The Sight

by Jude Watson

  “You wore his shoes. And then you threw them away at school so the police would find them.”

  “So you see, I didn’t want to kill you.” Jeff looks at me sadly. “And now it looks like I have to. I don’t want to, mind you. But I just want you to know—I can. I turned this corner when I killed Billy. I didn’t know it at the time. At the time, I just thought, oh boy, I’ll never do this again. Have I learned my lesson. Hoo boy. But then, when I killed Hank Hobbs, it wasn’t so hard. Gets easier all the time.”

  I’m so cold. I’m so very cold.

  “Hate to do it to Shay. She’s a nice lady. But you haven’t been here very long. It’s not like you’re her kid or anything.”

  Is he crazy? He’s saying these things in a totally normal tone of voice. Yet he means them. I know he’s capable of killing me. I can see it in the odd, glassy way he’s looking at me. His bland features are suddenly ugly. I wish I could go back to teasing him behind his back with Diego. I wish he’d ask me “How’s the house?”

  I wish I hadn’t been so stupid.

  I wish I wasn’t here.

  “And this is great, in a way, because you can help me move Billy’s body.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got the place all picked out. Nobody will find it. Up on the north end of the island, where the tides will take him all the way to Canada. That was my mistake last time—I didn’t know the island well enough. The whole thing will be real quick, I promise.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “No, I’m not. I just have a job to do.”

  I have to do what they do in the movies. Get him talking.

  “Why did you do it?” I ask. “Why did you kill Billy?”

  He looks annoyed. “Well, I didn’t mean to. That’s the whole point.”

  “What happened?”

  It’s getting darker by the second, but I can read his sneer. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one who’s psychic.”

  “I don’t know. It has something to do with that Monvor file.”

  “Gold star. Of course it does. Shay and Nate and Billy and their crowd—they were so cool. I just wanted to hang out with them. We went swimming, played softball, I sneaked them into the country club… They liked me! And I agreed with what they were doing, too. I mean, what Monvor was doing was destroying real estate values. Of course my dad couldn’t see that. He was too busy selling houses to the executives.”

  He pronounces the word ex-EC-yoo-tives in a deep, prissy voice, just like Franklin Ferris would. He hates his father, I realize. He had vandalized his own office. That peanut butter on his father’s desk was personal.

  “I wanted to help them. Why not? So in August, when they were getting set to maybe leave, I told Billy I could find him evidence. And I broke into Hank’s house. I knew his code—he told me it was the day he met his fiancée, and I knew it, I was there at that party, I remembered. I got Nate into that party. That’s where he met Hank. Hank hardly noticed us, so when he told me how he picked his code, he had no idea I knew it was July fourteenth. It was so easy.”

  “So you were friends with Nate and Billy.”

  “I was friends with all of them! Now Shay treats me like I’m only the person who sold her the house. She forgets.” Jeff scowls.

  “So what happened next?” I ask.

  “I thought I did a great thing. Look at what Monvor was doing back then—destroying the land, lying about it—they deserved it. And Hank Hobbs deserved it, too. What a snob. He looked down on my dad and me, treated us like rubes who didn’t know anything. He didn’t care about Beewick. He’d just work here and use it for what he could, then move on to somewhere else.”

  “But what happened, Jeff?” I ask. “After you stole the file and gave it to Billy?”

  “My dad guessed who stole it,” Jeff said. His mouth became a thin line. “He told me I was stupid. That I couldn’t alienate Monvor, it was half our business—what if they found out? He practically kicked me down the stairs. He said”—and again, Jeff uses that same deep, caricature of a voice—“‘Get it back, boy! Or I’ll turn you in myself, and you’ll go to jail!’ So I went back to Billy and said, hey, sorry, I need it back. And he said no.”

  “And that made you mad.”

  “No, I expected that. So I offered him money. Some of the money I’d saved for college, because my old man didn’t believe in college—it’s like, you need a diploma to sell houses?—and Billy just laughed at me. He said, ‘Who do you think I am? I’m not going to sell out my friends.’”

