by Jana DeLeon
He nodded. “And you didn’t want to put Bea in the middle of it.”
“Then or now. That’s why I won’t go stay at her house even though she’s right about there being more lights, more people with eyes on the street, and all. But if anyone is coming for me, I’m not going to risk her. I already feel guilty about everything she’s having to do for me—her reputation is on the line too. I don’t want her life to be as well.”
“What do you mean ‘her reputation is on the line’? Surely people here have known Bea long enough to know what she’s about. I assumed she was well liked.”
“She is by most people, but every place has its bad apples. You met Melody Whitmore.”
He cringed. “Sure, but I just took her as a vapid fake. If I could figure that out in the twenty seconds that she accosted me, surely everyone else has caught on by now.”
“Vapid fake is a very good description but unfortunately, her parents are the real problem. The Whitmores are island royalty. They have more money than God, and Mr. Whitmore runs the bank and is on the city council.”
He shook his head. “And they use all that to run herd over people.”
“Exactly. I mean, a lot of people just ignore them, but if someone has or needs a bank loan or owns a business that is dependent on the city council not passing a law that could bankrupt them, then they have a tendency to curb their opinion and kiss butt.”
“I hate that kind of shit.”
“So do I, but every town has its Whitmores. I’ve already decided that if Bea catches too much crap over my being here, then I’ll leave.”
“Where will you go?”
She shrugged. “What difference does it make? I’ve got to start over anyway. The zip code doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of things.”
The words came out of her mouth, but she didn’t believe them for a second. The truth was being back on Tempest Island was the best she’d felt in a long time. Doing normal things like paddleboarding, sitting outside and reading a book, and having a drink with a neighbor were like having a million therapy sessions rolled into one. And that didn’t even count seeing Bea again—having Chinese takeout or cooking her aunt a delicious meal. Even ice cream with Bea and Nelly was a happy event.
She had started to believe that life could be normal. And then it fell apart again.
She glanced at her watch and realized it was close to 10:00 p.m. They’d stayed at the dinner table for a while, talking about everything except her situation for hours after dinner. Finally, Pete had yawned a couple times, said his goodbyes, and headed out. Then Luke had begun showing her how to use her new system and she’d never realized how much time had passed. She glanced outside the patio doors at the inky black and tried to control the urge to draw the blinds.
“I, uh,” Luke started. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay the night. On the couch, of course. I know the likelihood of something happening is slim and even if someone tried to breach the cottage, the alarm would go off and I’d be here in seconds, but I’d just feel better staying until you’re completely comfortable with the system.”
Relief swept through her and then was followed by that familiar wave of guilt. Even though Luke was apparently very qualified to handle high stress and potentially deadly situations, that didn’t mean her situation was his responsibility.
“Before you say no,” he said, “consider that I’ll probably spend all night on my deck or patrolling the beach to watch your house. The mosquitoes here can carry away a small child, so you’d be doing me a favor not to leave me outside. Plus, it’s supposed to rain, and the deck doesn’t have a cover.”
“You’ve already done so much. Even if it’s very low risk, I can’t ask you to put yourself in the line of fire for me.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. And my ability to retaliate to fire is far superior inside this house where I have cover than it is outside in the dark and the open. Besides, I’d rather know where you are if I have to fire.”
She frowned, thinking about his words.
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it, but I’m running the same risk if I shoot,” she said. “I might miss the bad guy and hit you while you’re trying to come to my rescue. I couldn’t live with that.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m going to head back to my place and grab a change of clothes—that is, if you don’t mind my borrowing your shower.”
She smiled. “As long as you don’t use all the hot water.”
Bea closed the door behind the last of the Jokers and pulled the lock. It had been a good night. Exactly the medicine she needed with all that was happening. There were even moments that she forgot all the problems and actually laughed and enjoyed her friends and their time together. She was eternally grateful for these women. They’d come together one by one, looking for something to do to get out of the house every week, but they weren’t interested in the “normal” things women’s groups did. None of them knitted. None of them gardened as a passion. And Bea had a book club at the bookstore that met once a month.
The first couple times they’d gotten together, they’d chatted until there were lulls, then Scarlet had mentioned that she wished the casinos were closer because she loved playing video poker. Everyone else had agreed and they’d realized that was it. Their thing. So the Jokers were born. They’d had weekly poker night for eight years now. They’d supported one another through business challenges, divorces, issues with children, and death.
Bea turned around and started for her bedroom when a soft knock came at the door. Who in the world could that be? She looked out the peephole and saw Birdie standing there. Figuring she must have forgotten something, Bea swung the door open.
“Did you leave your keys again?” Bea asked.
Birdie stared down at the doormat for a couple seconds, not saying a word.
“Birdie?” Bea prompted.
“I…never mind,” Birdie said, and turned to leave.
Bea reached out and grabbed her arm. “Something is wrong. Now, you can either come in and talk about it or you can go home and stew in it.”
