by Wiley Brooks
Jessica turned away toward the sea. Mason let her have a quiet moment. He knew she had to be reeling.
“I know this is overwhelmin’, honey,” he said softly. “I really do. The way he looks at you and treats you tells me that he might actually care for you. Hell, he might be fallin’ in love with you. Who knows, he might ditch the plan to kill you. Maybe. But the fact is,” Mason paused until she looked at him, “even if he doesn’t kill you, Joey is a serial killer. Is that someone you wanna spend your life with?”
She didn’t answer, but her mind was racing. This was supposed to be a goddamn fling, not a death-do-us-part love affair. Why was she so conflicted?
If it were true, Jessica knew she should be repulsed by what Joey had done to those girls. But in that instant, she was close enough to Joey to give him the benefit of doubt. And she felt 100 percent certain that Joey would never hurt her. As she thought about their time together, she grew convinced that he had fallen in love with her. She didn’t think she loved him, but she did feel she should give him the benefit of doubt. Something inside her told her she owed him that much.
She knew what she had to do.
“I just don’t know,” she finally told Mason. “This is a lot to process. I need some time.”
“Sure, darlin’. You’re safe here,” Mason paused, then added, “at least as long as he doesn’t know you know. Don’t say a word about this to Joey.”
She stared at him. She surely was going to talk with Joey. But she also realized, that if by some chance it were all true, Joey might feel trapped. Would he fear her? If so, what would he do about it?
She turned back toward the Majestic Turtle.
“We should head back,” she said. “Joey will be waking up soon.”
As they walked back, Mason said he did have another question for her.
“I was in your room yesterday at The Smokehouse,” he said, evoking a condescending look from her. “You had checked out earlier in the day. I found a notepad where you had written ‘how much do I say’ on it. The original wasn’t there, but I was able to pull it from the top sheet of the pad. What did that mean?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t write a note. Joey might have. He’s always writing stuff down. I think it’s how he figures things out.”
“Huh,” Mason grunted, clearly not knowing what to make of it. Was Joey going to confess to her? He just didn’t see any way Joey would do that. Maybe he was debating if he should tell her how he felt.
When Jessica arrived back at the bungalow, Joey was still napping. She looked at him lying there. It was so hard to believe what Mason had said. As compelling as Mason’s argument had been, she knew Joey, she told herself. At least she thought she knew him.
She had to talk with Joey. Mason would be pissed, she knew. And it could be dangerous for her. Still, she owed it to him to hear what he had to say. And if he said it was all true, what then? Would she just up and leave him?
Of course she would.
Then a more ominous question pushed its way into her thoughts: Would he let her?
She didn’t know the answer. A shiver ran through her.
Joey must have felt her presence because he stirred then opened his eyes. He smiled at seeing her, then saw that something was wrong.
“What is it, Jess?” he asked with genuine concern.
She sat on the bed.
“We have to talk. I care you, Joey. A lot.”
His mind was trying to figure out where this conversation was heading.
“I just heard something,” she said, “and I need to hear what you have to say about it.”
Joey immediately sat up in the bed.
“Of course. What did you hear?”
“Mason’s not exactly who he said he was.”
“No? Who is he then?”
“He’s a former CIA guy who was hired by the father of that young American woman who was murdered in Mersing, you know, the one Martin mentioned. Amanda.”
Joey fought to keep the sudden panic from showing on his face.
“Okay. So?”
“So, he’s been tracking down the guy who murdered her.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “He says it’s you.”
“What?” he nearly shouted.
She began to cry. Joey stood and held her. She let him. There was comfort and a feeling of safety in his arms. And yet, fear, too, had crept in. Doubts.
“You don’t believe him, do you?”
“Joey, he has details. He knows so much about you. Your name, your Malaysian name, Joey.”
Her head was resting on his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her hair while he rubbed her back in his embrace. She had heard the truth about him but hadn’t fled. She was here. With him. That had to be a good thing. Maybe he could plant enough doubt that she wouldn’t believe what Mason had said.
