. She poked a button on the arm of her chair, switched on her iPod, blasting Elvis’s “Puppet on a String,” and threw Ava another knowing smile as she zipped through the French doors leading to the main hallway.
Jacob was just rounding the corner from the family room and nearly collided with his sister. “Watch out! Jesus!” He jumped back and dropped his iPad. It hit the floor with a sickening crrrrack, then slid noisily toward the stairs. Stricken, he yelled, “Crap, if this is broken!” then scooped up the device, examining it closely. “Shit! The casing’s split! All my notes and research and papers are on this thing. God. Damn. It!” he exploded, his face turning the color of his hair as Jewel-Anne whirred off and Demetria came running from the dining area.
“What’s going on?” she asked, breathing hard.
“My damned iPad is ruined!” Straightening, his mouth a tight line, he ran his finger over the crack on the electronic tablet’s shell. “Why the hell can’t you get along with Jewel-Anne, huh?” he demanded, seething as he glared at Ava. “She’s in a fucking wheelchair, for the love of God. Can’t you cut her a goddamned break?”
Ava gazed at him incredulously. “This is my fault?”
“You’re just always so right, aren’t you? The fucking bitch who runs this damned island! You know, Ava, it was fine when you were smart, when you knew what you were doing. You could be a bitch. But now you’re too fucked up!”
“What the hell is this?” she shot back, her temper sparking white-hot.
“You can’t tell us what to do anymore!”
“Tell you what to do? When have I—” She caught herself up, realizing Jacob was a half beat ahead of her in this conversation. “You know what? I don’t remember telling you to do anything, but I’m going to start. And here it is: move out. Just go. Find another place to hole up and do whatever it is you do, but leave Church Island. Make it today.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what took me so long. Too much care, maybe. Too many pills.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
“Yeah. I think I am.”
Demetria stepped in. Holding up a hand as if her palm could quell the quarrel, she said. “Now, wait. Both of you should maybe just take a moment.”
Jacob didn’t pay her any attention. “I’m your driver,” he pointed out, hooking a thumb at his chest as he glared at his cousin.
“I can drive myself,” Ava said.
“So now you’re firing me, too?” His eyes narrowed angrily. “You’re un-be-liev-able!”
“No,” Ava said, standing her ground. “Actually, for the first time in a long while, I think I’m finally real. And I don’t like what’s going on here.”
“I have school!” he blurted, clearly unsure how to handle this new Ava.
“So get an apartment in Anchorville,” she suggested. “It’s closer to the damned campus anyway.”
“Who’s going to keep this place running? I’m the person who makes sure the Wi-Fi works. I’ve installed the special equipment you need out here. Everything from the damned boat lift to the televisions and computers, even the security system. We’re on a damned island, Ava, in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere! I even pulled out the microwave and put in a new control panel for Virginia last week. You need me here!”
He was right, but there was no way she was going to admit it. She took a step forward, closer to him. “Contrary to everything you believe, you’re not indispensable, Jacob. We’ll muddle through without you.”
“Jesus Christ, you really are a bitch. Everyone’s right!”
That stung a bit, but she didn’t so much as blink.
“You can’t kick me out!” he insisted, a finger pointing at her accusingly, his chin jutting in rebellion. “You don’t own the whole damned island, not even all of this house. Jewel-Anne owns part of it, too. So unless both of you throw me out, you’re stuck with me. The last time I saw Jewel-Anne, she didn’t look like she was going to play on your side.”
“Whoa,” Demetria said.
Rather than argue further, he strode toward the back hallway.
Ava was left with Demetria, whose eyes followed Jacob’s departure across the wide foyer. “I’ve never seen him that mad.” Reaching behind her neck, she unclipped her hair. It fell in straight, lank waves around her face. “I’d say he has a few unresolved issues, too.”
“Too?”
“He’s not exactly the Lone Ranger when it comes to emotional problems.” Leaning forward, she let her hair fall around her face, then clamped it into a fist, straightened, and clipped it tightly behind her ears again. She headed away from Ava and toward the back stairs and the elevator. “Sometimes I swear this house is worse than Sea Cliff ever was,” she called back. “And trust me, that place was a nightmare.”
CHAPTER 19
Jacob, keys in hand, stepped into his apartment, snapped on the lights, blinked twice, and said, “What the fuck, man?”
Dern was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the unmade twin bed. The place was a sty. Wrinkled clothes were piled on the floor and bed, soda bottles and cans littered every surface, and the remains of several microwave meals, forks still embedded in the dried food, were an open invitation to the rats that probably lived in the cracks of the cement walls. The room reeked of old pizza, which probably just covered up the musty old basement odor. There was one window and it had been painted black, and a flat screen dominated the wall at the foot of the bed. Beneath the television was a collection of controllers and headgear for the video-game console cut into a closet that, Dern learned, had a back door leading to the rest of the basement.
