by Mira Gibson
He seemed skeptical of that, but addressed Lucas, “What are you doing here?”
As Lucas stammered, Holly blurted out a lie, “I called him. Please, I’m fine, but exhausted and I-”
“No problem,” he quickly interrupted, surprising her. “Where are you headed?” When she didn’t respond except to mention that she wasn’t sure, he told her, “I’ll need to talk to you later.” He eyed Lucas for a beat, adding, “Both of you.”
“Can I let you know?” she asked. “Once I’ve decided?”
Cody told her that would be fine, though he didn’t sound pleased, and paced off towards the cluster of police officers.
It wasn’t until Lucas took his foot off the brake, tires crunching over compacted snow, that Holly felt the knot in her stomach loosen.
Driving along Newman, Holly stared through the windshield at the whitewashed landscape—the snow-dusted road, the icy lake to their left, a dense forest beyond the shoulder to their right.
The silence between them didn’t feel uncomfortable, but she broke it anyway. “I know you’ve been looking out for me.” Glimpsing him briefly to gauge his reaction, she caught sight of his mouth quirking into a subtle smile. “But it’s not necessary.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “But I don’t want the fact that you were at the resort that night to muddy the waters of this investigation.”
“I don’t either,” she said.
Holding her gaze for a beat, he smirked and for a split second she was reminded of how deeply she had felt for him during their shared night all those years ago.
“You can take me to the resort, if you don’t mind. Warren offered,” she mentioned when his eyes had returned to the road.
In response, Lucas veered the car, turning left and hugging the lake as per her request.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
Everything? Nothing? For hiding the bullet, for having her back, for not reminding her that she was carrying his darkest secret? One which both disturbed and enthralled her.
He had made himself vulnerable to her. He had trusted Holly. And she had never told a soul.
Their night had been so intimate, so heavy, and yet strangely freeing.
Why hadn’t he tracked her down? Found her? Insisted that they were destined to be together?
Leaving had been her choice, but seated beside him in the car as they now were, driving with him through a winter wasteland, she realized she hadn’t left because his dark confession had scared her. She had left because it hadn’t.
How could she love a killer?
She told herself that a killer wasn’t what he was anymore, and said, “I’m just thanking you in general.”
After a moment of Lucas shifting his gaze from the road to her, he asked, “Holly, are you okay?”
She realized her eyes had misted over with tears. She wasn’t okay. She was losing it, coming undone in ways she hadn’t thought humanly possible. Despite this, she managed, “Just catch the son of a bitch, get my nephew back, and I’ll be fine.”
As she shielded her face with her hand, her elbow planted on the armrest, Lucas placed his hand on hers.
When she glanced down, feeling the warmth of his hand, seeing the tender way he was conveying that he was here for her, she asked, “You never confronted me.”
He gave her a little squeeze. “About?”
“About how I left without saying goodbye.”
He needed his hand to turn onto Keewaydin Road, the Wythe Resort looming in the distance, so he released her in favor of turning the steering wheel hand over fist. Returning his hand to hers, he said, “I never questioned it, or you. I didn’t need you to stay if that wasn’t what you wanted.”
She laced her fingers with his, uncertain as to why holding hands felt so good but unable to deny that it did. The energy between them was building in a way that both worried and excited her.
“Did you guys get anywhere with Mary?” When she glanced at him, Lucas scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “Christ, what the hell is she doing working there?”
“I doubt she works there anymore.”
“Did she give you any insight on Ron?”
“If she did, Cody will pursue it.” He let out a rocky breath, slowing and turning the vehicle into the resort parking lot where bulldozers still dominated the far end, the west wing draped in plastic, workers marching building materials from tarps to the construction site as though immune to the frigid temperature.
Lucas drove as close to the entrance as possible.
“Why didn’t you stay at the house to investigate?” she asked curious. Cody had seemed wary of him—What are you doing here?
But Lucas was relaxed despite her intuition that perhaps the detectives weren’t getting along, and complained, “Cody’s pigheaded. I don’t think he wants a partner, not that I ever was one. He treats me more like a subordinate and I decided to stop fighting him.”
Holly glanced at the entrance and groaned.
“I can take you some place else,” he offered.
“Some place else won’t be free,” she said on a sigh. “Warren and Sarah wouldn’t dream of charging me. They’d rather be generous and hold it over my head even though they’ve hated me from day one... Just like they did to Rose.”
Offhandedly, he mentioned, “You look good,” and when she met his gaze, he defused the compliment, adding, “I know dealing with her death has been rough and that’s an understatement” as though he could anchor his prior implication in the territory of how she was holding up rather than the obvious fact that he was still attracted to her.
Both made her smile. “Why do I want to invite you in right now?”
He let out a modest laugh then guessed, “Because the Wythes hate you and you don’t feel like being alone with them?”
Boldly, he drove forward, clearing a few parked cars, and pulled into a vacant spot then killed the engine.
“I have time,” he said, popping his seatbelt.
She kept her smile hidden as she stepped out of the car, wind whipping flurries at her sideways.
