In Their Blood: A Novel

by Sharon Potts

  “Jesus,” he said. First his father, then his mother. Jeremy had lived his entire life with people he hardly knew. They had shown him a veneer— the caring mother, the demanding father, the happily married husband and wife. And Jeremy had never much concerned himself about it. After all, they didn’t yell or throw things at each other, so it followed that they had a good marriage, right?

  And maybe they did. Maybe this stuff he was learning went far deeper than he’d ever imagined his parents’ lives were. Here he’d been angry with them all these years because they failed to understand what was going on inside him, and he had been clueless about them.

  The cell phone beeped again, reminding him of the voice mail.

  He had to focus. Getting emotionally sucked into these revelations wouldn’t help him find his parents’ murderer. He needed to put this letter together with what he already knew.

  He lay back down on the bed. The wind had let up and the rain was coming down evenly now.

  Elise had said that all four— the Castillos, Bud, and Irv— seemed upset over her finding the files. But the accounting reports had been hidden on Enrique Castillo’s yacht. So didn’t that narrow it down to Enrique and Liliam Castillo?

  But what if Elise was mistaken about the files? Maybe they had nothing to do with his mother.

  That brought him to his father’s letter. His mother was in love with someone. Could it have been Enrique? He was going to be at the Olympus with her at the time his father wrote the letter. Had Enrique loved her? Did he still? Had she spurned him?

  Did Liliam know about their relationship? Had she been crazed by jealousy when she learned her husband and Rachel Stroeb were going to the Olympus together?

  Did Enrique kill his parents? Did Liliam?

  Or was he once again going in the wrong direction?

  His cell phone beeped again. Jeremy stared at it. Maybe Robbie had found something. And if not, maybe she could help him sort this out. Jeremy dialed his voice mail.

  “Jeremy. I’m on the eleventh floor. Just wanted you to know. Don’t worry. I’ll be in and out.”

  “Shit.” He dialed her number, but she didn’t pick up. He dialed again. It rang through to her voice mail.

  She’d gone to the file room. Why had she been so stupid? And why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  He spoke to her voice mail as he ran down the steps and out the front door.

  “Robbie, call me back. Please call me back.”

  Chapter 43

  Marina saw the Lexus on its way out as she drove onto Lotus Island. She hadn’t been able to make out the driver, but she was pretty sure it was Jeremy in his mother’s car, driving fast and wildly. Where was he going?

  But no matter. Now she could do what she came to do without accidentally bumping into him. She should have been relieved, but instead she felt the heaviness of loss. Stop it, she told herself. Seeing him again can’t possibly change things. It’s much better this way. Much better.

  The security guard came out of the guardhouse holding a clipboard and looked at her questioningly. She smiled as though she belonged. He raised the gate arm without asking where she was going or taking down her license number. C’est incroyable. Two people are murdered, and security is still lax.

  She drove slowly past Jeremy’s house. The red Corvair was parked in the far corner of the driveway, partially hidden by tall hedges. The lighting around the house was poor and the Corvair was almost completely in shadows. That was good. It was unlikely that anyone would see her. But she still didn’t want to take any chances.

  She remembered a small bayfront park next to the mansion where the gathering after the funeral had been held. That’s where she had parked last time. Now, there were a couple of cars pulled up next to the park and a group of teenagers were standing around smoking despite the nasty weather. Marina drove beyond them, stopping her car a distance from the Castillos’ imposing house.

  She walked through the park, pulling the hood of her dark sweatshirt over her hair, as much to ward off the sporadic drizzle as to hide her identity, then hung her satchel over her shoulder. It was heavy. As heavy as when she carted papers around in it. But soon it would be much lighter.

  It was a couple of blocks back to Jeremy’s house, and the rain sprayed her face like water from a distant garden hose. The teenagers had gotten into their cars and driven away, and the streets were deserted.

