Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1)

by Debbie Herbert

  “Ainsley’s gone.” Her brow knotted in confusion. “I can’t find her.”

  “We’ll find your friend.” I asked again, “What happened?”

  “I pushed her.”

  The confession rang in my ears, upending my world. A pebble thrown in a lake spreading ripples as it sank and hit bottom. I sucked in my breath and glanced at Boone. The sharp angles of his face appeared even harsher than usual. It had hit him just as hard.

  “She fell . . .” Violet’s voice trailed away, and I remained silent, hoping she’d be more likely to continue without my pressure. Boone’s hand, warm and strong, slipped into mine, and I squeezed it as though grasping an anchor in a stormy sea.

  Violet turned toward the cliff. “Ainsley fell a long, long way down. And now she’s gone.”

  Although I strained to hear her whispered words, they slammed into me with hurricane-gust strength.

  I wrapped an arm around her bare, thin shoulders. “Yes, hon. She’s gone. Now it’s time for you to go back home. Mama will tuck you in bed, and then I want you to forget this ever happened. It’s a nightmare we’ll never speak of again.”

  Violet nodded, but she still had a vacant cloudiness floating in her eyes. I turned her to face me and cupped her chin in my hand, forcing her eyes to look directly in mine.

  “Never, ever tell anyone you pushed Ainsley,” I said slowly and carefully. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded. Time would tell if I’d really gotten through to her or not.

  I caught Boone punching numbers into his cell phone, the crisp keypad tones puncturing the air. “Stop it,” I said with a hiss. “Don’t call anybody.”

  His brows rose. “Got to notify Forensics to come get the”—his eyes cut to Violet—“get the, um, you know. Then I need to notify—”

  “No. I mean it. Don’t call anybody.”

  “Why?”

  I grasped one of Violet’s hands in my own. “I’m taking her in. Be back in five minutes. Please, Boone. Don’t report this.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but I turned away, rushing Violet to follow me to the house. She didn’t resist but didn’t attempt to match my faster gait or heed my urgent pleas to hurry either. Rather, she lumbered along like a docile sleepwalker in a semitrance. I couldn’t worry about her emotional state. No time for that. Instead, my mind raced, thinking about what to do next. I’d need to devise a plan to protect my sweet Violet, and then I needed to convince Boone to go along with that plan. Inside the house, it was dark and quiet. Upstairs, a light shone from underneath Delaney’s door. No doubt the little troublemaker had waited up to see what kind of trouble Violet was in. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

  In the kitchen, I poured a glass of water and shook two antianxiety pills from my prescription bottle. Violet accepted the pills without question and obediently swallowed them. With any luck, tonight would only be a vague memory for her come morning. I popped a couple of pills myself and then, as quickly and quietly as possible, guided Violet to her room, dug a nightgown out of her dresser drawer, and slipped it over her head.

  “Don’t tell anyone about Ainsley,” I whispered as she curled into a fetal position in her bed. I pulled the sheets up to her neck, and her vacant eyes met mine. I placed an index finger over my lips. “Shh.”

  The moment her eyes shut, I sneaked back down the hallway and paused at the top of the stairs. A snore rumbled from the master bedroom, and for once, I envied Parker the luxury of his drunken sleep. It seemed this night’s horrors were unending. And it still wasn’t over. I rushed downstairs and back out into the darkness. Somehow, I had to convince Boone to go along with my wild plan.

  We oared the john boat, methodically slicing through still waters. Boone up front, me in the back, and our cargo in the middle. Cement blocks weighed the flimsy craft enough that black water crept over the sides. I stopped paddling and began casting out bucketfuls of water. Soon, we left behind the river and entered the wide expanse of Hatchet Lake, the boat casting silent ripples behind us.

  Irma won’t be lonely anymore. The hysterical, inappropriate thought lingered. Poor Ainsley. Irma’s death had been more painful and prolonged than Ainsley’s had been, but at least Irma got to spend eternity in her white nightgown. Ainsley was as naked as the day she’d entered this world. Too late, I wished I’d dressed Ainsley in her discarded clothes I’d found.

