Wicked Game

by Lisa Jackson

  Did she?

  “Of course it’s Jessie,” Glenn answered, reentering the room carrying a tray with four bottles of wine, two red and two white. A waiter followed after him with glasses and began placing them around the table. A waitress carried a tray filled with platters of bite-sized seafood, everything from fried calamari to crab and artichoke dip to crostini topped with smoked salmon, heirloom tomatoes, and sliced mozzarella cheese. Samples of fried razor clams, steamed mussels, and barbecued oysters followed.

  While the waiters placed small plates, glasses, and napkins around the table, Glenn added, “She didn’t run away. Maybe she was planning to, but something stopped her.”

  Tamara eyed the heaping trays of food. “I’m on a tight budget.”

  “It’s on me,” The Third said in a bored tone that suggested he always picked up the check and found it tedious.

  Glenn shook his head as he took his seat. “Compliments of Blue Note.”

  Tamara smiled gratefully.

  “Everything’s free at Blue Note,” Scott murmured, then waved away the remark as if he were just kidding.

  “I’d love to know if those bones belong to Jessie,” Evangeline said, once the waiters had disappeared back through the doors and she was helping herself to the calamari.

  “So the cop didn’t kill her?” Jarrett asked, pretending wide-eyed shock.

  “I don’t know,” Evangeline said with an edge. “None of us do.”

  “She’s alive.” Tamara was sure.

  “Oh, yeah, you would know. Communing with Tarot and the stars and the charts and tea leaves…” Zeke didn’t exactly sneer, but the thought was there. He, too, was loading his small plate, and some of the others were serving themselves.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, either, St. John,” Tamara said, running a hand through her fiery curls, bracelets dancing and singing. “And yes, I communicate any way I can, with the spirits and the dead…” She lowered her voice to a whisper and waved her hands over the table in a circle, pretending to make her eyes roll upward.

  Becca smiled at Tamara’s charade while Scott, Jarrett, and The Third glowered. The whole event seemed bizarre and surreal, enjoying wine and seafood while talking about the gruesome discovery at the school, bones that might be the last remains of Jessie Brentwood. The trays were passed to her, but Becca declined, her appetite nonexistent.

  Renee held up a hand to restore order. “What do you think, Mitch?”

  Mitch, plucking an oyster from the tray, straightened as if he’d been pulled on a string. “About Jessie? I always thought Jessie just left. She’d done it before. Everybody knew it. Maybe she just ran away again.” He plopped the oyster into his mouth.

  “People usually run for a reason,” Hudson said.

  “Like a big-ass fight?” The Third shot back. “What was that fight you two had about again? Jessie got pissed because you were making it with some other girl?”

  “Nice,” Tamara said.

  “Not even close,” Hudson said. The Third’s slings and arrows had never been able to pierce his emotional armor, and Becca was glad to see that still held true.

  Evangeline’s lips tightened. “I wouldn’t put it past her. Running away to make a point. Jessie was sneaky. And mean.”

  Becca couldn’t believe her ears. Evangeline had been one of Jessie’s closest friends. “Jessie was a little secretive, maybe—”

  “You didn’t really know her,” Evangeline cut in. “She had a…a cruel streak, a really dark side.”

  “Oh, yeah, she was Satan,” The Third said in a bored tone.

  “I’m not kidding, okay! There were things about her that were just plain…” Evangeline swallowed hard and looked out the window where rain was still running down the panes.

  “Plain what?” Zeke demanded.

  “Scary. Dark. I don’t know. Vicious or evil or whatever you want to call it.” She glanced around at the table and shrugged. “We all know it. We’re afraid to say it because she went missing and something horrible might have happened to her, but we all know deep inside that there was something very, very wrong with Jessie Brentwood.”

