“No, it wasn’t. I don’t know why I helped you. I shouldn’t have, I…” Marshall shook his head like he was flinging away her words.
“But you did help me,” she repeated. “And I think it’s because a part of you has known all along. About Margot. About me.”
“No,” he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper.
“Part of you was relieved that she was gone, admit it.”
“Stop.”
“Relieved that you didn’t have to deal with her drama anymore.”
“Clara—”
“Go on then, call the police.” She waved her hand in the air like she was giving up. “Tell them whatever you want. Tell them your version, and I’ll tell them mine, and we’ll see who they end up believing.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Look at you, that’s all I’m saying. Look at you and then look at me.” She gestured first to him, a nearly six-foot-tall man in reasonably good shape, and then to herself, at five foot six inches, pudgy around the middle. “Who looks more capable of knocking out a full-grown man and carrying him out of here? Who looks more capable of violence?” She paused a moment to let her words sink in, then said, “We did this together. We did this to protect our family. Our daughter. If you call the police now, who will be there to look after Elizabeth when the dust finally settles?”
With a ragged sigh, he returned the receiver to its cradle and sank onto the bed.
Clara dropped to the carpet at his feet and clutched both of his knees. “Look at me, Marshall. Look at me.”
He searched her face, his eyes darting and wild.
“We can figure this out, but we have to stick together,” she said. “You have to trust me.”
“I don’t even know you.” His anger lanced through her.
“Don’t say that. You do know me. I’m still me. I haven’t changed.”
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? If she was behaving abnormally, irrationally, he could perhaps forgive her. His gaze was one of revulsion like he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
“What else don’t I know?” he asked. “What else have you been keeping from me?”
She started to rise to her feet, but he grabbed both her wrists and held her down. Her heart fluttered at the strength in his grip, how easy it would be for him to break her.
“Zach,” he said.
A single name, a questioning look.
“Did you kill him, too?”
She nodded, and a convulsion rocked him. He flung her away. She crawled back to him.
“You wanted me to.” She grasped for his hands.
“What?” He reared away from her.
“At the party. When you hit him, you said you wanted to kill him.”
“Those were just words. I didn’t actually want him dead. I would have never…” He stood, for a moment towering over her, staring with obvious pity. Clara didn’t want his pity; she wanted his loyalty. She wanted him to keep his promises. They were a family. For better or worse. He was supposed to be on her side, sheltering her, not pushing her out, turning his back on her when she needed him most.
“Do you not see the difference?” he said softly. “You can’t kill people because you’re angry or because they hurt you. Tell me you know that.”
She glared up at him defiantly, saying nothing.
His eyes closed for a long moment. When he opened them again, Clara knew it was over.
“I want you to leave,” he said.
“Don’t do this,” she said. “Please, don’t send me away. I need you.” She grabbed on to him. He peeled her fingers back and stepped out of reach.
“I love you, Marshall, and I know you love me. I know you do. Please don’t do this. Don’t ruin us.”
She could apologize, and maybe that would fix everything. Except she wasn’t sorry. She would never be sorry. Everything she’d ever done had been for him, for Elizabeth, their family. She wouldn’t apologize for loving them the only way she’d known how—fiercely, with her whole being. It was easy to say you’d do anything for love, but she had done it. She had killed for them, and she would kill again in a heartbeat if she had to. Because of her, Marshall had a beautiful life and two beautiful daughters. Because of her, the monster who’d hurt Elizabeth had gotten exactly what he’d deserved. But now, the very things she’d done to keep them together were tearing them apart.
She sank to her knees on the floor and dug her fingers into the carpet, clinging to hope that Marshall would change his mind. He would return to her, choose her, accept her as she was, as she had always been. He had come back to her before; he would come back to her now.
Then came the sound of letting go. His feet brushed softly across the carpet as he moved toward the bedroom door. “I’m taking Elizabeth to my parents’ tonight. In the morning, I’m calling the police.”
But in his words, she heard one final act of love. He was giving her time to disappear.
Chapter 35
Trixie wouldn’t stop barking. Loud and persistent, the barks echoed through the entire house. Brett flung the blankets off her legs and blinked at her watch lying on the nightstand. The numbers blurred together before settling again. It was almost 7:00 AM. Gray light trickled through the window curtains. Trixie was still barking. Pistol joined in. Bass and soprano, a low rumble followed by a shrill yap. Brett pulled a sweatshirt over her head and hurried downstairs.
Amma peeked her head around her bedroom door. “What’s all the racket about?”
“Quiet!” Brett scolded the dogs, but they ignored her.
Trixie scratched at the back door. Pistol pranced around the beagle and then pranced around Brett’s feet, nearly tripping her.
Brett scooped Pistol into her arms. “What has gotten into the two of you?”
Through the glass, movement caught her eye. There was a man on the beach, facing the water. In the early morning light, he seemed to be made of little more than shadows, but then he turned and started to walk toward the house.
Brett cried out in surprise and relief. She flung open the door. Trixie burst through first and ran toward Jimmy, who laughed as he squatted and opened his arms to her.
