The moment the pressure on my arm is released, I shove against him again and he’s forced to let go of me entirely. He lands hard on his back, unmoving, and the dogs swarm him. A warm spray catches me in the face. I wipe a hand across my cheek, and it comes away red, the blood pale, watered down by the soaking rain, and that’s when I see the huge, gaping tear in Malcolm’s throat.
An edging stake protrudes grotesquely from his neck. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, both arms are raised as if he wants to pull me into a lover’s embrace. The dogs are still growling, their sharp teeth lodged in Malcolm’s skin.
“Stop. Heel. Quit it,” I say sharply, and the dogs release leg and arm and come to my side. I don’t know how they knew I was the good guy in this fight, but thankfully, they’ve taken my side, or else Malcolm would have hurt me, badly.
The three of us stare at Malcolm. His mouth is moving still. He manages to wheeze out the words, “You. Are. So. Dead,” before his eyes roll back in his head and his body goes limp.
Fuck. Fuck!
Malcolm shot the intruder.
Malcolm is trying to hurt me.
Malcolm is in on it.
Malcolm is dead, dead, dead.
I am off like a greyhound, running back along the edge of the labyrinth to the house, screaming for Jack at the top of my lungs, trying to force the image of Malcolm jerking spasmodically on the ground, the rain washing his blood onto the slate, out of my mind.
The halls are still empty, unnervingly empty, when I burst inside, showering the marble with rain and mud. The dogs are glued to my side; they are a better deterrent than any human security might be. It’s eerie enough that I slow, willing my heart to stop pounding out of my chest. It’s not like Malcolm is coming after me. I move quietly now, watching, listening. The dogs’ nails click on the floor. Where is everyone? Where is Jack?
Malcolm’s body...spasming in death throes.
Oh God, what have I done?
57
WTF
Jack’s phone dings with a text.
Looking for Harper outside. I’ll be back in a few.
Outside?
Why in the world would Claire go out in the storm?
He diverts from the hallway to their rooms and heads down the stairs instead. Something tells him to hurry. Everything is spinning away from him.
He meets Claire, the dogs inside and at her side, by the library door. The dogs’ muzzles are covered in streaks of red. Claire is wet through, shaking, and white as a ghost. Remus wags his tail at the sight of Jack, and wiggles himself sideways to Jack’s leg. But Romulus growls at him. The bond the dog has formed with Claire is incredible. He will protect her at all cost.
“It’s okay, boy. I won’t hurt her. Claire? What happened. Are you okay? Will you call off Romulus?”
“Malcolm’s dead,” she says flatly.
“Malcolm?”
“He attacked me. In the labyrinth. I was looking for Harper, I think she’s gone missing. She posted a weird photo on her Instagram and sent me strange texts, wanting me to meet her. But Malcolm...”
“Harper’s not missing. She’s upstairs, with my parents. What do you mean, Malcolm attacked you?”
She shows him the pale underside of her arm, already marked with a livid bruise. “He tried to take me to the cottages. Called me a stupid bitch. We fought. The dogs attacked him. I pushed him away, and he tripped. What do you mean, she’s upstairs?” Romulus is still growling, lips pulled back from his teeth. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, touching his head. “Jack’s on our side.” The dog stops, but sits at attention.
“Harper is safe, Claire. I promise.” His mind is roaring. “Was Gideon with Malcolm? Or were the two of you alone?”
“Just us. Why would he try to hurt me, Jack?”
“I don’t know. I need to go...see. Can you stay here? Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
She nods, and he takes her into the library. Jack grabs a chenille throw from the back of the nearest sofa and wraps her in it. He moves her toward the fireplace, pulls a chair closer, gets her gently settled. He puts another throw over her legs, and Romulus lays at her feet, still on alert.
“Good boy. Claire, I’ll be right back. Promise. Just stay here.”
He hears someone speaking in the hall, and Will Compton comes into the library.
“What’s going on here?” he says with a wink. “Hello, Claire.” Will takes Claire’s frozen hand and plants a chivalrous kiss on her knuckles. Jack relaxes a fraction. Will seems to be himself, even going so far as to remember Claire from their first meeting. What a damn relief.
“Jackson. How fortuitous that I’ve found you. Your mother just told me we’re moving up the wedding.”
Claire stirs from her nest. “What’s this? What did he say?”
“Mom thought, in light of everything, we should go ahead with the ceremony instead of the rehearsal.”
“Jack, no. We can’t. Not now.”
“Why not?” Will asks.
“Because people are dying around us! We need to get the hell off this island, that’s what we need to do.”
Jack can hear the anger building in her voice. So can Will. He drops to the sofa next to her and reaches for her hand again.
“Jackson, you go do what you need to do. Claire and I will chat a little.” When he hesitates, Will says softly, “Go. We’ll be fine. Petra is bringing up some tea. I wanted to spend some time by the fire—these rains make my bones hurt. Go on. We’re fine.”
Claire nods her assent. Her face is blank with shock. Jack has to take the risk that she will be safe with Will; he seems completely lucid, and Romulus is parked next to her, worshiping at her feet.