  “We should be out of hearing range now,” Boone pronounced, dropping the oars inside the boat and pulling the cord to start the trolley motor. It sputtered to life, and we glided far across the lake.

  Boone abruptly killed the engine. “This ought to do.”

  “If you say so.” Here seemed as good a place as any. All that mattered was that the water depth be lower than any fishing rod line cast by fishermen. Too bad this crappy little dinghy didn’t have a depth finder. But then again, I’d never expected to need such a fancy contraption, seeing as how I loathed fishing and anything connected with the water. I’d grown up with the lake practically in my backyard and yet had never learned to swim. Water terrified me—the sheer weight and mass of it felt oppressive.

  Coral streaks of dawn slashed the sky. We had to hurry. Bass boats often launched at day’s first light. All it would take was one random boat to spot us, and then we’d all be doomed.

  I didn’t want to look at the corpse, but I was compelled, drawn to the grisly specter of Ainsley’s naked body and the smeared blood staining the delicate features of her face. Enough. I spun around on the boat’s wooden plank seat and resolved to do what I must to protect Violet. I wouldn’t look at Ainsley again.

  My hands dug into the rough board planking by my thighs as Boone stood, violently rocking the boat. What if I fell overboard as well? Became tangled in the web of rope, body, and cement blocks?

  Boone will protect me. I clung to that belief as his knees bumped against my back and he slightly grunted as he lifted the body. I braced my hands against the sides of the tiny craft, preparing for its final, brutal lurch when Boone would toss her body out into the water. I waited, sensing his hesitation.

  “For God’s sake, do it! Get it over with.” I fought against the bile rising at the back of my throat. Our decision had been made over an hour ago after much debate—and then preparation. Parker kept his decrepit boat by the shed in our backyard, but finding the rope and blocks had taken a bit longer.

  “I’m having second thoughts, Hy. The whole incident was an accident. Had to be. Violet didn’t mean to hurt the girl.”

  “Doesn’t matter. This will ruin our daughter’s life. Do we really need to argue this point again?”

  “I’ll make sure Violet gets nothing stiffer than psychological—”

  “No. Just stop.” I fought to think of a new reason to keep Boone’s silence. “Think of your career. Everything’s bound to come out.”

  “I don’t care. This is wrong.”

  “Then think of your marriage. Of your sons. You want to ruin their lives too? Because you will. Media and gossip will flay you alive. Not only for obstructing justice, but it will come out that Violet’s your daughter.”

  His shoulders stiffened, and his mouth tightened. I’d hit home. But even then, I wasn’t through. A deep-seated bitterness erupted to the surface. “What will your precious boys think then?”

  “You leave them out of this.”

  Oh, hell no. He’d have left Ellie for me. I knew my power to entice and tempt Boone trumped the allure of his safe wife. Yet despite my knowledge of that power, I hadn’t wielded it and pursued him over the years. Boone’s sons needed their father, and I knew he’d never be happy with me for guilt of leaving them.

  I didn’t flinch from his hard glare. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I dropped to my knees. With a rush of desperation and anger, I gripped under her waist with both arms and rolled Ainsley over the side.

  Splash.

  Rope swiftly followed the body down under, scraping a
gainst the boat’s metal side, as if it were a live thing, frantic to escape its confines. I screamed and twisted to the side, desperate to evade its relentless plunge to a black abyss.

  “Damn it, Hyacinth.” Boone knelt beside me, tossing out the two cement blocks tethered to the rope around Ainsley.

  They splattered into the water, creating a small eddy, which then flattened to the lake’s original glassy surface. The sheer speed and utter return to normalcy belied the monstrous act we’d just committed. The lake had swallowed our secrets. Only now did I allow myself to feel a sliver of remorse for what I’d done. But to be honest, mostly what I felt was relief.

  Boone’s heavy breathing mingled with mine, and we sat unmoving. From far off across a field, a rooster crowed. It was a new day, a new era. Much as I wanted to stay here with Boone in the darkness with our secrets, I had a child at home who needed me. Somehow, I had to sweep this memory down to a dark place and keep on with my life.

  “We’ll never speak of this again,” he said, picking up two oars and resuming his seat up front.