“Having my name means nothing. He could have gotten it from my adoption papers. I ask you, Jess, do you think there is a chance I could kill someone?”
“I told Mason he had the wrong guy. That you’re a gentle soul. He insisted that he was certain. And there’s more.”
“Seriously?”
“He said you’ve never lived in America.”
“That’s absurd. How does he explain my passport?”
“He didn’t.”
“And then there’s my accent. I don’t have one. How could I possibly sound so American if I didn’t grow up there?”
“He said your American mom at the mission tutored you every day watching American movies and TV shows.”
Joey was stunned that Mason knew this but had to keep up the act.
“Jess, really, how crazy does that sound? I learned to speak this way the same way you did. At home. In America. This is just unreal.”
“It gets worse, Joey. He said you had killed seven young women. . .”
“. . .No way!” Joey exclaimed, pulling back from her. She gazed at him. There was a pleading look in her eyes. Christ, she wanted to believe him.
“He also said,” she was whispering now, “you planned to get me to trust you, so I’d invest in Bungalow Paradise. He actually knew the name of the business you’re starting and how much money you need.”
Inside, Joey was feeling like a small boat in a bad storm. How could Mason had known that? There was only one way. Big Willie.
But Big Willie wouldn’t rat him out – or would he? Maybe the police had tracked fenced items back to the fat Thai and it was either roll on Joey or go to jail. Big Willie had made it clear that under no circumstances was Joey to lead the police to him. Joey felt a twinge of guilt that he might have let Big Willie down, but at the same time, Big Willie let him down too. In any case, that didn’t solve the question of how Mason tracked him down. Big Willie had no idea where he and Jess were.
He sat on the bed.
“Jesus, Jess. I don’t know what to say. It’s such an outlandish story. I’m not surprised, though, that he knew a few details about my business. I talked it up to people. Any number of people could have told him.”
He sat back on the bed, his mind appeared to be a thousand miles away. She sat next to him and he looked over at her. She saw what she felt was pain in his eyes.
“What are you going to do?” he asked her.
“I don’t know, Joey. I don’t want to believe it. I told Mason I needed time. He said I was safe if I didn’t tell you. Am I safe, Joey?”
“God yes, Jess. I could never hurt you. You know that.”
He got up and walked to the little sink in the bathroom. He needed to buy some time to think.
Joey’s world just turned upside down. He had to focus on one thing now. Survival. How in the world had Mason tracked him down? Who else knew?
He turned on the spigot and splashed water on his face. An idea came to him. He walked back into the room and opened his bag and appeared to grab a ball cap. He used the cap to hide that he also had picked up his pearl-handled knife.
“Listen, Jes
s. My mind is racing. I need to think this through. I’m going to take a walk. I need some time. I’m sure you understand. I have to figure out how to talk with Mason about it. Maybe I can convince him that he has the wrong guy.”
She said that he had time. Mason told her that nothing would happen until they were back on the mainland.
“When he gets back to Kuala Besut,” she told him, “he plans to call a homicide detective in Penang who will come arrest you.”
“Geez.” That told Joey that at least one other person knew. The fact that it was a homicide detective in Penang meant that they had probably linked him to Mary Higgins. He could hang if he couldn’t escape.
She was sitting on the bed. He reached down, cupped his hand on her cheek, then bent and kissed her.
“Why don’t you rest while I walk,” he said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. If you see Mason, don’t tell him you told me. I need to figure this out.”
He turned and walked out the door. He needed to make sure that Mason saw him, so he walked to the dining area to get a fresh bottle of water. He struck up a conversation with Umar about what was for dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mason standing in the doorway of his cabin. He gave a small wave and Mason waved back. That was good. He needed to get Mason to follow him.
Mason was a lone operator. At least, that’s what he told Jessica. Joey needed to make Mason disappear. He couldn’t kill the man in his room, though. That would summon the authorities. He needed to lure him away first and then kill him. That way he could leave Mason’s body in a place it would not likely be found.