  Marina walked more quickly. Soon she would be finished here; then she would be able to leave. She had already bought a one-way ticket to Lima. She would find a place to live in her grandmother’s old neighborhood, where she had grown up. She hadn’t heard anything about what had become of the house or her grandmother’s things. She only knew that her mother had moved to Germany with a rich tourist.

  Maybe her grandmother’s very house would be available. She could still remember the smell of cooking and baking floating through the open windows as she sat on the front stoop. Where she’d watch her grandmother returning from the market, her arms weighed down with bundles. Her dear, sweet grandmother. Preciosa, her grandmother had called her when the rest of the world had convinced her she had little worth.

  Marina turned down Jeremy’s street. She sensed a presence stepping out from behind a copse of trees on the corner. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing.

  She pressed her satchel closer to her chest. Her good-bye to Jeremy.

  Jeremy. She could hardly think his name without overwhelming sadness. She had lost the father; now she had lost the son. Two beautiful, beautiful men. Both lost to her forever.

  Hot tears mixed with the cold rain on her face. She had no choice. She had to say good-bye. The Stroeb house was dark and silent. She didn’t want to think about the morning Jeremy had brought her here. Brought her and accused her. Je t’accuse.

  Headlights brightened the street. Marina jumped behind the bushes so she wouldn’t be seen. Was Jeremy back so soon? But the flashing light told her the car was the security guard’s. She waited until it passed, then crept along the hedges to the Corvair.

  His car. The father’s, whom she had loved with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. But he hadn’t returned her love. And then he had died, and Marina had been bereft. Until she saw the son. And she was so certain she could make him love her forever. But the shadow of his father had come between them. And now she was left with no one. With nothing.

  She slipped around to the driver’s door. It was unlocked. She opened it, relieved when the interior light didn’t come on, and dropped the satchel on the driver’s seat. She could smell them. Their scents had merged into one. The father, the son. It was time to say good-bye. She ran her hand over the seat their backs had touched, the steering wheel their hands had held. “Oh my love, my love,” she whispered.

  He was standing just behind her. She could feel his warm breath through the hood of her sweatshirt on the back of her neck. D.C. had returned to her. But no, it must be the son. Alive and real. Jeremy. He had forgiven her. He caressed her cheek. “Jeremy,” she whispered as his fingers grazed her lips.

  “Jeremy, my—” but his hand pressed tightly over her mouth. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe.

  A powerful arm wrapped around her chest, immobilizing her. Her head was jerked back. Something cold on her neck. Slicing across her neck quickly like a feather.

  Like the feather her grandmother used to tickle her with.

  Chapter 44

  The security guard didn’t look up from what he was reading when Jeremy stopped at his desk in the main lobby. Jeremy flashed his PCM ID card, then wrote his name on the sign-in sheet and the time. 9:48. The last person to leave PCM had left around 8:30. No one had checked in or out since. Robbie’s voice mail had come at 9:15.

  The elevator bank on the eleventh floor was deserted and lit only by exit signs. Jeremy tried the door to the file room, cursing himself for being so unprepared. How could he have rushed over here without bringing a weapon of any kind?

  T
he door was locked. He used his key. He started down an aisle listening for noises, footsteps, breathing, the click of a gun. It was absolutely still except for the sound of his sneakers padding on the linoleum floor. Robbie would have gone straight for the Castillo binders.

  The lights were on, but there was otherwise no sign of anyone.

  He came to an abrupt stop at the head of the aisle and inhaled sharply, trying to process what he was seeing. Praying it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

  A file cabinet had toppled over. From its position, he could tell it was the one that held the Castillo audit papers. It had fallen against another cabinet across the aisle and was leaning against it like a felled tree that had been propped up against its neighbor. There was a gap of about a foot between the fallen cabinet and the floor. And in that space was a motionless body.

  Robbie’s.

  Her eyes were closed, her arm extended and motionless.

