His cold laugh made me sick. “You’re a monster.”
“It’s the cycle of life, Delilah, just like with Ricky. He’d overstayed his welcome and had to go.” Chris said, “You know, the first time I met Ricky he was trying to capture a squirrel in our woods. I asked him why, thinking that this poor kid was probably hungry. Ricky just smiled and said he wanted to cut it open, see what was inside.”
I shivered. “A deviant after your own heart and you were friends ever since, two outsiders, and within such close proximity of each other. Ricky was just at home wandering in these woods as he was at his house. I’m not sure why Ricky would sacrifice himself for you, but he did. He spared you the humiliation of getting kicked out of school and saved your future.”
“And he held it over my head,” Chris added dismally. “He didn’t do it for me, but for my mother, who had this absolutely crazy idea that she wanted to adopt him.”
I gave Chris a disbelieving look. “When?”
“You always ask the right questions, Delilah. We were teenagers then, and his troubles at home were well known in my household. My mother thought she could just sign a paper and save him. Funnily enough, it was just before she had that crazy mix-up with her meds,” Chris reported with a chuckle. “Can you imagine me and Ricky in the same house? We never would have gotten along. He always wanted to play with my things.”
A chill ran through me. Chris crossed behind me, fiddling with a lock of my hair. “I came home because he insisted he needed help. That moron wanted me to cut his cocaine for him and help him stretch his jackpot.”
“And you did it?” I shot back. “I’m surprised you would stoop to such low-brow criminal activity.”
“Eh, I resisted at first. But, then he defaced our gorgeous mermaid, warning me of the stories he might tell if I didn’t come through. I doubt anyone would have listened, but I agreed anyway. I admit the drug-play wasn’t particularly challenging, but I was bored,” Chris said, inching closer to me. “Rick blackmailed me into his reindeer games, but the experimentation was fun. And then there was you. You were my favorite part.” Seeing my distress, Chris grinned even wider. “You are a fascinating creature, Ms. Duffy.”
“I’m not a specimen to study.”
“Everyone is a specimen to study, but you are quite the anomaly. That’s what makes you such a competent adversary. Instead of cowering to fear, you press your throat toward the blade.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You were watching.”
“Of course,” he replied. “I had to make sure you were safe. With such a tempting target, I was sure Ricky would test me. I apologize for his behavior. Like I said, he always wanted to play with my things.”
“I am not yours,” I insisted weakly. He ignored me.
“I almost stopped the entire project after that, especially when your panic got worse,” he went on, moving within inches of my face. “I almost concluded that you were too broken to play with, but you pressed on, pursuing answers like, well, like I would. I couldn’t resist toying with you. And now, we’re even.”
“Even?”
“I saved you,” he said, “and you took care of Ricky and his network all in one glorious swoop. It was a beautiful thing, watching you make that shoe discovery. That’s when I knew that I’d planted all the right pieces. Getting Ricky and his friend to say a few choice words in your earshot, giving you the shoes, playing on Ricky’s hatred, which you knew about thanks to your snooping friend. Ah, it was as if I had left you bread crumbs to follow, and you were a ravenous bird, waiting to gobble them up.” I cringed remembering how Chris was distracted with his phone during Henry’s spooky reading, how he paid such attention to when I left and re-entered the building. He’d handled Ricky and J.J. like puppets putting on a show for me. He’d handled me like a puppet, too.
Chris stopped pacing and looked at me mischievously. “Admit it. Surely, you must feel vindicated, perhaps even powerful, knowing that the world’s been ridded of such moronic nuisances… and you are at least partly responsible.”
“I had no idea what I was doing,” I defended.
“But, you’re glad?”
I hesitated. Ricky’s attack flashed into my head. Things fall apart. “I’m relieved.”
Chris smiled. “All the retribution with none of the guilt. See? We helped each other.”
“What about Sam?” I tried. Chris shrugged carelessly. “How can you call us even?”
Chris crept closer to me, sending my feet back toward the wall. When there was nowhere else to go, he pressed against me. “Eh, just like Dekker, he was a variable that needed extraction. I honestly don’t know what you see in him.”