Joey left the Majestic Turtle and started walking toward the north tip of the island.
There was a risk, Mason realized, that Jessica had just told Joey and the man was about to flee the island. Mason threw on a shirt and hurried to the edge of the bungalow grounds in order to keep Joey in view. He waited till Joey was well up the beach then followed him. There was enough distance between the two men that unless Joey turned around and peered closely at him, he wouldn’t recognize Mason.
Joey wanted Mason to follow him, though. This little gambit would be worthless if he didn’t. Part way up the beach, Joey stepped down to where the surf washed up on the shore. It was a natural movement, but also turned him so he could glance back toward the Majestic Turtle. Sure enough, Mason was just leaving in his direction. Joey smiled, then continued up the beach.
They had been walking for about half an hour when Joey slowed a bit. He glanced back down the beach and saw Mason still following him. Joey needed Mason to see where he would leave the beach.
Joey knew there was a seldom-used trail that headed back into the jungle. After a short way, the trail would fork. The left fork would continue up and over the mountain to Turtle Beach on the other side of the island. The more-often-taken right fork continued to D’Lagoon.
Mason saw Joey disappear into the Jungle. He picked up his pace. He couldn’t let Joey get away. He had tracked Joey to the island largely by relying on Jessica using her credit cards. If Joey were to leave her behind and run, he could vanish. Mason wouldn’t let that happen.
Trying to go faster in the beach sand, though, was taking a toll on Mason. The nights of little sleep, he realized, were catching up with him. He was laboring.
Mason saw the trail that Joey had followed and took it. The jungle was dense and this trail narrow. Mason could tell it wasn’t much used. The oppressive heat and humidity, along with the climb up the steep hill wore him down even more. Still, he pushed on.
He didn’t want to come upon Joey unexpectedly, so he tried to listen for the man ahead of him on the trail. But the jungle here is loud. A creepy feeling came over him and he felt very alone.
Up ahead, Joey came to the fork. He knew that the cross-island trail was used even less than the one to D’Lagoon, so he took it. But he needed to make sure than Mason didn’t take the wrong path. About ten yards up the trail, he dropped his hat as if by accident. Mason would see it and make the right choice.
Mason knew Joey was ahead of him, but no idea how far. The trail grew steeper. His breaths more pronounced. A thought flashed in his mind about what he would do if the trail forked. He’d have to guess. All he could do was hope that when he got to the other side of the island that he’d see Joey walking on the beach. After all, he didn’t want to catch him, just not let him get away. He picked up his pace to try to close the gap, but that caused him to grow even more winded. He had to see someone about the nightmares, he told himself. He couldn’t go on much longer this way.
Further up the path, Joey has found a good hiding spot in thick jungle just off the side of the trail. The trail had been climbing over the rise in the center of the island. Joey had time to catch his breath. Before too long, though, he could hear Mason approaching. The man was breathing heavily.
The moment Mason passed him, Joey lunged. He took Mason sprawling to the ground. With a well-practiced move, Joey brought the knife to Mason’s neck. But he did not cut him.
“I want some answers, Mason,” he said. Mason didn’t move or say a word. Joey had a knee between Mason’s shoulder blades. He held Mason’s head up to expose his neck with his right hand and had the knife in his left hand touching his pursuer’s neck. A small trickle of blood dripped to the ground.
“Did Amanda’s dad really hire you?”
“Yeah,” Mason wheezed out. “He’s a rich guy. Political connections. Got to me through the State Department.”
Mason decided there was no reason to hold back the information. He didn’t want to anger Joey because the man might simply cut his throat like he had the girls. He wasn’t a fool, though. He knew Joey would never purposefully let him live. Mason had to figure how to get out of this deadly predicament.
“How did you find out who I am?”