  A contracting pain twisted his abdomen. No. Not Robbie, too.

  He leaned toward her.

  Her chest was rising and falling ever so slightly. She was alive. She was alive.

  “Robbie,” he said.

  She opened her eyes, startled.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  “What—” her voice was barely audible.

  “The cabinet fell on you. It must have knocked you unconscious. I’ll try to move it without hurting you.”

  The cabinet’s weight was being borne by the other cabinet and Robbie was free of its main impact, but the cabinet was perched precariously and the slightest movement could upset its balance. Robbie’s ankle was pinned beneath the bottom drawer so it was impossible to slide her out.

  Jeremy evaluated the weighting and balancing of the cabinet. The lower drawers were practically empty and the top one filled to capacity. If he removed the binders from the top one, that would upset its equilibrium. It would be like playing a child’s game of Pick-Up Stiks and he wasn’t willing to risk that with Robbie. He needed to try something else.

  Jeremy tried to get under the cabinet so that he could lift it with both his arms, but the angle was impossible. There wasn’t enough space between it and the cabinet it was leaning against. He would have to do it from a side angle that wouldn’t give him the best leverage. He had no choice.

  “Robbie. The bottom drawers may fly out and hit you, but there’s nothing in them, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I wish there was another way.”

  “Do it,” she said.

  “Okay, Robbie. Now.” He slammed the top drawer in with all his strength and heaved the cabinet, but was unable to propel it upright. He couldn’t believe how heavy it was. There had to be more than papers weighing it down. It felt like there were bricks of lead in the top drawer. And now the cabinet was slipping backward against the linoleum. Quickly, he needed to lift it straight before it crushed Robbie. He slid his hands down lower and gave another shove. Sweat dripped into his eyes. “Robbie, try to slide out.” He could see movement in his peripheral vision.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  He pushed and pushed, feeling as though the blood vessels in his brain might explode. Just when it seemed as though his arms would give out, the cabinet moved. Up, up, up, until it swung back into place with a lurch.

  He helped Robbie sit upright. There was a bruise and large bump on her head and her ankle was swollen to about twice its normal size.

  “Tell me where you’re hurt,” Jeremy said.

  “I think just my ankle.” She took a deep breath and stretched her body in different directions checking for other injuries. The collar of her white blouse stuck out above her navy jacket and was covered with brownish red stains. Blood from her head injury had coagulated on her cheek. She let out a gasp of pain and reached for her leg. “Oh my God. My ankle.”

  Jeremy studied the bruise on Robbie’s forehead.

  “The cabinet was falling toward me. I tried to get out of the way.”

  “Did someone push it, Robbie? Was there someone in here with you?”

  “I don’t think so. It just fell when I pulled out the top drawer.”

  Jeremy opened the lower drawers. “I don’t know why these are empty,” Jeremy said. “It’s almost like someone cleared them out knowing that would upset the balance of the cabinet.”

  “You’d warned me not to pull the top drawer out too quickly,” Robbie said. “It was just a stupid accident.”

  Jeremy opened the top drawer slowly and as he did, he could feel the cabinet tilt. It hadn’t been so off balance before. Something besides audit papers was in it. He tried pushing binders away, but they were packed in too tightly.

  Robbie shifted her position and let out a gasp of pain.

  “I’d better take you to the hospital.” He didn’t need further confirmation that someone had intended for the file cabinet to fall.

  “Stupid accident,” Robbie mumbled.

  The rain had let up when Jeremy got to Robbie’s townhouse. They’d been in the emergency room for over three hours. Robbie had been thoroughly X-rayed. Although her ankle had been broken in several places, they were clean breaks and wouldn’t require surgery. She was put in a cast that extended to her knee and given a pair of crutches. The bump on her head had turned purplish and her eyelid was swollen and partially closed.

  Although Robbie didn’t complain, Jeremy could tell she was in excruciating pain. He had stopped to fill the prescription for painkillers on the way home, and Robbie took one before they left the pharmacy.

