by L A Cotton
V’s admission had me pinned to the chair. Her insightfulness never failed to shock me, but she made it sound like I’d already lost Jackson. And I hadn’t, had I? We were in a better place recently. I didn’t doubt there were still things he was sheltering me from, but if there was, there was a reason. I had to trust him.
We finished our coffee and chatted about safer topics like my classes, Elena, and our plans for the holidays. Twenty minutes passed and footsteps sounded down the hallway. Jackson appeared in the doorway. He smiled at us and went to get a drink from the counter, but I didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes. The way his shoulders tensed. Whatever had passed between him and Otis wasn’t good. I watched him, willing him to turn around and reassure me that he was okay. But he remained hunched over the sink, hands gripping the edge. V’s eyes flickered to mine, and I shrugged slightly, unsure of what to do. Before I could make a decision, Otis shuffled into the room.
“V, get me some of that cake. This old man needs to eat,” his voice rasped.
Otis sat in the chair next to me, and I smiled at him. “How are you feeling, Otis?”
“I’ll be better when they get this damn cancer out of me.”
I eyed Jackson out of the corner of my eye. His whole body flinched at Otis’ words.
“Don’t be talking like that, Otis Maurice Black.” V scolded her husband before placing a huge slab of cake in front of him.
“It’s the truth, woman. Ain’t no use in pretending it’s anything else. Ana, pass me that fork.”
I slid the fork across to him. Jackson joined us, sitting on my right next to V. The three of us watched Otis eat his cake. Jackson seemed lighter now, more collected, but I’d seen the look on his face when he’d first entered the room. Sensing me watching him, he glanced up, his eyes connecting with mine. Emotion shined brightly in green pools. Love, sorrow, pain, guilt. And something I couldn’t quite decipher. I saw it all. And V’s words lingered in my mind.
He’s sunk his claws in so far I worry we might lose our boy one day.
We stayed with the Blacks all day. After Otis had gorged himself on cake, the three of us watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while he slept upright in his chair. Now Jackson and I were almost back at Chastity Falls.
“It’s good that he’s getting the treatment, right?”
Jackson nodded. “Of course, it is. I just hope it isn’t too late.”
“They’d know, right? The doctors. If it’s too late, there would be no point.”
“I guess.” Jackson’s eyes remained focused on the dark road ahead of us. The moonlight shimmered on the tips of the fir trees creating an ethereal glow.
“What did he say to you? When you were alone?”
“Not a lot.” Jackson’s hand gripped the wheel, the blood draining from his knuckles.
“He must have said something.”
“Leave it, Ana.”
I sunk back into the seat, turning my head away from him. Jackson was shutting down again, and I fought to hold back the tears brimming just behind my eyes. Lowe Stadium came into view behind the dense forest, and Jackson turned off the main highway down the small road leading to our house.
The second the car stopped, I climbed out and started walking to the door. The car’s remote locking beeped and Jackson’s footsteps sounded behind me, but I kept going. I already had the key in my hand as I reached the door, but before I could fit it into the lock, Jackson’s hand caught mine and swung me around.
“Ana…”
We stood like that, in the darkness of night, staring at each other. Seconds ticked by, counted off by the steady rhythmic beat of my heart. One, two, three… Finally, Jackson broke the silence. “Otis said some things, things that caught me off guard. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have shut you out like out. I just- fuck, I don’t know anything anymore.” He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. Defeated. “I’m trying so hard to keep shit together, but I’m drowning.”
I closed the distance between us, until we were standing toe to toe. Craning my neck up slightly, I looked right into his eyes. “If you drown, then I’ll keep you afloat. Always.”
Jackson gave me no indication that Otis had said anything about our conversation last year, so I wasn’t going to bring it up. But whatever was said had affected Jackson.
Sliding my arms around his waist, I turned my head and pressed my cheek to his chest. Jackson’s heart was pounding so hard I could feel every thud. Strong arms encased me and we stood like that, in the dark, holding on for life.
“Are you nervous?” I asked Jackson as I directed him to Sarah’s house. She’d texted me the address although I could mostly remember the way. Chastity Falls wasn’t exactly the kind of place you easily got lost in.
Jackson shrugged as he took a left. I reached out and laid my hand over his hand as it gripped the stick. “It’s okay to be, you know.”