Brett ran after her with Pistol still clutched in her arms. “Jimmy!”
Trixie was all wiggle and hop, throwing herself against her owner in wild gestures of love. Jimmy reached to hold on to her, petting her, reassuring her. “I’m here. I’m right here. It’s okay, Trix. Good girl.” The beagle rolled over, exposing her belly.
When Brett reached Jimmy, she set Pistol on the ground. The Chihuahua sniffed Jimmy to make sure he was all right, then wandered off to sniff the grass.
Jimmy rose to his feet, teetering a little before steadying himself. He looked like he’d had a rough two days. There were dark circles under his eyes and scruff on his chin. His clothes were dirty and torn. He reeked of sweat. The only visible injury, though, was a walnut-sized bump on his right temple, a bruise spreading purple around it. A smear of dried blood streaked down the side of his face.
“You found her.” He smiled down at Trixie. “I was worried they’d done something. I was worried they’d hurt her. Thank God she’s all right. How did you find her?”
“Damn it, Jimmy!” Brett scolded him. “Forget Trixie for a second. Where the hell have you been?”
She brushed her fingers over the bump on his head. Jimmy flinched from her touch, in obvious pain.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You’re not fine.”
His smile widened. “Aww, Bretty, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.”
Brett wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him toward the house. “You idiot. Come inside and tell me what happened to you.”
* * *
Even though Jimmy protested, saying he didn’t need to see a doctor, Brett insisted on taking him to the hospital anyway. On the drive there, she listened with growing alarm as Jimmy told her where he’d be
en for the past two days.
“I set up a time to come by and talk to Marshall, but when I got to the house, Clara was there alone. I started asking her some questions. About Margot. About her husband. About their relationship that summer.”
“I told you not to go looking for trouble.”
He shrugged. “Next thing I know, I wake up to find myself locked in a tiny cabin in the woods, and it’s dark, and I’ve got this killer headache.” He touched his temple.
He couldn’t remember very well what happened in between, or even how he’d gotten hurt in the first place, but he did remember enough for Brett to draw her own conclusions. Clara’s shoulders going tense when he said Margot’s name. Hearing Marshall and Clara arguing outside the cabin. Clara throwing him a blanket, a sandwich, and a canteen of water from a darkened doorway. Her cold stare when he asked about Trixie.
“I thought I was going to die out there.” A shudder ran through his shoulders.
“But how did you escape?” Brett asked.
Jimmy shook his head, looking bewildered for the first time since showing up on the beach. “There was only one window, but it was boarded up, so I just kept trying the door, even though I knew it was locked. I kept going over and rattling the knob. I tried kicking it open, but that hurt me more than the door. Then early this morning, I don’t know what time, but it was still dark. I’d been asleep, I guess, but I heard a noise. And when I tried again, the door opened. Just like that. The door opened, and I walked out.”
“You walked out.”
“I walked out.” He laughed in wonder. “I didn’t really know where I was other than in a forest somewhere near Crestwood, or at least, I hoped that’s where I was. I wandered in circles for a while, then I got lucky and found a road, and I followed that for a long time. Then, as the sun started to come up, I started to recognize things, and somehow I found my way to the beach, and I just kept walking along the beach until I found you. I don’t know, I probably should have gone straight to the police station or found a payphone or something, but I kept thinking I had to get to you. I kept saying your name over and over in my head, Find Brett, find Brett. It’s the only thing that kept me going.”
They were parked in front of the hospital. Brett turned in her seat to stare at Jimmy in disbelief. She had come much too close to losing him forever.
He grinned at her. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything.”
He reached across the center console and squeezed her hand. “Let’s get this over with, and then I want you to tell me what I’ve missed being locked up for two days. Because I can see it on your face. Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?”
* * *
While Jimmy was being checked out by the emergency room doctor, Brett found a payphone in the lobby and called the precinct. It rang so many times, she almost hung up. Finally, someone answered. The voice was gruff and out of breath. “Crestwood PD.”
“Irving?”
“Yes, speaking. Who’s this?”
“It’s Brett. Listen, we need to send a car to pick up Clara and Marshall Trudeau as soon as possible.” She explained as quickly as she could about finding Jimmy on the beach this morning, how he’d been asking questions about Margot when Clara attacked him, how she and Marshall had locked him in a hunting cabin for almost two days, how he certainly would have died out there if not for a miracle.
Irving whistled softly through the phone. “Well, that might explain the message I got this morning then. Marshall claims to have information about Margot’s death, but he’s saying he’ll only speak with you about it.”
“Where is he now?” She twisted the phone cord around her hand.
“At his parents’ house.” Irving rattled off directions.
“What about Clara?” she asked. “Is she there too?”
“I don’t think so,” Irving said. “But Eli is.”
“Why?”
“Not in an official capacity, I don’t think,” he added quickly. “As a friend, I guess.”
“Okay,” she said, trying not to assume the worst, that Eli was somehow involved in all of this too. Then she asked Irving to send a car to Clara’s house, in case she wasn’t with Marshall.
