All the Blue-Eyed Angels (35 page)

As though he’d heard his name, Isaac suddenly appears on the path behind Joe. Her husband turns at the look in her eyes. She expects violence, and moves farther away from the two men.

“Where do you believe your son belongs?” Isaac asks coolly. “Locked up on an island, waiting for his drunkard father to stumble home so he can watch while his mother is beaten half to death, night after night?”

Remarkably, Joe manages to hold himself in check. He keeps his eyes on the ground, his hands clenched at his sides.

“This don’t concern you.”

“Rebecca and Zion are members of my congregation now—of course it concerns me.”

“You’re not keeping my son, you fuckin’ pervert. You don’t go near him again.”

Isaac looks past Joe to Rebecca. “I understand that you would think something so ugly, given your past. But your son has a spiritual destiny that won’t be denied. I would never do anything to harm him. I only want to nurture his considerable gifts, so that he can one day realize his true potential. For God, and for his fellow man.”

Joe looks at Rebecca. “You heard what I said. You know what’s coming. We can go get Zion now—I’ll call up one of the guys to give you a ride back to the mainland, you don’t have to set foot on my boat or see my face again. But leave with me now. You’re not gonna like what happens, otherwise.”

She hesitates. Over the years, she has seen many sides of her husband: the attentive lover, the doting father, the jealous fiend, the violent drunk. This is new. Isaac ignores him and takes a step toward Rebecca.

“You know Zion’s destiny, Rebecca. You know your path. Don’t let this man sway you with his lies and paranoia.”

It’s the final straw—Rebecca sees it snap. Joe lowers his body and charges Isaac. Isaac steps just to the right and twenty seconds later the fight is over: Joe is on the ground, bleeding. Isaac stands above him without a scratch. There is something dangerous about him now; something Rebecca has not seen before. She feels that unwelcome thrill she always feels at the first flush of violence, before fear can take hold.

“Go home, Joe,” Isaac says. “Don’t come back to this island. You bring violence and ugliness to a holy place, and I can’t allow that.”

Joe stands. There is a gash above his left eye and his lip is swelling rapidly. He looks at Rebecca and shakes his head.

“I warned you, Becca. I can’t do no more than that.”

He turns and walks away. Once he is gone, Isaac turns to her once more. The pacifist has vanished; Isaac looks at her with fire in his eyes and something bestial in his smile.

She goes to him.

I took Einstein out for a perfunctory pee break before I worked up the courage to knock on Juarez’s door, back at Diggs’ place. I knocked lightly at first, then a little louder when I got no answer. When he finally told me to come in, my hands were sweating and my mouth was drier than the Serengeti. I rubbed my palms on my jeans. Juarez pulled a T-shirt over his washboard stomach and ran a hand through his tousled hair. He’d showered and shaved, so he looked marginally better than he had when I’d seen him last. The boxers and the runner’s calves didn’t hurt matters.

“I need to talk to you,” I said.

He rubbed his eyes blearily and nodded. “Did they find Matt?”

“No—not yet. It’s not about that, exactly.” I stood there for another twenty seconds trying to figure out where to begin before he arched an eyebrow.

“Did you want me to guess?”

“No—sorry.” Jesus. I shook my head. “Rebecca Ashmont called me. She wants us to meet her on the island—as soon as we can get over there.”

He showed no reaction whatsoever for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, he blinked.

“Rebecca… I’m sorry, what?”

“I know it sounds nuts. Which is why I’m glad she wants you to come, too—she said she knows about my father. She’ll tell me everything if I come out there and meet her. With you.” Nothing. “Tonight,” I added, in case he wasn’t clear on that part.

He pulled his jeans on. “How do you know it was her?”

“I don’t. The caller ID was from Joe’s phone, though, and she asked me to bring Zion—and then she said, ‘Bring my son.’ Rebecca Ashmont. They never identified her body with the others—it’s possible.”

“And you think she meant me when she said to bring Zion.”

“If she didn’t she’s shit out of luck, because you’re the closest thing I’ve got.”

“And she wants me out there now?”

