Deep Betrayal (Lies Beneath #2)

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  “Hurry back,” I whisper-yelled as Calder swam away, and he must have heard me, because a silver tail breached the surface and hit the water with a gentle thwap. Someday, I thought. Someday that will be me.

  Minutes later, Calder returned and led me to a small, moss-lined cave cut into the side of the hill. It was warm there, maybe even more comfortable than the tent. I was so tired I could have slept standing up, and I took no time curling into Calder’s arms. My wet clothes clung to me, and I shivered in the night air. He pulled a quilt from deeper in the cave. When I looked at him questioningly, he shrugged. “I borrowed it from Gabby’s tent. I doubt she’ll miss it.”

  “I don’t know. It’s her lucky blanket.”

  He ran his thumb over my fingertips. “We swam for a long time. Shouldn’t your skin be pruney?”

  “Hmm?” I mumbled, already half asleep. I thought he said something more, but I wasn’t sure what.

  When the first pink and orange strains of Saturday morning laced across the horizon, I couldn’t help feeling sad that the night was coming to an end. The morning was already turning humid and the air in the cave was suffocating. I peeled myself out of Calder’s arms and wandered the beach, pocketing a few pieces of beach glass that caught my eye: two whites and a brown.

  A buzzing noise broke my concentration, and within seconds it was all around me. It was all I could hear. Out of nowhere, Calder’s hand came down on my shoulder, but I brushed it off. He couldn’t startle me anymore. I turned to silently ask him if he heard it, too. His face was tense with concentration, and his nostrils flared as flies buzzed past our heads.

  I took one cautious step toward the swarm of insects. My feet sank into the soft sand, slipping under me as I tried to climb the bank to investigate.

  “Lily, no,” Calder said. “Stay back.” But my feet kept moving. There was something half buried in the sand. Something big. Not a log or a rock. Goose bumps rose on my arms.

  As I got closer, I saw toes. Then bare legs. Blood pooled inside the still body. Milky eyes stared up at the sky. Flies crawled in and out of slack jaws. A scream ripped through my chest, but Calder slapped his hand over my mouth before I made a sound. He pulled me back as I gasped for breath through his fingers, forgetting to exhale in between.

  “Maris,” I finally whispered as bile rose in my throat. Blood rushed away from my head, and I swayed. For a moment I thought I was in a slow-motion fall and I wondered, as the sand came up to meet me, how I could avoid falling on top of the body. Calder supported me as my legs gave way.

  I knelt in the sand, Calder’s breath hot on my neck. I couldn’t look away from the gruesome scene. I’d never seen a dead body before. It repelled as much as it compelled me to draw closer.

  Connor, the laughing boy from the night before, lay in the sand, staring blankly up at me. Red stripes lashed across his bare chest. His shorts, once wet, were caked with drying sand.

  Would Maris have dragged him from his tent? I couldn’t picture that. Had she lured him out into the water? That seemed more likely.

  “I’m sorry,” said Calder. “I am. Be glad it’s only one.”

  “Glad?” I pulled away from him. How he could he minimize this?

  He leaned forward and carefully closed Connor’s eyelids. “Clearly, Maris is in bad shape. It could have been much worse.”

  I couldn’t see how.

  “Letting targets escape is a bad sign, but this? They’ve lost complete control of their senses. Leaving a dead body on land … it’s completely reckless. We’re lucky they didn’t wipe out the whole campground. This is insanity.”

  “Really, Calder?” My tone was scathing. “Tell me what a sane murder looks like.”

  He gritted his teeth until bands of muscle jumped in his jaw. “That’s just it. A sane murder wouldn’t look like anything. You’d never see it. They’d hide the bodies underwater. They’d be inconspicuous. This is anything but.”

  I waved the flies away from Connor’s face. They swarmed around me before settling back on his corpse. “Such a waste,” I said, waving them away again. I reached toward his face and tried to close his jaw—I couldn’t let the flies have their way with him—but it was locked in place. “Can we move him?”

