by Sharon Potts
Carlos got in the driver’s side and slammed the door after him. “Here, Elise. Put this on.” He took his hooded sweatshirt off his shoulders. “I don’t want you getting sick on me.”
She slipped it over her head. It smelled vaguely of Carlos’s cologne. Nice.
The rain pounded against the windshield.
“Not a great day for a walk in the park,” he said.
She laughed.
He smiled, then sucked in his lip. “Look, I know things turned kind of shitty last time we were together.”
She looked away. The rainwater had created a puddle along the side of the road.
“I feel like a real jerk. You’ve been going through this terrible time and instead of helping, all I’m doing is trying to get you stoned and, well, whatever.” He touched her shoulder so lightly that her nerve endings tingled. “I miss you, Elise.”
She leaned against the side window. It felt cold against her forehead. A child’s faded blue ball was floating on the stream of rainwater.
“I’m getting heavy on you,” Carlos said. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just…Well, never mind.”
She couldn’t speak. She wanted to tell him it was okay. That just him being here and caring about her made it okay.
“You want to go to the yacht?” he asked. “My parents aren’t around. No one will bother us. We can watch a movie.”
Elise turned toward him.
“Just a movie,” he said. “Nothing more. I promise.”
“Do you have The Sound of Music?”
“The Sound of Music?” Carlos’s face broke into a wide grin. “I’m sure my parents have that on DVD somewhere.”
Elise reclined against half a dozen blue and green silk pillows on the king-size bed in the yacht’s master suite as Carlos removed stacks of cassettes and DVDs from the cabinet beside the large-screen TV. “My dad keeps the old movies in here,” Carlos said.
This was the first time Carlos had brought her to the master cabin. The walls were paneled in polished wood and fitted with built-in cabinets and mirrored display shelves. The crystal vases and sculptures looked expensive. How dumb— expensive crystal. It was obvious the Castillos didn’t use the yacht for boating.
She and Carlos had driven directly to Lotus Island and sneaked through the park and around the back to avoid being seen. She was grateful that Carlos hadn’t asked if she wanted to stop by her house. Her uncle had contaminated it for her. Maybe she’d be able to talk Jeremy into moving in with their grandfather. She brightened at the idea. Why not? The three of them and Geezer. Then no one would be lonely.
She raised the hood of Carlos’s sweatshirt over her damp hair as she tunneled deeper into the pillows. It was windy outside and the yacht rocked ever so slightly, like a cradle. Coming here was a good idea. She took off her sneakers and ran her feet against the silky comforter. If Mrs. Castillo caught them in here on her expensive bedding, she’d kill them.
Carlos dumped an armful of tapes on the bed. “Doesn’t look like they have the DVD. Maybe there’s an old cassette of the movie.”
Elise sat up and sorted through the tapes on the bed. There was one of The Wizard of Oz. “We can watch this, Carlos.” She held it up. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’m sure we have The Sound of Music.” He’d completely emptied out the cabinet. From her perch on the bed, she could see the wooden dividers and open drawers. Carlos was tapping on the backing. “I bet this drops down. My dad probably keeps a secret stash of porno in here.”
“Then I doubt you’ll find The Sound of Music.”
Carlos pulled on something and the backing flipped open like a door. “Told you.” He reached into the cabinet and dropped a stack of files on the bed, then stuck his head into the empty space. “Man. I was sure they were in here.”
Elise’s foot touched the pile of folders and they spilled over. “Sorry,” she said, sitting up to gather them back up.
They were accounting reports with endless columns of numbers like her mother used to review. But why would Mr. Castillo keep them hidden?
“Wow,” Carlos said. He slid down to the floor with a pile of cassettes. “Would you believe my dad has the complete collection of The Three Stooges?”
Elise flipped through the spreadsheets. They went back at least four or five years. Dates, numbers, initials, a column headed Transfers to Corporate, and columns labeled EX, JR, VL. Strange.
“Hey, look at this,” Carlos said, turning his head to show her a cassette box. He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“N-nothing. These papers fell all over the place. I’m trying to put them back where they belong.”
“Oh, okay. My parents would kill—” He stopped at the sound of something slamming. Voices were approaching, low and garbled. “Shit,” Carlos said. “We need to put this stuff away.”
Elise shoved the accounting reports into their folders. The voices were directly above. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but could hear their timbre and pitch. There was laughter, then an uncannily familiar voice. A pattern of words that she’d heard once before. Elise’s breath caught in her chest. She was hot, then cold; her insides pulverized, ready to explode out of her.
“Elise, give me those folders.” Carlos tried to pull them out of her hands, but she held them with a death grip. “Shit, Elise. Let go.”
The voices were closer. And again, she heard the familiar pattern. A pattern that absolutely terrified her. She couldn’t catch her breath or speak.
He’s coming, she wanted to tell Carlos. The murderer’s coming. But nothing came out. Like Lot’s wife, she’d turned into a pillar of salt.
