Happily and Madly

by Alexis Bass

  “Me, too.”

  The next morning, Chelsea and I visit North Point Beach and later, when I’m flipping through the photos we took of ourselves in the matching sunglasses we bought on Main Street, I stumble upon the pictures from the masquerade party. And I remember what we should really be scared of.

  Chapter 45

  I leave for a run as soon as the sun goes down, fueled by adrenaline and fear and excruciating curiosity, stubborn determination. I’m scared I’ll miss them, afraid even more that there’ll be no trace of them. I sprint to the same bend in the road where I saw the men from the island the last time, telling myself if I see the SUV parked under the trees tonight, it was meant to be.

  It’s there, as I’d wished, and I walk right up and rap on the window. At first I think maybe they aren’t here yet. But soon I hear movement on the other side and the murmuring of voices. I keep knocking until I hear the click of the handle and the door slowly draws open.

  The taller one, who was in the red hat on the island, opens the door and steps out of the SUV. He is not wearing the red hat and he isn’t dressed like the wait-staff downtown. He is in khakis and boots, with a plain shirt under his black canvas jacket. There’s a gun strapped against him. He appears exactly how I’d expect an officer to look.

  Face-to-face with him like this, I freeze. Up this close, I can see the sharpness of his features and the seriousness of his eyes. His hair is parted and combed. He stands tall with rigid posture and his arms crossed in front of him. He takes a deep breath like he is collecting himself. This was a bad plan. I don’t really know who these men are, even if I think I’ve figured them out. I close my eyes for a moment and try to steady my breathing, still going rapid from the run over here. I remember what I decided scrolling through photos on my phone of the Hanover Estate, thinking of Edison’s secrets, and of George’s, how they’re intertwined. How they’re dangerous, but I don’t know the extent of it, or how badly it can come back to bite him, or the rest of us. Unless I ask. Edison won’t tell me. But these men might. This is taking a risk, and there’s a chance I could be getting myself in even more trouble. But it is better than waiting for whatever inevitability is about to come.

  “I have something you might be interested in,” I say.

  He keeps his expression neutral, so I can’t tell if this has surprised him or not. I like that he’s at least not pretending he doesn’t know who I am.

  I add, “Information,” and he still doesn’t give away whether or not this interests him. He scratches his chin, checks the road, then nods. He opens the back seat door and says, “Get in.”

  When I hesitate, he clears his throat. This is what I’ve decided to do, and there’s no going back now. I climb inside.

  As soon as I’m seated, the door shuts. I hear someone stir behind me and turn to see the third row of seating is missing, and the shorter one is sitting on the floor wearing headphones and watching a few small monitors stacked in the corner.

  “What the hell?” he says, when he notices me. He throws a dark cover over the monitors before I can make out what was on them.

  The taller guy joins me in the back seat.

  “She has information,” he explains quickly to the shorter guy, who has his arms up in protest.

  The shorter one leans forward. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events.”

  The taller one starts to speak, “We’re going to need—” but the shorter one goes off, “How did you know we were here?” he says. His voice is noticeably friendlier, with an accent that tells me he grew up somewhere around New York City, something I hadn’t picked up on at the island.

  They both watch me closely as they wait for my answer.

  “I saw you when I was going for a run the other night.”

  They are quiet again and I wait for their cue. A chuckle comes from the back. “That’s unlucky.” I don’t know if he’s talking about them, for being seen by me, or me, for having spotted them. “Don’t leave us in suspense. What are you doing here? You discovered us, fine. But why approach us?”

  “First, give me your phone,” the taller one says, presenting his hand.

  “My phone?”

  “Protocol. So we know you aren’t recording this,” he explains.

  I hold it out to them and bring the screen to life so they can see I am not using it as a recording device. Still, they have me take off the light pullover I’m wearing and empty the shallow pockets, revealing lip balm and an extra hair tie.

