Gathering Lies

by Meg O'Brien

  I was beginning to get angry. “And just what does your father say about a rescue?”

  “Like I said, it’s a matter of coordinating the different teams and seeing who can be spared, and when. He’ll let us know.”

  It was a few hours later that I made my way through the woods to Luke’s cabin, thinking I’d help myself to that cell phone, despite him. When I got there, I found the door had been padlocked. The lock was old, rusty and heavy-duty. I doubted it could be broken through without a very strong tool.

  I tried the two front windows, which were the only ones in the cabin. The other three sides were made of solid logs. That’s when I discovered that the windows were now boarded up from the inside with plywood.

  Bitterly disappointed, I also felt afraid. From the moment I’d seen that Luke had a cell phone, I’d been hopeful in a way I hadn’t been before. Some communication with the outside world—any communication—was better than none. Now, Luke had effectively prevented everyone but himself from having that contact with the outside world.

  This made me even more certain that Gabe had been telling the truth.

  Over the next few days, the tensions amongst us grew to a fever pitch. Our early attempts to cooperate and work together to survive became more a test of our ability to survive alone. We grew farther and farther apart, and the backbiting was fierce. I do not exclude myself from this. My nerves grew thin, and I saw shadows everywhere. My life in Seattle, bad as it might have become, seemed like Utopia now, compared to being on Esme Island with these people.

  In particular, I could no longer face Luke comfortably, after the things Gabe had told me about him. Every instinct cried out that to trust Luke could be the most dangerous mistake I’d ever made where men were concerned. If he hadn’t gone to such great lengths to keep us from contacting anyone, I might have felt differently. But that, and his seemingly un-holy alliance with Grace, sealed his fate, as far as I was concerned.

  And then there was Kim. She and I barely spoke anymore. This wasn’t personal, as I still liked her more than anyone else at Thornberry, except perhaps for Dana. Dana and I were still getting along reasonably well, but none of us was communicating anymore on a very clear level. We had all drawn in on ourselves, as if to protect what little of our “selves” we had left.

  It was while we were eating dinner one night that another quake occurred. It shook the farmhouse as if it were a child’s toy, and the remaining ceiling came crashing down on us. We all dived under the table, and when we crawled back out, no one was seriously hurt.

  Dana did have dust in her eyes from the flying debris. She hadn’t been able to not look, she said. “If this was going to be the last minute of my life, I wanted to see everything there was to see.”

  Later, she told me privately, “I think it was my guilt making me think I was going to die.”

  “Guilt?” I asked.

  “I…well, about leaving my husband, running off that way,” she said. “In fact, this whole damn mess has felt like karma to me. It’s like my sins are all coming back to get me, in one fell swoop.”

  “Dana, I don’t think it’s a sin to leave an abusive husband,” I said reasonably. “You need to protect yourself. And if it is karma, it must be for all our sins. Otherwise, why are we here in it with you?”

  “You might not be, you know,” she said. “There was an old TV show—I think it was The Twilight Zone. I remember watching reruns of it when I was a kid. Anyway, the point of it was that you only exist for me because I’m here. If I weren’t here, you wouldn’t exist—at least for me and in this time and space—at all.”

  “Then where would I be?” I asked, amused.

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure I understand it, really. In a parallel universe, maybe, having a good time?”

  “Well, gee, thanks a lot, then,” I said.

  She grinned. “If I could, I’d whoosh you away from this awful place with my thoughts, Sarah. But like I said, I’ve never been sure how that really works.”

  After we checked each other out for injuries, we all began the cleanup, which was almost automatic by now. Gabe had been gone since before dinner, and we all expressed worry about him. We were shaken and tired, but agreed that if he wasn’t back by the time we finished the cleanup, we would go looking for him, in case he’d been hurt in the quake.

