“Unless someone else took it off before she was buried,” Inspector Forbes said. He leaned forward. “I understand your stepsister had your mother buried before you could arrive for the funeral.”
John nodded. “I was working on Cat Island. When I learned of my mother’s death, Carolyn had already packed up my mother’s things and sold the land.”
Jess rushed to sit next to her father who sank back against the old couch with a weary sigh. He patted her arm, giving her a faint smile.
“Is this about Carolyn?” John asked, turning his attention back to the inspector.
Inspector Forbes narrowed his gaze and peered above his rimless glasses at Jess. “Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see, Mrs. McCormack.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Me?”
“I spoke to your husband this morning, Mrs. McCormack. He told me you were here, albeit reluctantly.”
“Where’s my husband?”
“He’ll be here soon. I needed to speak to you alone.”
Jess swallowed thickly. “About what, Inspector?”
Inspector Forbes rose to his feet. “Perhaps we can take a walk?”
“My daughter’s still recovering from a…serious illness,” John interceded. “I don’t think she’s in any state—”
Jess squeezed her father’s arm lightly. “It’s all right,” she said. She followed the inspector out into the mild morning air.
“Your husband was absolutely right to bring you here, Mrs. McCormack,” Inspector Forbes remarked. “You’ve recovered well in such a short time. This Island is renowned for its healing qualities.”
“You know I was shot?”
“And almost died in a fire, Mrs. McCormack.”
Jess was tempted to laugh. “A series of unfortunate events, Inspector.”
“Indeed.”
They took the path, meandering through the cluster of trees at the side of the house. Pink and white sand peeked through the undergrowth, crunching beneath their feet.
“I’m sorry that we have to do this now, at such an early hour, but I need you to clarify a matter for me. It’s rather important.”
“It’s already nine o’clock. Time to get up anyway.”
“Yes, but I gathered from your father neither of you have had much sleep.”
Jess smiled faintly. And after a noticeable silence, she prompted the inspector.
“You have some questions for me?”
Inspector Forbes cleared his throat. “About your aunt. Purely routine, but I need to know when you last saw Carolyn Roberts, Mrs. McCormack?”
Jess stiffened slightly at the change of tone in his voice. Although not completely accusatory, it was enough to make her a little wary of the man’s intentions. She turned to look at him, but didn’t quite meet his gaze.
“The day after the fire…Well, I mean, we didn’t exactly meet. I spoke with my aunt on the phone and then went to her home in Lyford Cay. Only she wasn’t there.”
“So you spoke with her on the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure it was your aunt?”
“I…think so. What’s this about, Inspector?”
“Carolyn Roberts is missing, but we now think she’s dead.”
Jess stopped in her tracks. “Dead?”
“And you’re the last person to have seen her alive.”
“That’s just it. I didn’t see her.”
“You went to her house.”
“Yes, but when I got there she wasn’t there.”
“Then, who did you speak with? Who gave the guard permission to let you pass the security gates?”
“I don’t know. But I’m telling you the truth. The house was empty when I arrived. It was so quiet,” she said, remembering. “And spotless. So pristine, tidy and clean like no one lived there.”
Impersonal. She finally found the word, which until that moment had eluded her.
“It felt wrong in a way I can’t explain, but I knew I had to leave. And I did,” she ended, turning her gaze back on the inspector.
“Did you kill your aunt, Mrs. McCormack?”
“What? No! What reason would I have to kill her?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Revenge? She sold your family’s estate. Your inheritance. Everyone on Andros knows about that. Perhaps you confronted her about it and things got out of hand?”
“And when would I have had the time to kill her, Inspector?” Jess scoffed. “Where did I hide the body? How did I do it?”
“If I told you your husband went diving early yesterday morning and found a body. What would you say?” Inspector Forbes pressured.
“What would you say?” he repeated firmly, “if I told you that body had been in the water long enough to have been almost entirely consumed by reef sharks and all that was left was enough to put into a small brown paper bag?”
Jess raised her eyes to his. She was going to be sick. “I don’t know,” she murmured.
“What if I told you that body belonged to Carolyn Roberts, Mrs. McCormack? Your aunt.”
She raised a hand to her throat and shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. “I’ve killed no one. I’m the one who nearly burned to death. I’m the one who got shot. I’m the victim in this whole mess.”
“Are you?”
She glared at him. “That’s offensive.”
“Your aunt sold your inheritance, so you decided to take her house and her life. That’s offensive, Mrs. McCormack.”
“I already told you I didn’t kill my aunt and I don’t have her house.”
“Then, how do you explain the property being in your name?”
“M-my name?” Jess queried. “How is that possible? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, come now, Mrs. McCormack. Are you going to tell me you don’t remember accompanying your aunt to transfer the deeds of her house to you? If you don’t, I have an office full of lawyers who are willing to testify to that very fact.”
“I’ve never met my aunt, Inspector, so how can I have gone with her anywhere?”
“And my witnesses?”
“Mistaken.”
Inspector Forbes rubbed a hand across his face. “Mistaken?” he mocked. “Five people place you at the offices of Hudson, Rolle and Moore with Carolyn Roberts a mere hour after you signed out of Lyford Cay.”