  “So you found someone who would sell out his friends. Nate.”

  “Not only did he take the money, he negotiated a better price.” Jeff laughs hollowly. “All my college money. And he uses it for the down payment. And he says to me, ‘At least you’ll make your commission, Jeff.’ Ha. And I never did go to college, thank you very much.”

  “And Billy suspected.”

  “Yeah. He didn’t know who sold him out, but he called me, threatened to go to the papers, tell them what was in the file and let the chips fall. Well, I couldn’t let that happen. I told him to meet me at the house. I knew it would be empty. I still had the keys, and Shay hadn’t changed the locks yet. So we talked, and he made me so mad. I tried to explain about my father, about jail, and he told me I had no commitment, I was a hypocrite. ‘You pretend to love this place and then the first chance you get, you sell out…’ And I hit him, and he came after me, so I hit him with a log from the fireplace, and he cracked his head on the mantel. Wow, he was tall. I still remember his head hitting—crack—and the way he went down. And the blood.”

  “You wrapped him in the shower curtain and dragged him out. And then you tore up the carpet. You pretended you did it as a favor.” And Nate took the credit. He told Shay he’d done it. It was typical of him.

  “It took me a long time to be able to sleep at night,” Jeff said. His voice was close to a whine. “I’m not a monster.”

  “What happened with Hank Hobbs? Did he know you killed Billy?”

  “He walks into the realty office twenty years later and doesn’t remember me. But he’s looking for a major property, so I show him the house I bought for an investment. He flips for it. Has to have it. Everything is going great, and then, that last day…” Jeff shakes his head. “I do such a stupid thing. We go out to the house together for a last walk-through, and my hands are full of papers and my briefcase and my cell, and so I say to him, just punch in my code, and I tell him the numbers, and he punches it in, and I see him looking at me, and I realize that he knows that I have the same code as he does, and how could that be?”

  “But why would you use it, too, all those years later?”

  “To remind myself of what I’m fighting for.” Jeff’s face is harsh. “I’m not content to be a townie. I want to be bigger than that. Every single day I punch in my code, my password, I remember that I can do the hard stuff. I can win.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Yeah, Hank. He’s just looking at me, and I see that something clicks for him. Maybe he’s already living in the past, seeing the girl again, that Betsy. I know he’s thinking—Here’s the guy who broke into my house, all those years ago. And I even see the moment when he makes the leap—And what happened to that kid, that Billy Applegate? Could that be connected? And meanwhile we’re going through the house, talking about this and that, and I’m being totally cool, but I can read him like a book. So here’s what I do. I think of the plan right on the spot. I say, ‘Hey, you need to see the house from the water,’ and he’s not that interested, but I push it, in a nice way, and he says, ‘Okay, yeah, we can go on my boat.’ I manipulate him, see, so that he’d be hurting my feelings if he put me off. And then, once we’re on the boat, the rest is easy.”

  The rest is easy? Murdering someone, watching them drown, that’s easy?

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re disgusted, right? But listen to me, Hobbs wasn’t a nice man. He cheated on his wife. He covered up what his c
ompany did, and then he tried to pay blood money to fix it, just because he wanted to retire here. And he tried to get your aunt fired, don’t forget that!”

  I feel the edge of my cell phone with my foot. I nudge it, trying to get it closer to the surface. I only succeed in pushing it deeper. But at least I know where it is.

  “Yeah, old Hank wasn’t a great loss to anyone. Whereas I’m a part of the island’s history. I buy houses and renovate them. I run the annual Chamber of Commerce drive to help needy kids. I coach the high school swim team for free…”

  “The andro,” I say. “That was yours.”

  “I only give them what they ask for,” Jeff says. “You don’t think the other kids are doing it, the kids from the rich communities on the mainland? Come on! And it’s not a steroid, you know. It’s a precursor. There’s a difference.” Jeff looks annoyed now. “You know, we’re wasting time. It’s dark now, I don’t have to wait anymore. You can help me load Billy onto the sled.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not far. I pulled up real close. I have a four-wheel drive.”

