by Rae Vine
“Don’t go making things up either.” He threatened, in a tone so low, that she suddenly felt light headed. Now was not a good time to ask him what he was afraid of.
But then again. “Did you know the girl who died?” Sometimes her mouth got the better of her.
His eyes flashed in anger. “Why the fuck would I know her? What’re you trying to pin on me?” She felt suddenly scared and didn’t think she couldn’t run now even if she wanted to.
“I wish you’d crawl back to that hole you came out of.” He hadn’t laid a finger on her, but she had no doubt he could have crushed her easily if he’d wanted to. She wouldn’t have been able to stop him.
He mumbled something to himself and looked at her. She was suddenly very frightened for her life. But then, just as suddenly, he turned and headed out of the apartment, slamming the door hard as he left.
She was reduced to a shaking, nervous wreck. She was too weak, too broken to do a thing. But a sharp knock at the door quickly startled her to attention. She shrank back, wondering where to hide, not knowing who or what might be on the other side of the door.
Or maybe Gregory had returned—to deal with her now while Cindy wasn’t around.
She inched back slowly towards the kitchen but another knock sounded at the door again. This time it was more insistent, sharper, louder, and each knock reverberated straight through her bones.
The thought of hiding under the table flashed through her mind.
“Emma.” It was a man’s voice. “Emma.” Quiet, urgent and insistent. It didn’t sound like Gregory, but she couldn’t be sure. She stayed where she was.
“Emma, it’s me, Carter. Open the door.”
Chapter 6
“You’re okay?” The worried look on Carter’s face melted away when he saw her.
“Why are you surprised?” Why wouldn’t I be okay? She wondered what state he’d expected to find her in.
He looked behind him, then to the side before he turned to faced her again.
Suspicion swirled around her. Gregory had left her feeling uneasy as it was, but Carter’s question unnerved her further.
“I just, uh—heard the door slam. The guy who left didn’t look too happy. I thought I’d check if you were okay. No other reason. You seem to be fine, so I’ll-uh, I’ll go now.” He made to move away.
Could she trust him any more than she could trust Gregory? Or was she just a sucker for Carter’s sun kissed golden hair and blue-gray eyes? Is that why she wanted to convince herself that he wouldn’t harm her?
Maybe she was letting her emotions override common sense.
“What are you doing here anyway?” She called out as he slowly sauntered away.
He turned back, faced her. “I was in the area.”
“Right, so you were. Your friends,” she air-quoted the words, “supposedly live near here don’t they?” She pointed down the street.
He cleared his throat and began to walk back towards her.
She closed the door slightly, allowing only a fraction of his face to be seen. “I’m beginning to wonder if you really do have any friends around here.” She swallowed and considered her words carefully before they left her lips. “Because I’m convinced that you were about to come into the apartment that first day we met.”
He shook his head, pursed his lips together and elicited an apologetic moan. At least he wasn’t denying it outright. Emma remembered that day when she had been ready to leave the apartment. She had opened the door to find Carter directly outside. For a second she thought he was about to come into the house.
He didn’t say anything.
“What do you want?” She asked in a low voice, not quite ready to tell him to get lost. She was clinging to the hope of finding a friendly face in a place full of people she couldn’t trust.
Had Stacy had made the same mistake?
“Just that. To see if you were okay. And regarding the other day, it’s not what it seems.”
“No shit.” She kept the door ajar. “Who is it you’re after? Gregory? Cindy?”
“Is that the guy who just walked out?”
“Yeah, like you don’t really know.” It wouldn’t surprise her to discover that he probably knew everything about them: her, Cindy, Gregory. For all she knew he’d been watching the apartment, watching her. Watching the others.
“I don’t.”
They stared at one another again. Even if she believed that he’d been concerned about her—and it was entirely plausible that he’d seen Gregory leave in a bad mood—the question still remained as to what he was doing hanging around the area. Specifically, she wanted to know what he was doing in such close proximity to her because she didn’t for one minute believe that he had friends near the apartment. “What do you want?”
“Have you heard the news about the girl on the beach?” He looked at her as though awaiting her reaction and she was grateful that for once he wasn’t wearing his aviators. She managed to keep her face straight as he shifted from one foot to the other. An awkward silence settled over them.
“I heard.”
“Sad, huh?”
He stopped moving about and leaned against the side of the door. “It’s kind of hard to imagine stuff like that happening here.”
She was hoping he’d confess—that sooner or later he’d tell her that he knew who she was, but he didn’t. “I didn’t mean to scare you off that day at the beach.”
“You freak me out the way you keep showing up wherever I am,” she said, as she remembered that running in to him then had scared her so much that she had run off back to the main road where luckily a bus was waiting. She’d jumped on int.
“I’m sorry. I’m not out to hurt you, Emma.”
