He knelt on the dock and pulled the boat back against the bumpers. Then he climbed down, steadying the rocking motion as best he could so that the movement didn’t startle her awake. With her back to the lake, her face was a pale mask in the filtered moonlight, her eyes glassy and sightless. Gooseflesh prickled at Jack’s nape.
“Olive,” he called softly.
She gazed up at him and for a moment, Jack thought he must have roused her. But the eyes were blank, the hand moving along the dash unnervingly persistent.
“Can you hear me?” he asked.
“I need to go,” she said.
Her expressionless voice sent another chill down his spine. “Go where?”
She stared out over the dock toward the bridge.
“Olive, you need to wake up.” He waved a hand in front of her face. No reaction. Not even a blink.
She turned back to the wheel and the movement of her hand on the panel became more frenzied.
“Where do you need to go?” he asked again.
She didn’t respond and Jack didn’t know what to do. The last thing he wanted was to startle her awake. She could injure herself if she became frantic in such a small space and he might not be able to restrain her. But he certainly couldn’t leave her here. It wasn’t safe for either of them to be out in the open like this.
“Come on, Olive. Time to wake up.” Taking her arm, he tried to gently ease her to her feet. He’d read somewhere that sleepwalkers were somewhat docile. Head them in the right direction and they would often go back to their beds. Olive wouldn’t be budged.
He hunkered beside her, lowering his voice soothingly as he studied her profile. “Tell me where you need to go.”
Once again she turned to stare out over the water.
“Are you trying to tell me you need to go back to the bridge? Why, Olive? Why the bridge?”
He thought about his earlier conversation with Nathan. The old lake bridge had once been important to Olive, a place she often retreated to after her father’s tragic death. Maybe that was why she wanted to go there now. In some strange way, the bridge could still be a comfort to her. Or a punishment.
The frantic movement of her fingers along the panel seemed almost piteous to Jack now. He wanted to help her, calm her, but what he had in mind was risky and not altogether selfless. Olive had been wandering along Lake Side Road on the night of Anna’s murder. What if she’d seen something before Nathan found her? What if those buried memories kept pulling her back to the bridge?
“Do you want me to take you there?” he asked.
No answer. She seemed oblivious to his presence, but when he eased her up from the seat, she willingly moved to the other side of the boat. Which seemed strange to Jack, and he wondered if a part of her brain was still cognizant.
He untangled the knot from the cleat and then fished in his pocket for the key. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing. He was in unfamiliar territory. Taking her to the bridge could be extremely dangerous. For all he knew, Jamie Butaud’s murderer could still be prowling the darkness. But Jack had a gut feeling the situation could be even more perilous if he were to thwart Olive’s compulsion. It was obvious that something important kept luring her back to the bridge.
The outboard rumbled to life, but the sound didn’t faze her and Jack wondered if she’d been subconsciously braced for the roar. He placed one hand on the wheel and the other on the edge of his seat, ready to snatch her from danger if she started to get up, or worse, jump overboard. For now she sat motionless and stared straight ahead as he backed away from the dock and turned down the channel with only the moonlight to guide them.
The cypress trees were feathery against the pale light, the dripping Spanish moss undulant in a soft breeze. To his right, Jack could see the skeletal remains of a tree that had been struck by lightning. To his left, the glowing eyes of a night creature. Beside him, Olive sat silent as a ghost. An eerier trip Jack could hardly have imagined.
He found a place to put in near the bridge and hopped out, allowing the bow to run aground. He started to take Olive’s arm but she was already climbing out, unmindful of his assistance. Her bare feet splashed in the water as she moved past him to the bank.
She went straight to the ladderlike support they had used two nights ago and Jack worried that she meant to climb to the top of the truss. He would have to stop her if she tried, but for now he stood nearby and let her take the lead.
For the longest time, Olive remained by the support, her head tilted skyward, as if she couldn’t decide what to do. Then she turned and went up the bank to the deck. Jack followed at her side, guiding her away from the guardrail and around the treacherous spots in the floorboards.
Halfway across she paused to gaze out over the water. Then she turned to glance back at the bank as if she feared being followed. Satisfied, she fell to her knees and bent over the planks, trailing her hands all along the rough surface.
Jack knelt in front of her, mesmerized by the motion of her hands as they moved back and forth across the deck. She paused, hands hovering as she lifted her head, attracted by a night sound that only she could hear. Once again she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder before returning her attention to the floorboards.
Removing his phone from his pocket, Jack bent low, angling the flashlight beam along the deck beneath Olive’s hands. What was she looking for? Or was she merely acting out some fragment of a long forgotten dream?
He trained the light straight down through the planks, expecting to see nothing but the distant glimmer of water. Instead, the beam sparked off something metallic wedged between the cracks of the floorboards. The tiny gold chain had fallen so deeply into the crevice and had been so thoroughly rooted in dirt and debris that it would never have been noticed if not for Olive’s methodical searching.
