Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  ‘You’re not eating,’ Jack said, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about my friend, Olivia. She’s due to have her baby in few weeks’ time.’ Grace stared pointedly at Jack, with the hope that he’d tell her about his daughter, but his expression remained unchanged. She looked down at her plate but felt his eyes watching her. She scooped up a forkful of pasta and made a show of enjoying it, even though it was cold.

  As they lingered over coffee a tall, thin man with jet-black hair, tied back in a ponytail, approached their table.

  ‘Hey, Mrs. Lattide. I didn’t know you and Lionel were back on the island.’

  Caught off guard, Grace sat there dazed and shaken. She put down her cup and looked at the stranger. Dressed Bermuda shorts and a brightly multi-coloured T-shirt, he looked no different than any of the other dinners. It was only when Jack nudged her foot with his own that she managed to mutter, ‘I-I’ve only just arrived. Forgive me. I’m not very good with names.’

  ‘That’s okay; we only met once. I’m Pete Jacobs. I run the island seaplane charter. I flew Lionel down to the Keys a couple times when he was last over.’

  ‘Then you won’t know that Da…that Lionel is dead?’

  ‘Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that, Mrs. Lattide. What a shocker. I had no idea. How’d it happen?’

  ‘He died in a car accident.’

  ‘That’s tragic. He was such a fun guy, you know. Always laughing and joking. He was one of my best customers. I’ll miss him. Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, you let me know, you hear?’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  Nervously, Pete backed away and sped out the door. Grace slumped over the table, her face contorted with worry. She didn’t want to believe what she’d just heard, didn’t want to think she’d spent ten years living a lie. But she couldn’t deny the facts any longer.

  ‘All along I’ve thought this is some sort of nightmare and that I’ll wake up and find everything has returned to normal. That Daniel is still alive. Now, I don’t even know who I married. Lionel Lattide or Daniel Elliott?’ She smiled sadly at Jack. ‘I feel dirty, used. Who was Daniel? I don’t have any idea. Isn’t that terrible?’

  Jack reached across the table and took her hand in his. His grasp was warm and comforting. His fingers slipped around hers with assurance. He squeezed her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘This isn’t the place for such a profound discussion. You sound like you’re having a hard time breathing. Do you need your medication?’

  ‘I’m—’ Her voice broke, so she shook her head.

  ‘Then let’s get out of here.’ He downed the last of his coffee, and threw some cash on the table.

  Grace staggered to her feet. Jack slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her to door. She leaned into him. He felt solid, reassuring, yet she knew she ought to pull away. She felt her pulse quicken, her instinctive response to him so powerful that she stumbled again.

  Jack’s grip on her waist tightened. A sigh escaped her lips. If only she hadn’t had such strong principles and he wasn’t married, things could be so different. As it was…she pushed the thought from her mind.

  The streetlights cast amber coloured halos into the early evening dusk as they returned to his car. Jack helped Grace into the passenger seat, then walked round to the driver’s side, and climbed in behind the wheel. Five minutes later, he drove through the gates of Sand Dollars and down the dark, tree-lined circular drive.

  When no lights came on and no dogs barked, he opened the driver’s door and strode up to the house. The porch light came on, triggered by a motion sensor, but the solid oak door remained firmly closed.

  Grace stepped out of the vehicle to the distant sound of waves crashing upon the shore and the tang of salt filled air. She gazed up at the house, reluctant to enter. One and a half storeys high, surrounded by trees and a lush tropical garden filled with hibiscus and palms, it stood in semi-darkness, the large bay windows shuttered and bare. A screened porch ran down the side of the house towards the sand dunes behind.

  ‘Don’t stand their gawking, try acting as if you own the place.’

  ‘I do own it. That’s why I’m staring,’ Grace replied.

  ‘How do you feel about a little breaking and entering?’ Jack asked as he climbed the steps to the front door.

  ‘Isn’t that illegal, even for the FBI?’

  ‘Technically, yes. But an agent can use reasonable force to gain entry if he suspects a crime has been committed.’

  ‘That might not be necessary.’ Grace dug in her handbag and pulled out a set of keys. ‘These were Daniel’s,’ she said, and handed them to Jack. ‘The small brass key belongs to the house in Gloucester. The black electronic fob to what remains of his car. The rest—well, I have no idea what they are for.’

  He bent and examined the lock, selected one of the keys, inserted it, and turned. The door opened with a soft click.

  ‘Let’s hope there’s no alarm and that it’s not connected to the Sherriff’s office. Stay here.’

  ‘Why should I? It’s my house.’

  ‘Because it’s safer.’

  ‘I’ll be just as safe standing behind you.’

  Jack knew it was pointless arguing. ‘Then make sure you don’t get in the way of my right arm.’

  Grace gave him a long look. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s my gun arm and I don’t want to accidently shoot you,’ he said, and removed the weapon from the holster at the back of his jeans, then stepped inside.