Lucas was quick to open the entrance door for her when they reached it and though he walked by her side to the front desk, he stepped forward to handle the clerk so she wouldn’t have to expend any energy, explaining Holly was here to see Warren Wythe.
“Same old song and dance,” he said over his shoulder after the young woman behind the counter had made several attempts to dissuade him from summoning the owners. As the clerk grumbled, clamping the desk phone between her ear and shoulder, Lucas asked, “Why do they hate you?”
She widened her eyes and sighed, “Long story.”
As Lucas eyed her, perhaps waiting for her to elaborate, the clerk slapped the phone in its cradle and told them they could have a seat in the lounge if they liked.
Starting through the lobby, they didn’t get far. Warren was already walking briskly from the lounge. He smiled like an emperor welcoming weary pilgrims, but to Holly the sentiment seemed disingenuous.
“Holly, I’m so glad you came.” He clapped his hands together and as he continued it dawned on her that he hadn’t greeted or even acknowledged Lucas. “I understand you’d like a room.”
“If it’s too short a notice-”
“No, not at all,” he obliged, motioning her towards the east wing. As they walked—Warren shepherding her, Lucas trailing after—he disclosed, “We’re booked solid. Bad weather is good for business, but I do have a room for you.” He nodded a Hello to a maid as she passed pushing a cart down the hallway. “I pray you won’t be offended.”
Abruptly, Warren turned and she realized they’d arrived at her room, but when she glanced at the door and the number 112 jumped out at her, her stomach dropped.
It was Benjamin’s room.
“With the news reports and the rumors we wouldn’t dare book our guests in here,” he explained, fishing the room key from his pocket.
“It’s fine,” she
breathed, unnerved. “I appreciate it.”
“Well,” he said, twisting the key into the lock and pushing the door inward. “Here you are. Anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” As if suddenly remembering, he added, “Oh, and if you’d like to join Sarah and me for an early dinner, we’ll be in the restaurant in about ten minutes.”
Holly watched him trail down the hallway then stepped apprehensively into the room, Lucas following after her and closing the door.
If she was uneasy about the idea of retiring in the room where her brother-in-law had been murdered, the feeling was magnified the second she rounded the bed and saw the carpet.
Though she could tell it had been steam-cleaned and possibly scrubbed with hydrogen peroxide and bleach, a dark stain remained—blood.
“Christ, I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, lowering to the edge of the bed and staring at the carpet.
Lucas angled around the bed and it didn’t take him long to understand what the problem was. Decisively, he scanned the room then grabbed a pillow off the bed and laid it over the stain. His effort had been thoughtful but useless.
“I’m still going to know it’s there,” she said in a small voice, realizing his honest attempt had caused her heart to sink.
Lucas studied the pillow, the carpet, their alignment from all angles, and seemed to decide a second pillow would do the trick, but when he grabbed it, she quietly said, “Please, stop.”
“Okay,” he said, setting the pillow to the bed and sitting beside her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Covering the stain?”
“Taking care of me,” she corrected. “The necklace and the bullet and I’m scared to find out about what else-”
“Your alibi at McCoy’s,” he supplied.
“You got me an alibi?”
“No, but I will.” After a moment he added, “You’re on the security footage here.”
She cut in with, “I didn’t do any of this.”
“I know.” He had said it before, but this time it really landed.
“Then why are you doing this?” When he didn’t answer except to touch her hand, she quieted the side of herself that still didn’t trust him and asked, “Is it because of what you said to me… your reason for becoming a cop?”
He held her gaze. They both knew what she was referring to, but he didn’t respond, though he seemed to be working up the nerve.
“You told me you didn’t want them to feel alone, the killers out there, the ones who became warped and twisted because of how they were raised. Is that why you’re doing this? Helping me? Is that what you think I am?”
As he searched her eyes in silence, she could almost see the words forming in his mind, but after a tense moment he still hadn’t come out with it.
“The way you explained it,” she went on, keeping her tone even. “It sounded like you identify with... those people. But Lucas, I’m not one of them. I didn’t do anything.”
For the third time he told her, “I know.”
“Then what is all of this? What are you doing?”
He couldn’t look at her when he said, “I’m protecting you while I figure it out.”
“But why?”
After another long moment, he finally began, “I do things...” but interrupted himself, swallowing hard and drawing in a deep breath. “I think we’re being set up, and...” trailing off, his eyes shifted as if some dark memory was taking hold.
Holly leaned in, squeezing his hand, poised to learn who was setting them up.
His shoulders rounded as he exhaled and after pinching his eyes shut, perhaps to ward off whatever memory was gripping him, he reclaimed his composure, but when he finally went on, she realized that the night they had shared had a far greater impact on him than she’d thought. “When I was with you that night...” He squared his shoulders to her, locking eyes. “I’ve never been so completely myself with another human being. Call me a romantic or a fool or just plain crazy, but I know you didn’t kill Rose and Benjamin. I know you didn’t take Tucker. You didn’t nearly blow yourself up in that garage. So no, I’m not helping because I think you’re a killer. I’m helping because whoever is setting us up has Cody completely fooled. He’s been sniffing around you-”
“Even though you guys know about Ron Conover?”