Hands against my upper arms, Chris leaned against me. Panic rose up like a tidal wave. Breathe. Think. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love, and of a sound mind. Sam wasn’t coming. Help wasn’t on the way. And I was seriously outmatched.
“Are you going to kill me, Chris?” The words stammered out of me.
Chris laughed. “I could. You’re tired of fighting, remember?”
My breath quickened. Sam was lying helplessly outside. Was he dying? Was he dead already? Oh, God, what can I do?
Chris pressed me harder against the brick wall and smiled. “It will be me,” he promised. “My mother was a necessity. Number four was incidental, but you. You will be my pleasure.” His hand went from my fingers, up my arms, to my neck where he traced his finger along my collarbone. I trembled. “I want to take my time with you,” he breathed out, “explore every pain, every fear.”
I cringed and writhed under his weight. I could see my future with him. Chris would kill me, tiny cut by tiny cut, until my heart seized or I bled to death. Like Ricky’s squirrel, he would grow giddy with excitement, cutting me open, seeing what was inside, and reveling in the fear on my face. Tears shot out of my eyes. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love, and of a sound mind. I took advantage of his attention – or at least tried to – by slipping my hand into his right pocket. I was hoping for the phone or the gun. I got the notebook, and slid it into my pocket before he noticed.
“Is this what you want?” I asked him, barely above a whisper. “To take me in violence just like Ricky?”
Chris’ eyes squinted together at the comparison. “I saved you from him, but only to keep you for myself. If you put your neck to his blade, what might you do for me? So many things I could try. So many tempting questions to answer.”
“You think that scares me? You’re intrigued by my fear, but that’s because you don’t know shit about real strength or faith-“
He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Faith?”
“Yes, faith,” I spat back under the pressure of his weight against me. “I don’t know how God works, but I doubt very seriously that he’d spare my life just to serve me up to a shit like you. And if you do manage to kill me, it’ll only be because God was ready to take me and serve up the retribution.” I managed a crooked smile. “You better hope Sam’s dead. He doesn’t like it when other people play with his things either.”
And there it was, like magic. A pinch of fear shadowed Chris’ face, just enough to tell me that Sam was alive. My heart thudded in my chest, and a renewed strength swept over me.
“So, if this is what you’ve been reduced to,” I went on, “this animalism, then go for it. You can probably overcome me, might make you feel powerful. But, remember what you told me. Everyone is just one pain away from lunacy and try to imagine the pain that’ll be thrust upon you.”
He pulled back, letting me breathe again. “Well, let’s just see what God wants, then. Shall we? One last game before I go. If you win, then you live, forever solidifying your place in my heart.” He chuckled, turning on each of the three Bunsen burners as he spoke. The blue flames hovered ominously. “If you lose, then you die. And perhaps that would mean that I’ve overestimated you, put you on a pedestal because I was having so much fun. But, then at least, I’d know.
The experiment would be over.”
With the burners flaming and the heat quickly growing, every pore of my body started to sweat. My heartbeat rammed against my chest. Panic pinched at my resolve, surging like the flames before me. I wasn’t drowning, but I felt like it.
“The task is simple,” Chris told me. “Just save yourself.” He grabbed some loose papers, set them on fire over the burner, and tossed them to the shoeboxes by the stairs. The fire ignited quickly.
I moved to the door, where Chris raced over and grabbed my waist. His cocky smile irritated me. I reached back to punch him in the face. He moved cleverly, and I missed. It was a stupid mistake. Sam had taught me not to punch first, but to be smarter in my defenses.
He laughed. “Oh, Delilah, I love your feistiness,” he grinned. “I will miss you, but don’t worry. Escape the inferno and we will be together again.”
Chris slung me around with surprising force, but I fought back. I slammed my right palm into his nose, just as Sam had taught me during one of our several rooftop lessons over the last few weeks. Chris stumbled back. Blood gushed from his nostrils, but I wasn’t done. I wasn’t going to let some kid get the better of me, no matter how high his IQ. I rammed my foot against his shin, and he dropped.
