Death in the Family

by Tessa Wegert

  That didn’t make her safe.

  I reached the river’s edge and wiped water from my eyes. The gun’s grip felt like it was bathed in oil. I squeezed it harder. There was no tracking their footprints. The ground was the same mix of rock and wild grass as the yard up by the house, every blade pounded flat by the rain. The island was large and wooded, and looping to the right would take me nowhere. Only the boathouse lay to the left, and there was nothing there for Norton now, but it seemed the better choice. I hugged the shoreline, pushing through a cluster of trees that thrashed wildly in the high wind. The branches slashed my cheek as I passed and I felt the piercing bite of torn flesh. At the sensation, my memory flickered. I remembered a long, rusty nail gripped tight by a hand as familiar to me as my own, and gagged when I recalled how it punctured my skin and made a breakneck journey across my face. But that pain was old, and I couldn’t dwell on it now. I ran on.

  As I reached the outer limits of the island, I thought again about how much damage Bram and Carson had done. Norton was right in front of me all day, but I didn’t trust myself enough to connect the dots. I couldn’t tell good from bad until the truth was presented on a fucking platter. I can’t even see a man for what he is when I look into his eyes and accept a ring.

  The boathouse loomed ahead of me and I spotted Norton a few feet from the river’s edge. He was pushing a battered old canoe into the water near the dock. The green tarp he’d used to camouflage it lay abandoned behind him in the brush. The boat tipped and swayed in the water, no match for the ferocious waves. Gripping a paddle, her free arm braced against the canoe’s edge, Jade was already huddled inside.

  “Stop right there!”

  Both Jade and Norton startled and whipped their heads around. Jade wasn’t wearing a lifejacket, and the canoe didn’t look seaworthy in the best of weather. I trained my flashlight at Norton’s face and leveled my gun at his chest. “You can’t run,” I hollered. “Look at the river. She’ll die. You both will.”

  Norton squinted into the light, and his small eyes sank into his doughy face. Rain flowed in rivulets over his bald head. “I have to,” he said, wading into the water. “I’ve got to take her home.”

  “I thought Tern was your home.” I willed my hands to stop shaking. He appeared unarmed, but there was no way I could get off a clean shot if Norton made a move. With the rain, visibility was poor, and the harder I squeezed the more the gun’s grip felt like sandpaper grating at my palm. I took three slow steps toward him. “Where’s Jasper, Philip?”

  He was still holding on to the canoe, trying to drag it deeper, but my question loosened his resolve and he stopped moving. Norton locked eyes with Jade. Jacketless and soaked through, she looked miserable and afraid. “I didn’t think,” he told her. “I didn’t know . . .”

  “Where is he?” I shouted.

  “He’s dead!” Norton’s sobs were nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves, but I saw the horror in his eyes. “He’s gone. In . . . in the river. I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  Jade’s perfect lips formed the shape of an O. As I looked on she transformed, fragile now in the knowledge that she’d crossed from childhood to the inhumanity of adult life.

  Norton let out a moan. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and dropped his chin to his chest.

  “Out of the boat,” I told Jade as I closed the distance between us.

  She looked up at Norton with confusion, but did as she was told. Jade scrambled out of the canoe, sinking her coltish legs into the water.

  Fumbling the flashlight, unwilling to lower the gun, I reached into my back pocket and handed Jade her phone. “Get in the boathouse. Call 911. Tell them we’ve got suspects out here we’re charging with domestic assault and first-degree murder. Go,” I yelled when the girl didn’t move. She hurried to the boathouse and closed the door behind her.

  Several facts still needled me, slivers of treachery stuck so deep I was desperate to pinch their ends and pull them free. “I think you drugged Jasper last night,” I said when Norton and I were alone. According to Ned, Norton was the only one who saw them after the fight outside. Ned told Norton Jasper had taken a fall. They’d come in through the kitchen. The water ring on Jasper’s bedside table. “You drugged his water, didn’t you? And this morning you got rid of the glass.”

  Norton looked at me with grave eyes and nodded.