  Becca couldn’t stand it a second longer. Her vision hovered and she needed air. She scraped her chair back, startling Jarrett. “Excuse me.” Quickly, she shoved open the frosted doors and headed through the maze of curtained rooms. It was all too close. Too confining. Too…malicious. She walked toward the restrooms, then changed her mind and headed for the front doors, where she stepped out into the cool of the night. The rain had slowed to a thin drizzle and the wind had died, but the air was thick, mist rising off the parking lot. She glanced to a line of parked cars where fir and oak trees defined the edge of the lot. Rain beaded on the hoods, and windshields reflected light from the security lamps blazing overhead. Traffic hummed past and the sound of jazz, muted though it was, filtered into the night.

  Becca walked along the front of the building, letting the cold February air clear her head, telling herself that she couldn’t admit to anyone that she’d seen Jessie in a vision; they’d all think she’d gone around the bend. But the vibes she’d picked up in that room had all but stifled her. And the body, found at St. Elizabeth’s. Had Jessie really been killed and buried, right there? Laid to rest in a shallow, horrid grave at the base of the statue? But who would kill her? And why? She rubbed her arms and glanced around the parking lot again. A woman in a long raincoat was walking quickly through the sparse cars, skirting puddles. A slim woman with light brown hair falling from her face, just the way Jessie’s had in the vision.

  Becca’s breath stopped in her lungs. Her pulse quickened. It couldn’t be. And yet…

  Jessie?

  At that moment, the woman turned to face her, and even in the poorly lit lot, it was evident she was not the girl Becca had witnessed in her vision. There was some resemblance, yes, but this woman, now clicking the remote to unlock her car, definitely was not Jezebel Brentwood.

  You’re cracking up, Becca.

  Seeing ghosts.

  If Jessie’s really dead, if the body in the maze is, in fact, Jessie’s…

  The door behind her opened and she turned, half expecting Hudson to step outside, but she was disappointed when Mitch Bellotti, unlit cigarette crammed into the corner of his mouth, lighter in hand, walked up to her. “Freaky in there, isn’t it?” he said, flicking his lighter and bending into the flame. He drew deeply on his filter tip.

  “Yep.” The door swung shut.

  He shot a stream of smoke out of the side of his mouth and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to withdraw a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboros. “Want one?”

  “No, thanks.” She shook her head and the pack disappeared. “I just needed a break.”

  “You and me both.” He hitched his chin toward one wing of the restaurant. “I gotta say, all this talk about Jessie and if she’s alive or dead. Buried up at the school, rotting…oh, hell…It’s kinda sick.” He took another long drag and shook his head as he looked at the road where traffic, now thinning, was moving slowly. “I don’t need this.”

  Becca made a sound of agreement.

  The door opened again, conversation and music flowing into the night. Becca glanced over her shoulder and this time it was Hudson, his expression grim, walking outside. “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah. Well…sort of.” She shook her head. “This whole thing is so bizarre. It just kind of got to me.”

  Mitch was nodding as he squinted through the smoke curling from his cigarette. On the arterial, an impatient driver of a sports car honked at a minivan still idling at the intersection though the light had turned green. “So, Renee’s bent on getting her story, huh.”

  Hudson nodded. “I’d like to know if those bones are Jessie’s.”

  “Yeah. Well. I guess.” Mitch shrugged.

  Hudson’s gaze found Becca’s. “Coming?”

  She nodded and walked through the door he held open.

  “I’ll be there in a sec,�
� Mitch said, but was cut off by the door closing with a soft thud.

  And then Becca and Hudson were alone in the foyer. No customers were crowded, waiting in line, and even the hostess had left the podium. From behind the curtains there were a few whispers of conversation underscored by the ever-present canned music wafting through the darkened restaurant.

  “Helluva way to meet again,” he offered and his smile had an edge to it, a sarcasm deeper than she remembered. “You want to leave?”

  “Now?”

  “Mmm.”

  “With you?”

  He lifted a shoulder.

  It sounded interesting, but she knew better. Had been burned before. Hudson Walker was one man she couldn’t trust. And then there was the matter of Jessie. “I thought you said we should get through this.”

  He grinned faintly, some of the darkness fading from his expression. “Maybe I was just trying to ditch Mitch.”

  “Yeah?” Do not be charmed by him. Do NOT! Remember how he left you. Remember that he never quit loving Jessie. Remember that even now, Jessie exists. Will always be there.