And she sensed that perhaps he wasn’t. She didn’t feel threatened around him; he wasn’t frightening, like Gregory was.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“What for?” But she opened the door wider nonetheless. He looked at her with hesitation, and this time his gaze fell to her lips, then he stared away, as though he wasn’t able to face her.
“Are you running from someone?”
He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”
Every person she’d come across answered her questions with more questions.
“Just the way you always seem edgy. Like someone’s following you,” she smiled. “If anyone should be feeling like that it should be me.”
He returned her smile. “It’s not what you think,” he said once more.
“Then tell me what to think.”
She saw the muscles on his jaw tighten as he looked to the floor, avoiding eye contact. Finally he asked her again, “Could I come in?” His voice was tight as if asking such a thing was a big deal for him.
This was the second time he’d asked to come in and she was curious to know why. “Hmmm.” She drummed her fingers on her chin and gave him a pensive look. “Let’s see. A girl turns up dead on a beach. I keep bumping into you at the oddest of times. I barely know you—yet here you are again. And now you want to come in? Why would I let a stranger into my house?” But even she said this to him she found it hard to believe that he could be capable of hurting her. She didn’t think he had anything to do with the dead girl. He looked far too…normal.
In answer to her question he gave her an appraising look. “Sensible decision.”
“That’s what I thought. Especially when I’ve been told not to trust anyone.” She made a pointed reference to the note she’d received the other night. If he was going to own up to writing it now would be the time to do it.
But all he said was: “That’s good advice. I’d take it if I were you.”
“Come in,” she said and opened the door wider to let him in. But when he rushed in and closed the door behind him quickly, she sprang back, startled by his actions and his speed.
He took her hand and pulled her over towards the sofas. “What are you doing?” she whispered and tried to wrench her arm away.
“I’m sorry. It’s not safe to talk by the door.” He immediately let go of her wrist and put his hands up, then moved back. “I don’t trust anyone.”
“You keep saying that. Yet here you are in my apartment—I’m a complete stranger to you. Are you a cop?” she asked, rubbing her wrist. He hadn’t hurt her but it felt alien, the way he’d pulled her along with him… as though he knew more about her than he was letting on. As though he had a right to, and she didn’t like that one bit.
“None of this will make sense to you right now. Wait,” He stopped and looked around him. “Is anyone else in?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Why won’t it make sense?” He was talking in riddles. And he was starting to scare her.
Despite her assurances that they were alone he walked around, peered into the kitchen and looked out of the window. “There are eyes and ears all around.” His warning was ominous. He grabbed her hand again, this time more gently and took her over to the sofas again. She tried in vain to read his expression and was on the lookout for a slip-up from him but he rubbed his hands over his face and drew out a long sigh. “You need to be careful, especially with this stuff going on about the girl at the beach.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“So you’ve heard about the girl, obviously.” He sounded anxious. “You must have. It’s all over the news and the papers.”
“Why do you care? You’re a journalist on vacation, right? What is it, Carter?”
He kneaded the area between his eyebrows. “I want you to be careful. You said you’d gone to the police station the other day.”
She thought back. “I was looking for the tourist office.”
He shook his head and issued a false laugh. “Right. That’s what you were doing there.” He slapped his hand to his forehead in a mock exaggeration. She swallowed, and her breathing started to quicken. Letting him in had been a mistake.
“Look, Emma.” He took a step towards her, and she moved back. He noticed and stopped where he was. “You need to stay quiet and not jump to conclusions about things you know nothing about.”
She regarded him coolly. “Your warnings are getting repetitive. You’re always telling me to be careful. But you won’t give me a damn good reason why.” Each time she saw him he warned her off. Was she getting closer to the truth? Was Queenie part of the truth?
“I can’t—I can’t protect you.” He said in a tight voice.
“Protect me from what?” Suspicion spiked her senses, and she felt more vulnerable than she cared to show. “I don’t need you to protect me. You’re just a journalist, remember?”
He blinked rapidly and raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve heard of the things that have happened here. On the island.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Things that haven’t yet surfaced. Things I can’t talk about.”
“Things to do with the dead girl?” She whispered.
Like Gregory, if he wanted to, he could kill her or kidnap her at this very moment and nobody would know a thing. She was at his mercy and it was too late to start praying that he was on her side.
But before he could answer, another knock at the door diverted their attention. She jumped at the sound and then stared at Carter. He put his finger to his lips.
“Emma?” The door knocker sounded twice. “It’s Officer Ty Smith.” Carter sprang away. “Which one’s your room?” he whispered.
She hesitated and wondered again why he was hiding from the police.
When the door knocker sounded again there was no time to think. She bit her lip, hopelessly caught between letting Ty in—and discovering the reason for her visit, and not opening the door so that Ty would think nobody was in. She needed to find out what Carter was talking about. Because even though neither of them had said a word about her sister’s disappearance, she was certain he knew that her sister was missing.
But she was also eager to hear from Ty.
