Let Me Go (23 page)

Ginger came around the corner, looking disappointed, and flopped down at his feet.

Susan stepped beside him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Archie indicated the flash drive, his eyes still on the screen. “This is footage from the security cameras on the island last night,” he said. “A young woman was found dead this afternoon on a dock at a nearby property.” There was still no flash drive icon on the desktop—the laptop wasn't recognizing it. Archie tapped the return key a few times, squinting at the starry landscape. “I saw her at the party last night,” he continued. “Before I blacked out.” He stopped there, deciding to leave Leo out of that particular part of the story. “I woke up this morning on the embankment outside the boathouse,” he said. He touched the wound on his head. “With this.” Maybe the flash drive didn't work. Maybe it was corrupted. “There's a boathouse camera,” Archie said, remembering what Leo had said. “I want to see that footage.” He scanned the keys helplessly, trying to figure out what more to do to get it to work.

Susan closed her computer and set it on the kitchen bar next to his. “Here,” she said, moving his hand away from the keyboard. “Let me.” He stepped away from the computer gratefully, and allowed her to take his place.

He watched as she studied his laptop. Then she reached out and wiggled the flash drive in the USB port and the flash drive icon instantly appeared. Apparently, he hadn't inserted the flash drive correctly. Susan glanced over at him with a slight smile, but didn't comment.

“Click on it,” Archie said.

Susan clicked on the icon and a window opened with dozens of thumbnails, each with a different label.
SE Garden. Pool. Dock
. Archie scanned them until he found the one called
Boathouse
.

“Here,” he said, pointing at it.

Susan moved the cursor over it and clicked.

Another box opened on the screen and the video started loading.

“Can you make it go faster?” Archie asked.

“Maybe if you had updated your video player in the last three years,” Susan said.

The status bar ticked forward at a glacial pace.

“Is that how you hurt your head?” Susan asked.

Archie stayed focused on the screen. “I don't know how I hurt my head,” he said.

“So what's the last thing you remember?” Susan asked.

A face flashed in Archie's mind. “Leo,” Archie said numbly.

Susan turned to him, eyebrow arched. “What did he do?”

The status bar was at 60 percent.

“Can we agree to let that go for now?” Archie asked.

Susan pressed a key with her thumb and the status bar stopped moving. She had paused it.

“What are you doing?” Archie demanded.

Susan crossed her arms and faced him. “Tell me what happened.”

Archie looked at the screen and then back at her. Susan was a snoop by nature. She needed to know everything, especially if it concerned her even in the most tangential sense. Most of the time Archie found that rather charming, but right now it was not charming at all. He needed to see that footage. She had no idea what was at stake.

“Leo used a choke hold on me,” Archie explained. “He had his reasons. Which he shared with me later.”

“A choke hold?” Susan asked, arms still crossed.

Archie sighed.
Fine
. “He stepped next to me,” Archie said, pivoting slightly behind Susan. “Close, like this. I thought he was going to tell me something he didn't want overheard, but instead he put his arm around my neck and pressed his forearm here.” Archie reached around Susan, hooking his elbow lightly under her neck, and anchoring his wrist with his other hand. The move required him to tuck his body against hers, as he pulled her back into his arms. He could feel her pulse on the inside of his elbow, but she didn't protest. “It compresses the carotid artery,” Archie explained, his arm pressing ever so gently against her neck. “Your brain can't get enough oxygen.” His mouth was next to her ear, just as Leo's had been next to Archie's when he'd told him not to struggle. “This warm blackness just sort of overwhelms you,” Archie told her. Her hair smelled like peppermint. He could taste it in the air. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes straining to access her peripheral vision. “When it's done right, it just takes a few seconds before everything shuts down. Your arms and legs go numb, and you black out.” She was very still. She did not move out of his arms. Instead she leaned back into him, releasing her weight into his arms, the back of her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. “He left me on the floor,” Archie continued. “Blackouts from a choke hold usually last a few minutes. Assuming you don't break someone's neck. But when Leo came back, I was gone. He assumed I had come to, and gotten out of there.”