“And this is the larger master cabin,” Mrs. Castillo said as she stepped inside. Just behind her were Elise’s mother’s two partners, Bud McNally and Irv Luria, and Mr. Castillo. They all looked at Elise and Carlos with confusion. Then, Mr. Castillo spoke.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Carlos?”
“We were looking for a tape,” Carlos stuttered. “The Sound of Music.”
“Don’t get so worked up, Enrique,” Bud McNally said, “They’re just kids.” He glanced at a file and frowned.
Mr. Castillo swooped down and gathered up the files.
It felt like insects were crawling around in Elise’s stomach. The voice. She needed to match up the voice. But whose was it? All four of the adults had low voices. And why did she only recognize it through the hatch?
“Don’t you have your own room, Carlos?” his father said. “Didn’t we spend fifty thousand refurbishing the rec room for your entertainment?”
“Enrique, you’re frightening Elise,” Liliam said. “What’s wrong, honey? You look ill. My goodness, what happened to your face?”
“I said I was sorry,” Carlos said.
Irv Luria was staring at Elise, his fists in two fat balls. He’d always frightened her when she was little, but he seemed even scarier than she remembered him. Scary and angry. But why would he be angry?
The cabin was shrinking, the four adults hovered around the bed like circling wolves. They sucked up all the air in the room. Elise tugged down the hood of the sweatshirt.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Elise,” Mr. Castillo said.
“Do you want some water, honey?” Liliam said.
“What’s wrong, Elise?” Bud said.
“Maybe you should get some fresh air,” Irv said.
Elise jumped up, pulled on her sneakers, and brushed past the four adults. She hurried out of the cabin and up the ladder. Don’t pass out, she told herself. You can make it. She heaved herself up by the handrails and pushed open the door.
Only when the breeze hit her was she able to catch her breath. The rain whipped against her face, but the pain in her gut was almost too much to bear.
The murderer had been in that room. She was certain. She had heard the murderer’s voice. And recognized it. But how? How could she possibly recognize something she had never heard before?
Chapter 3
9
He found her hidden in a crevice between the roots of the banyan tree. Jeremy had walked past twice, not noticing her behind the curtain of rain that streamed down as from a broken gutter. Even as he stared directly at her, she seemed to blend in with the tree in her dark, hooded sweatshirt.
He darted through the sheet of rain and pushed into the nook beside her. Elise’s arms were crossed tightly in front of her chest and the cascading rainwater made a pattern on her face.
“Hey, Ellie,” he said softly. There was barely enough room for the two of them and his suit pants and shirt were soaked through. “Can I take you home?”
She shook her head.
“What about Grandpa’s house?”
“N-no.” Her lower lip was trembling. He had been back at PCM’s offices with Robbie when he’d received her call. She was hiding in the park, Elise had said, sounding terrified.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Jeremy asked now.
“I’m so scared.”
“I know, Ellie.” He slipped his arm around her. Her entire body was shaking. “You’re all wet. Let’s at least get you some dry clothes, or sit in my car.”
“No. Not yet.” She burrowed her face against his neck. He could smell the baby shampoo she still used to wash her hair. “The, the murderer. I’m not safe.”
“You are safe. The murderer has no reason to hurt you.”
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“I-I heard his voice.”
Jeremy’s stomach dropped. “What are you saying? You heard his voice? When?”
“On the yacht. I was there with Carlos. And we heard voices above us. And one of them— when I heard it, I thought I was going to pass out. It was the murderer.”
“But, Ellie. You never saw the murderer or heard him speak.”
“I know it was his voice,” she said. “I know it.”
“Okay, I believe you.” He needed to keep her from becoming hysterical. He’d calm her down, then get her some dry clothes. “You heard voices. Then what happened?”
“Then they came down below. They were very angry when they saw us.”
“Who? Who saw you?”
“Carlos’s parents and Mom’s partners— Irv and Bud.”
“The four of them were on the yacht?”
She nodded against his chest.
“Which one sounded like the murderer?”
She shook her head. “I-I don’t know. They sounded different when they came down below.”
“What exactly did you hear that made you think it was the murderer?”
“I don’t know exactly what it’s called. Do you remember Daddy used to say every voice is like a musical instrument with its own special sound?”
“But had you ever heard the murderer speak before?”
“I don’t know.” She started to cry. “This is so frustrating.”
“I know it is, Ellie.”
“I-I hear the voice in my nightmares.”
“The murderer’s voice?”
She wiped her nose. “And it was the same as the one I heard on the yacht.”
How could this be? Was his sister psychic or was this a repressed memory? “Tell me again what happened that night— the night you came home.”
“I hate trying to remember.”
“Just this one time.”
She was quiet for a moment, then made a soft squeaking sound. She was sucking on the end of her braid. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I got to the house with Carlos, and it was late and I thought Mom was going to be mad. And the door, it just opened. And I remember thinking Mom and Dad had gone out looking for me and left the door unlocked. But something was wrong. It was dark and the house smelled funny. And Carlos said maybe we should leave.”
“And did you leave?”
“Carlos said, ‘Come on, Elise. Let’s get out of here.’ He pulled on my arm.”
“Why was he pulling? Didn’t you want to go with him?”