“I know. To be honest, I don’t really know what I feel. We know he’s to blame. Will whatever Sarah has to tell or show us change things that much?”
We both knew it would. It would cement Jackson’s desire for revenge. He had been reluctant to believe me when I had told him my suspicions. Even though his heart knew I was right, I think his head still wanted to believe that it wasn’t possible. He didn’t want to believe that the man who had raised him as his own could be responsible for his father’s death. If Sarah had the hard proof Jackson was so desperate to see, then I feared it would set him off on a path even I couldn’t save him from.
“That’s it, the one on the corner,” I said as Sarah’s house came into view.
“It’s right on the edge of town.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s her parents’ house. She couldn’t bear to sell.”
Jackson parked the car on the curbside and turned to me. “Whatever happens in there, Ana, know that I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you climb out of that cab. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you are the most important thing in my life. This…” He hesitated, dragging a hand down his jaw. “This is just something I have to do. I have to know the truth and make him pay. One way or another, he’ll pay.”
Panic flooded me, spilling out and drifting into the small space of Jackson’s Audi.
“Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye? We’re in this together remember? I’m right here.”
Jackson leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, and tears rolled down my cheeks. My heart knew something my head wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Come on.” Jackson pulled away and exited the car. I dried my eyes on the back of my sleeves before climbing out of the car.
Jackson came around to me and tugged my hand toward the porch. It was lit up with a lamp and Sarah’s silhouette came into view.
We reached the door just as it opened and Sarah smiled. “Hello, Ana. Jackson. Thank you for coming.”
Jackson tensed beside me, but he managed a nod. We followed Sarah inside. This time she led us to the living room instead of the kitchen. An open fire built into the wall crackled, throwing out a wall of heat. I pulled my hand out of Jackson’s and held them up to warm in front of the flames.
“Nice place,” Jackson said taking a seat on the small couch. I remained in front of the fire for a few more seconds then joined him.
“Thank you. It belonged to my parents. When they died, I couldn’t bear to sell, but it needs some work.”
“If you ever need help, let me know. I’m pretty handy.”
Jackson’s offer of help startled me, but when I looked down at his hands, I noticed they were trembling. He was nervous. I slid my hand into his and squeezed gently. Sarah smiled over at us before saying, “I’ve made some hot chocolate. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I replied for both of us.
Sarah left the room and returned minutes later with a tray of mugs. She handed two to us and kept one for herself.
“So I guess Ana explained things to you?” Sarah said to Jackson.
“She filled me
in.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. I wanted to be absolutely sure before I came to you with this.”
Jackson blew out a frustrated sigh. “With what, Sarah?” He raised his eyebrow, his eyes hardened in her direction.
She shuffled uncomfortably in her chair and then steeled herself and replied, “Proof that Marcus Donohue killed your father.”
The air was sucked from the room and replaced with charged energy. Thick and heavy, it made it hard to breathe.
“I want to see it.”
Sarah shook her head slowly. Deliberately. “Not it, her.”
“Her? You’re telling me the proof is a person?”
“Yes. She saw everything. I tracked her down.”
Jackson rose from the couch, ripping his hand from mine. He started pacing the width of the room, rubbing his head with one of his trembling hands.
Keeping one eye on Jackson’s spiraling mood, I asked Sarah, “What do you mean you tracked her down?”
Sarah glanced over at Jackson, but he was still busy pacing, so she turned back to me and continued. “I grew up in this town. It’s my home. I know the rumors, the stories. I told you how my grandpa was friends with Patrick Donohue. But it wasn’t until I learned about you and Jackson that I started digging into the Donohue’s past.” Noticing the confusion on my face, her eyes softened and her lips tugged up at the corners. “I was worried about you, Ana. Anyway, as you know, the library stocks a small collection of memorabilia and artifacts from the town’s history. A lot of it isn’t that interesting and lives in unopened boxes in the stores. Old newspapers clippings, photos, business deeds—that kind of thing. There’s a whole box of old police reports. I'm not sure how they ended up with me; they were probably marked for destruction.”
Sarah’s eyes flickered back to Jackson. “A lot of them mention Marcus Donohue. Of course, they ended up in boxes and not filed away officially. I found three logs of a woman contacting the station to report something she witnessed out in Garibaldi. Nothing was followed up, but I checked the date and it matched.”
