Hush (13 page)

Just before she fell asleep that night, she came back to being with Jarrod. He‘d definitely been the one who‘d interrupted her and Lucas. Definitely, maybe. But she recalled him asking her if she was all right. ―Fine,‖ she‘d assured him, swaying a bit on her feet, and there was a dark stain on her pant leg, just below her knee, and a jagged hole in her jeans. She then sensed something trickling down her calf. Blood? Vaguely she remembered slamming her leg into something on the beach, and that reminded her that she‘d seen Ellen and Theo humping away behind the huge driftwood log.

And then her mind traveled back to Lucas and circled around again until it returned to her bloody leg. Vaguely she remembered Jarrod sitting her down onto the cold sand once again, pulling up her capris to reveal a gash just below her knee. It was black and ugly in the dim light, but Coby swept Jarrod away from her. She ignored the cut that night, instead going back to the campsite, grabbing her sleeping bag and hauling it back to the house and the den, crashing onto the love seat, and that‘s when her mind began its incessant circling. Close to dawn she stumbled to the bathroom, puked her guts out again, then returned to the sleeping bag and fell into an exhausted slumber that lasted well into the next day.

It wasn‘t till after she was back home in Portland that she‘d treated the injury to her leg, which had left a small scar just below her kneecap, for when she got up that morning she learned that Lucas Moore was dead, and that stopped everything else.

In this very den, that day, she‘d awakened to the sound of high-pitched female voices and strong male ones and loud crying and the phone ringing and ringing and ringing.

―Where the hell is Coby?‖ Her father‘s hoarse voice was loud.

―I don‘t know. I don‘t know! I told you!‖ Wynona wailed in response.

―No one‘s asking you,‖ her father, Donald Greer, stated flatly. ―Just stop a moment!‖

―And where‘s Yvette?‖ Jean-Claude asked in a voice threaded with fear.

―I don‘t know.‖ Genevieve. Sober and scared.

―They‘re both missing!‖ Dana declared, and it was an invitation for more crying and wailing.

Then Ellen said in a quavering voice, ―They must be here. They can‘t be hurt, too.‖

Hurt, too?

That‘s when Coby staggered out of the den, feeling flat-out ill, and gazed around the room, lost. ―I‘m here. I‘ve been in the den. Why? What‘s happened?‖

―Thank God!‖ Dave cried, running to her, throwing his arms around her, as if she‘d been resurrected from the dead.

―What‘s wrong?‖ Coby asked, fear skimming through her veins.

―You‘re all right. You‘re all right,‖ her father said, pulling away to look at her, then seeing the gash on her knee. ―Your leg!‖

―I cut it on the beach. . . . It‘s nothing. I want to know what happened!‖ she insisted.

A moment of silence, as if no one had an answer.

It was Genevieve who spoke up, her voice heavy with pain. ―It‘s Lucas,‖ she said. She was standing by the kitchen and Rhiannon was on her right, swaying, her doe eyes huge and staring.

―He‘s . . . dead.‖

“Dead.”
Coby recoiled. ―What do you mean?‖ She couldn‘t process. ―No . . . no . . . that‘s not true. . . .‖

―He fell off a cliff,‖ Dana said. She pointed out the window to the surf. ―He‘s out there right now. Down on the beach.‖ Her voice quavered.

―Where are the guys?‖ Coby asked.

―What guys?‖ her father demanded.

―They all left,‖ McKenna said, then explained, ―The guys from our class.‖ She was sitting on the living room couch, hunched over, her hands dangling between her knees. ―They drove back, I guess. They crashed our party.‖

―They drove after drinking?‖ Wynona demanded, shooting a look toward her father, the vice principal. Donald Greer‘s thin lips grew even thinner.

―I don‘t know,‖ McKenna murmured and her father, Big Bob, came over to sit beside her.

Hank Sainer, looking like he‘d aged ten years in one night, walked to his daughter and put an arm around Dana‘s shoulders. She leaned into him and started gently crying. Coby looked at Jean-Claude, who was standing in front of the fireplace with his daughters flanking him, Annette and Juliet on one side, Suzette on the other. Nicholette wasn‘t at the campout and Yvette was nowhere in sight.

―You think something happened to Yvette?‖ Dana asked tremulously, gazing over her father‘s shoulder to them.

―No,‖ Hank assured her. ―I‘m sure she‘s fine.‖

―My dad‘s out there with Lucas,‖ Rhiannon said, looking through the window, her voice barely audible. She seemed fragile and weak, her eyes huge but far away as if she were seeing some other reality.

