by Keri Lake
“So you made a deal with Lucian …” I was aware from the start that he was fucking her, but to hear the reasons behind it somehow doesn’t sit well with me.
“Yes. But that was before you came along. He hasn’t touched me since.”
“And has he ever physically hurt you?”
“Never.” The unyielding tone of her voice dissolves when she adds, “He has asked me for things, though.”
“What kinds of things?”
“To cut him.”
“Cut him? As in, he’s the one who bleeds?”
“Yes. I hated it. Every minute. It’s sick and disgusting. But I did it, whatever he asked of me. For Jackie.”
I knew Lucian had a penchant for knives, and admitted that a blade to his throat got him off. The scars on his skin, separate from the injuries, confirm that he has hurt himself, too. It’s just strange to hear that he’d request that from her. “Why would you tell any of this to Nell? Why would you risk it?”
“They know where Jackie goes to school. A police officer has apparently visited her, called her down to the office to ask questions about Lucian and me.”
“About the group? I’m not following.” Frowning, I shake my head, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “What makes you think they know where she goes to school?”
“The ring. Jackie said he was wearing a ring with a moth. The same one Lucian wears. The same one they all wear. He’s one of them.”
“So, why didn’t you have her removed? Why didn’t you pick her up, the moment you heard about this?”
“Because I’m certain, if I run, they’ll find me.” She raises a trembling hand to her face and wipes at a tear that streaks down her cheek. “If something happens to me, I need someone to know. To protect my daughter. That’s why I told Nell.”
“And you don’t trust Lucian to protect her.”
“I want to. But how can you trust the man who funds these people?”
Funds them. My mind scrambles to wrap itself around what she’s telling me. Lucian funds a secret group who pay to torture people. Pay to torture. No matter how many times I repeat it in my head, it still comes out wrong. “Who are these people?”
“You met some of them at the masquerade. They’re powerful and wealthy. And they have connections to other powerful and wealthy people.”
“How could you not know this would happen? That they would be watching you after? That they’d question your relationship with Lucian?”
“How long did you think about it before you mentioned the group to Lucian? A minute? Ten? Do you think you teased out every consequence? No. You were desperate. That’s what you do when you’re desperate. So don’t you sit and judge me.”
“I’m not. Listen, I’m going to look into what happened to Nell. I’m gonna talk to my aunt. There’s a chance she might know something.”
She gathers my hands in hers and squeezes, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t tell Lucian that I told you all of this. I can’t risk that he’ll throw Jackie and me back on the streets. Especially now.”
“I promise. I won’t say a word to him about this.”
Makaio slows the car to a stop along the curb in front of The Shoal. “You sure you don’t want me to drop you off at the house?”
“No, I’d like to hang out with Aunt Midge for a bit.” I gather up my bag and set my hand to the car door, instead of waiting for him to open it for me.
“How long?”
I pause at the question. “Excuse me?”
Hiking his elbow over the back of the front seat, he cranes his neck toward me. “How long do you plan to hang out with her?”
“Is there a reason you’re asking me this?”
“I need to know how long I’m waiting here.”
“Um. I planned to stay the weekend. That’s why I brought a duffel.”
“The boss told me to drive you back.”
“Well, can you let him know I decided to stay?”
“No.” The expression written across his face is as unyielding as his response, and a creeping sensation of discomfort climbs my spine.
“No? Why?”
“Because you’re to return to the manor. That’s what I was instructed to do. Bring you back.”
“Um. I’m … off the clock.”
“I’m not. So, I’ll wait here for you.”
“I have a choice of where I want to go on the weekends, and I chose to come home,” I volley back, the frustration blooming hot beneath my skin.
“Well, seems the boss wasn’t made aware of that. So, here I am. Waiting for you.”
“Well, you’ll be waiting a long time, I can tell you that.”
“How long?”
“Three hours. Maybe four, if I decide to eat here.”
“Okay, cool.” He lowers his arm, turning back around in his seat. “I’ll just be waiting here in the parking lot, then.”
“Fine. And I’ll be sure to have words with Lucian about this.”
“Whatever you two spat about is none of my business. I’m just over here doing my job.” The dismissal in voice gnaws at me, and I can’t get out of this car until I know he’s going to let it go and not wait for me in the parking lot, like some psychotic bodyguard I never hired.
“This is crazy, Makaio. Seriously, just go. I’m fine. I’m with Aunt Midge.”
“Your timer already started.” He taps his wrist that’s absent of a watch. “You’re wasting minutes talking to me.”
Frustrated, I storm across the parking lot, throwing back the door of the bar to find Aunt Midge leaning on the counter, chatting with Mac and Doherty.
“Ahh, look what the wind blew in, fellas!” she says, straightening as I approach.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Am I in trouble? Judging by the scowl on your face, I’d say so.”