  Kim went outside to check for any exterior damage to the farmhouse and Dana picked up fallen silverware and other odds and ends. When I’d finished my chore—sweeping up shards from any glassware we’d been foolish enough not to nail down the last time we used it—I looked around and noticed that Gabe still hadn’t returned.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Dana said. “I think we should go now and find him.”

  She was noticeably shaking from exhaustion, however, and, looking around, I saw that Timmy and Amelia were both quite pale. Luke and Grace were outside checking the fuel tank for further damage, on the chance that it could become a fire hazard. They weren’t part of the discussion.

  “I’ll go,” I said. “There’s no sense in all of us traipsing around the woods in the dark.”

  “But you can’t go alone,” Timmy protested in a surprisingly strong voice. “Someone should go with you.”

  “No, really, it’s all right,” I argued. “I’m in better shape right now than anyone here.”

  She continued to look doubtful, saying, “I’m sure Gabe must be fine. After all, everyone’s safer outside than inside during a quake. Isn’t that right?”

  I agreed that this was right for the most part, but said that it hadn’t been true for Jane—had it?

  Timmy looked away, as if unable to meet my eye. “I just thought it would be best if we were all careful, now,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t want anything else happening to anyone.”

  “Well, I don’t think anything will happen to me. Do you, Timmy?” I watched her expression carefully.

  She shook her head, but still didn’t look me in the eye. I thought she looked very old in that moment. Timmy’s initial spunk after the first quake had left her; she’d become shrunken in both appearance and spirit. Even the diamonds no longer had their dazzle, and I felt pity for her even as I wondered what she was really thinking.

  I left by the front door to avoid Luke and Grace, and took with me a battery-operated lamp and a small flashlight that I stuck in my belt. At the last minute Dana insisted I also take an air horn.

  “Just in case,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her voice shook.

  I didn’t fear the quakes so much anymore, but the woods and the dark were something else. I’d had the misfortune of seeing that low-budget movie a few years ago, where the young people are alone in the woods and being chased by—

  Well, the whole problem was, I’d seen it alone, in the dark, in my apartment, and at night. I hadn’t slept for a week. In fact, that movie left a lasting impression on my nerve centers, and as I made my way along the beach this night, sticking to the outside edge of the forest because of the high tide, I was sure there were all kinds of demons lurking just inches away in the trees.

  The memory of my experience in the woods after leaving Luke’s cabin the other night was impossible to shake, as well. Skirting the tree line to avoid stepping into the water on the shore, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure Grace wasn’t following me, this time armed with a hatchet. After a while, when no one popped out to hack me to bits or push me over a cliff, I began to calm down.

  I had a specific destination in mind—Gabe’s cabin. I’d found him there the day before, looking through the damage to see what needed to be done to rebuild. I thought that if he’d been at the cabin when tonight’s quake occurred, he might well have been hurt.

  As I rounded the bend from where the cabin stood on its low hill, I could see the dim light of a lantern or flashlight through the windows. Stepping up my pace, I began climbing the path to the front porch. This was the path Dana hadn’t wanted to take wi
th Jane, when she’d twisted her ankle.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Dana limping since that day, and that her ankle had healed rather quickly. Which was not necessarily a cause for suspicion. In fact, under other circumstances, it would have been cause for celebration.

  You’ve got to get a grip, Sarah. Keep thinking of everyone here as a possible killer and you’ll find yourself totally alone.

  To the side of the rough path, I noted that a tree had fallen, its giant roots sticking up like ancient fingers, as if clawing the air. The roots were coated with mud, and I remembered that the tree had been standing yesterday. Apparently, the quake had dislodged it.

  I shivered and hurried on. As I neared the cabin, I called out, “Gabe? Gabe, are you there?”

  I knew he had to be, and wondered if he’d heard me. My voice had been soft, forced as it was through tightened lungs, an effect of the nervousness that had rattled me on the shore. I watched the door to see if it would open.

  It didn’t.

  My eyes scanned the windows—two on either side of the door. This was a much larger cabin than Luke’s.

  I called out again, more softly this time. “Gabe?”