  “Best that we leave the body alone.”

  “Then let’s go,” I said. “There’s a radio on Jack’s boat. We can call the Coast Guard.”

  “No, Lily. We can’t.”

  “Obviously we won’t tell them the truth, but we can’t let Connor rot out here. And the others are going to wonder where he is.”

  “You’re right,” he said, hanging his head. “Of course, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  But I wasn’t paying attention. I already knew I was right, and I was distracted. Someone was crying. First, low snuffling, followed by deep gasps at the air. Someone was crying and trying to hide it. It was coming from the woods, farther up the embankment.

  I climbed after the noise. Calder held me up when my feet slipped in the loose sand. We made our way over the rocks and up the bluff and into the trees. Below a white pine, a dark, hooded figure sat curled into a ball, a blanket bunched in his arms.

  Jack Pettit looked up, his face wet with ugly red blotches. He quickly wiped his nose, and his expression darkened. Hatred burned in his eyes when he saw Calder behind me. “Did you see?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “You did this,” Jack said, glaring at Calder.

  “Of course he didn’t!” I cried. “Why would you say something like that? Besides, he was with me the whole night.”

  Jack snorted in disgust. “Then another one of your kind.”

  Calder’s silence was his affirmation.

  Jack choked on the air and his face contorted with pain. “This should have never happened. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “She’s grieving,” Calder said, and I recognized his effort to physically restrain himself. “We did lose a sister. Perhaps you remember.”

  “She’s grieving,” Jack scoffed. “So she gets a pass on murder? What about the rest of us? What about him?” Jack couldn’t bring himself to look toward the body. “Where is she? Where’s Pavati?” Jack was yelling now. “Tell me where your sister is!”

  “Jack,” I said, trying to calm him. “You can’t tell anyone what happened here.”

  He laughed one short, humorless laugh. “People need to pay attention.” His words bit at the air between us. “If this keeps up, everyone will have to listen to me. It’ll be like ’67.”

  “Then let me handle it,” Calder said, and his voice was rigid.

  “Yeah, you go ahead and handle it,” Jack said. “You’re a real pro at that, aren’t you? You did an awesome job protecting Lily from them. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be no better off than this kid.”

  Calder was as much bird as fish. He flew through the air at Jack, tackling him to the ground. Sand spit up in all directions before Jack was skittering out of the way and yelling, “Get off me! Get off me, you freak!”

  “Stay away from Lily, and stay away from me. Don’t think I don’t know who killed Tallulah. You set this ball rolling. This boy’s death is as much your fault as theirs.”

  Jack’s face burned red, and he looked nervously at the body. “I acted in defense. In defense of Lily. What they do … it’s disgusting.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t always think so, did you?” Calder’s voice rose above Jack’s, and Jack cowered back into the trees. “You were all right with it when you thought Pavati was yours forever.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Jack, covering his ears. He turned away from us and banged his forehead against a tree.

  The sound of voices coming up the beach pulled us out of the trees, back toward the spot where Connor lay.

  “What’s this? Hey, guys,” said Brady Peterman. Three people followed, including Connor’s roommate, Eric, and Serious Boy. “What’s going on? Has anyone seen—”

  Brady froze and put
his arms out to stop the others from going any farther. I watched as his mind worked to come to terms with what he was seeing.

  I stepped in before Jack could say anything more. “I found him here,” I said.

  Serious Boy trained his eyes on me.

  “How did he get here?” asked Brady. “What the hell happened?” Eric covered his mouth to hold back the dry heaves.

  “I warned you about this,” Jack said, wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks. Bits of pine bark clung to his sweaty face.

  “Shut up, Jack,” Brady said. “Bear, maybe? I told him not to have snacks in the tent.”

  “Oh, wake up!” Jack said. “The body’s too clean for a bear.”

  “Show some respect,” Brady said. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” He looked over his shoulder at a tall blond guy in a Marquette sweatshirt. “Get on the radio, Mick. Call the Coast Guard. Jack, give me that blanket of yours. We need to cover him up.”