“But you hadn't,” Susan said. She was pressed against him. Had he pulled her that close, or had she backed into him more tightly? He could feel the heat between them, clouding his head. Archie dropped his arms and stepped back. “I didn't come to until shortly before I saw you this morning,” he said. “About five hours later.”

Susan's cheeks were pink. She reached a hand to her neck. “So how did you get to the boathouse?” she asked, looking sideways at him.

Archie pointed at the screen.

“Okay, okay.” Susan started the video loading again.

They stood together in awkward silence, watching the status bar.

Seventy-five percent loaded.

Eighty-two percent loaded.

Ninety percent loaded.

An image appeared in the black box. It took a moment for Archie to orient himself. The footage was at night and in black-and-white. But the center of the image was well lit by an outdoor post light, the shadow of a gargoyle, wings outstretched, alighted on its top. Archie could make out the embankment, part of the dock, the edge of the lake. He could even visualize which corner of the boathouse the camera was mounted to. It was not where he'd awoken that morning, but it was close.

Susan hit the play arrow.

Nothing happened.

“It's not working,” Archie said.

“Yes, it is,” Susan said. “Nothing's happening, so nothing's happening.”

She was right. If he looked closely, he could see the tree branches moving, sequins of light reflected on the lake.

They watched for a few minutes, and then Archie said, “Fast forward.”

Susan clicked on the progress arrow and dragged it to the right and the image blinked by faster. Then Archie saw the jerky motions of bodies moving into the frame.

“Stop,” he said.

But Susan had already stopped.

They both stared at the frozen image on the screen. Archie tasted something salty and metallic in his mouth. Blood. He had bitten the inside of his cheek. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Back it up,” he said.

The figures on the screen stepped backward out of the frame.

“Hit play again,” Archie said.

Susan looked over at him.

“Do it,” Archie said.

Susan hit a key.

For a long moment, there was just more nothing. The ferns moved in the night air. The lake sat cold. The dark ground was hard and silent. Archie wasn't sure if the video had sound, but if it did there wasn't any to hear anyway. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen. And then Archie stumbled into the frame. He recognized himself immediately. His head was down, chin knocking against his chest. He had his arm slung around a woman.

Archie's chest tightened. He was only half aware of grabbing the edge of the countertop with his hand to steady himself.

The woman was supporting him, guiding him along, keeping him upright, like someone escorting a drunk home after a bender. She had her arm circled around his waist. Her hair was dark and fell past her shoulders. She was wearing a body-hugging evening gown with a deep V that cut down her chest almost to her navel and a slit that reached halfway up her thigh. Even though the video was in black-and-white, Archie knew that dress was red. The woman led him to the embankment and then lowered him to his knees. He teetered there, kneeling before her, leaning against her legs, until she knelt beside him and guided him gently onto his back on the ground.

She looked up at the camera then. And like a magician revealing a trick, she reached her fingers under the scalp above her forehead and peeled off the dark wig. Her light hair fell to her shoulders and there she was.
Voilà.
Gretchen Lowell.

Archie heard Susan's sharp intake of breath, but he couldn't take his eyes off the screen.

Gretchen said something directly into the camera. Archie could see her lips move.

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Susan say. It was muffled, like she'd said it through her hands, like she was covering her mouth.

On the video, Gretchen curled over Archie. The red dress was cut low in the back, and he could see the shadows of her vertebrae coiled over his lifeless body. Gretchen had always had a beautiful back. Elegant. Like a dancer's.

She lowered her head next to his, her hair falling like a blond curtain, swallowing his face. She was talking to him, Archie realized. She was whispering something in his ear. As she did, she walked one hand down his chest and over his groin.

Standing there, in his kitchen, he felt her touch, the flow of blood and warmth as he got hard despite himself. He shifted his position, hoping that Susan wouldn't notice.