But, there was no time to pat myself on the back. I snatched the phone from his hand, tapped the button still on its face, and the door flew open. I rushed out, and hit the button a second time. Closed.
“The dumb jock taught me that move! Guess you’re the one to be tested today,” I yelled through the door. I rushed to Sam’s side. His heart pounded, but he wouldn’t wake up. I grabbed the phone from his pocket and typed in 9-1-1 on speaker.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a voice questioned.
“Tipee Island Lighthouse,” I spat toward the phone, trying to ease Sam up to a sitting position. “It’s on fire-”
“Delilah, let me out,” Chris called from the inside, banging against the deceiving door – wooden on the outside, steel underneath. I heard him coughing. From the upper windows, smoke was seeping out, clouding what would otherwise be a lovely blue sky. “Please, I’m going to die in here.”
“Is there someone trapped?” the voice asked.
“There’s an officer down,” I called to the dispatcher.
I huffed, trying to drag Sam toward the trees, away from the smoke and flames. He was heavy and I was weak, but I managed to put a small gap between him and the dangerous burning lighthouse.
“Delilah, please!” Chris begged. “I’ll die.”
Yes, he would die in there if I didn’t act. Though sirens tickled my ears, they weren’t close enough to save him. But, should I? Chris could end up being the next Hannibal Lecter. The world didn’t need another serial killer. And, last I checked, the world had plenty of psychopaths, sociopaths, and spoiled, rich boys, too.
“Delilah, help me,” he coughed.
Life and death was God’s department, and I had no business trying to micromanage it. In expectation of freeing him, I went to retrieve the taser. But, Chris freed himself. He busted out, crashing into me. I fell flat against the ground, screaming like a sissy girl as I went and Chris landed on top. My grasp on the phone failed, and it crashed into the leftover lead weights next to the door, closing the lighthouse up with a loud thud.
Chris grinned cockily. “You really were going to do it,” he said excitedly. “I’m impressed. You’re more like me than I thought, but you should have assumed I’d have a back-up on the door.” I shifted myself under his weight, and tried to writhe free. But, Chris hadn’t escaped the inferno empty-handed. He pressed a scalpel against my throat, and grinned, blood from his nose dripping onto my cheek. “Still, well played.”
“Not well enough,” I returned. The sirens drew closer, and he noticed. Still, in Hannibal Lecter fashion, Chris leaned down and licked his blood from my face. I squirmed and groaned.
“Eh, don’t feel too badly,” he smiled, “the competition was fierce. God must be rooting for both of us.”
An explosion inside the laboratory rocked us, sending flames shooting out of the gaps in the door and us scurrying away from the fiery building. I was knocked free of his grasp. I went to Sam, where debris littered his motionless body. I swept him free, and glanced around. There was no sign of Chris anywhere.
“Sam, wake up,” I prodded, shaking him and tapping his cheek. “Wake up, honey.”
The sirens grew closer. A twig snapped behind me. I turned. Nothing. I expected Chris to pounce on me, scalpel carving into my throat. I whipped around again. Nothing.
“Sam, wake up,” I ordered again. The lighthouse moaned and groaned as the fire ate away at it. Windows high above shattered from the heat. Chemical and herbal fumes filled the air. We didn’t have much time.
Sam did not sense our urgency. I positioned myself behind him, holding up his torso by wrapping my arms under his, and started pulling. To hell with Chris Kayne. Sam and I would both be goners if the flames kept surging and the lighthouse decided to fall. My elbow ripped with new pain, but I kept pulling, dragging his heavy body away from the inferno. I inched toward the inn until I was finally met by a team of firefighters. They took over for me, and got us both into the clearing.
The firefighters and emergency personnel made a quick assessment of the lighthouse, and then retreated. “The structure’s a loss!” one of them called, pushing the rest back. The lighthouse creaked and moaned, shifting eerily on its teetering foundation. Smoke billowed from its openings like it was an angry dragon. I held on to Sam, and cringed.