“Good old-fashioned detective work. Hey, bud,” Mason added with gasps, “I’m havin’ a hard time breathin’ here. Can you take some of the weight off my back?”
“Not going to happen.”
“I talked,” Mason continued, struggling to breathe, “to people who had seen you,” he said pausing again for short breaths, “then I found out about the mission and Pastor Johnny and Mrs. Helen.” Another pause and an effort to breathe. “She left because she had cancer, by the way. She died the next year.” Mason felt the knife momentarily drop away from his neck and the weight lift ever so lightly from his back. It’s now or never, he thought.
With a singleness of mind and body, Mason threw himself upwards. The move caught Joey off-guard, causing him to slide just enough off Mason that the older man was able to roll away and stand.
They faced each other on the trail. Joey still held his knife.
“I should have just killed you,” he hissed.
“Missed your chance, good buddy.” Mason crouched in a defensive posture. “You are so fucked up. I actually feel sorry for you. Well, actually, I fuckin’ don’t.”
Joey glared at him. Mason decided to rock Joey’s world a little more.
“You really blew it, you know. You should have found a way to hold on in Melaka,” Mason said. Joey didn’t respond. “Pastor Johnny came back for you just like he said he would. That man loved you. Now that he knows you’re a fuckin’ psychopath he probably is havin’ second thoughts.”
“I did stay. He didn’t come back. You’re lying to me.”
“I’m not fuckin’ lyin’, you piece of shit. Mrs. Helen hung on for several months. Once your ma died and he had her buried, he hauled his butt straight to Melaka.”
Mason could see Joey’s mind working. Mason almost knew what the young man was thinking. How much different his life would have been. Yeah, Mason thought as he stared at Joey, there’s that look of recognition that he totally fucked up. Then Joey seemed to snap out of it and peered back at Mason with a new resolve.
“How did you find out about my business?”
“The fat Thai rolled on you. He was facin’ a murder charge. He gave your sorry ass u
p like that.” Mason clicked his thumb and middle finger.
Joey nodded slightly and pursed his lips a little. He had known it had to have been Big Willie. He wasn’t done with the questions.
“How did you find me?”
“This is great, Joey. You think we’re playin’ twenty fuckin’ questions! But hey, dickwad, I’ll play along a bit. I didn’t find you. You fucked up, man. You were so goddamn cock-sure that you never thought anyone might be on to you.”
Joey clearly didn’t get where Mason was heading.
“I found Jessica, nimrod. We tracked her credit cards. Ever’ time she used one, we knew where you were. Then put two and two together to figure out where you were headin’ next. Fuck man, I got to the Perhentians before you did! Isn’t that a goddamn hoot!”
Joey had heard all he could stand to hear. He lunged at Mason. The two tumbled to the ground. Mason’s focus was on getting the knife out of Joey’s hand. They rolled and then rolled again.
Joey, though, was younger, bigger and stronger. Almost as quickly as it had begun, he had Mason pinned to the ground once more. The older man wiggled fiercely and tried to throw his legs up with force to dislodge Joey.
“Enough of this, old man,” Joey said, barely above a whisper. The two men locked eyes, which gave Joey a moment’s pause. He had never engaged the girls straight on this way. But that moment was fleeting. With the single-mindedness of the psychopathic killer he was, he brought his pearl-handled knife to Mason’s throat. In one powerful move, Joey sliced the blade through Mason’s neck.
Mason knew it was over. He could see his own blood squirting skyward during his last moments of consciousness.
There was no fight left in him. He was ready.
His mind drifted to Sylvie. If there were an afterlife, he hoped he’d be with her soon. But would God forgive him those fifty-four innocent lives? He would soon know the answers.
Then, Sylvie was there. He could see her. Clearly. Sylvie was saying something. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She reached out. All his doubts evaporated. He felt a peace that he hadn’t felt in, well, ever. And with Sylvie’s beautiful smiling face beckoning him, Mason Ray, the boy from a little farm on the other side of the world, died.