Wicked Game

by Lisa Jackson

  “Becca? It’s Renee.”

  “Oh, hey.” She sat up straighter. Did Renee know about her night with Hudson? It had been just a few days since they’d tumbled together in his bed. Since that time they’d been on the phone several times a day. It was thrilling. Unbelievable.

  “I’ve just been feeling so weird about all of this, I guess,” Renee was saying, echoing Becca’s own thoughts. “About Jessie and those bones and all. I just wish we’d find out once and for all if the body belonged to Jessie.”

  “I know.” She thought about the presence she’d felt in the maze and wondered if she should tell Renee. At the time the pure, unfiltered evil had seemed all too real. Even now, goose bumps raised on her arms and she looked hurriedly over her shoulder.

  “Have you heard that McNally—the cop that was so into Jessie’s disappearance years ago—has been interviewing the guys?” Renee asked, her voice sounding edgier than usual. “He stopped by Blue Note to talk to Glenn and Scott, then called The Third at his office downtown. McNally already left a message on my phone. I called back but missed him.”

  Becca’s fingers tightened over her cell. “Then they know it’s Jessie,” she said. “DNA must’ve come back or some other proof that the body is hers.”

  “That’s what I think, too. God…it’s hard to believe.” She paused for a second, then said, “I thought maybe we should get together again.”

  “All of us?”

  “The girls. Actually, I’m already meeting Vangie and Tamara at Java Man after work. Around seven.”

  Another meeting? For what? Because the police were sniffing around? So what? It almost sounded as if Renee wanted them all to get their stories straight, which was ridiculous. No one had anything to hide.

  Right?

  “What about Hudson…and Zeke?” Becca asked. “Did they get a call from the police?”

  “Not that I’ve heard, but I haven’t talked to Hudson in a few days and Vangie didn’t say anything about Zeke when I called her. I think she would have. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if they have or not. They’ve got to be on the list. I’m sure we all are.”

  “List? As in suspects?”

  “Or persons of interest, whatever you want to call it. So, about tonight…can you make it?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Becca hung up, then clicked off her computer. She double-checked all the doors and windows, then changed into a red cowl-necked sweater and added some lip gloss. Glancing at her watch, she turned on the news, wasting another half hour before she headed out. There was talk about discovery of an unidentified woman’s body, and Becca zeroed in on the newscaster. But it appeared to be that this particular body had been thrown from her car following an accident. Nothing to do with Jessie Brentwood.

  “Of course not,” she said aloud, annoyed with herself. She grabbed her raincoat and bundled herself inside. There were other accidents and crimes out there. The world was huge. Just because her group of friends was affected by the remains found in the maze didn’t mean the discovery wasn’t already yesterday’s news. Maybe they would never know the identity of the bones for sure. Maybe this limbo they’d been living would continue just as it was.

  With a sigh, she sent up a silent prayer for resolution.

  Chapter Twelve

  Becca drove to Java Man with one eye on the rearview mirror, but none of the cars behind her seemed to have any interest in following her. Once parked, she flipped up the hood of her jacket, and hurrying through the rain, she caught sight of her friends through the window. Tamara’s red curls burned under Java Man’s lights. Evangeline’s blond paleness was even more ashen; she looked washed out to the point of illness. And Renee’s face was pinched, her dark hair untidy, as if she’d been running her hands through her brunette strands over and over again.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Becca greeted them all, shaking excess water onto a mat by the door. “I was all set, wasting time actually, then suddenly I’m behind.”

  “We ordered you a decaf latte. That all right?” Renee asked, indicating a steaming, foaming cup.

  “Works for me.”

  “Coffee first, then wine,” Tamara said.

  Becca slid into the empty seat next to Renee, which left her across from Evangeline and catty-corner from Tamara. Everyone was more sober now, more careful than they had been at Blue Note, as if a current of tension was making them cautious. And Renee looked as if she’d dropped five pounds in less than a week.

  “So, what’s up?” Becca asked, sipping her latte.