  “Never,” I agreed.

  Chapter 34

  VIOLET

  Present day

  Tux had returned.

  I smiled as he cautiously inched closer, talons clutched around the thin metal railing of my balcony. I withdrew two shelled peanuts from my pocket and slowly laid them on the coffee table, a mere four feet from where I sat.

  He cocked his head, one ebony eye fixed on me, unblinking and wary. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, curious if he would get any closer today than he had yesterday. This was a little kickoff to the game we played. A way to reclaim the old closeness. Every evening, I moved the treats closer to me, testing how close Tux dared come.

  With an unnerving quickness, Tux dived for his treat and then retreated to the far end of my balcony, the treats safely tucked in his beak. As he crunched away, my mind returned to the niggling question of where Delaney had hidden Dad’s pills. Day by day, he seemed to lose more verve. His digging attempts now amounted to little more than shuffling dirt back and forth with one of the stray fallen limbs of the pecan tree. The naps grew longer. Even now, he was half sleeping while watching television in the den.

  I needed to find those pills and discover the truth about his mental state. I didn’t trust my sister. As a precaution, I emptied out Delaney’s herbal home-brewed teas whenever she prepared a jug and stuck it in the fridge. At least I could waylay those attempts to control us by sedation. Only last week, two bottles of my medications had gone missing, so I’d learned to keep my own prescriptions with me at all times, in case she decided to tamper with my drugs as well.

  I’d already given the kitchen and dining room a thorough sweep. The den and Dad’s room weren’t ideal hiding places. Too much coming and going. The one time I’d snooped around Delaney’s room, I hadn’t found Dad’s medicine tucked into a drawer. But I felt sure it must be there.

  And Delaney’s silence about her fiancé showing up at her beauty pageant dinner also unnerved me. Libby and I had paid one of her friends to act the part, and he’d assured us he’d done the job. Maybe I’d scared her into an uneasy truce of sorts. Showed her I was someone to be reckoned with, just as I had with those women at the state mental hospital.

  “Back in a bit, Tux,” I promised, setting out another handful of peanuts on the table. Delaney wasn’t home today, so it wouldn’t hurt to take another look around. Inside her room, the curtains were drawn, and the heavy mahogany furniture made me nostalgic. Many times I’d sat in front of that very dresser, Mom brushing my long hair and telling me some silly story from her childhood.

  Now this area was a shrine to Delaney. She had a fortune lying about in antique perfume flasks, gold jewelry, and designer toiletries. Photos of herself were everywhere. I’d started to open a drawer when I noticed one of the picture frames was slightly off kilter—the Miss Normal Peach Queen photo.

  Delaney was so particular about keeping everything just so. How had she missed this? I straightened it, frowning. A bolt of suspicion tingled from my fingertips and traveled up my arm. I had a sudden image of Mom lifting her wedding portrait from this very spot and opening a small safe to don a pearl necklace for a country club dance. I had forgotten all about it.

  Was the safe still there?

  Carefully, I lifted the photo and then blinked at the safe with its digital keypad. Dad’s medicine was there, had to be. But I had no clue what the code might be. Half-heartedly, I entered her birthdate, but Delaney wasn’t that stupid. The safe remained shut, its secrets locked up tight. Later, I’d ask Libby if she had any ideas for bypassing the code.

  I returned to my balcony, but Tux had flown off with all the peanuts I’d left on the table. Settling back in my chair, I sipped iced tea and idly gazed at Delaney’s garden in the backyard. A bit of something red sparkled like a ruby chip at the far end of the deck. I rose and made my way over, careful not to trip over a few of the old buckled boards. On the feeder lay a glass bead. I lifted it and held it up to the waning sunlight, where it glittered like iced sangria.

  “Thanks, Tux,” I called out to the wind, hoping my voice and meaning reached their intended audience. I had a feeling the old fellow was nearby watching as I claimed this latest gift. For most people, these bits and baubles would be no big deal. But for a mostly friendless woman whose only gifts for years had consisted of charity packages at Christmas—mostly socks, hard candies, and cheap bubble bath—these crow gifts were a sign.