  Grace’s voice wedged in her throat. She ran her damp hands down her dress and followed Jack. The aroma of tobacco filled the hallway—the same blend that Daniel smoked. Cold sweat trickled down her spine, making her shiver. She ignored it along with the heavy rhythmic beat of her heart, and closed the door.

  Jack cocked his head to one side and listened, but there was only silence.

  ‘See if you can find the light switch.’

  Grace’s fingers trembled as she ran them down the wall. She found the switch and flicked it on, bathing the hallway in a soft yellow light. Overhead, a fan hummed into life and gently stirred the air.

  ‘Someone has been here recently,’ Jack said, putting his gun on safety and returning it to the holster.

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘There’s no dust on the furniture,’ he said, running his fingers along the hall table to prove his point. ‘Wait here while I have a look around.’

  Grace drummed her fingers against the table. She gazed at a large piece of modern art hung on the wall. It reminded her of the painting she’d seen in the attorney’s office, only this time the colours were a garish mix of yellow, black, and green. Fed up of waiting for Jack, she opened the nearest door and stepped inside.

  Large and airy, the lounge was a sharp contrast to the one in Applegate cottage. Two over-stuffed sea-green leather sofas stood either side of the marble fireplace, with an elegant glass topped table between. A thick cream coloured carpet covered the floor. The walls were painted in the same shade of cream and dotted with paintings. No modern art this time, but powerful seascapes in varying shades of green.

  ‘This is so different to the house Daniel and I shared,’ she said when Jack entered the room a few moments later. She felt a stab of jealousy and anger. ‘I’ve lost count of the times I suggested we buy new furniture and decorate, but he always came up with some excuse. Now I know why.’

  Jack walked over to the glass fronted oak cabinet that stood in the corner of the room. He took out a crystal tumbler and held it up to the light. A rainbow of colours shimmered in the glass. He replaced it in the cabinet.

  ‘Come on let’s see what the rest of the house is like.’

  At the rear they found a large spacious kitchen/family room with a screened porch and views out over the garden to the ocean. A centre island, topped with a marble counter, divided the cooking and eating areas. Jack opened the refrigerator. It con
tained a quart jug of orange juice, a pack of butter and some cheese. He removed the jug and cautiously sniffed the contents.

  ‘The juice is still fresh.’ He replaced it on the shelf and closed the door. ‘Check the cupboards. I bet they’re full of tinned goods.’

  Grace opened the nearest cupboard. As he’d predicted, it was neatly stacked with tins. She slammed the door shut. Betrayal clawed at her chest as her heart refused to believe what her mind was telling her. Struggling for control, she stormed out of the kitchen.

  Like a drunk seeking his next drink, she sought out the bedrooms. On the landing she hesitated until curiosity and the desire for truth got the better of her. She pushed open the nearest door and stepped inside.

  It was his room—she was sure.

  Spasms of panic ran through her body, for here too, the scent of Daniel’s favourite blend of tobacco lingered in the air. Decorated in blue and cream, the room overlooked the ocean. An elaborate, carved oak king-size bed, with matching nightstands stood against one wall. Unable to stop herself, she ran her fingers across the navy blue chenille bedspread. Anger born of grief made her throw back the covers and toss the pillows onto the floor.

  Darkness spun around her, as the room tilted alarmingly. Bile filled her throat. She swallowed hard and pushed it back down, as she lurched toward the French doors. She threw them open and stepped out onto the veranda. She gulped in a lung full of fresh clean air. Moonlight cast a silvery glow on the sea, but all she could think about was Daniel’s treachery.

  ‘I thought you loved me, Daniel,’ she said with a hoarse cry. ‘How could you lie to me like this, and how could I not know?’

  Only the gentle breeze blowing off the ocean answered.

  Grace wrapped her arms around her chest, and leaned heavily against the handrail. Shudders racked her body. She willed them to stop. Her breath came in chest-heaving gasps. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, and she felt so lightheaded that for one heart-stopping moment she thought she would topple over the balustrade onto the tiled patio below. She stepped back, her face a glowering mask of rage. She stumbled inside, determined to uncover what other secrets the room held.

  The dressing area contained a large walk-in wardrobe. Her hand shook as she slid back the door. One section was filled with a selection of men’s designer suits, shirts, and jackets. The other held a rail full of women’s clothes. She bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. One by one she studied the contents. A sapphire blue cocktail dress caught her attention. Something about the design seemed vaguely familiar.

  Grace lifted it out and examined it more closely. The notes of some heady oriental fragrance lingered on the fabric. She wadded it into a ball and threw it onto the floor, then removed a trouser suit. It too ended up on the floor, along with the rest of contents.

  The dresser contained underwear. She took out a peach teddy and held it up. Delicate lace and silk shimmered in the light. She pulled at the lace until it ripped in two then tossed the shreds on the floor along with everything else.