  “I think I should stay and hear Renee out,” she said, refusing to be tempted by Hudson. “It is weird…those bones…”

  Hudson inclined his head and she started walking toward the doors to the private dining room. Time to step back into the fray. As she reached the door, she called over her shoulder, “Come on, Walker. Let’s just get this over with.”

  But he was already on her heels and grabbed the door handle, his big hand covering hers, strong fingers curling around the lever. “Let’s hope Renee isn’t going to be as long-winded as I think she is,” he said, opening the door for them both.

  First Becca, Renee thought.

  Then Mitch.

  And finally, so predictably, Hudson.

  Three people had left the room. Didn’t want to hear anything about Jessie.

  Renee had been watching. Making mental notes. Something was up with Becca, and in Renee’s opinion, the girl had always been odd, just a little out of step. Even twenty years ago, Rebecca Ryan had hung out with their crowd when she’d been a year younger, the only freshman allowed to run with the sophomores. There hadn’t been any rules, of course, just an unwritten code. Renee had thought it was because the goose had been hopelessly in love with Hudson and had manipulated her way into the group, a prediction that had panned out a year out of high school when Hudson had returned from college and Jessie Brentwood was long gone.

  Becca and Hudson had hooked up, been joined at the hip for a while. Renee had seen them from her bedroom window, rolling around naked and groping, flashes of their lovemaking visible through the long, shifting branches of the willow tree.

  It had been strange, even desperate, Renee had thought, because her brother, whether he admitted it or not, had never gotten over Jessie Brentwood.

  Jessie. Renee glanced over her shoulder uncomfortably. She couldn’t help herself. The secrets she’d learned recently had made her realize she was onto a hell of a story, but she was also plagued by bad feelings that had no substance.

  Now Renee wasn’t as sure as she’d once been that Jessie Brentwood had just run away. Maybe she had met with tragedy. Wasn’t that what the strange old lady at the coast had suggested? That Jessie had been marked for death, and that just following her trail marked Renee as well?

  Renee had thought the woman was just another nutcase until the bones at St. Lizzie’s had suddenly surfaced. Now she wasn’t sure what was going on. And though it was weird to say, she wanted the help of her friends, those closest to Jessie, to keep her on track and resistant to these strange feelings of…well…fear. A part of her even wanted to give up the story entirely, which was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to let anything scare her off.

  But…she was spooked. No question about it. And if she was “marked for death” by God, she was going to find out who and why and wherefore. And her friends were going to help her.

  Chapter Five

  Renee was about to go after the missing trio herself when Hudson and Becca came in together. Figured. And then Mitch flew in behind them, smelling of cigarettes. She opened her mouth to continue but Tamara spoke first.

  “Maybe we should go around the table, tell something we remember about Jessie,” Tamara suggested. Zeke groaned, but she ignored him. “Renee can write her piece and we can all put in a little something. Renee’s right. We’ve all been carrying this around way too long. I’m all about closure. Becca, you go first.”

  Becca, taking her chair next to Jarrett, half choked. “I didn’t even know her that well.”

  “Didn’t you?” Renee asked.

  Evangeline cut her off. “I’ll start. Since you all think Jessie was supposed to be my best friend.”

  “Your evil best friend,” The Third reminded her.

  “Jessie had a lot of problems,” she said tartly.

  The Third snorted. “Aside from the dark-side thing, what kind of problems?”

  “Enough,” Zeke said, catching The Third’s eyes. “Let her talk.”

  Evangeline linked her fingers more tightly through Zeke’s. “There were problems at home. Big problems that she wouldn’t really talk about, and she…she lived a weird fantasy life, too.”

  “It wasn’t that weird,” Renee disagreed.

  “She thought all the guys wanted to screw her, okay?” Evangeline’s gaze skated to each of the men at the table. “She was obsessed with it. Flirting and playing up to the guys, teasing them. You all know.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Mitch said somewhat uncomfortably.

  Evangeline glared at Mitch. “It was all a long time ago, but that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Anyway, that’s what I remember about Jessie. You can make it all hearts and flowers and gee, poor Jessie if you want to, but the truth of the matter was, Jessie wasn’t very nice.”