Her closed eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. “There was a shadow.”
“In your nightmares, you see a shadow.”
“Not in my nightmare.” She opened her eyes. “That night I saw a shadow in the foyer.” Her fingers gripped Jeremy’s wrist. “A large, dark shadow. It was perfectly still, but I knew it was wrong. It didn’t belong in our house. I took a step toward it. It still didn’t move. But I could hear it. I could hear it breathing.”
Jeremy was holding his own breath. “What about Carlos?”
“I don’t know. I guess he left.”
“Go on. Go on, Ellie.”
Elise trembled against him. “I smelled something weird. And I thought, there’s someone in our house. But I couldn’t move. I just stared and stared at the shadow. And then I could see it wasn’t a shadow, but his face was all dark. No nose, no mouth, no hair, just eyes. Bug eyes, like goggles. And he was staring at me. And I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.”
Jeremy’s pulse was racing. “He must have been wearing a ski mask and night goggles.”
“And then he said something.”
“Jesus. What? What did he say?”
She closed her eyes again. “It was hard to understand, like the voice I heard on the yacht.”
“He was probably covering his mouth. That’s why it sounded garbled.”
“Covering his mouth.”
“What happened next?”
She shook her head.
“Did he touch you?”
She seemed to be studying the dripping rainwater. “I-I don’t think so.”
“Then what? Do you remember him leaving?”
She started to cry. “I don’t know. Stop asking me. I can’t remember anything else.”
“Okay, Ellie.” Jeremy hugged her tightly. “I’ll take you to Grandpa’s.”
They drove in silence most of the way. He had made Elise take off her wet sweatshirt and wrapped her in a blanket his mother had kept in the trunk of her car.
Elise seemed hypnotized by the windshield wipers. She had seen the killer. No wonder she had been freaked out being back in the house. And all those nights he’d left her alone. Well, that wouldn’t happen anymore.
“You did really well remembering all that stuff,” Jeremy said. “I think it will help the nightmares go away.”
Elise kept staring at the wipers, her head gently rocking from side to side.
“I know you’re worried that the murderer’s coming back for you, but he has no reason to think you recognized his voice.”
“He…he thinks I figured it out,” Elise said very quietly.
“Figured what out?”
“The papers. He saw me looking at the papers.”
“What are you talking about?”
“On the yacht, Carlos found these files. And I wondered why they’d been hidden, so I started going through them.”
“You found files?”
“Accounting stuff, like Mom used to work on. But nothing made sense to me. And then they all came down to the cabin and started yelling at us.”
“You mean the Castillos and Mom’s partners? They saw you going through the papers?”
She nodded. “And I got this feeling there was something important in them. Something I wasn’t supposed to see.”
“They might just be Enrique’s personal files. They don’t necessarily have anything to do with what happened to Mom and Dad.”
“But you weren’t there. You didn’t see them. How they looked at me.” She started to cry again. “Don’t you understand, Jeremy? The murderer was in that cabin with me.”
“It’s okay.” He reached for her hand. “I believe you. You don’t have to be frightened.”
She rested her head against the side window and stared again at the windshield wipers.
Chapter 40
Jeremy believed she was being paranoid, but as soon as he’d gotten his sister settled at his grandfather’s house, he called Judy Lieber on his cell phone.
“What’s u
p?” Lieber asked.
“I want to make you aware of some recent developments,” Jeremy said, hoping he wouldn’t come across like the boy who cried wolf. It had been only a few days since he’d spoken to her at the park. At the time, he had been certain that the murderer had targeted his father and that Marina was only interested in helping him.
“I’ve been wondering about all those leads on who was out to get your father,” Lieber said.
He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. It didn’t matter. He stood in the corner of the living room pulling on the venetian blind strings. He could hear his grandfather in the kitchen, clanking pots, running water. “My sister may have seen the murderer that night.”
There was a long pause. “I’m listening,” Lieber said.
“I think she’s been blocking it out, but tonight she remembered something.”
“That can happen. What does she remember?”
“When Elise and Carlos got to the house that night, they went inside.”
“Carlos Castillo said they could tell something was wrong— the house smelled funny— and they ran out.”
“Not they,” Jeremy said. “Just Carlos. Elise thought she saw something in the foyer; she was paralyzed with fear.”
“So Carlos left her?” Lieber said. “That’s not his story.”
“Maybe he was ashamed of leaving her behind.”
There was silence. “Where are you now?” Lieber said finally. “Where’s your sister?”
“We’re both at my grandfather’s house.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a half hour. I need to talk to her.”
“Wait. Please. Elise is very upset. Something happened tonight and she’s spooked. Can you talk to her in the morning?”
“What happened?”
“She was on the Castillos’ yacht with Carlos. She found some papers, which she believes may be connected to our parents’ murders.”
“What kind of papers?”
“Accounting reports. She couldn’t figure out what they meant, but they’d been hidden.”
“Jeremy.” There was a tinge of impatience in Lieber’s voice. “Many people keep personal papers hidden on their private property. Why does Elise think they have anything to do with your parents? Were their names on them?”