  “Can I ask—” My voice catches and I realize I maybe should have done this before I agreed to get in the car. “Do you mind telling me who you are?”

  The shorter one looks at the taller one, but the taller one keeps his eyes on me. In that moment I wonder if they’ll pretend to be associates of Archaletta or if they’ll confess they’re exactly who I thought they were when I came here offering information.

  The taller one reaches into his jacket. He pulls out a wallet-looking object. He shows me his ID and his badge. Agent Brent Ryan. The shorter guy gets out his, too. Agent Aiden Hall.

  “Guess you’ve officially blown our cover,” Hall says. But neither of them seem particularly concerned—probably because I came promising information, they think I am on their side regardless. Also, I likely don’t have a choice.

  Knowing they are federal agents is at first a relief, but dread immediately follows. These are still the two men who witnessed Edison and me on the island with Archaletta. They were paid off at the Duval offices under the guise of these men. They are the ones who could confirm that I lied to the police. They could provide a motive as to why Edison might have wanted to get rid of Archaletta.

  I remind myself that what I can offer will be valuable to them, since what I overheard at the private meeting at the Hanover Estate could prove that the Duvals are involved in Archaletta’s disappearance, because the agents were undercover with Archaletta and are well aware Archaletta was in the process of blackmailing Senator Stevens.

  Their next question is, “Does Edison Finn know you’re here?” and I am not surprised they bring him up.

  I shake my head.

  “Is this the part where you tell us the truth about what happened to Luke Archaletta?” Hall asks from the back.

  “I want to know if my father is in danger,” I say.

  “What makes you think he’s in danger?” Ryan asks.

  Since they know about the blackmail and they know its source, they must be aware of how George is involved. They are cautious about revealing this to me, probably because they don’t want to let me in on what they know, until they are sure that I know it, too.

  “I witnessed a private meeting with Senator Stevens and the Duvals.”

  “You were in a private meeting at the Hanover Estate?” Hall does nothing to hide his disbelief.

  “They weren’t aware I was in the room. I can show proof of the meeting.”

  “And you’re here to give us your account of this meeting, and the proof?” Ryan says.

  “And what do you want for it?” Hall knows that nothing is free. “Protection for your father?” he guesses. “Protection for your family?”

  I hadn’t considered that they could provide protection. But before I can ask for this, I still need the most basic information. “I want to see the recording that Archaletta was using to blackmail Senator Stevens. I know you supposedly turned it over to Sepp and Edison, but since you’re not who they think you are, I’m guessing you still have a copy. If you show me the recording, I’ll show you the proof of the private meeting at the Hanover Estate. I’ll tell you everything that was said.”

  They glance at each other, a wordless exchange that reveals nothing to me about what they are going to say next.

  “I know George—my father,” I correct myself, “is on that recording. I need to see it.”

  “Edison never told you about it?” Ryan asks, keeping his expression as even as his tone.

  Edison said he didn’t know. But I’m not go
ing to reveal anything to them that will encourage them to draw conclusions about Edison’s involvement, or my own. “Why do you think that’s something Edison would tell me?”

  “If you didn’t know about the blackmail, then what did Edison say to you to get you to hide out and help him that day on the island, if it wasn’t for your father’s benefit?” Hall says. “Why would you lie to the police when they questioned you about Archaletta?”

  I foolishly think of the affectionate way Edison looked at me in the cottage, how it felt like he at least broke the surface of truth with what he told me.

  Ryan and Hall won’t believe wrong place, wrong time—or as it seemed at the moment, right place, right time. They think I was a plant, put there in case Edison was seen. They think I was Plan B, to help him get away.

  Hall smiles, but in such a way that it’s clear that whatever he’s about to say next is not meant to be friendly. “I guess it’s his charm and charisma and the way he kisses that won you over, then?”

  They want me to know that they’ve seen all the ways I’m involved with this, and with him. Maybe they want to discourage me, or embarrass me. I ignore this comment.