“No. I’m just ...” Pissed. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, sure.” She directs her attention toward the two older men across from her. “You guys let me know if anyone else strolls in.” With a jerk of her head, she leads me into the office behind the bar and closes the door. “Everything all right?” The air of humor in her voice from moments ago switches to concern.
“Yeah. I just had a question. Last night … did you notice a young girl at the bar, at all? Maybe slightly older than me? Think she comes in pretty regularly.”
“You’re talking about the Anders girl?”
“You know her?”
“Not personally,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “She comes in sometimes, to meet with a guy. Older guy.”
“Did you see her last night?”
“Yeah, she was here. With him.”
“What did he look like?”
Puffing her cheeks, she blows out a breath. “Gray hair, kinda heavier build. Glasses.”
The private investigator, I’d bet.
“She ever drink? Or leave to party somewhere else with any of the guys?”
“Ah, well, what they do when they exit through those doors ain’t none of my business.” Finger waving in the air, she shakes her head. “But I ain’t never seen her drink. She typically orders a Coke. You know her?”
“She was a nurse for Mrs. Blackthorne.”
“No shit?” The sudden intrigue in her eyes makes me wish I hadn’t said a word. No doubt that bit of information will spread through the island like a bad case of herpes. “Whatever she pumped in her veins was apparently some hard-hitting stuff. Doesn’t seem like a good candidate for a nurse.”
“Yeah, I guess not. None of the guys ever mentioned hanging out with her at the Crow’s Nest?”
“Nah. Only guy I ever watched her leave with was that older guy. You sure everything is okay?”
I nod, rolling my shoulders back. “Just kind of a shock.”
“Was to us, too. Don’t get a dead body like that very often. Not the young ones, anyway.” Staring off in silence, she blinks out of her thoughts. “So, you stayin’ this weekend? Thought I’d cook up a
pot of chili tomorrow.”
“Yes. I just have to … deal with something first.”
“Nothing serious?”
Just an enormous Hawaiian bodyguard who refuses to leave.
I shake my head, pulling my duffel bag higher up onto my shoulder. “Hey, you think I can use Jack’s computer for a bit?” I’m curious to know if Nell ended up in the news, and if they happened to mention anything about her son. The owner of The Shoal often let me use his computer for school, when I couldn’t get to the library, for whatever reason.
“Knock yourself out. You want anything?”
“Maybe just some cheese fries and a Sprite?” It was a go-to favorite of mine when I was in high school, and the smile that lights up Aunt Midge’s face tells me she appreciates the nostalgic request.
“On it.”
The wooden chair creaks when I sit down at the dinosaur computer that’s still equipped with a disk- and CD-drive. Ages seem to pass before the internet browser finally pops up onto the screen, and when I click the search bar, it’s a ten second pause before I can type in the first inquiry.
Anelle Anders Crow’s Nest Death.
The only relevant result that pops up is a brief article in the Gazette that mentions she died of a drug overdose, and that police are investigating. Nothing more. No mention of her son, or how long she’s been a resident on the island. Nothing but a small bulletin on her death.
There’s also no other trace of her. No Facebook. No Instagram. No social media, at all, which isn’t exactly strange to me, seeing as I don’t keep up with that myself. Mostly, I’m just struck by how little there is on her death.
Just another junkie.
It’s sad to me, that someone can live and work hard, and the most anyone can say about her is that she died of an overdose.
Aunt Midge enters the office, the concern on her face creasing her forehead as she sets the food down on the desk. “Hey, there’s a man out there. The one I was telling you about, who came in with that girl. Says he’s an investigator. Wants to ask you some questions about her, I guess. If you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll throw him out. Must’ve known you two worked together, or something?”
“I’ll talk to him.” I push up from the chair and follow Aunt Midge into the bar, taking note of only a handful of regulars scattered about, though it’ll soon be packed with tourists.
Standing off from them is a heavyset man with gray hair and glasses, exactly as Aunt Midge described, who waves with what seems like a friendly smile. As I approach, he holds out a hand toward me, which I shake with some reluctance. “Al Goodman. You’re Isadora?”
“Izzy is fine.”
“Nell told me a lot about you. Can I have just a quick minute of your time?”
“Sure.”
We find a booth toward the back, and I scan the room to make sure Makaio hasn’t wandered in. The last thing I need is to have him report back to Lucian that I met with the same investigator Nell was fired for chatting with.
Aunt Midge shuffles over with my fries and Sprite, setting them down on the table. “Can I get you anything?” she asks the stranger.
“Just a Coke.” As soon as she walks off, he leans in. “I’m assuming you’ve heard about your co-worker, Nell?”
“It’s a small town. I’d venture to say most know about it by now.”
“I’m just going to get straight to the point.” His eyes scan the room, before he leans in closer. “In spite of what you’ve been told, Nell didn’t die specifically from a heroin overdose.”
Branches of ice climb my spine as I stare back at him, searching his eyes for a lie. “She told me she abused drugs in the past.”