“Your room, which one?” Carter urged.
Caught in confusion, and further distracted by Carter’s persistence and the knocking on the door, she quickly pointed to Stacy’s room.
Carter slipped away silently.
Alone once more, she rushed to the door and let Ty in.
Chapter 7
He stood silently up against the wall, straining to catch any words of their conversation. She was suspicious of him, he could see that clearly yet she’d let him in all the same.
He kept waiting for her to say something about her sister. But she hadn’t, and he knew she didn’t trust him yet.
Even knowing what he did he still couldn’t risk telling her, not even to put her mind at rest. To do so would put so many lives at risk—not just her sister’s but her own life as well.
“They found her buried in some undergrowth in the fields surrounding Hog Bay Beach.” He heard the policewoman say and shifted his ear up close against the wall.
So the policewoman had come to give her news about the dead girl? This news would at least have been some consolation for Emma, to know that her sister wasn’t dead.
He hoped it would pacify her, but he knew that if he were in her situation, it wouldn’t be enough for him—not if it was his brother, or someone close to him.
He had a feeling that she was going to ruffle more than a few feathers on the island—if she got her own way. They were similar like that, her and her sister. He could see the strand of stubbornness and feistiness that ran in the family.
While he could keep Stacy safe, only for a little longer, Emma had become his bigger problem because she was out here and free to walk around asking questions as she saw fit.
But she was just a girl, untrained, unskilled. She’d never be able to take care of herself if the situation called for it. Right now she wasn’t even aware of the faceless, nameless and dangerous enemy she was up against.
Which was why he’d come to make sure she was okay.
The rest of it: the dead girl, the investigation, it wouldn’t amount to much. None of this would get to trial for many months, assuming it got that far at all, and then only if the killer was convicted.
People like that always managed to worm their way out of their wrongdoings.
The current media frenzy was always the loudest when a heinous crime happened in a place that most would consider as paradise. In time the crime would remain unsolved and it would become a cold case, forgotten, just like the dead girl. Being high up made some people think that they were above the law. Money bought certain assurances, and ensured the right people were kept quiet.
If he could get through the next few days, he’d be able to put everything right again, or at least a much of it as he could.
Carter looked around the room and wondered if now might be a good opportunity to take more clothes for the girl but then decided against it. She’d have to make do with what he’d given her a few days ago.
He hated doing what he did, and he needed backup. But nobody was going to relieve him just yet.
In the meantime he’d come to see if Emma was okay, to warn her to be careful, for that was all he could do right now. He’d almost told her not to worry about her sister. It had been tempting because when she stood there looking at him with that fear in her eyes, he could see the sadness that enveloped her. He saw it in the haunted look on her face. Despite her remarks to him, she was scared. Terrified. And he didn’t want her to be. He imagined how her days had been spent, worrying about her sister’s disappearance and then believing her to be dead.
And so he had been on the verge of telling her. But disclosing what he knew meant compromising his position and he couldn’t risk the operation.
He’d been relieved, therefore, when the police officer had shown up when she had. He couldn’t stay here much longer. Each moment that he was away meant more time that the girl was alone. He knew they were out there, and that they were still looking for her.
Recent developments with the discovery of
the dead body would have them worried. He couldn’t risk for the girl to come to any harm.
Silently, like a gentle summer breeze, he opened the window and jumped out. Under the dark blanket of the night sky, Carter stole away as quickly as he’d appeared.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you any more information. I’m not supposed to do this, but I’d like to think that someone would help me out if, god forbid, I was ever in a situation as terrible as this. I want to help you.”
“I appreciate your help,” said Emma. “I went to the police station earlier today looking for you. I wanted to know if you had any further information on how she died. But by then I’d already found out that it wasn’t Stacy.” She’d heard the news from Queenie first, and it was only confirmed later on when she saw it on TV. But she preferred not to tell Ty about Queenie at all.
“Yes, now that her identity is known, the news will be full of it.”
“I know. They keep showing her face on TV, and the papers have it all over the front. She’d everywhere.”
Ty nodded. “While you must be relieved that it’s not your sister, it’s heart breaking to know that another life has been taken.”
“That poor girl,” said Emma, looking away. “Her poor family.” She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be in their shoes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you myself as soon as I found out but its been a busy day. I’ve been on house-to-house enquiries most of the time.”
Trust no-one. For no particular reason she was reminded of Carter’s words.
Ty squeezed Emma’s hand gently. “You’re in shock and stressed out from the goings on.”
Emma left her hand in Ty’s soft, fleshy one, and wondered if she’d ever get to hug her sister again, and feel her warm skin. Or was she hoping for too much? It was one thing to discover that the dead girl wasn’t Stacy, but it was another to expect that her sister hadn’t come to any harm.
“They said she was known to the police.”
Ty nodded. “She was a local prostitute. She’d been on the game for maybe a year. We were aware of her.”