“It looks that way. And I don’t know why, but I feel responsible.”
“Responsible for what?”
“For you,” he said as if the fact puzzled him. “I can’t explain it...” He took another long moment to gather his thoughts. “I feel so close to this thing, I feel like I’m fucking breathing it. And I know I can stop it. I know I can figure it out and end it and get Tucker back. But I can’t do it if I’m worried Cody is going to come after you.”
He closed his eyes, his cheeks flexing with a hint of remorse, and when he ran his hands down his face, Holly sensed he was just as distraught as her. “One of the girls from the club has been fucking with me. I found a business card for Diamonds in my locker,” he said after lowering his hands to the bed. “Not Mary-”
“Roberta?” she guessed.
“You know her?”
“I think she’s been fucking with me, too.”
Angered, he said, “Roberta knows my nickname. But I don’t know how that’s possible. I’ve never told anyone. She’s been acting familiar with me, getting under my skin and into my head. When I confronted her the other day...” he trailed off as if disturbed. “She claimed we’d had an entire conversation... but we didn’t.”
His anger was gone and Lucas looked baffled, which compelled Holly to explain, “She was in Benji’s room that night.”
His blue eyes flared. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I couldn’t admit I was also in his room. But she was here. I came to drop Tucker off,” she explained, omitting the quarter pound of cocaine she had also brought to drop off as well as the ugly fact that she’d held Benjamin at gun point in attempts to get him talking. “They were having some kind of an affair.”
His gaze lowered as he fell into deep consideration.
“But I don’t see how a teenage girl would have the know-how to rig a bomb in the garage,” she countered.
“Mary Cole is brilliant.”
Skeptically, she said, “She’s some kind of genius?”
“Literally,” he confirmed, surprising her.
“Why would Mary do this?” she questioned, though she was eager to hear his theory.
“You said you saw Roberta here with Benjamin?” he asked as if thinking out loud. “If Roberta was involved with him, having an affair, but also working with Rose, then she might have wanted to put an end to the love triangle. Maybe she killed Rose and then came here to tell Benjamin, thinking he would see his wife’s death as good news. And when he didn’t, when he fell into shock, she realized her error and killed him. And maybe Mary’s involvement boils down to her loyalty to Roberta.” After a beat, he added, “Mary told Cody...” but couldn’t come out with his point. “She implied I had motive to kill the Wythes.”
“What did she say?”
“Doesn’t matter... It’s a complete lie.”
If it was a complete lie, Holly couldn’t imagine why Lucas seemed suddenly terrified of it. But in her mind nothing was more important than using their theory to find her nephew. “Why take Tucker?”
“I don’t know, but Mary was babysitting when it happened.”
Holly couldn’t deny that he was making sense, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the garage. “Why try to kill me?”
“You said it yourself. You’d gone to the club, ruffled feathers. Maybe the girls were worried you’d catch onto them. Maybe setting the explosion was their pre-emptive strike. Maybe they realized they shouldn’t have taken Tucker, that you would come after them and therefore they needed to eliminate you.”
It made the darkest kind of sense.
“How are you going to investigate
this if you’re off the case?” she asked and his eyes lit up as if surprised or perhaps impressed she knew. She smirked at him. “I’m not an idiot. It’s obvious.”
Tense silence followed—Holly’s smile waning, Lucas’s eyes shifting, both sinking into the quicksand of their crisis. If Lucas was off the case, then he wouldn’t be able to exonerate Holly by investigating the girls. Cody would be in charge and likely wouldn’t prosecute his girlfriend's sister because of it, even if he did find Tucker in their possession and uncovered further evidence against Mary Cole and Roberta King, linking them to the murders.
Gradually, Lucas met her gaze. Holding hands, their faces close, she thought he might lean in, the spark between them having been rekindled.
She startled at the sound of pounding on the door, but she wasn’t going to let this moment pass. Swiftly, she kissed him, pressing her lips to his and showing him that they were in this together. She would follow his lead. She trusted him.
Pounding on the door again, Warren called out, “Holly? I apologize for the intrusion. It’s...”
As she started for the door, she heard Cody’s good-natured voice supply, “Detective McAlister.”
“A detective here for you!” Warren said loudly, “Holly?”
When she opened the door, Warren stepped aside for the detective. The look on Cody’s face, having caught sight of Lucas on the bed, was unsettling.
“I’d like to go over what happened,” he told her, no longer sounding good-natured.
She stepped into the hallway, easing the door closed behind her. "How did you know I'd be here?"
“Was that private?" asked Warren apologetically before mentioning, "You’re welcome to chat in the lounge,” as he led them in that direction.
When they reached the lobby however, Cody brought her to a set of sofa-chairs near the window, but they didn’t get comfortable.
Standing, he said, “I’m going to cut to the chase.” His tone was low and so serious that it set her teeth on edge.
She nodded companionably even though it was the opposite of how she felt.
“If I’m being honest with you, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the explosion.”
He flicked his eyes at the lounge where an elderly couple was rounding through towards the east wing. He held his tongue while they passed then glanced at the front desk, cautious that no one overhears him. The clerk seemed disposed, pressing the phone to her ear.