  Jack handed off the blanket and stalked down the beach. I watched him go and saw, beyond him, my father’s face barely above the waterline, watching from the dark water. “Calder,” I said, turning, but he’d disappeared, leaving just as silently as he’d arrived.

  Over the next few minutes, the rest of the campground was alerted and gathered solemnly on the beach. The other kids displayed a combination of fear and curiosity. No one knew Connor well enough to cry; rather, ashen expressions were the norm. Eric, Connor’s roommate, sat beside the body until the Coast Guard arrived.

  Serious Boy kept his distance from me, just as he had the night before, but his pale blue eyes never left my face. That is, until the other Cornucopia boy dragged him away, saying, “Let it be. One should be enough,” and giving me an icy glare that froze me to the core.

  20

  FATHER’S DAY

  The next day after Mass, Calder and I sat in a sunny park across the street from the Bayfield Police Station. It was quiet here, and I was glad for that. Early-morning sun streamed through the trees. Two coffee cups stood in the grass between us. This morning I’d opted for Calder’s double espresso in lieu of my usual caramel mocha latte. Calder read to me from my anthology of Victorian poets, trying to distract me from morbid thoughts, but it was tough going considering the material he was working with.

  After a few minutes, he turned the page and began to recite from one of my favorites—the one that always made him roll his eyes. This time he used a funny voice, mugging and preening, as he read Tennyson’s “The Merman”:

  I would be a merman bold,

  I would sit and sing the whole of the day;

  I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power;

  But at night I would roam abroad and play

  With the mermaids in and out of the rocks,

  Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower.

  I knew what he was doing. But trying to make me laugh wasn’t going to work. Nothing could take my mind off Connor.

  Calder had explained to me, months ago, how mermaids hunted. Somehow, the way he explained things, it sounded almost excusable. Now having seen the wasted remains of their hunt, it was impossible to think about. More terrifying than the inescapable memory of Connor’s vacant, milky eyes was the knowledge that he wouldn’t be their last.

  Calder slipped into Hopkins’s “Epithalamion” without me noticing he’d turned the page.

  … there comes a listless stranger: beckoned by the noise

  He drops towards the river: unseen

  Sees the bevy of them, how the boys

  With dare and with downdolphinry and bellbright bodies huddling out,

  Are earthworld, airworld, waterworld thorough hurled, all by turn and turn about.

  … Here he feasts: lovely all is! …

  “Lily? Are you listening?” I looked up without an answer. “Where’s your head at?” Calder asked. “You’re so distant.”

  “It’s Father’s Day,” I said. “And Dad’s not—” But before I could finish my thought, tires squealed around the corner and screeched to a stop punctuated by car doors slamming. Across the street, Gabby and Mr. Pettit hurried from their van toward the station.

  “I wonder what that’s about,” I said.

  “One guess,” Calder said. “Come on.”

  I staggered to my feet, and Calder dragged me across the road. He paused in front of the building, lifting his chin and cocking his head to listen. Then he pulled me around the left side of the building and back toward the third set of windows, which were cracked an inch. Calder crouched below the window and gestured for me to do the same. From inside, Gabby’s voice carried above the others.

  “Are you trying to ruin my life, Jack? Y’know, it didn’t used to completely suck being your sister.”

  “Quiet, Gabby. Don’t make me regret letting you come,” Mr. Pettit said.

  “I’m sorry to have to call you down here, Martin,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

  “What else could you do?” Mr. Pettit asked. “Explain yourself, Jack.”

  There was a scuffle and the sound of a chair turning over. “Get your hands off me!” Jack said. “Someone’s got to finally listen. I’m not crazy.”

  “This has got to stop. This time you’ve gone too far,” Mr. Pettit said.

  “Your father’s right,” said the other man. “Wasting my time is wasting tax dollars. I’ve got a limited staff. What if a real emergency comes in and you’ve got my people dealing with your bogus pranks? I can’t have that.”