  Ryan sighs, like he might recognize all of this and can see that it’s fueled me instead of deterred me.

  “If you show me the recording of my father that was being used to blackmail Senator Stevens, I’ll tell you whatever you want about the private meeting between the Duvals and the senator at the masquerade party at the Hanover Estate, and show you proof of the meeting,” I repeat.

  Hall readjusts and leans in closer. “If we do this, we need to know you understand how important it is that you do not tell Edison, or anyone, that we met, or that we exchanged information. Or, that you know who we are at all. Do you understand how that could get you into trouble? Do you understand that this is the kind of thing Edison Finn cannot protect you from? And if it gets out, it will ruin our case and then we won’t be able to protect you either.”

  “I understand.”

  Hall looks to Ryan and Ryan’s forehead wrinkles with uncertainty.

  “The thing about the recording of your father,” Ryan starts.

  Hall interrupts. “I’ve got it right here.” He holds up a thin, black laptop. “First show us proof of the meeting.”

  I do as he says. They both lean in, examining the photos on my phone. Ryan sighs. “That’s them, all right.”

  Instead of handing the laptop to Ryan, Hall gets out of the car through the doors in the back and walks around to the side door, to take Ryan’s place. Ryan moves to the front seat.

  Hall pulls up the video, and turns the screen so it’s facing me. Ryan keeps his back turned.

  “I feel obligated to warn you that you definitely do not want to see this,” Hall says. But he doesn’t hesitate before pressing Play.

  Chapter 46

  The recording starts with a close-up of a girl’s face. She has dark makeup outlining her blue eyes, and her blond hair is pushed back with a thin pink headband. She looks like she might only be a few years older than I am. The girl smokes a cigarette as she adjusts her camera, or whatever she’s using as a recording device, glancing behind her like she’s checking to make sure the side of the room with the bed is in full view. From where she’s positioned it, we can see the bed, the bedside table, a chair in the corner, and the door to the bathroom.

  There’s a knock in the distance.

  “Coming!” she calls, checking the angle of the device one more time before she stands up.

  Voices are low and muffled in the distance. Followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. More inaudible speaking; faraway laughter. Two figures come into view: the girl, still smoking, dressed in black fishnets and a pink tube dress, and a much older man, dressed in a suit but wearing a black baseball hat. He has a six-pack of beer that he sets on the nightstand. He lets his briefcase fall next to the bed. The girl helps him take off his jacket and tosses it on the chair in the corner. When she sits on the bed and puts out her cigarette, he sits next to her. He removes his hat. It’s Senator Stevens. He doesn’t look much different from when I saw him last weekend.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he says, tilting forward to give her a kiss.

  She leans away from him, laughing. “What did you bring me?”

  “What are you talking about, baby? I’m right here.”

  She laughs again but shakes her head. “You know the rules.”

  “You want the cash so you can freeze your ass off waiting outside of some dirtbag’s apartment to score mediocre shit, or do you want the special stuff I’ve got coming here? It’ll be any minute, I swear.”

  “You have a dealer coming here?”

  “First-class delivery, just for you.”

  “Your special stuff better be fucking special.”

  “Only the best for you.” He leans in and kisses her, and she lets him. She wraps her arms around him and falls back on the bed. I can’t hear it on the recording, but the way she springs back up quickly makes it clear there was a knock on the door. The girl rushes up to answer it but Stevens catches her arm.

  “You mind giving us some privacy to handle this, baby?” Stevens says. The girl groans but marches into the bathroom and closes the door.

  Stevens leaves the picture to answer the door and comes back with a man. He has dark hair that’s longer than it is now that he has started to lose it. The weight in his stomach is leaner. He has the goatee he wore when I was around twelve, shaved off by the time I was fourteen. George.

  “What do you have for me?” Stevens asks George.

  George takes a yellow pill bottle from his messenger bag and hands it to Stevens.

  “And you’ve been paid?” Stevens says.

  George nods.