“Okay. It’s all going to be okay, darling. I’ll be right back.”
Jack calls Gideon as he leaves the library. No answer. Where the hell is the man?
Gideon must still be handling the situation with Henna. The guards had been split up when Jack assigned Malcolm to guard Claire’s every move.
Malcolm. The bastard. How dare he hurt Claire? He deserves to be dead.
The wind is whipping hard when he steps outside. Rain lashes his face. He puts an arm back inside and grabs an umbrella, but the wind is so intense it makes the rain blow sideways, so there’s no point. Instead, he uses his arm to shelter his face and heads into the labyrinth.
He finds the gory scene after only a minute. The rain has washed away much of the blood, but Malcolm’s sightless eyes are already clouded. The stake emerges from his throat like a pike.
Why would Malcolm turn on him like this? Why would he try to hurt Claire? And how many more have to die until Jack gets the message?
He’s gotten it now. His life is fucking cursed. He thought, prayed, that he was going to be allowed the grace to start over. To be happy. But the universe clearly doesn’t want that for him.
He tries Gideon again. And this time, he answers.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I just finished in the crypt.”
“Malcolm is dead. He attacked Claire.”
“What?”
“Just get up here. I’m in the labyrinth, near the cottages’ entrance.”
“Jack?”
Elliot stands at the edge of the path, sheltering under a black golf umbrella. Jack stashes his phone in his pocket, wary of the timing of Elliot’s intrusion.
“Elliot. What are you doing?”
“Getting away from Amelia, who is moping around the Villa like her cat died. God, I cannot wait to be rid of that woman. Why, what—” He spies Malcolm’s feet. “Jesus, Jack. What have you done?”
“It wasn’t me, asshole. He went after Claire. She pushed him, he fell. She’s inside with Gran freaking out. I needed to come see.”
“Damn.” Elliot taps his toe on the
edge of the stake. Malcolm’s head wiggles in agreement.
“You didn’t hear anything, did you? A struggle?”
“No. I was down the hill.”
They stand in silence, staring at the body.
“Well, Jack, unless you’ve changed your mind and want to call it all off, I suggest you get a move on. Let Gideon and Karmen clean up this mess.”
“I will never understand what you have against Claire. What has she done to upset you?”
“God, Jack, give it a rest. I’m just soured on marriage in general right now.”
Possibly true. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I punched you.”
A flash of teeth—his brother is amused. “Naw, don’t worry about it. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have said anything about Morgan. I know she’s a sore subject for you. And I know it’s been hard on you. But trust me, you’re so much better off without her. She was a wreck. You deserved better. We all did.”
There’s something in Elliot’s voice that makes Jack’s radar go off. He sounds almost...hurt.
You deserved better. We all did.
A low vibration starts in Jack’s gut.
“Elliot. Is there something you need to tell me?”
Elliot tips back the umbrella and looks to the sea. “Nothing that matters, Jackson. There’s no undoing the past.”
“Elliot, what happened the night Morgan died?”
“Oh, God, are we really doing this now? You were there. You know. Bitch deserved it, anyway, after what she did.”
Elliot starts away, and Jack grabs his arm.
“What the fuck, El? ‘Bitch deserved it?’ Morgan deserved to fall off the cliff?”
Elliot shakes his head. “You still don’t know, do you? My God, Jack. I had no idea you were so naive. She was screwing anything that moved.”
Jack stills, his hand dropping from his brother’s arm.
“What did you just say?”
“Oh, don’t get all choir boy on me. You heard me.”
“And you know this, how?”
Elliot doesn’t answer.
“No. No way. You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
Elliot shrugs, finally looking faintly ashamed. “We were drunk. After the Foundation party in San Marino. You had to leave for a meeting. We were bored. One thing led to another.”
“Oh, and that makes it okay? I had to go run our company, so you slept with my fiancée? You’re full of shit. Morgan didn’t touch alcohol or drugs. She didn’t like being out of control. She didn’t even have champagne at our wedding.”
Elliot laughs uncomfortably. “Jack. Did you know the woman at all?”
“I did, unfortunately. You might have been drunk, but she was not. If this is remotely true, she used the hell out of you. So according to you, she cheated on me, that’s why she deserved to die?”
“You’re taking this well,” Elliot says.
“Answer the fucking question, Elliot.”
“Fine. Is this what you want to hear? Morgan was manipulative and dangerous. She had eyes for me, had eyes for Dad, had eyes for Gran. She would have screwed Tyler if he’d been into it. She would screw Gideon if he was into it. She would have screwed the dogs if they could get her what she wanted. Are you understanding me yet? She wasn’t who you thought. Not by a long shot.”
Oh, Jack knew Morgan. He knew her inside and out. In his darkest moments, he’ll even admit to himself that he’s happy she’s dead.
“You didn’t think you should warn me? Hell, you claim she was screwing around on me, yet you stood by my side as I married her?”
“Mom thought I should stay quiet.”