  “You did the same to Abella during last night’s cocktail hour.” From the start, Tim had wondered whether drugs were involved. But Jasper wasn’t the only target. “Did you spike her ice? Clever. If someone else wanted their wine extra cold and ended up knocked out like her, all the better.”

  “I didn’t want her to see,” he said feebly. “I was trying to protect her.”

  “And you did it again tonight, to Camilla.” She was required to take pills several times daily, Norton had said. But I’d spent a whole day with the family and hadn’t witnessed her take anything, and there were no pills at her bedside. Camilla had seemed tired during our conversation in her bedroom, but she was coherent—nothing like the near-comatose state she slipped into after just a few sips of wine. “You couldn’t have her contributing to a conversation about the family money. Not with Flynn and Bebe in the house.”

  Norton brought his hands to his head and squeezed. “You don’t understand! It wasn’t like that!”

  “No? Camilla’s dying. The Sinclair fortune’s dried up. All that’s left now is the island. Who gets it when she’s gone? Who did Camilla name as her heir? It’s you, isn’t it? She’s leaving it all to you.”

  Philip Norton’s shoulders collapsed and he closed his eyes.

  “Jesus,” I said under my breath. More than anything, I felt disappointed. Camilla seemed like such a strong lady, the only one in the family in her right mind. She’d lost her husband, her only son, and the business she’d watched her family build from nothing, but she should’ve had the good sense to spot Norton’s ruse. If only she’d heeded the warnings of her beloved grandson, whose instincts had been on target. Instead, she listened to her friend of twenty years tell her how much Tern Island meant to him. That leaving it to Jasper would put it at risk of being snatched up and sold by Bebe and Flynn. Norton painted himself as the only logical choice. He promised to protect the priceless property until it could safely be transferred to Jasper. Jasper, who was about to disappear into the October mist.

  Norton would face a colossal legal battle when Camilla’s wishes were discovered. A widowed empress of New York spurns her rightful heirs and leaves a multimillion-dollar estate to its longtime caretaker? The media would go wild. With Jasper gone, though, Flynn and Bebe were the only ones left to fight for the island, and doing so would inevitably call attention to the family business. The siblings needed Tern Island sold, but if it meant the press might shine a spotlight on Sinclair Fabrics, they’d be better off mourning the tragic loss of their brother and grandmother and letting the property go. Norton must have been overjoyed to hear Flynn announce he and Bebe were corporate criminals. Both faced massive fines, possibly even jail time. There was no one left to interfere with the plan.

  “You think this place is worth killing for?” I said. The injustice of what Norton had done made my trigger finger itch. “Was it a kitchen knife or a tool from the shed? Was he dead before his body hit the water, or did he writhe in pain while he drowned? Did you watch him sink to the bottom of the river? Did you?”

  Norton clutched his head tighter and released a primal moan.

  “I thought you were working alone. When I realized what you’d done—implicating Bloom, the drugs—I was sure you concocted this whole plan. But I don’t think you killed Jasper anymore. No, you left that part to someone else.”

  I knew better than anyone, maybe even the Sinclairs, that families don’t always stick together. It was like Flynn said. A blood bond doesn’t guarantee loyalty.

  “It’s not t
oo late to save yourself, Philip. I’ll take you back to the station. You can sign a confession. Jade will be safe, I gave her my word.”

  Pummeled by wind and rain, Norton slumped against the edge of the canoe and let the water slosh against his knees. He was close to cracking, but not close enough. I was too late.

  The storm was loud, and the ambient glow from my flashlight turned the world black and white, all gloss and shimmer, wet grass and mud—but still I felt it. He was here.

  Miles Byrd’s rapid breathing preceded him. I didn’t need to see him in the light to know he’d taken a bad fall on his way down. There was a limp in his gait as he stumbled toward us.

  “There you are,” Miles said to Norton. “Where’s Jade? It was the right decision, getting her out of there. Flynn’s fucking nuts.” He turned to me. “You were wrong about him, I hope that’s obvious now. Flynn lost it last night, just like he did in there with Ned. Flynn killed Jas and that girl.”

  “Stay where you are.” I said it loudly. I needed Jade to hear. Miles was wearing gloves. Where did he get those gloves?