  The corners of Renee’s mouth turned downward as she twirled her cup around and around again. “I think something’s going on. Something more than what we’re seeing.” She was picking her words carefully, as if afraid to panic them. “And I think we’re all in danger at some level.”

  “Danger?” Evangeline drew back as if repelled.

  “What kind of danger?” Tamara asked.

  “Yeah, what kind of danger?” Evangeline tried to play it off like she thought Renee was overreacting, but her shoulders were hunched and her eyes practically swallowed her whole face.

  “The same danger that killed Jessie.” Renee’s gaze swung to Evangeline. “She was damn near precognitive sometimes. Twenty years ago she knew she was in trouble and she tried to run, but she didn’t get away. She died in the maze. Someone killed her.”

  “We don’t know it’s her,” Evangeline stated.

  “It’s her.” Renee was positive. “Jessie had a sense of danger coming. ‘Trouble,’ she said. And I guess I feel it, too. Trouble.”

  “So you’re precognitive as well.” Again, Evangeline tried to sneer at Renee’s worries, but she just succeeded in sounding more frightened.

  “Is this from the Tarot reading?” Tamara asked Renee. Her brows were knit in concern. “Because you have to look at the cards as a guide. You can’t take them so specifically.”

  Renee made a disparaging sound. “No. This isn’t about my Tarot reading, although I was at the beach and met this old woman—a psychic who gave me a creepy feeling.”

  “Why? What did she say?” Tamara asked.

  “She said we were…I was…I don’t know…”

  “What?” Tamara insisted.

  “Marked for death. You like that? She was nuts. The whole town knows it, but I wanted to ask about Jessie.” She shook her head. “It’s so silly I can’t believe it now. She spooked me.”

  “Jessie?” Tamara questioned carefully.

  “No. Look, I know you think she’s still alive, Tamara, but she’s gone. Even Madame Madeline said she was dead. It just feels like…whatever she was afraid of might still be a threat. I don’t know. I was doing some research, going through some of Jessie’s last days, thinking about all the things she said. Something happened to her, or she learned something, that made her decide to run. You know it, Vangie. You were her best friend. She must have told you.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” Evangeline demanded. “I was not her best friend.”

  “You can’t rewrite history,” Renee snapped. “You and Jessie were best friends. I was in there, too. Tamara and Becca were good friends, and Tamara brought Becca into the group. That’s the way it was. Those are the dynamics. Sorry. It’s just fact.”

  Evangeline’s mouth trembled slightly. “We weren’t best friends,” she insisted. “We were pretty good friends. But I don’t remember her being ‘precognitive.’ Maybe she said something that scared us once or twice when it came true, but that was it.”

  “Fine.” Renee sighed. “Have it your way. But you do remember Jessie telling us she was in danger.”

  “I…don’t think so.” Vangie lifted a shoulder.

  “Why don’t you want to go back there? What scares you so badly?”

  “Back where?” Evangeline asked.

  “To the past.” Renee didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. “To the fact that something was after Jessie. She tried to make light of it, but she said things that now…when I think
of them with the benefit of hindsight, they make more sense.” Renee raked her hands through her hair and tugged on the ends.

  Becca thought of her vision of Jessie with one finger over her lips.

  “She said she wasn’t safe,” Renee said.

  Tamara shook her head. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Okay, forget it. I’m trying to explain something I can’t explain. I feel…like I’m in danger, sometimes. That’s all. And it really started when I began looking into Jessie’s past.”

  “I’ve had a weird feeling. Like I was being followed,” Becca confessed.

  “You, too?” Tamara gazed from Becca to Renee and back again.

  “Maybe it’s the cops,” Evangeline ventured.

  Renee assured her tautly, “It’s not the police.”

  “I never thought you’d be the kind to take a warning from the Tarot so literally,” Tamara said.

  “I told you, it’s not the Tarot,” Renee said with extreme patience, her voice lowering. “You know I’ve been investigating, trying to dig up an angle for my story on Jessie, but…” She heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from her gut, then pressed her palms to her cheeks. “You’re not listening. None of you are listening. And I don’t know how to get you to.”