“Mom? Mom knows?”
Elliot shakes his head. “Do you think I’m a total idiot? Not about that. I just told her I thought Morgan might have been playing it fast and loose. I would have said something if I thought it was important. I figured you’d get bored and divorce her soon enough.”
“Well, you took care of that for me, didn’t you? Your actions that night helped her right on over the wall. You son of a bitch.”
“You have your version of the truth, Jack. Why do you need another?”
Jack lunges toward Elliot. Gideon chooses this moment to burst onto the scene, coming around the edge of the boxwoods at speed. He nimbly avoids Jack, but gets between the two brothers. Spying his partner’s body, he grimaces.
Elliot laughs bitterly. “Your savior arrives. And your guests await, brother. Go play the doting bridegroom. I won’t tell a soul what’s happened here. But be warned. Someone else might.”
Jack holds up a finger to Gideon, speaks low to his brother. “Elliot. We are not finished.”
“We were finished a long time ago, Jack. Time for you to step aside and let me take care of business.”
Elliot laughs as he walks away, the black umbrella spinning in the rain.
“What the ever-loving fuck happened?” Gideon asks.
“Help me carry him. I’ll tell you inside.”
“Elliot—”
“Let him go. We need to get Malcolm’s body to the crypt. I left Claire with Will in the library and I don’t want things to go south there, too.”
“Forgive me for saying this, boss, but your brother is a first-class dick.”
“I’m starting to see that,” Jack says, moving to heft Malcolm’s inert body. “This one, too. When did he turn? Has he been acting strangely?”
Gideon nods. “He has, actually. He said he was considering quitting a couple of weeks ago. Said he couldn’t take the pressure. I assumed he meant our work—we’ve been burning the midnight oil lately, just like you. I told him I could pick up the slack, but he should talk to you, STAT. If he was doing something wrong...”
“You should have told me. I trusted him with Claire. And he has to be the one who killed Henna. He must be working with this Eister woman.”
“That’s a safe bet. Boss, I am so sorry. I didn’t see it, but I take full responsibility.”
“We’ll discuss this later. For now, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”
Malcolm’s body is wrestled free of the stake, and Jack is thankful for the heavy rain, which washes the blood away, into the wet ground. They make it down the hill to the external entrance to the basements that hold the crypt. Jack puts a hand on the biometric pad. They maneuver Malcolm inside, and Jack drops the heavy inert legs to the dirt floor.
“We’ll deal with this shithead later. Is there anything else I need to know about? Have you been approached by anyone?”
“No, sir.”
“Would you tell me if you had?”
Gideon starts to sputter and Jack holds up a hand. “Okay. I had to ask. I don’t know who’s on my side anymore. Karmen’s still with us, yes?”
“Absolutely. She’s always been devoted to your dad, and the family. I’ll tell her about Malcolm. She’s not going to be happy.”
Jack digs in Malcolm’s pocket and brings out his phone. “Any idea what his passcode is?”
“Try 20210611. We rotate them daily based on the date. Secure but easy to remember.”
Jack inputs the numbers into the keypad and the phone unlocks.
The phone casts a strange blue light in the dark space. Jack goes to Malcolm’s text messages, which are empty. His email doesn’t have anything weird, either. But the recent call list has a single number. It’s a 212 area code—New York. Could it really be this easy?
Jack presses the number and puts the phone on speaker as it connects.
On the fifth ring, a female voice answers brusquely. “Is it done?”
“No,” Jack says. “It’s just beginning.”
58
Leverage
For the record, Elliot was a terrible lay.
I only fucked him to get back at Jack, after he blew me off at the Foundation
party, though of course I had no intention of Jack ever finding out. It was a little silent leverage I had. A girl always needs some leverage, right?
I didn’t expect Elliot to develop feelings. I didn’t expect him to fall in love.
Idiot.
He had to make things complicated. Panted after me like a puppy, calling, texting, when can I see you again, you’re amazing, blah, blah, blah. He even tried to corner me in a bathroom at my wedding, tried to stick his tongue down my throat. I want you, I love you, you should have married me.
As if.
I had to push him away and he stumbled backward into the lounge sofa and went down, hard.
“Never, ever, touch me again, do you understand?”
No, Elliot didn’t take rejection well.
He got his revenge.
Soon it will be time for mine.
59
Some Grandfatherly Advice
“Let me get you a drink,” Will says, and I nod in agreement. There is a large globe near the window to my left, which he cracks opens to reveal a cleverly hidden drinks cart, replete with crystal decanters and thick-bottomed crystal glasses. He pours without asking my preference and returns with two whiskies, neat.
“Oban Little Bay. My favorite,” he says.
I accept mine and take a deep sip, coughing and sputtering a bit at the intense liquor.
“Slow down, dear. It’s meant to be savored. If you blow into it a bit, like this—” he puts the glass to his lips and puffs into it gently “—then take a sniff, then take some on your tongue and let it sit, then swallow and breathe out, you’ll enjoy it more.”
Her Dark Lies Page 27