“I’ll go myself,” he said. “Hopefully, I can get some information out of her before she asks for a lawyer.”
“Let the chief know what’s going on, too, okay? I’ll be in touch with him as soon as I find out what the hell Marshall has to say for himself about all of this. Jesus Christ.” She rubbed her eyes, exhausted already and her day had barely even begun.
“Brett…” Irving hesitated, then rushed on. “I just, I don’t want you to get your hopes up here. It might not be what we think it is.”
She hung up and returned to the waiting room. A few minutes later, Jimmy appeared with a bit of gauze on his forehead and a half-empty bottle of apple juice. After running a few tests, the doctor had cleaned his head wound and given him the all-clear to go home. He was bruised up pretty bad, a little dehydrated, and had suffered a mild concussion, but he would live.
They stopped by the motel on the way home so Jimmy could grab a change of clothes, then Brett dropped him off at the house.
“You sure about this?” she asked, leaning over to look at him through the open car window. “I can send someone to pick him up. He can stay in a cell overnight. Whatever he has to say to me can wait until tomorrow.”
Jimmy laughed. “Bullshit, Bretty, you know it can’t. I’ll be fine. All I want to do is take a hot shower, eat a good meal, and fall asleep watching TV on the couch. I don’t need you here for any of that. Well, maybe the hot shower part.”
His grin was playful, but she could see his own exhaustion trembling beneath the surface. The last two days had nearly broken him. Before she could say anything, he patted the top of the car and said, “I’ll still be here when this is all over. You can take care of me as much as you want then, I promise.”
He turned away from her and limped toward the house.
* * *
Marshall’s parents lived a few miles outside of town on sprawling acreage. A large ranch house and an even larger set of stables sat in the middle of rolling pasture land surrounded by white picket fences, dotted with thoroughbreds and apple trees. As Brett turned her car into the driveway, she saw Elizabeth standing on one of the split-rail fences, leaning over it to pet and feed a jet black horse. At the sound of the tires crunching in the gravel, Elizabeth looked around. She stared at Brett’s car as it got closer to the house but stayed where she was on the fence, her elbows hooked over the top railing, her cowboy boots planted firmly on the lower one.
Brett parked in the circular driveway and walked to the front door, where Eli stood waiting for her. He was dressed in plain clothes, jeans and a well-fitted T-shirt. His expression was grim when he asked, “Did your friend, Jimmy, did he get home okay?”
She took a step back from him, her hands automatically reaching for the handcuffs she’d brought with her. “You knew about this?”
“Easy.” Eli held his hands up. “I just found out this morning, same as you.”
She exhaled, letting some but not all of the tension release from her shoulders. Her thoughts raced ahead of her. She realized she no longer cared who knew what when; she just wanted answers. About Margot. About that summer.
“Marshall called me an hour ago,” Eli continued. “He told me what he’d done to Jimmy. He said he had other things he needed to confess too, but he wants immunity first.”
“That’s not how this works, Eli, and you know it.”
“I tried to tell him that.”
“I can arrest him right now. Is that what he wants? I have enough to charge him with kidnapping and attempted murder.”
Eli grimaced. “He’s trying to do the right thing, Brett. Give him a chance.”
Too little, too late, was what she wanted to say. Instead, she bit
down on her cheek and followed Eli to a plant-filled sunporch at the back of the house. Marshall sat on a wicker chair, staring out over the expansive property and the stables behind the house. Elizabeth was visible from this room, walking along the fence line. The jet black horse followed her, tossing its mane.
Marshall kept his eyes on his daughter even as Eli and Brett entered the room and sat down on a wicker loveseat placed at a right angle from the chair.
“Tell me something, Brett,” Marshall said. “Do you think you can ever really know a person? Like really, deeply know them, a down-to-the-very-core kind of knowing?”
He settled his gaze on Brett a moment, studying her. A smile teased his lips, then fell away again as he looked back out the window. “I thought I knew my wife.”
“Tell me what happened, Marshall. Start from the beginning.”
“I don’t want to go to prison,” he said and wiped his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I can’t do that to Elizabeth.”
Outside, the girl was running, her hands flying out to catch the air. The horse ran alongside her, tossing its head.
Eli leaned forward on the loveseat and touched his friend’s knee. “Marshall, Elizabeth will never be left alone, and you know that. She’s got your parents, and Geana, and me.”
“And June,” Marshall said.
Eli nodded. “Tell Brett what you know. It’ll feel good to get it all out. And we’ll do what we can to keep you from prison. We’ll talk to the prosecutor, see if there can be some leniency for cooperation. We can’t make any guarantees, but we’ll try, right, Brett?”
She flicked him a withering glance and then to Marshall said, “No promises, but if you tell us what happened, we can put in a good word for you.”
He nodded and kept nodding, and for a moment, she didn’t think he was going to say a damn thing, then he ran his palms over the tops of his thighs, cleared his throat, and said, “Clara killed Margot.”
The words hit her full force in the chest, sucking the breath from her. She tried to stifle her surprise, but the gasp was already out, hovering in the air between them.
On a Dark Tide Page 29