  When he still didn’t answer, I paused on the bottom step. He’s on his way back to the farmhouse. He just forgot to take the lamp. Maybe after this latest shock, he wasn’t thinking.

  But then why hadn’t I run into him along the way?

  I forced myself to take the three steps onto the porch. But the cold taste of fear was on my tongue, and a chill climbed up my back.

  With one hand on the doorknob, I raised the other to knock. Then I stopped, hearing an odd sound inside. It was muffled, like the sob of a woman. Several deep breaths followed, then a groan. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck prickled, and at that moment I could not have moved to save my life.

  I heard a man’s voice, in harsh tones, saying, “Do what I say. Just do it.”

  Involuntarily, my hand twisted the knob, and I thrust open the door.

  There, on a brass bed in the one-room cabin, were Gabe—and Kim. They were both naked, and neither one had noticed my presence. Kim was on her knees over Gabe, with tears running down her cheeks. He had grasped her head on either side and was pulling her down to him. Her auburn hair made a curtain that brushed his abdomen, and as it did he thrust himself up to her, at the same time pushing up and down in violent strokes. With each stroke he groaned, and Kim let out a strangled sob.

  Nausea rose in my throat, and my stomach clenched so hard I nearly doubled over. In the next instant I was on them both, yanking Kim back and yelling, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

  Gabe’s eyes had been closed, and when he opened them they were glazed over, as if he was having trouble focusing. Then they cleared, and he saw who I was. Startled, he pushed Kim away and jerked up to a sitting position.

  “This wasn’t my idea, Sarah! I swear. She came on to me—”

  “Shut the hell up!” I said.

  Kim remained silent, kneeling on the bed, her face in her hands.

  “Kim?” My voice shook so much I could hardly speak.

  “Go away, Sarah,” she cried. “Please, just go away.”

  “Are you telling me this is what you want? I don’t believe it! Why are you crying?”

  “This is none of your business!” she said angrily, raising her tear-filled eyes to meet mine. Her face was flushed and damp with perspiration. “Go back to the farmhouse! Stop butting into things that are none of your business.”

  I didn’t know what about all of this upset me more: seeing Gabe and Kim like this—or Kim’s tortured face.

  But she was right. It wasn’t my business.

  I turned on my heel and ran back through the doorway, down the steps and onto the path. In my shock, I had dropped my lantern, and I didn’t think about using the flash, but just ran—anywhere, to get away from there.

  Somehow I stumbled off the path and into an open area. There was no moon, and I became disoriented. I didn’t know if I was heading toward the shore or deeper into the woods.

  My boot struck something, and I tripped. Hurtling face downward I thought I’d never stop. It was as if I were falling into a pit. My hands went out and grasped something long and hard—yet not hard. My fingers scurried over it to see what it was, and it felt like flesh. Like skin, but rigid underneath.

  There was hair. And a terrible, sickening stench.

  A carcass. The carcass of a dead animal. Oh, God.

  I pulled my flashlight from my belt and flicked it on. Shining it toward the thing, I nearly fainted when I saw a foot. Then a leg. My flash followed the carcass up until it hit upon a face. A woman’s face, covered with dirt and worms. A bare wisp of blond hair showed through.

  Oh, God, no. Oh, God, please, no!

  I rubbed the dirt away, hoping I was wrong. It couldn’t be who I thought it was, there was no way—

  But I wasn’t wrong. It was Angel—J.P. Blakely, my friend and PI.

  I began to scream. Somehow I remembered the air horn. I scrambled around for it, found it and pressed the button. The horn blasted through the woods, a demon shriek. The sound was so fierce, it might have burst my eardrums.

  But I couldn’t tell if it had. I was screaming too hard.

  16

  Neither Gabe nor Kim came in answer to my call for help. Luke, Grace, Dana and Amelia reached me first, pulling me out; my limbs were so weak, I was unable to climb out alone. Timmy trailed behind, clutching her chest.