“Yeah—she said there’s not much time. God only knows what that means, but I’m thinking it’s not good.” It took a second for his words to register. “Whoa, hang on. Not you—
us.
She asked for me, too.”

“I don’t know if she’s dangerous—hell, I don’t even know who she is,” Jack countered. He strapped on a shoulder holster with unnerving efficiency. “You’re staying here.”

“I’ll just follow you out there. You know I will.”

“Then I’ll just call Diggs and tell him what’s going on.”

I advanced on him. “Screw you—this is mine as much as it is yours. She has information about my father. You have no right to keep me out of this.”

I wasn’t sure whether he understood my reasoning or sympathized with my plight or just didn’t have the energy to fight with me, but he took a few seconds to think about things before he nodded.

“You have to do what I say,” he said.

Given the shoulder holster and the almost unnecessarily large gun that belonged there, that seemed like a reasonable stipulation. I nodded.

“And we leave a note for Diggs letting him know where we are, just in case.”

I agreed.

Twenty minutes later, we were steering my boat out of the harbor yet again. It was just after nine o’clock. The sky was clear, the moon nearly full. We’d left Einstein behind, along with the requisite note for Diggs. I wore a sweater to guard against a chill I hadn’t been able to shake since the night before. Juarez stood beside me at the wheel, his hand at the small of my back while I played captain.

“It could be a trap,” he said just after we’d hit the open ocean.

The thought had crossed my mind. I took my eyes off the expanse of deep black sea in front of us and met his gaze.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said.

“Yeah, I know—Diggs would never forgive you.” I was trying to be funny, but he obviously didn’t see the humor.

“I’m not worried about Diggs.” The way he looked at me made it clear he was talking about more than just the obvious. I turned back toward the bow and corrected our course, though it didn’t really need correcting.

“We should probably stay focused on what we’re doing,” I said. “Conspiracies, dead parents who aren’t really dead… You know, the usual.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. Despite the tension I saw a flicker of a smile touch his lips. “Anyway, it’s not like I don’t know the score there.”

“What score is that, exactly?”

“With Diggs.”

We had another forty minutes before we got to the island. Try as I might, I couldn’t just let the statement lie.

“What about Diggs, exactly?”

He thought about the question before he said anything. “I’m not anything like him—I know that. I like music that sounds like music; I don’t know the latest pop culture references. I don’t Tweet. If I never had to touch a computer again, I’d be all right with that.”

The seas were calm beneath the boat and our path was clear. Moonlight reflected perfect white light off the water. I looked at Jack and swallowed a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“So, you’re just a simple cowpoke with simple cowpoke ways—is that what you’re telling me?” I asked.

He grinned outright at that, a predatory gleam in his eye. “More or less.” He paused. “You should watch out.”

The shiver returned, a little lower now. “Is that a threat or a promise?” I asked with a sexy smile.

He made a valiant effort not to laugh at me as he nudged me aside and took the wheel. “A warning, actually,” he said, nodding toward the sea. “There are some rocks up ahead.”

Right. I knew that.

We were both quiet for the rest of the boat ride. We stood side by side in the cool night air, lost in separate worlds. Any concern over romantic entanglements fell to the wayside the closer we got to Payson Isle. A bloated, pale yellow moon hung just over the tree line. We were still about ten minutes out when a thunderous crack shattered the stillness; I nearly jumped out of the boat.

Juarez pushed me down to the deck and followed suit, reaching for his gun. We waited for something else to happen: more gunfire, ghostly apparitions, the sky to fall. There was nothing.

“Was that…?” I asked.

“Definitely.”

We had an abbreviated debate over whether or not we should keep going or turn back. I voted to keep going. Despite any chivalrous illusions, I knew that that was what Juarez wanted, too. Eight minutes after the first and only shot was fired, we tied the boat at the dock.

Juarez took the lead, and I was only too happy to let him. We both stayed low to the ground. I thought of my mother out here twenty-four hours ago, fighting for her life. A cold wind sang through the trees. The forest was well lit, the path in front of us deep blue in the moonlight. My heart thundered in my ears. We kept going.