Her friend had never been the biggest talker in the group, but tonight, she’d been unusually quiet.
Birdie sighed and turned back around. “I don’t want to burden you with anything else. You’ve already got so much on your plate. And I would have talked to one of the others, but they haven’t known me as long and they’re somewhat biased on certain topics and a couple of them will say what will make me feel better. I don’t want that. I mean, I would like to feel better, but it’s more important to know the truth. I know I’ll get that from you.”
Bea frowned and motioned her inside. “Good Lord, woman. This sounds serious. Get inside. I’ll pour us some wine and you can tell me what’s got you tied up in a knot. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you this wound up.”
Birdie followed Bea into the kitchen and sat at the counter while Bea poured them a glass of wine and then sat beside her.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever been this wound up,” Birdie said.
“What’s going on?”
“I think Tom is having an affair.”
Bea blinked. Of all the things that she’d imagined might come out of Birdie’s mouth, that hadn’t even been on the list.
“Okay,” Bea said finally. “I’m not going to dismiss that as nonsense because clearly, there’s a reason for you to make such a serious statement. Can you tell me why you think that?”
“He’s been weird lately. He takes these trips to the mainland—for hours at a time—and when I ask where he’s going, he says to the boat and tackle stores.”
“Well, that’s not unusual, is it? I mean, most men on the island can spend hours walking around those stores. And a lot of women we know, myself included.”
Birdie nodded. “Of course. But he never comes home with anything. There are no charges on our credit card, and nothing new appears in his fishing g
ear.”
“Okay, that’s a little odd, but maybe he’s just walking the aisles for exercise or meditation or simply because he’s bored.”
“Then why not just say that? ‘I’m bored and I’m going to walk around a bit.’ And that’s not all. He’s been preoccupied lately. I’ll be talking and I’ll look over and it’s clear he’s checked out of the conversation. When I ask him what’s on his mind, he says the business, or his boat, or some other nonsense.”
“Are there any problems with the business?”
“Lord no. We have employees we can trust and leave to handle things alone. The building’s been paid off for years, and we make enough in the summer alone that we could close the rest of the year if we wanted to. But we have a steady business from locals in the off-season, which is all gravy. Besides, our retirement funds have been set forever. You know Tom. He likes quality but he likes it for the best price. We built our retirement quickly with help from the savings he finds us.”
“I can appreciate that, and it’s why I’ve asked his advice on some bigger purchases. He always manages to find the best deal.” Bea shook her head. “Is there anything else that could be bothering him? How is Piper doing?”
“You know my daughter,” Birdie said drily. “The house could be on fire and she’d never tell me. But as far as I know, she’s doing fine. Still likes her job. Won’t talk about her romantic life.”
“Well, if she won’t tell you if something’s wrong, it’s unlikely she’d tell Tom. I’m sorry, Birdie, but I don’t know what to say. If you think Tom’s behavior is off, then I have to believe you. After all, you know the man better than anyone else.”
“I used to think so, but now…”
“Have you thought about following him?”
“Because I wouldn’t stick out in the big Cadillac of mine. I’m no James Bond.”
“You could borrow my car if you want to give it a try.”
“Maybe. But if he is up to something bad, wouldn’t he be paranoid and watching everywhere for anyone who might recognize him?”
“Probably so. Well, short of hiring a professional, I don’t know what else to advise. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve been any help at all.”
Birdie reached over and squeezed her hand. “But you have. It helps to get it off my chest, and you never once told me I was imagining things. Knowing that you believe me helps reinforce the fact that I’m not.”
“I would never think that. You never have been one for drama. Now, if Scarlet had brought me this tale, that would be a whole different story.”
Birdie smiled. “Scarlet’s mother named her appropriately. Well, I’m going to get out of here. Tom’s probably wondering why I’m so late.”
“Tell him you stayed later to talk to me. He’ll assume it’s about Alayna.”
“Good idea. Thanks again, Bea.”
Bea followed her to the door. “You let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
“I will.”
Birdie waved over her shoulder and headed down the street to her house. Since Birdie and Nelly lived next door to each other and usually walked home together, Bea stood on her porch and watched until Birdie went into her house. Not that things happened much on their quiet street, but a woman should always look out for her girlfriends. When Birdie’s front porch light clicked off, Bea went back inside and headed for her bedroom.
Birdie’s worries troubled Bea. She couldn’t imagine her friend’s husband with anyone else but his wife. And Tom had never struck her as anything but the loyal type with a high moral code. But she supposed most divorced people had thought that of their spouses at one time. And it was possible he was hiding something, but not another woman. Not that it was any better if he was. If you had to hide something, then you were usually already in the wrong, it was just a matter of degree. Look at Alayna’s situation. Warren hadn’t been cheating but good Lord, it would have been so much better if that was all that had been going on behind her back.