  “Who is she?” Luke said tensely, flashing a light onto Angel’s face as he jumped down into the grave. “Who the hell is she?”

  “I’ve never seen her before,” Dana answered, covering her mouth and nose against the rising stench.

  “She wasn’t part of our group,” Amelia said.

  Timmy stared into the grave, a horrified expression on her face. Words tumbled from her mouth, so low we couldn’t hear them. Once, she gagged.

  They had brought flashlights, and we’d set them around the makeshift grave. They did not shine down enough, but they did illuminate our faces, which were white and strained.

  “I knew her,” I managed to say through chattering teeth.

  Luke looked up at me. “You knew this woman?”

  “She was a PI. I hired her to help me…with my court case.”

  He shook his head as if confused. “I don’t understand. What the hell is she doing here?”

  “I have no idea. The last I heard from Angel—” My voice caught. “It was several weeks ago.”

  “That’s her name? Angel?”

  “J.P. Blakely, but everyone called her Angel.” Despite my efforts not to, I began to cry. My remorse and grief were overwhelming. If she hadn’t been working for me…

  “Why would anyone have done this to her?” Grace demanded.

  I could only shake my head.

  Dana put an arm around me. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Flinging her other arm out, she looked to the sky and cried, “God! What next?”

  Timmy began to whimper. “I never meant for anything like this…” Her words trailed off.

  We all turned to stare at her.

  “What did you never mean?” Grace asked sharply.

  “I…” Timmy looked dazed. “I don’t know. What did I say?”

  Amelia drew her close and patted her shoulder.

  “She just means that she never meant for anything like this to happen when she invited you all here. She thought it would be a wonderful month for you.”

  Luke climbed out of the grave. “It looks like she was struck on the head by something. I’m not an expert at these things, but I’d say she hasn’t been here very long. Days, maybe.”

  “But she couldn’t have gotten to the island after the quake,” I said.

  “No. I think she must already have been here.” Luke swept his flashlight around the grave. “This hole is really shallow. And you see that steamer trunk? She’s still half in
it, and it looks to me like somebody put her in it, then covered it over with dirt. This last quake must have dislodged everything.”

  “Which could explain why we never saw it before,” Dana said, looking up at Gabe’s cabin through the trees. “It’s funny Gabe never saw anything going on here, though.”

  “That reminds me. Where is he?” Luke said.

  “And Kim?” Dana added. “Did you find them, Sarah?”

  I couldn’t answer.

  “You came out here looking for Gabe, didn’t you?” Luke said to me.

  I nodded.

  “Was he here?”

  Again, I was mute. All my thoughts were of Angel. I wondered what she’d been doing here, and how long she’d been here. Since the time she sent back the Allegra case and had gone “away”? Since even before I’d come to Thornberry?

  And if so, why?

  What lead could possibly have brought her here?

  And who had murdered and buried her here?

  A feeling of enormous loss swept over me. Not only had Angel been a friend for years, but someone I’d counted on to help me out of this mess with the Seattle Five. There was really no one else I’d turned to after my arrest. Angel had been my only confidante. Now she was gone—and it was all because of me.

  “Sarah?” I heard Luke say.

  I looked away from Angel’s face, to him.

  “I asked you a question,” he said. “Did you find Gabe here? And have you seen anything of Kim?”

  I’d have given up Gabe in a second. But not Kim. It wasn’t passion I’d seen on her face, but fear. And pain.

  Until I knew what that was about, I couldn’t tell them about her.

  “No,” I lied. “I just found this—”

  I looked away from Angel, and walked toward the tree line, no longer able to bear the sight of her in that monstrous pit.

  Several minutes later, I was surprised to find that only Luke remained. The others were gone.

  “They went to look for Kim and Gabe,” Luke explained. “I told them I’d wait here with you, and that we should go back to staying in pairs, especially after…” His voice trailed off. “Hopefully they’ll find Kim and Gabe together. Back at the farmhouse, maybe.”