Gretchen lay beside him on the ground and moved her hand along the inside of her own leg and up under her dress.

Her hips rocked. An uncomfortable heat swelled in Archie's chest.

Her head was still beside his, as if immersed in their private conversation, but she was clinging to him now, her body wrapped around his like a snake, her hips grinding against the hand she had pinned between her body and his thigh. The tent of his erection as he lay there on the ground was clearly visible. But he couldn't be blamed for how his body responded. Susan must know that.

Archie could hear Susan breathing beside him.

He still couldn't look over at her. He couldn't bear to see her face.

Then Gretchen stood. She hitched her dress up around her waist and kept her eyes on the camera as she stepped around his body and put a high-heeled foot on either side of his head.

She wasn't wearing underwear. Archie could see a thin shadow of pubic hair on her pelvis as she lowered herself down and sat on top of his face. She started grinding herself against him, keeping her own hand working in hard circles, the dress pooled around her waist. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were slits. Her head was tilted back. It didn't take long. Gretchen always came easily. She was like a raw nerve.

Her shoulders jerked forward and her head dropped. She kept rubbing at herself, harder and faster, and then her shoulders heaved again and she drove her fingers up inside between her legs and rolled her head back. He heard Gretchen gasp.

But the video didn't have any sound. It had been Susan's gasp.

Gretchen lifted her head and gazed at the camera with a serene smile. Then she stood up, and let the dress fall around her legs as she stepped away from Archie's body, leaving him unconscious on the ground.

Archie heard Susan moving away from the kitchen bar, stumbling backward. He couldn't move, couldn't turn his head after her. He stared at the screen, the impact of what he was seeing too overwhelming for him to respond.

Susan gasped again, although now Archie recognized the sound for what it was—a retch.

He closed his eyes, blocking it all out. This wasn't happening.

“I'm going to throw up,” Susan said.

 

CHAPTER

31

 

Henry was pacing.
His broad face was tense, jaw muscles bulging, his cheeks flushed. Archie sat on the couch, his legs and arms crossed, wishing he could be somewhere else. Susan sat curled up on the opposite end. The space between them felt impenetrable.

Their laptops, in contrast, sat snugly next to each other on the kitchen bar—Susan's sleek silver Mac, covered in old stickers, and Archie's stoic department-issue black PC. The image on Archie's laptop screen was paused at the point where Gretchen had left the frame and Archie's body lay prone on the ground. Henry had watched the footage when he'd arrived, while Archie and Susan sat on the couch not talking. Susan's green eyes were wide and her lips were half their normal size. She sat cross-legged, her yellow sneakers on the couch, her arms around a red throw pillow she'd pulled onto her lap. She had worried a loose thread at the corner of the pillow until it had formed a puddle of string in her palm, and the pillow's piping had come completely off one side. Archie had liked that pillow, but he hadn't asked her to stop.

Henry stopped pacing and turned to Archie. “Are you sure it's her?” Henry asked.

Archie gave him a tired look.

Henry lowered his head and returned to pacing. “Okay, it's her.” He glanced back at Archie. “I guess we know where that hair came from.”

“She was on the island,” Archie said. He'd known it. He'd said as much to Henry, but he decided that now might not be a good I-told-you-so moment.

Henry put his hands together. “We have all the video files?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Archie said. “I think so.” He tried to catch Susan's eye, but she remained focused on deconstructing his throw pillow.

“We'll get Ngyun to review them all,” Henry said. “See if she appears on any of the others. See if there's any footage of Lisa Watson in there, while we're at it.”

Archie nodded, but he didn't think they'd find Gretchen in any of the other footage. Leo or someone on the island had reviewed all the video files before they turned them over, and Leo had only mentioned the boathouse camera.

“This was all for you,” Susan said stiffly. Her eyes were on the pillow in her lap. Her fingers were still tugging at the thread. “She risked coming back here, risked getting caught, because it was your birthday,” she said.