The only tool Jack had with him was the boat key. He used the bit to dig down into the fissure until he could hook the chain over one of the teeth. Carefully, he fished the necklace up through the crack, catching his breath at the sight of the gold heart that dangled from a link. Despite fifteen years of dirt and grime, the embedded ruby—Anna’s birthstone—still flashed with fire as the gemstone caught the moonlight.
Time had rendered the engraving on the back nearly illegible, but no matter. Jack remembered the simple inscription word for word: To Anna, from Jack. Love you always.
He’d given the necklace to her during their senior year and she’d worn it every day until her death. He’d never known her to take it off. In hindsight, he wondered now if his choice of a heart had been his unwitting way of diminishing the significance of the one on her hip—the tattoo that had secretly labeled her as one of Tommy Driscoll’s conquests.
Olive sat back on her heels, following the movement of the pendant as though under a hypnotist’s spell. Then with a strange little sigh, she lay down on the bridge and closed her eyes, oblivious to her surroundings, oblivious to Jack, oblivious to the significance of her discovery.
* * *
OLIVE OPENED HER eyes to sunlight. She lay very still, staring up at the cedar plank ceiling as her heart thudded in panic. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. Had she sleepwalked into an unfamiliar bedroom?
Then bits and pieces of the previous night came back to her. Jack had talked her into staying at the cabin, which, to be truthful, hadn’t been all that difficult after the events at the bridge. The last thing she’d wanted was to be alone in her unprotected house. Something sinister was going on in Pine Lake, and like it or not, she and Jack were in the middle of it. His growing list of suspects included Mona Sutton, a colleague and friend, and Nathan Bolt, the only remaining family Olive had left in this town.
For all she knew, she could be on Jack’s list, too, although that seemed a reach. He’d given no indication that he was suspicious of her, but she needed to watch her
step if for no other reason than to preserve her well-being. Her feelings for Jack King could easily get out of hand. An attraction was one thing, but she couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. His stay in Pine Lake was transient and Olive knew from past experiences that she didn’t handle loss well. Not real loss, the kind that hollowed out your insides and left you bereft. Three days ago, before Jack’s return, she’d been perfectly happy with her life. Why rock the boat now—
Her thoughts splintered as she lifted up on her elbows and glanced around. Wait a minute. Why was she in the cabin’s only bedroom? She’d insisted on taking the couch. She distinctly remembered watching the moon through the windows while she waited for sleep.
What had happened during the night? And why couldn’t she remember? She hadn’t had that much to drink, surely.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her clothes—neatly folded on a nearby chair—and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. After washing up and brushing her teeth, she dressed and followed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee out to the living area. Jack was in the kitchen fiddling with the coffeemaker. He turned when she came in and said good morning. Maybe it was Olive’s imagination, but his greeting sounded stilted and he seemed to have a hard time meeting her gaze, making her wonder yet again about last night’s events.
She went over and sat down on one of the barstools.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please. Black and strong.”
He poured a cup and set it before her. “How about some breakfast? I’ve got toast, cereal, fruit.”
“No, thanks. I’m not much of a breakfast person. Coffee is fine.”
He stood leaning against the counter, observing her as he folded his arms.
She put down her cup. “You’re acting very strangely this morning so you may as well tell me what’s wrong. Something happened last night, didn’t it? I went to sleep on the couch and I woke up in the bedroom. I’d like to know why.”
“You were sleepwalking,” he said. “After I got you back inside, I thought it best that I take the couch so I’d awaken if you tried to leave the cabin again.”
Icy fingers slid up her spine. “I left the cabin?”
He folded his arms as he gazed at her across the kitchen. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
She frowned. “The last thing I remember is settling down on the couch.”
“That’s not entirely true,” he said slowly.
Her scowl deepened. “What do you mean, it’s not true? I would know if I remembered anything else.”
“Would you? Are you sure about that?”
She said in exasperation, “Please stop dancing around the issue and tell me what happened last night.”
“It’s not just about last night, but that’s a good place to start.” He turned and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s go sit on the deck. I could use some air.”
She reluctantly followed him outside, dreading what she might learn. If only they could sit in peace and quiet and enjoy the morning. It was early and the lake was lovely and calm. No voices, no cars, no ringtones. Just a fleeting moment of tranquility as the water lilies opened and the songbirds awakened.
Olive hated to shatter the zen-like stillness, but there was dark business to discuss. She turned to Jack, studying his profile as a breeze drifted across the deck, carrying the scent of the pines.
“I’m waiting,” she said.
He took a gold chain from his shirt pocket, dangling it in the light before he closed his fist around it. “I woke up and you were gone,” he said. “I found you down at the dock in the boat.”
“What was I doing in the boat?”
“You’d tried to untie the lines, but a knot got caught on one of the cleats. Otherwise, you would have drifted away.”
“I don’t even remember leaving the cabin. What do you think I was doing in the boat?”
“You said you needed to go.”
Her eyes widened. “I talked in my sleep?”