“She did, yes. Which made this awfully convenient. But she did not overdose on heroin. My sources are sketchy, at best, but that much was confirmed. On the streets, it’s called gray death because it looks like concrete. It’s heroin, fentanyl, and an elephant tranquilizer. Dangerous and deadly. Therefore, I have reason to believe she was murdered.”
“By?” My heart gallops inside my chest, and I wonder if he’ll come out and tell me it was Lucian.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“You think I know who killed her?”
“I think if anyone has insight into who might’ve wanted to kill her, it’s you.”
“I hardly knew her. We worked together for a few weeks, is all.”
“And I know the nature of your working together, for the most part. What I don’t know is what led to her being fired.”
I don’t even know if this guy is the real deal. He could be a reporter. “She was skimming pills and spreading rumors. Look, I’ll admit, I only have a vague understanding of what you do from old eighties shows, but don’t you have access to police reports and stuff? I don’t think the Blackthornes decided to show up at her motel room and pump her full of drugs.”
“She didn’t rent that room. It was under a different name. One I can’t seem to track down, because it doesn’t seem to be associated with an actual body. And in this case, the police haven’t been playing nice with me.”
“Can you just … tell me what you’re thinking, then? Because I really hate puzzles.”
“Are you familiar with Schadenfreude?” Once again, his eyes make a sweep of our surroundings, and he’s practically stretched across the table, leaning into me.
“No. What is that? German, or something?”
“It’s a German word, yes. In essence, it means finding pleasure in another’s suffering. It’s also the name of a secret group I’ve been investigating for a while now. Would you know of any group that might pay for the pleasure of watching someone suffer?”
Again, I find myself contemplating how much I want to tell this guy, and thoughts of Giulia and her daughter pop into my head. “I might’ve heard of it. But I wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“Assuming you did hear about it, how would you have learned of it?”
As paranoid as Giulia was, I’m not going to throw her into this guy’s lap. “Who hasn’t heard of it?”
“A number of people, that’s who. They happen to be very good at keeping themselves hidden below the radar. I’m only privy to their name through a contact who was found dead in a New York hotel room, a month ago. I’m here to investigate the activities of this group.”
“Who hired you?”
“I can’t divulge names, but it’s the family of a girl who ended up dead.”
“Local?”
“Again, I’ll not go into detail, except to say, I believe she may have somehow gotten tangled up in this group.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Tell me what you know about Lucian Blackthorne.”
At the mention of his name, I instinctively look away, for fear he’ll see the obsession written all over my face. “I don’t know anything about him. He’s not a very transparent man.”
“I know that you and he have become quite close.” Jesus. Did Nell tell this guy everything? “I did a bit of digging into your background, as well.”
Trying to keep a poker face, while my whole body is screaming from the inside, is impossible.
“I know there was an incident a few months ago at a party. I know you spent some time in a therapist’s chair.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with your investigation.”
“I know you live with your aunt, because your mother is a drug addict who gave up parental rights when you were ten years old.”
Pushing the plate of food away, I slide along the booth to leave, and at a grip on my arm, a flare of panic explodes through my muscles. All I have to do is scream, and damn near everyone in this bar would be on this guy.
He reaches into a bag that’s on the seat beside him and pulls out an envelope. “I have a feeling you’ll be quite interested in knowing what’s inside.”
Gaze on the envelope, I suddenly wish I had X-ray vision, because no way this guy is about to hand over whatever he seems to
think would be important to me without some condition. “What is it?”
“Tell me what you know about Lucian.”
“You’re asking me for information, when I don’t even know that what’s in that envelope is worth it.”
“It’s worth it. And I’ll assure you, this offer doesn’t come without risk to me. I’ve more to lose than you in this exchange.” Which means my curiosity just ratcheted up a notch, just not enough, until he says, “It contains information about your father.”
Shit.
No. No way he’s privy to that.
All my life, I’ve yearned to know the answer to that question. I’ve inquired and dug around to no avail.
But what if it’s true?
My gaze falls to the envelope again. What if my father’s identity is right there? Practically at my fingertips.
Rubbing my hand across my brow, I close my eyes and shake my head. I’m not telling this guy jack about Lucian and risking someone watching me, like Giulia. But for information about my dad, I’ll tell him what I know for certain. “He didn’t kill Nell. He was with me the night before she was found dead.”
“Come now, you know he doesn’t have to carry out the murder himself. A man like Lucian Blackthorne can’t afford the blood on his hands, with the kind of past he has. Perhaps the only thing the man can’t afford.”
“You’re suggesting he had her killed?”
“She was meeting regularly with me. They knew it. The question is, why wouldn’t he have had her killed sooner?”
“And now I risk the same fate.”
“Give me what I’m looking for, and you’ll never hear from me again. I swear it.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Have you seen, or met, any of the members of Schadenfreude?”
According to Giulia, the men who were present at the masquerade were members, though I didn’t see any of their faces behind the masks. Except for Mayor Boyd.