“That’s impossible! I returned to my hotel and checked out at eleven o’clock. If you don’t believe my husband, the receptionist can vouch for that. It’s the same day I got shot.”
She wrapped her arms about her waist willing herself to stop shaking.
Inspector Forbes stepped forward his tone softening.
“I’m sorry about that, Mrs. McCormack,” he said. “But I had to be sure.”
“Be sure of what?”
“Your innocence.”
“So, you believe me?”
“Yes, I do,” Inspector Forbes said.
Jess released a tremulous breath. “Why?”
“I’ve been a policeman for more than thirty years. I’ve seen the various faces of criminality. The bold and downright evil. The smooth and totally unexpected. Even the insane. But you, Mrs. McCormack. Either you’re a damn fine actress or you really had no idea your aunt was dead.”
“What happens now?”
“You’ve been eliminated from our inquiries, Mrs. McCormack. You’re free to go. But someone authorized the guard to let you pass through the security gates at Lyford Cay. I’ll be focusing my efforts on finding her. Shall I walk with you back to the house?”
Jess shook her head and looked toward the small lagoon shimmering in the distance. “I think I’ll stay here for a while, Inspector.”
“Again, my apologies, Mrs. McCormack.”
* * * *
Jess sat down on the water’s edge, dangling her feet in the cool water in two minds as to whether or not she should jump in. Milly had told her there wasn’t any physical reason why she couldn’t take a swim. The wound had closed nicely, all she needed now was t
o overcome her initial fear and take the first step.
She gazed about her at the trees reflecting on the layer of fresh water sitting on top of the salt below. She took a deep breath. She’d gone from victim to suspect to victim again, but she didn’t want to be a victim anymore. It was time for her to heal.
She slowly stood and removed her clothes, and then traced a finger lightly over the small scar beneath her left breast marring her skin. It was swollen and still a little sore. She lifted her arm, gently testing the skin, and took a determined breath before lowering herself into the calm water. She winced as the water brushed against her wound causing her a few seconds of discomfort.
She pushed out to the middle of the pool and lay on her back. She closed her eyes enjoying the peace and quiet, and the feel of the sun warming her skin.
The water rippled against her side. It was gentle at first, but then the swell increased higher surging over her stomach. She opened her eyes to the faint sound of something—someone moving through the water with long, rhythmic strokes. Her body shook and her apprehension rose. She flipped quickly onto her stomach and started to swim with strong, determined strokes toward the rocky bank.
A hand brushed along her thigh and crippled her with fear. Panic circled her heart and squeezed it painfully in her chest. Her scream died in an audible gasp. She disappeared beneath the water’s surface and fought the arms that reached for her and drew her back to the surface. Her widened eyes locked with Jason’s. He hauled her firmly against him and she instinctively wrapped her legs about his waist, latching her arms about his neck.
She spluttered, gasping for breath at the feel of his erection nudging at her softness and trembled with the sudden need rushing through her blood. She closed her eyes. His touch excited her. He excited her. Her body missed his, but she didn’t want him to see that fact in her eyes.
“Stop,” Jason hissed in her ear. He caught her arms when she again frantically pushed at him.
“Open your eyes and look at me. I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I frightened you. Didn’t you hear me call you?”
She shook her head, her hair stirring the water about them. “What are you doing here?” She sounded more abrupt than she’d intended.
He raised a brow. “Saying hello to my wife. I’m sorry I had to leave you.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Yes, it does. You look well. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Then why won’t you look at me?”
Jess bit down on her lip before gathering her nerve and looking him in the eye. “When did you get here?”
“This morning with the inspector. He wanted to speak to you alone so I stayed on the police boat until he returned. Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“What did he say?”
“That my aunt is dead and her house is in my name. He thought I’d killed her, but now he doesn’t. I don’t know. It’s so crazy.”
She made to pull away, but Jason refused to loosen his grip forcing her eyes back to his. There was a resolve in the depths of his that made her tremble. “Please, Jason, let me go,” she breathed.
“Why?” he challenged. He fixed his eyes steadily on her face.
“Because I want to get dressed.”
“I’ve seen you naked before, Jessica.”
He tenderly traced the scar curving under her left breast and she shuddered with the pure pleasure of his touch shooting to the apex of her thighs. Her nipple stiffened in anticipation.
The water lapped about them pushing their bodies even closer, making her all too aware of their nakedness and the intimacy of their surroundings. It would be so easy to surrender. She blushed.
“Jason—”
“You blame me for this,” he said quietly. “I see it in your eyes.”
His finger traveled upward to her chin lifting it until she looked at him again. “You’re slipping away, Jessica and I don’t know what to do to stop it.”
“Just let me go, please. I…I just need time—”
“Away from me?” His voice rasped with raw emotion. “How do you think it makes me feel to know you won’t forgive me for this? To know I’m losing you?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. It was your ex-wife who pulled the trigger, not you.”
“But in your eyes it might as well have been me.”