“Is that unusual?”
“Not for sleepwalking in general. Mumbles and moans are quite common, and some people have been known to carry on whole conservations without ever rousing. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me, though.”
“How would you know unless someone told you?”
“I suppose that’s true. So you found me in the boat...” she prompted.
“You were fiddling with the dash as if trying to start the ignition. And you kept gazing down the channel. It was obvious you meant to go back to the bridge. So I took you.”
She stared at him in shock. “You took me back to the bridge? After someone shot at me there?”
“I know how that sounds.” He looked momentarily chastised. “But it seemed important to you. Urgent, even. And I was with you the whole time. I never left your side for an instant. You’ve no reason to believe me, but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not then, not now.”
Olive’s breath quickened. His eyes were dark and deep and so piercing she could feel her armor crumbling. Quickly, she glanced away before he could see the alarm—and the longing—in her own gaze. “You don’t owe me anything. You barely know me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I meant what I said.”
Olive merely nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak at that moment. She didn’t trust her resolve. It would probably be best for both of them if she got up and walked away. Kept her distance and her peace of mind. Instead, she sat there on Jack’s deck, eyes fiercely focused on the water as her heart beat an uneasy rhythm inside her chest.
“To be honest, I had another reason for taking you to the bridge,” he said. “I thought you might remember something.”
“In my sleep?”
“I don’t know how sleepwalking works. It seemed worth a shot. And my hunch paid off. Something did come back to you.” He opened his fist, revealing the gold chain he’d taken out of his pocket earlier.
Olive noticed the heart pendant then and the flash of a tiny embedded ruby. She glanced up and found him watching her carefully. “I found it? Where?”
“It had fallen between the floorboards on the bridge. Impossible to see unless you knew where to look.”
“May I?” She put out her hand. He seemed reluctant to relinquish the necklace at first, but then lifting his gaze to hers, he let the chain slip from his fingers into her palm.
The winking ruby enthralled Olive. The flash of fire awakened something in the deepest recesses of her consciousness. Not a memory. More like a lingering emotion from a forgotten dream.
“Do you recognize it?” Jack asked.
“I don’t think so. But... I feel something when I look at it.”
“What?”
The sharpness in his voice jolted her and the sensation fled. Her defenses came up as unease tickled across her scalp. “I don’t understand. The necklace isn’t mine. I don’t remember having seen it before. And yet...” Her eyes closed briefly. “How could I have known where to find it on the bridge?”
“Look closely,” he said. “Are you certain you don’t recognize the charm?”
She held up the chain, allowing the heart to swing gently in the breeze. “From the way you’re watching me, I assume you expect me to recognize it, but I don’t. If I’ve seen it before, I can’t remember where or when. Besides, a heart pendant is hardly an usual design.”
“Turn it over and see if you can read the inscription.”
Olive complied, furrowing her brow as she concentrated on the weatherworn engraving. Her hand trembled slightly as she glanced up. “This was Anna’s?”
“She had it on the night she died.”
Dread descended as Olive’s heart started to hammer. “The necklace was wedged between the floorboards. Impossible t
o see unless one knew where to look, you said. If that’s true, then I still don’t understand how I happened upon it last night.”
Jack leaned in, his gaze hard and relentless. “Because you were there the night Anna was killed. You must have seen the pendant fall from her neck. Or maybe the killer grabbed it from her throat. The point is, you saw where it lodged. You went straight to it last night. There’s no way you could have known about Anna’s necklace unless you witnessed her murder.”
* * *
THE COLOR DRAINED from Olive’s face. She looked vulnerable and yet somehow dauntless in her jeans and sneakers, with her hair still mussed from sleep and her blue eyes shadowed with fear.
For a moment the impulse to protect her was almost overpowering. Jack wanted nothing so much as to take her hand in his, pull her close and tell her that everything would be okay. He fought the urge to tuck back the strands of hair that curled in the breeze, to soothe away the worry lines that wrinkled her brow.
He wasn’t a gallant man. Polite and respectful, yes, because he was still his mother’s son, but he hadn’t felt particularly chivalrous since his high school days. Olive Belmont had changed all that. From the moment their gazes had connected on top of that bridge, she’d made him feel things. Unexpected things. Unwanted things.
Complications, he reminded himself warily. He didn’t need them.
She looked at him quizzically. “I don’t suppose you believe in coincidences.”
“Not in this case. You knew where to find that necklace, Olive. There’s no getting around that.”
She flinched. “But why did I only now remember? The pendant was wedged between those floorboards for fifteen years. And more to the point, why was someone else searching for it last night?”
“We don’t know what that person was looking for. Something could have gotten left behind from Jamie Butaud’s murder. But if the searcher really was looking for Anna’s necklace, I can only assume my presence has created some anxiety. Here I am, back after all these years, and I’m asking a lot of unpleasant questions. Memories are stirring. Doubts are surfacing. Maybe that’s why you remembered.”
Pine Lake Page 13