  “We don’t know what the hell you’re saying,” Evangeline said tartly but her face was gaunt, her eyes wide. She hadn’t missed the emotion, regardless of what she said.

  “Okay, so I’m warning you. Me. Us. If anything weird happens, let the rest of us know right away,” Renee went on doggedly. “Maybe we can—avoid it—if we work together. If we watch each other’s backs.”

  Watch your back, Becca… Jessie’s last words to her reverberated through her mind.

  Tamara snorted, but Renee forged on, again rotating her nearly full cup on the table. “It’s like stirring up Jessie’s bones has awakened it.”

  “Okay…It?” This time Evangeline’s tone had a hefty amount of disparagement, as if Renee were out of her mind. “Now you sound melodramatic.”

  “God, Renee,” Tamara murmured. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s…just what you’re feeling. Real to you, yeah, but come on. Whatever you’re going through…with Tim or with your work, it’s affecting your judgment. This isn’t like you. There are no demonic forces coming after us.”

  “I didn’t say demonic.”

  “You said stirring up Jessie’s bones awakened it,” Tamara reminded her, picking up her purse and grabbing her coat. “Close enough.”

  “I hope Jessie’s dead,” Evangeline said suddenly.

  Renee frowned at her, then turned to Becca. “She is dead. You think so, too, right?”

  Tamara hesitated, her shoulder bag over her arm, but she was half turned toward their table, waiting for Becca’s answer. In fact, they were all staring at her. Becca said, “It all gets back to, if those bones aren’t Jessie’s, then whose are they?”

  “That’s a good question,” Renee said.

  “It’s been twenty fucking years,” Tamara snapped. “I don’t know what you expect us to say to you, Renee. You’re, like…falling apart. And you’re the smart one! You’re really starting to scare me.” She shot Becca another look. “You look scared, too.”

  “It’s…disturbing,” Becca said. “I don’t know what happened to Jessie, but the police’ll figure it out.”

  “What if something happens to us before they do?” Renee asked.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Evangeline said, her voice an unconvincing whisper.

  “I have to run.” Tamara, with a wave of her hand, headed out the door, leaving a swoosh of cold air in her wake that sent a little shudder up Becca’s spine.

  Renee stared at Evangeline, who gazed back almost defiantly. “Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Vangie repeated as the door slammed shut.

  Renee turned to Becca. “Be careful,” she said, then picked up her purse and coat as well.

  “I’m a part of this investigation,” Gretchen Sandler stated flatly, her palms spread on Mac’s desk as she stood in front of him. “Your latest after-hours attempt to get me out of the picture is…at the very least, amateurish.”

  It was dark, but then it felt like it was always dark this time of year. Mac knew his partner was pissed at him and didn’t much care. She, like many before her, would hang around for a couple of months, maybe even years, but soon enough she would get one foot on his back and another on the next rung to success and catapult herself forward. He was more interested in when the autopsy report and DNA would land on his desk, and if an artist could do facial reconstruction on her skull if there was no DNA match. Twenty years ago, DNA was in its infancy as far as law enforcement went, but it was available, and there were hair samples from a brush of Jessie’s follicles intact, that were being tested.

  He knew in his gut the girl found in the maze was Jessie, and her parents suspected it, too. They might not want to talk to him, but he’d heard the weary acceptance in their voices nevertheless.

  Mac still felt his partner’s presence at his desk. “D’Annibal ask you to keep an eye on me?” Mac didn’t glance up as he reread his notes on Jarrett Erikson. The guy was the slip-periest eel in the barrel and the least forthcoming. What a bastard.

  “I—am—your—partner.”

  “Could you say that a little slower? I’m not quite catching it.”

  “You can be as big an asshole as you want. I’m still part of this investigation.”

  Mac gazed into her sharp blue eyes, then leaned back in his chair. No point in a stare-down. “Okay, so I’ve talked to most of the guys of the group.”