  “I came to get my daughter.” Miles squinted against the beam of light and cracked an amiable smile. “Where is she?”

  “Neither of you is going anywhere.”

  Miles looked at Norton, then back at me. “You can’t mean . . . Philip? Come on. He’s harmless! He’s not the one you’re looking for.”

  “You’re right,” I said as I transferred my aim and my weapon found its true target. “You are.”

  Miles wasn’t like Norton. He wasn’t afraid. The man eased back his shoulders and faced me head-on. “I’m curious, is that really how you operate? By process of elimination? Your little speech up there, about the others being innocent . . . tell me that isn’t seriously how you solve a crime.”

  “Process of elimination is a handy tactic, Miles. It’s what brought me to both of you.”

  Miles laughed and wiped the cold night rain from his brow. “Are you kidding me with this? You and your idiot partner, you’re complete amateurs. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Miles didn’t like where this was going. He couldn’t see his daughter, and despite his bravado that made him nervous.

  I clutched the grip of my gun harder and fought through the pain. “I know about the inheritance, Miles.”

  A few feet away from him, still knee-deep in water, Norton straightened up. There was panic in his eyes.

  Miles brought a gloved hand to his heart and gave me his most earnest smile. “You’re confused,” he said. “That’s understandable. It’s a hell of a situation we’re in. Tell her,” Miles said. “Tell the detective she’s wrong.”

  “You’re too late. I know everything. You were smart, I’ll give you that. How long have you been planning this, Miles? At what point did you realize Norton was sitting on a gold mine and decide to use him to cash in?”

  It was a long game, the con so complex with so many moving parts I had to believe it was months if not years in the making. A marriage to Bebe was just the beginning. She wasn’t his mark, but a means to an end that satisfied two of the man’s deepest cravings: money and revenge.

  “Hey.” Miles tossed the word over his shoulder at Norton. “Come over here and tell this poor, confused woman what’s what.”

  Maybe it was habit. Philip Norton was accustomed to doing as he was told. More likely, though, the man had an all-consuming yearning to make amends. So he went to Miles. And when he got there, Miles made his move.

  It was a boning knife he pulled out, lean and deadly, and Miles held it to Norton’s throat. In the light of my flashlight the skin around the blade was so white it glowed. Miles had hidden the murder weapon in the pocket of his sport coat. The coat he slipped on after strangling Abella Beaudry with the rope Norton left for him in the bathroom.

  “Drop it.” My voice wasn’t my own. “For God’s sake, Miles, he’s your father.”

  The plea sounded like a line from an insufferable melodrama, even to me—as soon as I blurted it, images of Oedipus Rex and Kylo Ren flashed through my mind. On top of that, what difference did shared DNA make in a place like this, where family members manhandled each other and themselves? But I had to take a shot, and I hoped it was enough to give the man with the knife pause.

  The photo on Norton’s bedside table of him with a young boy meant little to me when I first saw it that morning. Combined with Jade’s offhand remark to Tim about her grandmother’s Thousand Islands roots, and Miles’s comment about growing up without a dad, and the way Norton doted on Jade, its significance grew. Crazy as it was, my conversation with Carson about Moonshine Phil and the unfamiliar teen in town clinched it. Philip Norton and Miles Byrd weren’t just partners in crime, but father and son.

  The minute I said it, I knew I’d guessed right. Norton made a gurgling sound and Miles grinned at me, all pluck as he pressed down on the blade. Pitifully, Norton croaked, “Miles . . . please . . .”

  “Jade,” I said, trying another tack. “She’ll lose her grandfather. Think of Jade.”

  “Oh, I have been. That’s why I married Bebe in the first place. Bebe was our safety net. There was supposed to be plenty of money.” Miles glanced down at Norton with a grimace. “It was supposed to be easy. All of this has been for Jade—Jasper most of all. My mother was sixteen years old when she had me.” His grip on Norton tightened as he spoke. “You refused to help her,” he hissed in Norton’s ear. “Got her pregnant and tossed her aside. I’ll be damned if I was going to let a spoiled rich kid do the same thing to my daughter. All I wanted was to know you,” Miles said, “and you wouldn’t give me the fucking time of day.”