Then, the tower fell.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Moon Seas
The moon is dark and beautiful, a rock riddled with craters. Craters are formed by impacts, and the damage done, stays forever because the moon lacks one essential healing element, water. The absence of moisture mummifies the marks, giving the moon scars that won’t change.
Although it has no water, the moon has seas, lakes, bays, and marshes. Craters may give the moon its character, but its maria, or ancient lava pools, give it depth. Much like the earth’s gorgeous blue, the moon’s seas can be seen from earth, those mysterious dark shadows. It’s easy to forget the scars when you turn your eyes on the seas, especially with names like the Sea of Crisis and Sea of Tranquility, the Lake of Fear and the Lake of Perseverance, the Bay of Roughness and the Bay of Trust.
Sam woke up with the help of smelling salts and a mad headache. While we recovered in the back of the ambulance, Williams said, “Told ya you were gettin’ rusty. The perp gotcha and your girl had to save you. Never thought I’d live to see the day-”
“You might not live to see many more,” Sam warned groggily.
A sheepish smile crossed my face. I’d saved Sam. The tides were turning.
The next few days were riddled with police and DEA interrogations. While I understood the importance, I didn’t get why I had to tell the same story repeatedly to as many agents as the DEA could scrounge up. Sam went through the same thing, except that on top of the police and DEA, a special internal affairs investigator was called in to make a judgment on his rogue behavior. While I stewed in anxiety over the possibility that he’d lose his job over me, Sam could care less. Worth it, he told me, smiling.
Thankfully, the decision was made to keep him. It was Jason Kent who finally tipped the balance in Sam’s favor. I wasn’t sure if he was just standing up for a good cop or saving his own ass, given what I knew about him, but I didn’t care.
Chris vanished. The grounds of the Peacock and the inn were searched inch-by-inch. An APB was issued across the state. Every person Chris ever knew was interviewed. Nothing. No one could even determine whether or not he left the island at all. And though I doubted he’d be dumb enough to risk getting caught to come after me, I feared that what he promised would come true. We will be together again.
By the following Wednesday, Sam and I were finally out from under the shadow of suspicion and interrogation. Just four days aft
er The Tipee Island Gazette’s cover story was Festi-Fail: Octoberfest is a Bust!, Clark featured this article on the front page: Delilah Delivers, Saves Island. The article moved me from Tipee’s crazy category and put me back in the we’re-not-sure-about-you-yet status, but there was hope and that was good enough for me. With one more grand gesture, I aimed to solidify public opinion just as I’d firmed up Beach Read’s future.
Clara, Charlotte, and Candy were ogling a new hat at the glass counter when I came in, looking like the three fates around their shared eyeball. I took a deep breath, repeating the words power and love in my head.
“What are you doin’ here?” Clara belted out.
“Come to gloat?” Candy asked.
“Nice article in the paper,” Charlotte said, looking a bit uneasy. Compliments didn’t emerge from my aunts often, so my eyebrow cocked up on my forehead. “You’re a smart cookie. You might lose a chip every once in a while, but who doesn’t?”
I shrugged. “Thanks, but Clark was generous.”
“Oh, please,” Clara huffed. “Don’t practice that false modesty bull in here. We’re busy, so why don’t you see yourself outta here?”
I set a white envelope on the counter. “Here’s the check for TIBA.” The three shot me confused looks.
“Whatcha mean?” Clara asked. “You don’t owe us a check.”
“I won the bet,” I said surely, “but I feel bad about Octoberfest. No matter how shoddily TIBA is managed, it didn’t deserve the failure of the festival. And that was my fault-”
“But, you only did what you thought was right,” Charlotte protested weakly. “I mean, the drugs coulda been in the candy.”
“But, they weren’t. I made a rash judgment that cost everyone,” I explained.
“Finally, we’re on the same page ‘bout somethin’,” Clara returned, picking up the check.
“I figure this might help restore some of the expenses,” I said, “and mend some fences.”
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