By the time we were halfway up the trail to the greenhouse, anxiety had gotten the better of me. There was still no sign of another soul—the occasional, quiet call of an owl out on the hunt, maybe the rustle of a deer nearby, but certainly no more gunshots or threatening figures in our path. I followed behind Juarez and kept quiet.

We both stopped when we reached the edge of the tree line, along the perimeter of an open field surrounding the greenhouse. It was the first time I’d been here since I was a child. The greenhouse was made of granite and glass, though the thick-paned windows had been broken years ago. It stood in stark silhouette, the moon low behind it. I thought of the body my mother said she had found hanging here years ago.

“You came out here today?” I whispered to Juarez, thinking of the search party that had been on the island earlier.

“Yeah—we didn’t find anyone, though. Obviously.”

Of course not. Whoever we were looking for—whether it was Rebecca Ashmont or someone else—must not have been on the island earlier. Juarez touched my arm and nodded toward the greenhouse, now about fifty yards away.

“Stay low and keep close.”

I nodded. The field was overgrown, but we wouldn’t be nearly as well hidden as we’d been in the woods.

“You have your phone?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Good. Call Diggs.”

“But—”

He held up his hand to stop me. We were close enough that I could feel his breath in my ear when he spoke, the warmth of his body against mine.

“It will take them some time to get here—whatever’s about to happen, it’ll already be over by then. Just call.”

I made the call. Diggs answered on the first ring. I told him where I was and what was happening, then hung up while he was still trying to get his head around what I’d said. Juarez looked at me, then nodded toward the greenhouse.

Now or never.

Since the gunshot we’d heard while we were still on the water, everything had gone eerily still. Other than the distant surf and the occasional, mournful call of an owl out for its nightly hunt, the woods were silent. I swallowed past my fear. Juarez squeezed my hand. He got down low with his gun close to his body and went out first. I followed.

Nothing happened. The field was thick with blackberry brambles and burrs and other things that cut and caught at us, but other than a few scratches and scrapes our run across the field was uneventful. When we got to the open, stone archway leading into the greenhouse, Juarez went in first. Looked around. When he was sure that it was safe, he gave the all clear. I went inside. Shattered glass sparkled like rare gems in the moonlight. I picked my way between broken plant pots and stray seedlings that had taken root between cracks in the floor, fallen sculptures and an old birdbath filled with algae and muddy water.

There was no one there. Juarez paused to look out one of the broken windows. I gave him his space. He’d straightened somewhere along the line; my spine popped when I followed his lead, grateful to walk upright again. I thought of the hours I’d logged out here with my father years ago, just the two of us watching the sun rise while we tended the plants and he taught me the finer points of making things grow.

“You’ll always be my magic bean, baby.”

I joined Juarez at the window. We didn’t touch, we didn’t speak. There was nothing outside, either: No Matt, no Joe. Certainly no Rebecca Ashmont.

“We should go to the boarding house,” he whispered in my general direction.

I didn’t say anything. Now that we were here, alone and vulnerable on a moolit night with no sign of whoever had lured us out in the first place, I realized that I didn’t want to go back to the boarding house. In fact, I didn’t want to be here at all. What the hell was I looking for? What did I expect to find?

Rebecca Ashmont, or someone claiming to be Rebecca Ashmont, said she would tell me all my father’s secrets. Secrets my mother knew and refused to share; secrets Noel Hammond and possibly the entire Payson Church had died for.

“Do you think it was really Rebecca who called me?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But someone wanted us here… And we didn’t imagine that gunshot.”

No, we didn’t. I thought of Diggs’ voice on the phone; the fact that he was on his way here now. For what?

“So—boarding house next,” I finally agreed.

“It makes the most sense.”

Right. I started to walk away, but he caught my arm. I turned. He held up his hand before I could ask what he wanted. I stopped. Speaking, moving. Breathing.

A low moan rose on the cold night air, traveling like fingernails up the base of my spine.

Juarez pushed on my shoulder and I crouched down again. He did the same. I stayed that way, trapped between the cold stone wall and Jack’s warm body, for another thirty seconds or more before the sound stopped just shy of a wail.