I didn’t speak as I stared at her, unable to imagine how a single person could endure so much pain and not collapse entirely. The intolerable regret she must have felt for not letting her sister go with her to the sleepover and, later, the agonizing guilt for not being able to keep either Alex or Hunter safe, her entire life annihilated not once, but three times.
“I’ve never told anyone,” she said. “Only Tyler when we first met.”
“Why now?” I whispered. “Why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe because when I’m with you, it reminds me of who I used to be a long, long time ago. And because you understand what it’s like to blame yourself when everybody around you tells you not to.”
Thunder echoed above our heads as a second passed, then two, then three. We didn’t dare breathe for fear it broke the bond between us, made us change our minds and come to our senses. I pushed my chair back and walked toward her, not taking my eyes off hers. She looked breathless, beautiful. I reached for her hand, gently pulled her toward my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist as she slid her hands over my shoulders and let them settle around my neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, our mouths came closer, her breath sweet and intoxicating, her fingers in my hair drawing me nearer still, our tongues taking their time to find one another, her touch softer than butterfly wings. I hadn’t felt such desire, hadn’t wanted—needed—someone so much for so long, I’d forgotten how it felt, but I didn’t want it to stop.
“Emily,” I whispered and kissed her again. “Emily.”
She pulled away and gently put a finger to my lips before taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom, where she unbuttoned my shirt, slipped it over my back and let it fall to the floor. As she reached for my jeans, I slid my hands under her cotton T-shirt, let them wander, slowly exploring and caressing as I kissed her neck, breathed in the flowery scent of her perfume. The rest of our clothes discarded, we lay down on the bed, neither of us saying a single word until she was ready for me to be inside her, and we lost ourselves in another embrace, crying out each other’s names. Afterward we lay there until our hearts stopped pounding, my chin gently resting on her shoulder, her legs wrapped around mine.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I rolled onto my side, kissed the crook of her neck, could already feel her retreating, inching away from me with every second that passed. “You don’t need to—”
“I’ve never done anything—” She sat up quickly and reached for her underwear, her other hand over her naked breasts. “Please believe me, Josh, I’ve never been with anyone since I met Tyler and—”
“Emily, you don’t have to justify—”
“I have to go.”
Before I’d buttoned up my jeans she’d already slipped on her clothes and rushed out of the room, with me following behind. “Stay,” I said. “Please, Emily. You don’t have to—”
“You don’t understand,” she said, grabbing her bag from underneath the table. “If I don’t, I may never want to leave.”
As she turned around, her bag swung out and caught the empty water jug, sending it, along with both of our drinking glasses, crashing to the floor. Emily jumped back, gasping as her naked foot sank straight onto a broken piece of glass. She limped to the chair as I snatched paper napkins from the table, gently pressing them against the cut, her ankle on my thigh.
“It’s not deep,” I said. “I have a first-aid—”
“Please, Josh.” She put her hands on my shoulder, pulled her foot away. “Let me go.”
My world imploded for three reasons as I watched Emily walk out of that cabin. One, because I now knew for certain my feelings for her had nothing to do with any kind of rebound. Two, because the bloody napkins I held in my hand meant I no longer had a legitimate reason to stay. And three, because I’d already betrayed her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Bill called at seven the next morning, worried he may have woken me when, in fact, I hadn’t slept for the past three hours. “Take the day off,” he said. “Pray to the weather gods the rain will stop before we abandon landscaping in favor of building ourselves an ark.”
“You sure you don’t need me?” I said. “Want me to pick up any supplies or—”
“Really, Josh, don’t worry about it. Chill for the day. The work will still be there tomorrow. Rumor has it we may even see the sun,” he whispered, “but let’s not jinx it.”
And so I became stranded in the cabin in the ongoing rain, all of my thoughts returning to Emily, and the night before. Eyes closed, the images came thick and fast, invading every single part of my mind. Hands and fingers, mouths and tongues, hungry and desperate, her back arched, pulling me closer toward her, deeper. I wanted to call, needed to see her, hear her voice, but each time I picked up my phone I thought of the napkins, and all my lies.