Bea pulled off her clothes and left them right where they fell on the floor, then she grabbed her nightgown and pulled it on. She needed a shower but didn’t have the energy for it. She’d take one in the morning and put the bed linens in to wash before she left for work. She climbed into bed and was asleep before she even remembered lying down.
Alayna headed into the living room, her wet hair wrapped up in a towel. Because Luke was staying overnight, she’d donned shorts and a T-shirt instead of the usual tank she slept in. He was sitting on the couch, watching the weather report.
“Looks like that storm is coming right for us,” he said as she plopped down on the other end of the couch.
“No surprise on the island,” she said. “It will blow over soon enough. Will the cameras outside be okay with the storm?”
“Absolutely. You should be able to watch a hurricane with those things.”
She laughed. “Well, that would be the only way I’d watch one.”
“Have you been through one before?”
“Yeah. I mean, nothing major, but if it’s only a Cat 1 or even a 2 and not much chance of it getting bigger, most of the islands just lock up and stay put even if the county calls for an evacuation. Main Street sits higher than the rest of the island—about fifteen feet above sea level—and then most of the houses are built up some. You’ve got to get a pretty good surge to get inside them.”
“What about these cottages? Seems like they’d be hit hard, especially being one-story and right here on the beach.”
“Bea’s had to do some work on the interior a couple times, but with the outside being cinder block, they’re pretty bulletproof for anything less than a Cat 4. With the smaller storms, the bigger threat is really tornadoes and wind damage that can cause leaking. And loss of power. That’s no fun.”
“I’ve been out in some pretty bad storms but never in a hurricane. Of course, the one good thing about them is you know they’re coming and can prepare. Unlike tsunamis. They can sneak up on you and don’t leave a lot of time to flee.”
“Thank God we don’t have those here. How does the weather look tomorrow?”
“All clear. Maybe we can hit the paddleboards again.”
“That would be nice.” She glanced at her watch and realized it was close to midnight. “Well, I guess I’ll head to bed. Are you sure you’re okay here? I have another blanket.”
“No. It’s warm enough and Lord knows I’m used to sleeping in places worse than on this couch.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”
As she headed for the bedroom, there was a news break in the weather report.
“Fishermen from Staten Island got a surprise this evening when they pulled up a body with their anchor. The authorities remain tight-lipped, but the fishermen identified the man as Warren Patterson III, who escaped from FBI custody last night. Patterson, who was expected to go on trial…”
Chapter Nineteen
Alayna sucked in a breath and felt herself sway. Luke was almost immediately beside her to help guide her onto the couch. She tried to listen to the rest of the news report, but all they had to offer was information about the charges against Warren, not anything else about his death. Relief washed over her when her name never came up in the broadcast, and then she felt guilty for feeling relieved. When it was over, she looked over at Luke.
“I wonder what happened,” she said.
He shook his head. “We have to assume that Rivera got what he wanted.”
She took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I knew this was going to be the outcome. I mean, the chances of anything else were practically nil, but it’s still a shock, you know?”
“I imagine it is. No matter what Warren did, he was still an important part of your life at one time. All of this has to be incredibly hard to process.”
Alayna nodded, not even sure what she was feeling or what she was supposed to feel. Anger, sadness, relief, fear? All of them made sense in a different way b
ut they couldn’t all be the right answer.
“I guess I should call Davies, right?” she asked.
“I would. The fishermen might have gotten it wrong but if anyone knows, Davies will.”
She grabbed her cell phone from the bedroom and dialed. Davies answered on the first ring.
“I guess you saw the news,” he said.
“Is it him?”
“Yes.”
“How did he…”
“He was shot. And he was worked over pretty good before then. It was an execution.”
“So Rivera wins.”
“This round,” Davies said, sounding beyond frustrated.
“What does this mean for me?”
“You’re off the hook. We don’t need your testimony against a dead man. It’s over, Alayna. Get on with your life and forget you ever knew Warren Patterson.”
He hung up before she could respond. She stared at her phone for a second before relaying what Davies said.
“He really needs to work on his communication skills,” Luke said. “But Alayna, this is good news. Horrible, but good for you.”
“I know. My mind is telling me that this is finally over, but…”
“You feel guilty.”
She stared at him. “How did you know?”
“Look, you said you didn’t love Warren. What he did made you rethink everything about your relationship and it probably didn’t come out all that positive. But you’re a good person, Alayna. You don’t want to see people die. Not even people like Warren. Not even after what he did. Not even after what you lost.”
Alayna bolted up. “Oh my God! I have to tell Aunt Bea. I don’t want to wake her but if I wait until the morning, she might see it on the news.”
Luke rose and took her hand in his.
“Call her,” he said. “She won’t mind. I promise.”
She flung her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. “Thank you. Thank you so much for everything. For sticking with me even after I tried to run you off. For installing an awesome security system so that I could feel safe. For sleeping on my couch.”