  “I’m not helping you.”

  Jeff laughs. “What, you think you have a choice?”

  I can’t feel the cell phone with my foot anymore. It doesn’t matter—he’d never give me a chance to call anyone. But I’ve noticed something else. He’s dropped his hand, the one holding the coiled rope. The rope has uncoiled, and his foot is tangled in it.

  “Okay,” he says, handing over the shovel. “You dig, I’ll haul.”

  He’s not kidding. I am not the strongest person. But I have my surprise on my side and, if I’m lucky, a certain lack of balance going on with him.

  I grab the shovel and push it right back at him, hard, in the stomach. He is surprised. It wouldn’t work, except he has to step back, and his foot gets caught in the rope. I give the shovel another push, and he goes over.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Now the nightmare is real. Crashing through the underbrush in a blind panic, not remembering where the trail is, the swamp sucking at me like a breathing monster, trying to bring me down. He’s behind me, panting, not yelling, just running, and I know my head start is going to dissolve.

  The cover of the trees helps. He can’t see me. I run as quietly as I can, but it’s hard not to make noise in a swamp. Things snap and rustle, and I hear him change direction and come after me again.

  I burst through a thicket. Brambles tear at my skin. I push through, fall, get up, run around a tree, and almost bump into Nate.

  He jumps and catches me. “What are you doing?” he practically shouts.

  “Shhh!” I start to sob.

  “Gracie, what’s going on? I followed you from the ferry, and let Shay know. I just want to talk to you, I’ve been looking…”

  “Let her go, Nate.”

  Jeff stands with the shovel. Casually. Dead-eyed.

  “What are you talking about, Jeff? Gracie…”

  “I know about you,” Jeff says. “When you reappeared on the island, I looked you up. Your life played out just the way I thought it would.”

  “He killed Billy,” I tell my father. “And Hank Hobbs.”

  “You killed Billy? What? Why? You hardly knew him!”

  “Didn’t you suspect it?” Jeff asks. “Come on, Nate. Did you really think he just disappeared?”

  “Yes!”

  “I don’t believe you. You knew I did it and you walked away, with money in your pocket and the girl, right? You know what it looks like? It looks like you were an accessory. I can say you even helped me hide the body, and who’s going to doubt me?”

  “What do you want, Jeff?” Nate asks. I hear him swallow. He’s just beginning to understand what he’s walked in on.

  “I want you to let her go and walk away. Find another one of your identities and get lost. Get lost for good.”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  “Yeah, that meant so much to you.”

  I feel Nate’s fingers loosen on my arm. Feel his muscles relax.

  And then a strange thing happens, stranger than maybe anything that’s ever happened to me, and that’s saying a lot. I know what he’s going to do before he does it. And it isn’t because I sense it, it isn’t a psychic thing. It’s a connection. One I didn’t even realize we had.

  So I move when he moves. I bend my knees just as he pushes me down. I tuck and roll as he catapults forward and slams Jeff Ferris with a fist on the side of the head, a blow I can hear, knuckles against skull, and then kicks him somewhere in his midsection and pushes him down.

  But Jeff grabs his legs and yanks, and Nate topples. They grapple in the mud. I hear the blows and hear my father grunt.

  I crawl toward the shovel. I stand, but I’m weaving, and I can’t get a good shot at Jeff. I can’t imagine I can slow him down. They are charged with adrenaline, and I see Jeff’s fingers tighten on Nate’s throat.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder. I haven’t even heard him come up.

  “No need for that, Gracie.” Joe’s voice is calm. It’s easier to be calm when you’re holding a gun. “Jeff, get up. It’s over.”

  THIRTY

  I meet Nate at the inn, where he’s spent the night. He and I had stayed over an hour at the police station last night, talking about what happened. In another room, Jeff Ferris had confessed to everything he’d done.

  The venom of years had spilled out. How he had done so much for the island, and no one appreciated it. How he knew Mason and his friends had vandalized his house, so he got back at them by framing Mason for breaking into my house, and maybe for the Hobbs murder. He even trashed his own office so Joe would think the kids did it.