  “Thanks, man.” Stevens shakes George’s hand, and then George leaves.

  Stevens cracks open two of the beers. He takes a long sip of one and sets it on the nightstand. From the pill bottle George gave him, he takes out a small vial. He dumps the contents into the other open beer. He replaces the empty vial in the pill bottle and puts it in his pants pocket.

  “Can I come out?” the girl calls.

  Stevens reaches in his briefcase and pulls out small baggies full of white power and a square mirror.

  “Come on out, baby.”

  They sit on the bed drinking as Stevens arranges the cocaine on the mirror. They do what I saw Trevor do a thousand times, except Trevor wasn’t so concerned with what kind of surface he used.

  When they are done, Stevens and girl finish their beers. Stevens leans in close to her.

  I look away from the screen. Hall moves to close the laptop.

  “She needs to see how it ends,” Ryan says.

  Hall skips the recording ahead by a few minutes. When he turns the screen back to face me, Stevens is sitting up, opening another beer. The girl is next to him in bed wiping her eyes like the room is too bright for her to look at. She tries speaking to Stevens, her words stringing together in slurs. She grabs her throat. Her arms flail. She leans forward on her hands and knees and vomits all over the comforter. Stevens jumps up. He puts on his pants. Grabs his jacket and his briefcase. The girl is still clutching her throat, still vomiting. She falls forward. She convulses twice, and then she is perfectly still.

  Stevens takes out his phone and moves so close to the recording device that he blocks half of it. “Hey,” we can hear him saying. And then: “Yeah, it’s done.”

  He hangs up the phone and takes another long sip of his beer. He sets it directly in front of the recording device, so all we can see is a blurry beer label. We hear when he leaves because the door slams so hard the beer presses forward, knocking the recording device on its back. The screen goes dark, then cuts out.

  “Do you understand now how serious this is?” Hall says.

  Ryan turns around and looks at me. “Start talking.”

  My throat is dry and eyes are wet. I feel like I’m in a daze, my thoughts like wisps that di
sappear before I can accept them. I don’t know what I was expecting. Not that. I can’t decide if it’s so horrific it warrants Edison keeping it from me, or if because it’s so sickening, he should have told me, if he knew. George. My father. The man I know to be hateful and greedy and selfish. Someone who kept a lot of secrets.

  The agents start asking me questions. They ask if I heard the Duvals or the Senator threaten George. I nod. I tell them Stevens suggested taking care of him at the party. Where the walls don’t talk. They ask what else was mentioned and I close my eyes, my head still reeling as I tell them what I overheard: the upcoming infrastructure meetings with the Smiths, and the obvious trade in secrets and the mention of Ellis Exports.

  “Did they say anything else about Ellis Exports, or anyone who works for them?” asks Ryan. He’s got the laptop in the front seat and he types furiously.

  “No—I … No.” I see the girl again, the look on her face when she realized she was about to die. My father, that girl; his fault.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I say, fumbling with the locked door until I finally manage to get it open.

  “Stay here,” Ryan is saying as I fall out of the car. I lean against the side, bending forward, resting my hands on my knees. I let the fresh air fill my lungs and I close my eyes.

  “Maris.” I blink and stare at my shoes pressing into the cool dirt, when I hear Hall’s voice. “I’m sorry, but you can’t be out here like this.”

  I straighten up slowly before getting in the car. Hall produces a warm water bottle.

  “This is all we have,” he says.

  They let me take a few sips before they start questioning me.

  “Did they say anything else about Ellis Exports in this meeting?” Hall asks.

  “No.” I pinch my eyes shut, waiting to feel better. “What happened to her?” My voice comes out hoarse. My heart is heavy with dread and I am very much afraid of the answer, even though I’m sure I already know it.

  Ryan sighs. “She died.”

  “Tamoxide poisoning,” Hall adds after a while. “An awful poison. Inhaled, injected, or ingested, it’s a terrible way to go.”