“What’re you doing?” Jacob ranted, placing his iPad onto a shelf already covered with disks and a lamp equipped with a black light. “How’d you get in?”
“Door was open.”
“No way!”
It was a lie. Dern had used his lock-pick set and tension wrench and had massaged both locks open in less than two minutes.
“You can’t be in here!” Panicked, Jacob glanced at his computer, its screen blank, perched on a makeshift desk created with sawhorses and a large sheet of plywood. Half a dozen sets of wires were connected to the desktop, and each split off to separate devices, including a backup hard drive, tower, modem, and secondary monitor.
“I’ll call the police—this is trespassing and breaking and entering!”
Dern tossed Jacob his cell. “And while you’re at it, have them take a look at your computer and explain all the porn sites you’ve been surfing.”
“Hey, wait a second . . .”
Dern was bluffing, but Jacob didn’t know it and the look on his face said it all. “It’s . . . not kids or anything. Legitimate websites.”
“Explain it to the cops. I don’t really care.”
“What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Been looking for you.”
“I was . . . at school.”
Dern
let that one pass. “I thought maybe you could clear up some things for me.”
“What things?” Jacob asked suspiciously. He walked to his desk and made sure the monitor was dark.
“I want to know how things work around here. You’re the security guy. Right?”
“Not officially.” Jacob seemed nervous. On edge. “No.”
“But you have cameras set up, right?”
Jacob lifted a shoulder. “Some. I guess.”
Dern already knew this much but decided not to let on. “Can you show me what you taped the night Ava ran off the dock?”
“Only at the house . . . I, uh, don’t have any cameras set up at the dock.”
“But you must have something for the boathouse? You know, in case there’s vandalism.”
Jacob asked carefully, “Why do you care?”
“I’m keeping the herd safe, the buildings repaired, just want to know what I’m dealing with.”
Unconvinced, Jacob took a seat at his desk chair. Reluctantly, he clicked his computer back on. “I don’t think this is part of your job description.”
“It’s pretty broad. Humor me.”
“And you won’t tell anyone about the . . . you know . . .”
“The porn. No.”
Taking a deep breath, Jacob shoved an empty cup and notepad aside as he moved his computer mouse and accessed the information Dern asked for. The larger monitor glowed to life, and with a few clicks of the mouse, a split screen appeared. The views were limited: the front porch, back porch, exterior of the boathouse, and what appeared to be a larger, panoramic view outside of the garage that showed part of the stable and the parking area. The bottom half of the staircase leading to Dern’s apartment was also visible in the wider field of vision in this view of the back of the house.
Jacob again made some adjustments, clicking through a menu, until he found the date he wanted. “Okay, so here we go,” he said, more to himself than Dern. Rapid-fire images flickered through the screens, people coming and going in frantic, choppy pictures until he slowed the action down at the date in question and fast-forwarded to twilight.
Dern felt his insides tighten.
On the monitor surveying the back porch, the door flew open and Ava, appearing frantic, her feet bare, her nightgown billowing behind her, rushed past. Seconds later, she appeared on the boathouse screen and ran along the dock, only to disappear again. He saw his own image, first at the bottom of the stairs to his unit where he stiffened, turned his head, and then took off, around the edge of the house and out of the camera’s view. Then, he, too, appeared on the boathouse screen, now only in stocking feet, his long legs flying as he ran outside the camera’s range.
A few seconds passed and he figured this was when both he and Ava were in the water.
The camera’s lens returned to a very small section showing the beach near the boathouse, but only the lower half of their bodies were visible, his jeans soaked, her nightgown gossamer and dripping, her legs distinct as he helped her toward the house.
Two seconds later the door to the porch was flung open and Khloe Prescott barreled across the porch and down the handicapped ramp before disappearing from the screen.
“You want more?” Jacob asked, staring up at where Dern stood looking over his shoulder.
“That’ll do.”
“Then we’re square. Right?”
“One last thing. I heard you thought you saw Lester Reece escaping from Sea Cliff.”
“I don’t ‘think’ I saw him. I know I did.”
“How?”
“Because I was hunting. Yeah, I know, at night and yeah, it’s illegal, not even in season. I heard something in the water, turned my spotlight on the water’s edge, and I saw him, man. I swear! It was Lester Fuckin’ Reece. Scared the shit out of me!”
“How did you know who he was?”
“Everybody did! He was a fuckin’ legend around here. And not a good one.”
“So what happened?”
“I took off, that’s what happened. Forgot about the fork-n-horn that I had a bead on. Just hopped in my truck and got the hell out of there!”
“Even though you had a gun?”
“A bolt-action Winchester. But, shit, I wasn’t going to shoot him with it!”
“And you didn’t take a picture of him? On your phone?”
“Like I had all the time in the world. He freaked me the fuck out! He freaks everyone out.”
“Thought you might want bragging rights.”