  And his envy spilled out, too. How much he hated Hank Hobbs, who could so easily buy the house Jeff had bought but couldn’t afford to live in.

  His father refused to hire a lawyer for him. Jeff was on his own.

  And Joe had suspected Jeff from the beginning. He’d been quietly gathering evidence while I was running around trying to pin it on everybody else.

  Now, Nate leans against his car. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer, but Rachel wants me home. She’s so glad you’re okay.”

  “You’re not going to Russia, are you?” I say. “You’re leaving again.”

  He shakes his head. “I know you see things. Don’t imagine them, too.”

  I fix him with my gaze. I pin him down. “Tell me the truth, for once.”

  He looks away, then looks back again. “Well,” he says, “I guess I am leaving her, then.”

  “You’re a real piece of work, Dad,” I say.

  His mouth twists in a way I haven’t seen. “Yeah. I really thought I was ready to stick this time. Look, Gracie, everything you think about me is probably true. I’ve bounced from family to family. I don’t mean to leave. But I do.”

  “It’s just so weird and awful, having brothers and sisters I don’t even know about.”

  He looks startled. “What brothers and sisters?”

  “The kids in Tampa—Bunny and Ben.”

  “How do you know about Bunny and Ben? Okay, never mind. They weren’t mine. I was married for less than a year. They were my stepkids. I’m a deadbeat dad on a technicality. I didn’t owe Leslie child support. I mean, except in her own mind.”

  “What about Cheryl Ann? You stole her money and her wedding album?”

  “Her wedding album?” He laughs. “I’m sorry it’s just that…I didn’t take her wedding album. We weren’t even married. We only had a ‘commitment ceremony’—her idea, I assure you. That album is probably kicking around the house, I bet—the house was always a mess. I might have lifted a few bucks when I left, though.”

  “Like you’ll do with Rachel.”

  “Serves me right, I guess,” he says. “I came here so you wouldn’t find out these things. When Shay sent that private eye after me, I was afraid of what he’d dig up. So I came here to talk to her, to see you. I’m glad I came, even though now you know what a crook your old man
is.”

  “You’re not just a crook, you’re a sociopath. I don’t know if anything you told me is true.”

  “Well, now is your chance to ask.”

  “Did you suspect that Jeff killed Billy Applegate?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I never dreamed that Billy was murdered. Of course I didn’t think Jeff killed him.”

  “Did you really think you were manic-depressive? Is that really why you left?”

  He hesitates. “No.”

  I think back to the way he told the story, how sincere he was, how, even though I was resisting him, I was listening the whole time. The hurt of it takes my breath away. What a good liar he is.

  “You’re sure good at telling stories,” I say. I hear the bitterness in my voice. “It’s a wonder you’re not a millionaire.”

  He steps toward me and curves his whole body toward me, lowering his head so that he can speak softly. “I wasn’t afraid of losing my mind. But the rest of it is true. I did think I was hurting you. I know I was hurting your mom. I wasn’t cut out for marriage.”

  “Did your father really commit suicide?”

  “Yes.”

  “He had cancer! You’re still lying!”

  “And he took his own life when it got really bad.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly, I feel deflated. I realize that the facts don’t really matter. He lied to me once, and now I’ll never quite believe him, even at his most sincere. “So why did you ask me to come back to Rachel’s, then?” I ask. “You knew you were going to leave her.”

  “I was trying to stay,” he says. “I always want to stay, kiddo.”

  “You know, I thought it might have started here, when you took the bribe and betrayed your friends. But it probably started way before that, didn’t it? People don’t matter to you. Nothing matters to you. I bet you gave away your dog when you were little.”

  “How’d you know?” He grins, but I don’t smile.

  But suddenly, to my surprise, his face changes and he steps forward and hugs me, really hugs me. He lifts me off my feet.

  “This matters to me,” he says in my ear. “This is the one true thing I know.”