My brain ordered me to leave Faycrest, pack up my things immediately now that I had what I came for, but my heart stubbornly refused. Not yet. There was too much unfinished business between us, too many things to say. If I disappeared, she’d think it was because of her, of what we’d done.
I retrieved the napkins in the plastic bag I’d hidden in the kitchen. The test would come back negative, of that I was certain, but for a fraction of a second I allowed myself to think what I’d do if it didn’t. I’d have to tell Emily that Logan was her son, and not only her, but Tyler, too. And once she knew, once she and Tyler had made their family whole again, could there be a place for me after what had happened between us? What would I do if I lost both of them, lost everything?
I imagined keeping the result to myself, taking Emily away from Faycrest, so she, Logan and I could build a future together. Within a nanosecond the illusion shattered around me like the water jug. How could there be any kind of “us” if I’d be willing to keep a secret of that magnitude from her? I shuddered, grateful it wasn’t something I’d have to face, and as I listened to the rain belt out its own tune on the roof, I decided I wouldn’t run away from Faycrest, but do things right. I’d wait for Lisa to confirm the results—a formality at this point to ease my conscience—then give Bill at least a week’s notice, finish up the cabin for Ethel and, somehow, convince Emily to see me again because I was certain we could have a future together, one in which both of us were happy again.
Would I share my real reasons for coming to Faycrest? Tell her what I’d learned about Logan? For the first time I got a glimpse of how Grace had felt when she’d been confronted with the same question. If she’d told me from the beginning that Logan wasn’t hers, would we have become involved? I wasn’t sure of the answer, still didn’t know who Logan was, and I didn’t want to think about Grace, not anymore.
I called Lisa, quickly explained I had Emily’s DNA, lied about how I’d come about it.
“Jesus,” she said. “Are you on your way home? Please say yes.”
“Uh, no. Listen... I’m going to send the napkins to you. Express or something.”
“In the mail? Don’t be crazy. You don’t have to be there anymore. Let’s just get this—”
“Not yet. I need to stay. Can you get the results of both tests by the end of the week?”
“Why won’t you come—”
“I’m not getting into it, Lisa. Can you get the results by the end of the week, yes or no?”
She exhaled, took a few seconds before she answered. “I don’t know. Yes, maybe.”
“Then I’m going to the post office right now.”
“This is about Emily, isn’t it? Has something happened you’re not telling me?”
As I closed my eyes, I gently said, “Get the results, Lisa, please? Then I’ll come home.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.”
Within a couple of minutes, I’d packed up the napkins in an envelope I’d found in the bowels of the living room, and on which I hastily scrawled Lisa
’s address, and ran to the truck, getting soaked again. I drove down the muddy track and turned left. Faycrest didn’t have a post office, so I headed to Gorham, where the chirpy clerk assured me the envelope would arrive on my sister’s doorstep by morning.
The weather had got steadily worse during the short drive, and by the time I’d made a trip to the hardware store for the caulking to fix the large window at last, the clouds had become thicker, blacker, with deep thunder rumbling in the not-too-far-away distance. Unlike me, most people seemed to have decided to stay at home, and the roads were deserted until I spotted a car about a hundred fifty yards up ahead, immediately recognizing it as Emily’s.
I slowed down, debated whether to follow her, dropped back and kept my distance, buying myself time to make up my mind. She’d said she had an appointment at the garage. Maybe I could ask her to have a cup of coffee with me while it was being repaired.
Another few miles ahead and the road curved to the right, the corner covered by thick trees. By the time I’d made the bend, Emily’s car had disappeared. I slowed down, strained to see the three hundred yards ahead. It was empty, nothing out there but trees, not a single vehicle anywhere, but a car couldn’t simply vanish. When I passed a narrow turnoff on the left-hand side, I doubled back, squinted as I read the letters on a broken sign on the ground. Monty’s Pond.