A part of her wanted to allay his fears, to tell him he’d kept her alive. It’d been his words, his touch that’d pulled her back from the brink. But another part accused.
“She was your wife,” Jess stated with mild cynicism.
“And that makes me culpable? Would you punish me…punish us for something Eva did? For something I had no control over. You’re judging me unfairly.”
“Am I?” Jess shot back. “You had sex with her—”
“Is that it? Is that what you’re punishing me for?”
Jess glared at him for a moment then sighed. She relaxed her head against him. “I almost died, Jason without ever seeing Jake again. You don’t know what it’s like to have the world dissolve around you. I was frightened and you couldn’t save me. You said you could protect me, but you can’t. Your father has proven he can kill me at anytime and there’s not a great deal you can do about it,” she said.
“After all we’ve shared do you honestly think I want to see you hurt? Don’t you think I suffered seeing you lying there and barely breathing? It scared me, Jessica. Scared me more than I’ve ever been in my life, the thought of losing you. And yet you’ve made that decision anyway. Look at me!”
Just a breath from her face, pressed naked against her body, he was more intimidating than she’d known him. His eyes even more intense and he excited her. She bit her lip and prayed for self-control.
“I know you let down your guard with me and almost died because of it, but I’m asking you not to shut me out, Jessica. Please. Let me make this right between us.”
“I don’t know how much time I have before your father succeeds in destroying me in one way or another,” Jess said. “But I have to go back to England to see Jake before it’s too late. I miss my son. This—you—coming here in the first place—it was a mistake.”
“No it wasn’t. Wait a few more days. Wait for me.”
She shook her head.
“We’re almost through this,” Jason insisted. “I have proof—”
She shook her head again.
“Jessica, don’t do this. If you love me, you’ll have faith in me and believe me when I say I’ll make this right.”
Her breath caught in her throat and regret swelled her heart. She had to end this. “And if you love me, Jason, you’ll release me from a promise I made in the heat of passion. You can’t make this right, anymore. Not for me, not for Jake, not for yourself. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
He couldn’t have looked more shocked than if she’d slapped him, but to his credit he quickly masked the expression with an impassivity she’d come to recognize. Only the shadow in the depth of his eyes betrayed the pain her words had caused. Unable to bear his hurt, she swam away.
Chapter Eighteen
London, England
Monday, March 22
Drew pulled the collar of his coat closer about his neck and rubbed his hands against the cold. He’d been in England less than twelve hours and his body had already forgotten what it felt like to be warm.
He strolled into O’Casey’s at ten past ten. The bar was quiet, except for a few regulars, but that was to be expected at closing time on a Monday night. It was the way he liked it. No crowds. No noise. He greeted the bartender with a curt nod and continued to the room at the back of the pub.
“Welcome back to gray, old miserable London,” Colin said as he approached. “I took the liberty of ordering.”
Drew eyed the pint of Guinness on the table and flashed Colin an appreciative grin.
“Cheers,” he said. He sat down and reached for the stout glass, taking a moment to savo
r the rich, creamy taste of the smooth dark liquid on his tongue.
Colin grinned. “Good?”
“Yeah. Good. Okay. Business.”
“You asked me to find out if Alexander McCormack had any connection to Romania,” Colin said.
He reached for the briefcase leaning against the table leg.
“Whether he’d ever been there or contacted Nicolae Nastase. Sorry to disappoint, Drew, but as far as I can tell McCormack has never been to Romania. There’s no connection. I checked and double checked.”
“Private jet? Charter?”
“I checked,” Colin reiterated. “Although there’s the possibility he may have traveled under an assumed name, but the man’s too arrogant for that. Bernard Greene, on the other hand, well…that’s a whole other story.”
“He was photographed a few weeks ago leaving the BNP headquarters with McCormack, right?”
Colin nodded. “He’s also the BNP candidate for Islington in the upcoming General Election.”
He pushed the photo he’d retrieved from his briefcase across the table to Drew. “And this is Viktor Marinescu.”
“Viktor Marinescu?”
Drew studied the photo of the five men. Three were seated, flanked by the other two.
“To the right, behind Viktor Marinescu, is Bernard Greene. The face is thinner and younger, but there’s no mistaking him.”
“When was this taken?”
“In France, about ten years ago. Greene’s face is as well-known in stadiums across Eastern Europe as his activities are to the local police, but so far he and his companions have never been arrested.”
“What kind of activities?”
“He was—and probably still is—an honorary member of several extreme right-wing groups across Europe. Many of those have enormous clout within the football world, namely in Romania, Poland, Italy and France. Wherever they go they cause trouble, stir up intolerance and incite racial tension targeting black players unfortunate enough to play at the local levels.”
“So, why hasn’t he ever been arrested?”
“In England, we prevent known trouble-makers from traveling to international matches and we crackdown on disorderly behavior at football games. The same can’t be said about most of Eastern Europe. The football unions do nothing because they’re not pressured into doing anything to stop the violence at their clubs. And quite simply the fans bring in the money, so mostly they turn a blind eye to any problems.”
Blood of His Fathers (Sinners and Saints) Page 23