  Her breath hissed out between her teeth. She teetered, then ran and kept running until she was out of the house and heading toward the ocean.

  It was true. It was all true.

  Daniel hadn’t loved her.

  All the devotion she’d felt—everything she’d done had been for him. And he’d kept someone else, here in this house. And who knew where else?

  Pain shredded her eyes, her mind, and her heart. She was seized and crushed by gasping, tearing agony. There was no more reason to live. No more reason to breathe. Instead of breathing, there was screaming, endless screaming.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Across the hall from the family room, was a small study. Floor to ceiling bookcases filled one wall. A large, ‘L’ shaped desk faced the window, which offered views over the garden to the ocean beyond.

  Jack closed the drapes and turned on the small desk lamp. The glow from the blub shed a tiny golden circle of light on the polished wood surface.

  The desk drawers were locked, but that didn’t surprise him. None of the keys on the ring Grace had given him earlier fit. He pulled a small folding knife out of his jeans pocket and inserted it between the lock and the frame, and twisted. There was a sharp click and the topmost drawer slid open. He was examining the contents when Grace screamed.

  His stomach turned over, then clenched. Adrenaline flooded his veins, sharpening his senses, as a second ear-splitting scream filled the house.

  He reached for his gun. The clip was full, plus he had a spare in his back pocket. He slipped off the safety, and stepped into the hallway just in time to see Grace drag open the front door and dart outside, shrieking the whole way.

  ‘What the hell?’ He cursed again and took off after her. He jumped the porch steps, landing hard. The driveway was empty; the Ford Explorer where they’d left it. He spun round toward the back of the house in time to see Grace’s slim figure running through the garden. He prayed that whatever had spooked her didn’t have two legs and a gun, and wasn’t about to come charging out of the house after them.

  He listened.

  A branch snapped.

  Leaves rustled.

  Then all he could hear was the steady thump of his heart and the murmur of waves washing the shore.

  A motion sensor clicked on, then off. The brief blaze of light enabled him to track Grace’s progress through the garden. Uneasiness crawled over his skin. He took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. He tightened his grip on his gun and stepped onto the wooden deck, silently praying that none of the boards were loose or weak. A second sensor lit up, the sudden blinding light almost destroying his night vision. He squinted, trying to cut out some of the glare, all the while assessing the danger. He wanted to call out to her, tell her to stop, but training over-ruled instinct.

  Somewhere in the trees to his right an owl hooted, its call strangely high-pitched and unnatural. Sweat popped on his spine, adding to the chill carried on the breeze. He took a chance and broke into a run. The pool lights came on, the water shimmering with an eerie turquoise radiance.

  A low wooden fence covered by a flowering shrub separated the end of the garden from the beach. Thorny branches clawed at his jacket, tearing the fabric. Knowing better, he yanked it free, shredding a large hole in the process. He crept along the path, his gun arm constantly sweeping from side to side. A large Banyan tree stood by the open wooden gate, its thick woody trunk cast sinister shadows in the moonlight. He hesitated, then stepped through, and followed the path through the Sea Oats and Sea Grape, past the tall hexagonal structure of the rear range light, to the beach.

  Grace stood in the ocean oblivious to the water lapping around her. Her sodden dress clung to her slender legs and thighs. Her head tilted towards the moon, a strange high-pitched moan escaped her lips. Her fists pounded against her thighs, and her body convulsed as she continued keening like some wounded animal that had gone to the sea to die.

  Jack groaned, holstered his weapon and waded in after her. The waves rippled around his calves, the cold water sending an involuntary shudder through his body. He placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, and then did the one thing he knew he shouldn’t. He reached for her and cradled her in his arms.

  ‘Talk to me, Grace. Tell me what’s wrong.’

  Her arms beat against his chest as she pushed him away.

  ‘Leave me be, Jack. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. My life is ruined, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you out here on your own, not like this. What were you thinking running out of the house like that?’

  The moonlight glinted off the tears that streamed down her face. ‘You…have no… idea what…I’m thinking,’ she gasped.

  He pulled her roughly, almost violently against his chest. ‘I think I can guess.’

  ‘Daniel’s clothes…her clothes. Her clothes.’

  ‘Shush.’ He rubbed her back with the same rhythmic strokes he used to sooth Emil
ia when she was crying. Only Grace wasn’t a baby and his response to her was anything but platonic. He wanted to lean into her, hold her until there was nothing left in his mind but her.

  Grace lifted her tear-stained face to his.

  ‘I should have stayed at home instead of doing what is morally right. I can’t stay in this house knowing…knowing Daniel and his mistress slept here.’

  The haunted look in her eyes made him wish he could bear some of her pain. But he couldn’t. So he settled for offering her what little comfort he could. He wiped away her tears with the ball of his thumb and watched the play of emotions on her face.