  Becca gazed thoughtfully at Vangie. She remembered a whisper of a rumor that Zeke had been fascinated with Jessie and had been seeing her behind his best friend Hudson’s back. Becca had dismissed the rumor then, as she did now, as the product of Evangeline’s own obsession with Zeke.

  “What do you think, Walker?” The Third needled. “Your girlfriend want all of us?”

  “Shut up,” Hudson said, irritated.

  “She was Walker’s girl, we all know that.” Zeke was positive.

  Tamara twisted one of her bracelets. “High school was so long ago. A lifetime, but I remember thinking that you, Hudson…” She looked into Hudson’s eyes. “You and Jessie were the perfect couple. I’d see you hanging out at the lockers, so into each other.”

  “Well…no…we were high school kids, like you said. What did we know about anything?”

  She flashed a bit of a smile, touched with nostalgia, and Becca realized that Tamara had gone through the pains of a high school crush on Hudson. Well, join the club. Half the girls in the class had admitted to a “thing” for him, and hadn’t he been voted the boy with whom most girls would want to be stranded on a deserted isle? The same had been true of Jessie. All the boys had wanted her, and she’d played right into it. Only Evangeline had been true to Zeke; the rest of the girls had been hot for Hudson. Renee knew it, too. She’d been at the top of the class academically and a lot of her friends were girls who’d wanted to be close to her, to Hudson’s twin, just so they could get close to him. Renee had been onto them, though, and had never really played along.

  “You know what I remember?” Mitch said suddenly. “How Jessie was always saying those things. Those little quotes, or something. Remember? Always had a piece of a song, or something.”

  “She always pointed out your faults, one way or another,” Evangeline agreed.

  “Glad you weren’t my best friend,” Glenn muttered with a grimace.

  “Yeah, what did she do to you?” Mitch asked.

  Evangeline tossed her blond bob. “None of you really knew her, so don’t judge me. Jessie was popular. And she kind of liked to make me feel bad,
just to make herself feel better. High school, you know…you get older and you realize how godawful it was.”

  “They weren’t quotes. They were nursery rhymes,” Glenn said with a nod, as the tumblers clicked.

  Mitch nodded eagerly. “That’s right! She was always kind of singing them. Singsonging. She said ’em to us guys. Her little joke or something. One of her favorites was about boys.”

  “Oh, God…” Evangeline rolled her eyes.

  “I forgot about that,” The Third said with a frown.

  “Nursery rhymes?” Renee repeated, clearly skeptical. “I don’t remember that about her.”

  “Me neither,” Becca said.

  “It was all flirty Jessie bullshit, anyway.” Jarrett looked impatient. “That naughty boy stuff. We just said she came on to every guy at this table.”

  Evangeline’s jaw set and her fingers clasped Zeke’s in a death grip.

  Hudson exhaled and looked as if he’d rather be anywhere than in this room with his so-called friends. “The way I remember it, a lot of you guys came on to her. Perception. Hard to know who’s scamming who sometimes.”

  “Oh, come on, Walker.” The Third was pissed, his face flushed, his eyes bright with challenge. “It had to be killing you, the way she acted. That the reason you had that fight? Because of us?”

  “Yeah,” Hudson said with a cynical smile. “It’s all about you, Delacroix.”

  “What the fuck was it about, then?”

  Hudson grimaced. “I don’t know. She picked the fight with me. I told the cops—McNally—the same thing then. Jessie was edgy and distracted, and she wanted to fight. You all heard most of it. When we went to my place, it was more of the same.”

  “She thought there was another girl in your life,” Tamara guessed.

  “She was sixteen,” Hudson said. “She thought a lot of things.”

  “Maybe there was someone else?” Evangeline suggested.

  “McNally thought you might have killed her,” Scott reminded Hudson. He grabbed a bottle of red wine and Becca watched the liquid fill his glass, glinting bloodlike under the hanging lights. “Wasn’t his theory that you killed her after you found out she was sleeping with…someone else?”