  “I was a kid, too,” said Norton. “I had no job, no money, nothing. I tried to make it right.”

  “You tried? You tried? Soon as I got my driver’s license I was up here every couple of weeks, following you around like a loyal puppy. You sent me away every time. Did you think I’d forget all about that when you finally showed up begging to be best friends?”

  “Killing him won’t save you, Miles.”

  “No?” Miles lifted his gaze to find me. “Philip bought the drugs. His name’s in Camilla’s will. His fingerprints and DNA are all over the knife and the rope upstairs. You’ve got no signed confession,” he said. “No evidence to bring charges against me. No proof at all I’m involved beyond a theory shot full of holes. I’m about to kill him out of self-defense. I’ll tell your boss that when you take me in—and take me, by all means. I’ve got enough criminal attorney friends to start a softball team, all itching to vouch for my character. Meanwhile you shot a witness today, and your incompetence got another one killed. I saw you up there with Wellington, having your little heart-to-heart. Seems to me you’ve got issues that need serious attention. Maybe some time off is just what you need.”

  His arm tensed in preparation to slit his long-lost father’s throat, but the grin slid off his face. He’d heard it, too. The creak of a door.

  “Go back inside, Jade,” I said quickly. “Nobody else has to get hurt tonight, not your dad, not your grandfather. Just stay—”

  “Daddy?” Jade sounded utterly lost. She was shaking so hard she could hardly stay upright. “What are you . . . what does she . . .”

  “My God,” I said, absorbing the horror on Miles’s face. “She doesn’t know.”

  “Get inside,” Miles roared. “Now, Jade.”

  “But—”

  “I wanted to tell you,” said Norton. “I didn’t even know about you until I tracked Miles down last year. He said we had to wait . . . wait for the right . . .”

  “You didn’t tell her who he is,” I said. “You didn’t trust Jade not to spill the secret to the Sinclairs while her grandfather robbed Camilla blind. Were you ever going to let Philip live after this weekend? Or is he just another casualty of your conspiracy to hijack a family fortune?”

  Norton’s
anguished cry contorted his face into a mask of misery, and for the first time I saw the resemblance between these family members. Jade wore the same expression now. Her father held a knife to her grandfather’s throat, and she’d just realized Miles and Norton killed the man she thought she loved.

  Raking the wet hair out of her eyes, Jade let out a wail and lurched forward. With the three of us blocking her path to the house, there was nowhere for her to run. Nowhere except the flooded dock. Waves rolled over the submerged planks and the water was past her knees, but she moved too fast for me to catch her as she passed.

  Miles threw Norton aside and went after his daughter while I beat a path through the waves. The boards of the dock were slippery, the current strong. I was bigger than Jade and even I had to fight not to fall. A few yards away Miles was up to his waist, and then his neck. His strokes were clean but the rain on the water created a blinding, disorienting haze, and he was soon way off track.

  Up ahead a wave crashed against Jade, flinging her body sideways. Her head went under, came up slick as a seal, went under again. I saw a pale arm lift and flail, grasping at air, and then she disappeared completely into the cold, dark water.

  “Jade!” The men’s screams rang in my ears, but a rush of water snuffed them out as I plunged headlong into the river. The cold knocked the air from my lungs and left me breathless. I tried to keep my eyes on the place where she’d gone under, but it was all I could do to stay afloat. My aching muscles seized up almost immediately. My feet were anvils pulling me down. Inside my mouth my teeth throbbed as if I’d chewed aluminum foil. Without my flashlight everything was white froth and black water and that terrible, glacial, mind-numbing cold.

  It was reckless. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, didn’t know the river at all. I just couldn’t let another girl die. But I have. I did. Jade was nowhere—no Jade, no Miles. Just the river that swallowed Jasper Sinclair, and now me.

  Through the rush of water in my ears and the rain and the thunder, I heard a call. When the waves around me went silver I thought it was the lightning again, a flash so bright it turned night into day, but then I saw it. A boat. It rolled and pitched, towering above me where I swam. Something fat and soft landed next to me and I reached for it. Suddenly I could float. I clenched my teeth and craned to see out of the water. What I saw was Maureen McIntyre.