Something inside my gut told me to keep going. If the weather had been different, I might have assumed there were great running trails around Monty’s Pond, although I couldn’t imagine going for a jog in this weather. Surely Emily would have left directly from her house, at least chosen somewhere less muddy for her runner’s high.
I pressed on, driving eight, nine hundred yards or so, up the bendy trail that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, coming to a stop when I caught sight of the left taillights parked up ahead. Someone was sitting inside the car, but it wasn’t Emily, I decided, the person was too tall, too wide. I kept my distance, my truck enveloped by the thick foliage that hung down, obscuring most of my view, but also protecting me from being seen. The car door opened and when the driver got out, I didn’t need to see his or her face to know who it was.
Tyler.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
He wore jeans, boots and a thick, black rain jacket, a far cry from his usual groomed look. Raindrops bounced off his shoulders as he flipped the hood of his coat over his head and opened the rear passenger door. I leaned forward, my hands clamped on the steering wheel. He slipped something light blue over the bottom of his boots, grabbed a khaki duffel bag and slung it across his shoulder. After a quick glance around, he strode toward an overgrown path and disappeared into the woods.
I sat for a moment, watched the spot where he’d gone into the thicket in case he came back. What was he doing out there? Was he hunting, and if he was, why did he cover his boots? Could this be a clandestine meeting to do with his work? A secret rendezvous with his lover? And if it was the latter, did Emily know he was seeing someone else? Curiosity spread throughout my body as if it were infected, and before I could stop myself or properly consider what I was doing, I’d already got out of my truck and dashed halfway toward the trees.
It didn’t take long to spot a flash of Tyler’s dark jacket up ahead despite the path being so overgrown. I had to fight my way through parts of it, the noise I made drowned out by the rain. The smell of damp pine needles sat in the misty air.
As we moved farther, I avoided the muddy puddles, made sure to stay far enough behind so I could crouch down at a moment’s notice and stay hidden by the bushes. I needn’t have worried. Tyler’s strides were double the length of mine, and he didn’t turn around. When we got to a fork in the trail he turned right, then stepped off the path and carried on toward the pond I could now make out in the distance as the trees thinned.
It was too open there, too exposed, so I continued parallel, twenty yards inside the brush, and watched him head closer to the water—a murky, shallow patch the size of a football field—and into another clump of thicker trees.
I sprinted across the open forest, ducked down when I spotted Tyler again ten feet from the water, his head and knees bent, surveying the ground. I frowned as I noticed his gloves for the first time, thick and dark, not the kind you’d wear in June. My gaze dropped to his feet, and I saw the shoe protectors—booties someone who worked in a lab or a hospital might wear—were covered in mud and dirt.
He pulled a small shovel from the bag, and at first I thought he was going to dig into a small patch of sunken soil. Instead he rearranged it, making the earth even again, his lips moving silently as he worked. After another few moments he stood up, took a few steps back and nodded, seemingly satisfied. That was my cue to leave, and fast. Now wasn’t the time to figure out his reasons for being there, and if he got back to Emily’s car before I made it to my truck he’d see me. Instinct told me that would be a very, very bad idea.
I fought my way back to my truck, hoping the rain would continue to cover the noise, and the trees still gave me enough camouflage. There was no room to turn my vehicle around, so I reversed down the track, hit the main road and headed right. I sped into the first driveway I found, went as far up as I dared, cut the engine and lay low, peeking over the dashboard until Emily’s car zipped by.