“What I wanted was to get the hell away from that psycho. He’s killed, what, five or six people? I wasn’t about to stick around and be his next fuckin’ victim. I just left, man.” Jacob seemed sincere, a little on edge, as if he’d really been spooked that night. “Why the hell do you care?”
“I don’t. Just heard about it and wondered.”
“Well you can quit wondering. I saw the bastard. Plain as fuckin’ day! Now leave me alone!”
“I thought Trent was coming,” Ava said after dinner as they sat around the fire, the television on mute. Jewel-Anne, with one of her weird dolls propped next to her, was seated in her chair near the window, her knitting needles moving at a frantic pace, clicking over the hiss of the fire. Wyatt, newspapers spread around him, reading glasses propped on the end of his nose, was seated on one end of the couch and Ava on the other. Ian had taken a seat in the recliner and was cradling a drink between his hands.
The whole scenario seemed false. Almost set up.
“Trent must’ve been held up,” Ian said with a shrug. “Probably business.”
Ava said, “He’s a pharmaceutical rep. How much business could he have in Anchorville?”
“He’s got a lot of clients.” Ian swirled the ice cubes in his bourbon before taking a gulp.
“There are two drugstores in town.”
“And a hospital, one urgent care, and a couple of clinics,” Wyatt said, glancing at his wife over the top of his reading glasses.
Ian nodded. “Clients need to be wined and dined, y’know. He’ll probably call and want a ride back here around midnight.” Ian tossed back his drink.
“Maybe he’ll stay in town,” Jewel-Anne said as she continued to knit. A tiny smile played upon her lips, as if she knew something the rest of them, or at least Ava, didn’t.
Footsteps approached and Demetria appeared. “You ready?” she said to Jewel-Anne. “A little PT before bed?”
“Prayer time?” Ian asked with a sarcastic smile.
“Physical therapy, again?” Jewel complained. “Didn’t I do enough today at the center?” But she was already shoving her knitting needles and yarn into the bag that was snapped to her chair.
“It’s only a few stretching exercises,” Demetria said, and followed her charge as Jewel-Anne straightened the doll and pinned a martyred frown to her face before rolling out of the room.
“Is she always in a bad mood?” Ian asked, crushing one of the ice cubes with his teeth. “Well,” he said, slapping his knees before standing, “this is just about all the excitement I can handle for one evening.” With that, he carried his empty glass toward the kitchen, leaving Ava alone with her husband.
“I heard you went into town today,” he said.
Her insides clenched. “I did. Lunch with Tanya.”
Wyatt snorted. He’d never liked Ava’s friend. “You didn’t take anyone with you?”
Was there a hint of accusation in his voice, or just concern? “I figured I could handle it.”
“Good . . . I just worry. That’s why Khloe’s stayed on. To help you.”
“I’m fine,” she said for about the millionth time. One of his brows arched. “Okay, maybe not ‘fine,’ but I’m stronger than I was even a few days ago, so don’t worry. Let me be the judge of what I can or can’t do.”
“I know you think I’m being overprotective.”
“You are.”
“But you’ve given me reason to worry, Ava! Come on, you know that. And Dr. McPherson isn’t c
onvinced that you’re capable of making all the right decisions.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t she be talking to me?”
“Of course. She’d tell you the same thing.”
That much was true, Ava thought. Good old Dr. Evelyn was pretty succinct about what she thought Ava was and wasn’t capable of accomplishing. “So she wouldn’t think I would be able to make a sane decision about having lunch with my friend?”
“I think the issue is leaving the house, alone. Going into town, alone. Meeting people, alone.”
“Then, there isn’t any problem because I was never alone. I got a ride from Ian over to the mainland and rode with Butch back. I ate with Tanya.” She didn’t mention Detective Snyder or Cheryl.
“And when you got home, you picked a fight with Jewel-Anne and Jacob?”
“Ah . . . Demetria speaks.”
“It was Jewel-Anne who told me.”
“Hmm. Did she also tell you that she was in your office and I wanted to know why?”
“Something about the way noise travels through the vents,” he said.
“She claimed she heard the baby crying, too,” Ava said.
“What?” he said. “Oh, for the love of God, Ava! She was playing with you. She’s always had this . . . thing about the boat accident and she’s still trying to get back at you. It’s childish. Ignore it.”
“I believed her when she claimed she heard Noah,” Ava stated firmly.
He held up his hands as if he had no time for such nonsense, and asked, “So, how did you get into it with her brother?”
“Jacob got all mad at me when his sister nearly ran him over with her wheelchair. He broke his iPad or something and came unglued, really unleashed on me—” She started to say more, then stopped short. “Why am I explaining this all to you, like you’re my father or something? Ask him! You’re my husband. You’re supposed to be on my side!”
A deep flush crawled up his neck and his lips flattened over his teeth. “And you’re supposed to be on mine, Ava,” he pointed out. “I’m not the enemy.”