―Mine, too.‖ McKenna went to stand beside Rhiannon and placed a light hand on her shoulder as they both stared toward the Pacific.

―Well, where the hell is Yvette?‖ Jean-Claude demanded of Hank, moving restlessly around the room. ―Where is she?‖

Hearing that Lucas was out there, Coby had walked to the window, as if pulled by an invisible string. She followed McKenna and Rhiannon‘s gazes and saw, far up the beach, tiny dots of people milling along the beach and surf.

―Looks like the sheriff‘s department has arrived,‖ Dave said to the girls, coming up behind them.

―Where the hell is she?‖ Jean-Claude demanded more forcefully.

McKenna muttered suddenly, ―I‘m going,‖ and headed fast for the front door.

―Stay here!‖ Dave ordered, but McKenna had flung open the door already and was clambering around the house to the stairs that led to the beach. Rhiannon was on her heels, and Coby, after a heartbeat, took off after them, hearing her father yell at her to stop, too.

―Coby! Coby! Damn it! Get back here!‖

But she was outside, glad for the rush of cold air that slapped her face. She gulped it like a liquid. Her stomach was unsteady and she didn‘t know what she was doing but she couldn‘t stay at the house.

Lucas . . . Lucas Moore . . . no. She didn‘t believe he was gone!

McKenna bounded down the sandy wooden steps at the side of the house to the beach below. Rhiannon was behind McKenna and Coby caught up to her at the bottom step. They ran across the sand as if in a footrace, catching McKenna only when she started to slow down a half mile farther, where the group of men waded in the water, their dark green coats glimmering with moisture from the surf and a faint rain. Prisms of color floated through the haze of a shrouded sun.

They were just covering Lucas Moore‘s body but Coby caught an image, a picture that had been burned into her brain ever since: blue face, blond ocean-soaked hair, purple hands, glassy eyes, torn pants and shirt, ravaged skin.

She turned away and her stomach heaved again but she only threw up bile, holding the back of her hand against her mouth afterward, hearing McKenna‘s dad, Big Bob, growl, ―Get the hell out of here!‖ and seeing Rhiannon faint dead away, face-first into the tide.

Big Bob and Rhiannon‘s father, Winston Gallworth, grabbed her and flipped her over.

Rhiannon was breathing, dragging air into her lungs while her limbs twitched and her eyeballs moved rapidly back and forth beneath their lids.

―Rhee. Baby,‖ her father whispered brokenly and her eyes snapped open. She looked confused for a moment, then memory rushed back and her face turned red and she began to cry. Big Bob took her from Winston and started carrying her down the beach and back toward the house.

McKenna caught Coby‘s gaze.

―You girls need to head on back, too,‖ one of the deputies told them sternly. Coby shot another glance toward Lucas, but his body was now covered. With a shiver, she and McKenna straggled back together, trailing Big Bob, who was carrying Rhiannon, and Winston Gallworth, Rhiannon‘s father.

At the beach cottage they were met by an anxious and half-angry Dave, a frantic Jean-Claude, and some of the guys who‘d shown up at their door: Jarrod, Vic, and Kirk. McKenna had been mistaken when she said they‘d all left, and they looked as stunned and disoriented as the rest of them.

―Lucas was in our car,‖ Jarrod was saying, sounding like he‘d already said it more times than anyone wanted to remember. ―We were supposed to bring him back. He was in our car. But he wasn‘t there this morning.‖

―You were drinking,‖ Jean-Claude snapped. He was normally so calm and relaxed, the one parent they all felt they could go to in times of trouble. But his face was white and tight today.

Where is Yvette?

―We weren‘t going to drive last night,‖ Kirk said sullenly. ―We were going to wait to go back today.‖

―We slept on the beach,‖ Vic put in, swallowing hard.

―And you didn‘t see Yvette. None of you have seen Yvette!‖ Jean-Claude demanded.

They shook their heads and Coby wondered seriously, for the first time, if something had happened to her. Yvette was just so . . . indestructible-seeming. Fear settled like a rock in her chest.

―And Lucas? Where was he?‖ Jean-Claude demanded of the group as a whole.

―He wandered off,‖ Jarrod answered. ―It‘s what he does. He‘s kinda that dude, you know? A surfer. Like a loner. Ask Rhiannon.‖

Everyone turned to look at Rhiannon, who was awake and leaning against her father on the couch. ―I wasn‘t with him,‖ she said tremulously.

Coby glanced at her father, who‘d moved to stand by Annette and Juliet. It didn‘t register at the time but later she realized Dave and Annette had bonded the night before, the beginning of their relationship, though Lucas‘s death kept them from acting upon their desires for a time. At least that‘s what Dave told Coby later on when she demanded to know the truth.