I let five minutes pass before doubling back, returned to the spot at Monty’s Pond where Tyler had stood. The soil was sodden but didn’t look displaced, to the point where I second-guessed if I had the right spot, walked around until I was sure. What had Tyler been searching for? Unless, I reasoned, he hadn’t been looking for anything at all, but instead making sure something wasn’t found. With almost a week of heavy rainfall, had he been worried someone might come across something he’d hidden? Something illegal, like drugs or cash? Perhaps Tyler was a dirty cop turned dirty cop consultant, and he’d come to check on his hidden stash. It was the perfect place to hide wads of money—outside the house, off the beaten track, but where you could still pretend you were on a hike if anyone saw you. Not too far from his house, either, I realized. By my calculations, Monty’s Pond was directly behind Emily and Tyler’s place, about three miles away, four, tops.
Fired up by the need to know Tyler’s secret, I sank to my hands and knees, pulling at the heavily drenched ground with my fingers, digging faster and harder until the mud reached my elbows, and covered my pants from my knees to my groin.
Two feet down and I was about to give up when my knuckles scraped something hard. Not another rock, I decided as I felt around with my fingers; it was too smooth. I wiped the mud away from the surface, frowning when I saw the metal box. It must have been military green at one point but was now covered in rust and mud, the hinges worn. Another minute of wiping and digging, and I managed to free the box and lift it out. It was about twenty inches long, fifteen wide and ten deep, big enough to hold a serious amount of drugs or money, particularly if it was packed with hundred-dollar bills, although it felt too light to be full. I lifted the lid, my heart thundering in my neck.
I couldn’t stop the cry that expelled itself from my throat, or the way I leaped back, my feet scrambling, pushing my body away, putting more distance between me and the box. There were no illicit substances and no money inside. Not a dollar bill. Not a single coin.
It was bones. Human bones.
My hands shook as my breath came in ragged gulps, making my fingers and cheeks tingle. I tried to get back in control. Couldn’t. Scrambled back another few feet, my hands now almost numb, my breathing faster. A panic attack. I’d had one when I was a kid, freaking out about a nuclear war documentary. Mom had me breathe into a paper bag to stop the hyperventilating, but my mother wasn’t there, and I had no paper bag, it was only me and a rusty, metal box. And the body of a child. A baby.
I reached for my phone, dialed 9-1-and paused, my finger hovering over the last digit. The cops would ask questions, lots and lots of questions. Even if I explai
ned how I’d seen Tyler drive up here, there was no way to be sure there’d be any evidence linking him back to the body. He knew the system, had contacts. It would be the case of an outsider’s word against a trusted ex-cop’s, a local hero. I’d watched enough TV shows to know my prints would be on the box, and other biological evidence in the dug up soil. Tyler had worn gloves and booties; no doubt he’d done the same when he’d put the box in the ground. How easy would it be for him to twist things around, pin it all on me? Whatever I did, they’d look into me, into my family. How would I protect Logan then? But I couldn’t do nothing. These bones were someone’s child and—the thought hit me with such force, it expelled all of the air from my lungs—what if it was one of the Faycrest boys? What if these were the remains of Emily’s son?
Emily. The thought of her being in the same house as Tyler made me retch. Could this really be Hunter? Or Alex? Maybe another child if Tyler was somehow involved in the abduction and killing of kids, his consultant job offering the perfect cover. He traveled all the time, could pick and choose his victims, knew the police’s exact procedures, would always be at least three steps ahead.
Was Emily in danger? She’d been married to him for years, continued to live with him since the boys’ disappearance, and was very much alive, but still... Tyler was a child killer, a baby murderer, or at the very least somehow involved. I had to get to her, warn her. But the box. What the fuck would I do with the box? There was no way I could drive to the cabin with it on my back seat, and I couldn’t leave this poor baby in the ground, abandoned by Monty’s Pond in the wretched, soaked soil. What kind of a person could do that?
“Tyler,” I whispered. “Motherfucking Tyler.”
My fingers tingled again and I forced myself to take deep, slow breaths as I ran through my noose-like options. I’d put it back, I decided. Leave the box in the ground until I’d found Emily, managed to get her away from Tyler and made sure she was safe. Then I’d figure out what to do, who to call.
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