  “I need to be with you when you interview anyone else. You need another perspective.”

  “You have been talking to D’Annibal. Perspective. That’s one of his favorites.”

  She moved sharply and Mac automatically flinched. He’d been around enough perps to sense a threat in a hairsbreadth. But Gretchen just twisted like a robot, then stormed away to her own desk, which was behind his and halfway across the room. She’d been seated closer to him once, but it had left her away from the rise and fall of gossip that other detectives and cops engaged in. She might be universally disliked, but she was going to be in the center of the action, by God. Hanging out with a has-been like Mac wasn’t going to cut it.

  He gazed down at his list. There were checkmarks and notations beside the names of the Preppy Pricks he’d already re-interviewed. Nothing much had come from those meetings other than a feeling that they all universally disliked him and that they were reluctant to give anything away. He probably deserved that. He’d pretty much squeezed them through the wringer back in the day.

  The only ones he hadn’t met with yet were Hudson Walker and Zeke St. John. He hadn’t started on the girls—women—of the group yet. He hadn’t learned much from them twenty years earlier and he didn’t expect to learn much now, but you never knew. He paused over each of their names.

  Tamara…Renee…Evangeline…Rebecca.

  He circled Rebecca’s name, feeling something stir in his memory about that one. She was different. A bit of an odd duck. But there was just something about her, something he couldn’t quite remember. She wasn’t Jessie’s closest friend, but she seemed the most like her in ways he couldn’t quite analyze. “What is it you know?” he said aloud, staring at the old picture.

  “What?” Gretchen called from the other side of the room, as if he were addressing her.

  “Nothing.”

  “Damn you, McNally. Don’t leave me out.”

  As usual, Mac didn’t respond.

  Becca had driven about two miles from Java Man when her cell phone jangled and she saw Hudson’s number on the screen.

  “Hey, there,” she greeted him warmly. “I heard the police have started calling.”

  Hudson made a sound of annoyance. “Bound to happen. McNally called me and we talked on the phone, but he still wants to interview me in person. That’s probably in the cards.”


  Becca thought of Renee and the investigation that had led her to the coast. “I suppose we’ll all have to talk to him.”

  “When can I see you?” he asked.

  “I just happen to be free right now,” she said and smiled as she turned on her blinker and slid into the slower lane.

  “Can I talk you into pizza at my place?”

  “You just did. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  She clicked off, a grin on her face, and turned west onto the Sunset Highway to Laurelton. Traffic was thick through Beaverton and out to Hillsboro, but by the time she cruised into the area known as Laurelton, it had thinned to nearly nothing. She headed toward Hudson’s and when she turned down the gravel drive she was met by welcoming lights. She hurried up the steps and rang the bell.

  Hudson called, “It’s open,” and Becca pushed the front door handle and entered. Leaving her coat on the hall tree, she walked toward the kitchen where the smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and onions beckoned.

  “Hi,” he said, a slow grin stretching into place. Hudson was also in jeans, and he had on a chocolate corduroy shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. They stared at each other a moment, then were in each other’s arms. She started laughing and couldn’t stop and he grinned at her.

  Then he suddenly bent her over his arm so that her hair was almost sweeping the floor and he pressed his lips hard and hot against hers. She clung to him for fear she might fall backward, but opened her mouth when his tongue slipped between her teeth and the deepest part of her started to tingle.

  She let out a low moan and he lifted his head. “Missed you,” he said.

  “Missed you, right back.”

  “Pizza can wait,” he said, blue eyes intense.

  “Yes…” Becca murmured as he swept her off her feet and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them as they fell together on the bed.

  There wasn’t much more conversation after that. They yanked at buttons, flies, and zippers, and once the clothes were tossed aside, came together hot and fast. Hudson kissed her in all the places that made her go crazy, touching her intimately, sometimes gently, other times a little more rough, and she returned the favor, surprising him by exploring his body with her fingers and lips.