  “Chief Eaton, I’m telling you that kid’s death was a real emergency,” Jack said. “A mermaid killed him.”

  “That boy’s death was a tragic accident,” Chief Eaton said.

  “You’ll be keeping Jack overnight, then?” Mr. Pettit suggested.

  There was a pause. It seemed Chief Eaton hadn’t been considering that. But then he said, “S’pose we could do a twenty-four-hour hold, if that’s what you want. We can look at whether there’ll be any criminal charges in the morning. Disorderly conduct most likely. And I’m sure the district attorney’s going to want restitution for the handcuffs and the window.”

  “That’s fair, Bob,” Mr. Pettit said.

  “Fair?” Jack cried. “Fair? I’m trying to stop a killer, and you’re asking him to lock me up?”

  “Oh, shut up,” Gabby said. “Serves you right. I’m so out of here.” Gabby’s flip-flops slapped on the floor and faded away. Calder pulled me toward the front of the building to cut her off on the sidewalk. The heavy doors scraped open, and we heard Gabby’s shoes on the concrete steps.

  “Hey,” Calder called. “Hey, Gabrielle! Wait up.”

  Gabby spun around and threw her hands in the air. “Oh, great. I was hoping I wouldn’t see anyone I knew.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Gabby turned her back on us and kept marching toward their van.

  “Gabby!” I called.

  She stopped in her tracks and threw back her head. “Fine,” she said. “You’re going to hear about it sooner or later.”

  “Hear about what?” I asked, running around in front of her. It was a terrible performance on my part—playing dumb like that—but Gabby didn’t seem to notice.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about Jack breaking in to the station last night. Or how about Jack handcuffing himself to a chair and swallowing the key. He’s become completely unhinged.”

  “No way,” I breathed.

  “Way,” Gabby said. “He refused to leave until someone agreed to investigate that Connor kid as a mermaid victim. God, I feel ridiculous even saying that out loud.”

  I massaged my temples. “What did they say?”

  “They laughed,” Calder said.

  “If I could be so lucky,” Gabby said. “No one’s thinking this is funny anymore. I tried to talk to him. Nobody’s going to ever take him seriously again. He told the chief it was only a matter of time before the next ‘accident.’ ” She made air quotes with her fingers.

  I put my hand o
n her shoulder as my insides twisted in knots. Gabby was in full rant mode now.

  “Jack got in a huge fight with my mom and dad last night, too. They said he’s throwing his life away. My dad’s not going to let him use the boat anymore. Jack went ballistic, of course. Threw a kitchen chair. Stormed out. Mom and I waited up, but he didn’t come home. Then this morning, Chief Eaton calls.”

  The front door of the station house opened and Mr. Pettit walked out, pushing Jack slightly ahead of him, his hand clamped down on Jack’s shoulder like a vice.

  Gabby muttered, “So much for the lockup. I can’t catch a break.”

  Jack stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Calder. “You,” he said, his hands balled into fists.

  Calder stared him down, his expression emotionless, while my heart crashed against my rib cage.

  “Guess who came to see me last night,” Jack said to Calder, spit flying with each word.

  Pavati, I thought. She made good on her promise to see Jack, after all. Would this make things better or worse? But then I remembered what Gabby’d said about Jack’s late-night trip to the police station, and I answered my own question. Calder didn’t say a word.

  “She got close enough for me to know she was there, but then she ran away.”

  “Enough,” Mr. Pettit said, and he pushed Jack into the backseat of his car. “Sorry, Lily. Calder. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”

  Gabby shook her head and climbed into the front seat, folding her arms over her chest.

  After the car pulled away from the curb and raced up the street, Calder pinched the bridge of his nose and walked back to the park. He found a seat on the ground and leaned up against a tree.

  I stood in front of him and looked down on the top of his head. “Do you believe him?” I asked. “About Pavati?”

  “I have no reason not to.” He rested his elbows on his knees and laced his hands together, twisting his fingers.

  “Do you think she knows that Jack’s been revealing her secret?”