  Now, he helped her out of the car. The wet driveway and grass glistened under the overhead light. Robbie seemed a little woozy. He found her house keys in her handbag and unlocked the door.

  She was breathing hard as she hoisted herself forward on her crutches.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but can you just light the candles on the coffee table? I can’t deal with bright light.”

  He lit the three large red candles and turned off the foyer light. The scents of burning wax and smoke filled the room. As it had the other night, the smell reminded him of Marina. But this time, he would deal with it. “Do you want tea or something?”

  “Something, I think.” She hopped toward the white sofa and collapsed on it, letting the crutches clatter against the tile floor. “There’s brandy in that cabinet.”

  “You sure that’s okay? You’ve just taken a Percocet.”

  “I’ll just have a little.” She put her legs up on the glass coffee table; one in the knee-high cast, the other barefoot. She’d kicked her navy pump off under the table. In the pulsing candlelight, her bare leg looked like it had been carved from white marble.

  Jeremy opened a pull-down door on the white shelving unit. There were several bottles of liquor, none of them open. He found Courvoisier and poured some into two brandy snifters.

  “Thank you.” She took the glass from him. “I don’t generally drink much.”

  “I noticed. Unless you like to finish the bottle once it’s open.”

  She tried to smile, but she winced with pain.

  “Hey,” Jeremy said, putting a sofa pillow under her leg cast. “No smiling.”

  She sipped the brandy. She’d taken off her jacket at the hospital. They must have forgotten it there. Her white blouse was damp from perspiration and the bloodstain on her collar looked like a giant ladybug. “You were sweet to take me to the hospital and bring me home.”

  “Right.” He sat down next to her. “Was I also sweet to get you mixed up in something that almost got you killed?”

  “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have gone down there alone.”

  “I won’t argue with that.” Now didn’t seem like the right time to tell her the falling file cabinet hadn’t been an accident. With the painkiller, she probably wouldn’t remember much of their conversation. He’d talk it over with her in a couple of days and warn her. There was no chance she’d go back to work anytime soon in her current condition.

  She leane
d back against the sofa. “You don’t look like your mother at all.”

  “Nope. I’m practically a carbon copy of my dad. At least physically.”

  “But you’re a lot like your mom. Did you know that?”

  He sipped his brandy. The rain had started back up and was pattering against the skylight just above them. The white cat jumped up on the sofa and made a nest in his lap.

  “It takes a while, Jeremy.”

  “What does?”

  “Getting over the pain of loss.” Robbie closed her eyes. Her head rested against his shoulder. “I still haven’t gotten over losing my own mother.”

  Jeremy slid his arm around her. She snuggled against him. In her hair, he could smell the day’s exertion mixed with violets.

  “I miss her so much. And now I’ve lost Rachel, too.”

  The rain picked up force and pounded against the skylight in rhythmic waves.

  “I’m here,” Jeremy said.

  “Yes, you are.” She touched his cheek.

  Her eye was practically swollen shut, but she was still beautiful. Gently, he took her hand away from his face. They were friends— just friends.

  “Sometimes the hurt gets so bad, I don’t know what to do,” she said.

  “I know, Robbie.”

  She pressed closer to him. “The rain,” she said sleepily. “Do you like the rain?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I like the way it sounds when I’m inside. It makes me feel safe.” She burrowed her face into shirt. “I feel safe with you, Jeremy. Did you know that?”

  He took the glass out of her hand and put it on the coffee table next to his. “You should get some sleep now.”

  “Stay with me tonight.” She took his hands between hers.

  Her hands were warm. So warm. “It’s late, Robbie. You’ve had a rough night.”

  She pulled his face toward her. Her lips rooted against his. Warm and soft. “Please,” she said.

  “Oh God, Robbie.” The candle guttered and the shadows against the wall grew. “You don’t know how much I want to.”