―Well, who was with him? Yvette?‖ Jean-Claude demanded.

―We were all sitting around the campfire and then we just crawled into our sleeping bags and went to bed.‖ This was from Ellen, who‘d been sitting in a chair by herself, extremely quiet.

Her father hadn‘t been able to make the trip, so she‘d come with Wynona and Donald Greer.

Coby gave her a long look, remembering her and Theo wrestling in a sleeping bag. ―Where are Theo and Galen and Paul?‖ she asked, and Ellen shot her a worried look.

―They drove back. Galen was sober,‖ Kirk added quickly.

―A deputy‘s coming this way,‖ Dave said, gazing out the window toward the beach.

He didn‘t say it—maybe he wouldn‘t have said it—but Coby heard the unspoken comment as if her father had sent out the verbal warning:

You’d better all get your story straight.

And then the deputies arrived. Two members of the Tillamook County Sheriff‘s Department, Fred Clausen and Marsha Kirkpatrick. Neither of them pulled any punches and they grilled the girls, guys, and dads alike for several hours, taking turns interviewing them in the den.

Jean-Claude‘s anxiety grew with each passing moment and his other daughters were silent and wide-eyed.

And then Yvette suddenly opened the front door and just breezed in.

Jean-Claude gave a yelp of joy and wrapped her in a bear hug and Yvette blinked in surprise at the crowd of people before her, her gaze focusing on the two members of law enforcement who were just starting to interview the guys. Detective Clausen and Kirk were aimed for the den but Yvette‘s appearance stopped them.

Yvette‘s eyes widened and she demanded, ―What happened?‖

―Lucas is dead,‖ Genevieve said again, and Yvette shook her head violently, as if the image were tearing into her brain.

―No . . . no . . . he‘s not,‖ she declared. ―He‘s not dead. He can‘t be. He‘s not dead.‖

Hank Sainer said dully, ―He fell from the cliff into the rocks.‖

Yvette burst into tears and then, a few moments later, she wailed that she and Lucas were secret lovers and so began her story, one Coby still had trouble believing was anything more than a fairy tale.

Now, taking a deep breath, Coby shook off the memories once more. Everything had changed. Time had moved on. Lucas‘s death was an accident. Rhiannon‘s death was an accident.

There was no reason to dwell on any part of the past when there were so many new issues in the present she could fret over. Like Annette wanting a child. Like Faith poaching a bit on Danner. Like Coby wanting to believe she was over him when she‘d known deep down she wasn‘t. Also knowing she‘d always wanted to give their relationship another go, and that being with Joe had been merely marking time.

And she was going to get her chance.

Climbing to her feet, she was about to rejoin the party when the door to the den suddenly slammed open and against the opposite wall. Coby stopped short as eleven-year-old Benedict Deneuve barreled into the room, looking as surprised to see Coby as she was to see him.

―Oh . . . sorry . . .‖ the boy muttered.

Yvette was right behind him. ―So, this is where you went to hide,‖ she observed to Coby.

―Excuse me?‖ Coby was too surprised to take offense.

―I saw Danner Lockwood, too. With your sister.‖

―Can we go now?‖ Benedict wheedled, saving Coby from an answer.

―I don‘t want you playing video games the whole time,‖ Yvette said to him. ―Come on, it‘s time to eat.‖

―I can‘t play anyway. There are too many people out there.‖ He gestured to the outer room, where the decibel level was increasing with the consumption of alcohol. ―I want to go!‖

―After birthday cake,‖ she told him shortly.

―When is that?‖

―Right after dinner. Come on.‖ She herded him out of the room and a loud wave of laughter washed over Coby just before the door shut behind them.

It was a pisser having everyone believe Danner was with Faith.

She yanked open the door and reentered the party just as Annette yelled, ―Grab a plate.

Mangia!
‖

―There you are,‖ Jarrod said to Coby as if he‘d been waiting for her.

Danner was standing back from the table and Faith was at his elbow. Well, fine. There was nothing to do about that.

―You okay?‖ Jarrod asked, following her gaze.

―Absolutely.‖

―Need another glass of wine?‖

―Not a chance.‖ She‘d left hers in the den.

―You sure?‖

―Maybe later.‖

She surreptitiously threw a glance around the room, sizing up the party. People had lined up and were serving themselves. Juliet Deneuve was standing next to Kirk Grassi, an empty serving tray held loosely in one hand as if she‘d forgotten its existence. Like Coby, her gaze was moving restlessly around the room to settle on Annette, who was urging people to move to the table and fill their plates.