  I was watched.

  I was appreciated.

  My life mattered.

  I tucked it in my pocket and tipped the feeder to one side, making sure my own secret remained hidden.

  It was still there, the deadly treasure that I’d hid from my sister and the world. Ainsley’s necklace sparkled for a brief moment before I laid the base back on top of the incriminating evidence. The smart move would be to bury the necklace deep into the earth, but I wasn’t quite ready to part with this last physical link to Ainsley. Until then, I didn’t think Delaney would ever think to search here.

  I headed back to my chair. My toe caught beneath one of the buckled boards, and I plunged forward, my left arm catching most of the tumble as I hit the deck. I sat for a moment, assessing the damage. Nothing broken or strained by the feel of it, only scrapes and splinters bloodying one forearm. The deck really needed fixing. It wouldn’t be that expensive. Since it was one of the few places where I could relax and unwind, it’d be worth it, even if I could afford my own place in a few weeks. I thought of Delaney’s threat to kick me out by the end of the week if I didn’t confess to murder. It had to be nothing more than idle bluster. She had no more claim to the house than I did.

  I turned my attention back to the practical matter of the deck. Shouldn’t be that difficult to pull up a few boards and nail in new ones. I’d watched Seth do it hundreds of times at Cottonwood. He’d worked in maintenance, and they’d once spent weeks building new cabinets and breaking down the old ones. The corners of my mouth turned up as I remembered Seth’s wink and quick grin as he’d watched my first attempt to hammer a nail.

  Full of resolve, I marched to the garage and returned with a hammer and tape measure. Tonight, I’d pull up the boards, and then on my way home from work tomorrow, I’d stop by the hardware store and have them cut a few planks to size. Determined, I squatted down and set to work, pulling up old rusty nails and rotted wood. I was slow and clumsy, but I could do it. To my surprise, the home-improvement labor felt empowering. If I could do this, take what was physically broken and fix it, maybe I could do the same with my circumstances.

  I indulged in a delightful series of what ifs. What if Delaney and I could live in peace? What if Dad’s health got better? I imagined the three of us a happy little family. What if . . . but there was no sense resurrecting the dead. Ainsley and Mom had no place in this rose-hued fantasy. I leaned against the railing, hammer still in hand, and rested.

  Chapter 35

&nb
sp; DELANEY

  July 2, 2007

  Violet shoved Ainsley away from her, and Ainsley stumbled backward off the cliff ledge.

  A shriek and a splash.

  Too funny! I doubled over, clutching my stomach as I tried to contain my laughter. Damn shame I didn’t have video rolling to record this whole incident.

  Violet stood at the edge, calling Ainsley’s name at the top of her lungs. Over and over.

  Go make up with your girlfriend, I wanted to shout. Let me get it all on camera.

  As if she’d read my thoughts, Violet rushed down the cliff and ran into the river, prancing about like a startled pony. I didn’t bother holding back the laughter anymore. As much noise as she was making splashing about, Violet would never hear.

  “Ainsley! Where are you? Ainsley?”

  Her sly girlfriend must be hiding about somewhere too. No doubt laughing her ass off at scaring my sister so bad. That’s what I would do.

  Another scream, but this one was different. A scream of absolute terror.

  “No, no, no!”

  And then came silence, more disturbing than any wail. Violet stopped her frantic prancing and stood in the cool, muddy waters, her hands plunged into her long hair, tugging violently at the dark tresses. Why? What had happened? I watched and waited. The sinister air thickened, and yet Violet remained immobile—like a wild, naked animal too stunned to move. At last she trudged forward, clutching her head in her hands as she staggered to shore. I almost felt sorry for her. I walked out from the trees and into the open, but she passed within six feet of me, staring straight ahead with dead eyes.

  “Violet?”

  She kept going, as though sleepwalking. Still naked. Curious, I waded into the water to find what had spooked her. Ainsley lay scrunched between two boulders. Had she really gotten hurt? I waded in deeper, the water swirling to my knees, then waist, then breasts. One side of Ainsley’s face lay pressed against the unforgiving granite.

  I stood over her.