Jackson stopped pacing, his eyes trained on Sarah. She took a deep breath. “I looked her up. She still lives there. It’s the next town over,” she said for my benefit. “I spoke to her, Jackson, and she saw everything. She’s agreed to meet with you.”
“My God.” My voice didn’t sound like my own.
Jackson rushed from the room, and we heard the front door clatter against its wooden frame.
“I’m so sorry, Ana.”
“You can’t tell anyone about this, Sarah. No one. This information is dangerous. Do you understand?”
Her eyes squeezed shut, and she took a deep breath before opening them again. “I know. When I started digging, I didn’t expect this. I don’t even know what I was looking for.”
“Thank you. But you must never utter a word of this again. To no one. Okay? It’s not safe.”
Sarah nodded, fear creasing her eyes. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet. The holidays are coming up—can you go away? Get out of town? This information makes you vulnerable.”
“I have plans to visit my sister once the semester finishes.”
“Good. I’ll try to contact you before next semester starts. Please stay safe, Sarah.” I rose from the couch and stood in front of her. She reached out handing me a small card. “This is Agatha’s address and number. She’s expecting you.”
I nodded and moved toward the door, but Sarah’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Ana, be careful.”
Chapter Twenty
Jackson
Ana found me perched on the car, trying to get a hold of my control. In the last few hours, I'd heard things that made me question everything. I’d been prepared for evidence that it was really Marcus; a letter or report or some other piece of documentation tying him to Dad’s death. I wasn’t prepared for an eyewitness.
And I hadn’t been prepared for Otis to ask me to walk out; to forget about my vendetta against Marcus and leave Chastity Falls. For good. It made no sense, unless the old man was losing his marbles…or keeping things from me. He had watched Dad grow up, knew all about his involvement with the Donohues. It was possible he knew more.
“Are you okay?” Ana approached me slowly, but I opened my arms needing her close.
Wrapping her into me, I replied, “I don’t know. Did you get the woman’s details?”
Ana nodded against my chest, and I added, “I want to go ASAP. Now, if she’ll see us.”
If we didn’t do it right now, then we might not get the chance. Secrets like this wouldn’t stay hidden forever, and now that Sarah knew, there was a chance that others might find out, too. It was a risk I couldn’t afford.
“Jackson, it’s late. Maybe we should wa-”
“No.” I cut Ana off. “It has to be tonight. This changes things.”
There was living proof that Marcus killed my father. When—if—I took this to O’Connor, it could get out and then Sarah and the eyewitness would both be in harm’s way. Collateral damage.
“Fine; here you go.” Ana handed me the card and wrapped her arms around her waist.
I dialed the number written on the card and waited.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Convinced no one was going to answer, I readied myself to hit end, but a quiet voice came over the line. “Hello.”
“Hello, this is Jackson Pierce.”
Shit, words left me. What the fuck was I supposed to say?
I stuttered out, “I’m, hmm, I think you ha-”
“I know who you are. I’ve been expecting your call. You have my address?”
“Yes.”
“Come now.”
The line went dead unlike my heart, which pounded harder than it ever had before.
“So, what did she say?” Ana asked, fear gleaming in her eyes.
“We can go now.”
The drive out to Garibaldi felt like an eternity. My mind conjured up a hundred different possibilities of what the eyewitness might reveal. Nervous energy flowed through me, radiating out of my pores and vibrating on the surface of my skin.
Ana was silent beside me. She hadn’t said much since we left Sarah’s house. I could only imagine what was going through her head. In a way, she’d set off this series of events by alerting me to her suspicions. Although, now, I was beginning to think that this was the path I was destined to walk. A secret as big as this wouldn’t stay hidden forever and I think Marcus knew that deep down, which was why he wanted to bind me to the family forever.
“That’s it, Crescent Street,” Ana said sitting forward in her seat as we reached the edge of the coastal town. Like many towns along Oregon's coast, ocean met forest, and Garibaldi was no exception.
I circled the street and doubled back to park. The house was a small one-story in a quiet neighborhood cloaked under the shadows of the dense firs. In fact, the whole place seemed to be built into the forest’s edge.
“Okay, now what? Do we just walk up to the door and knock?”
Ana shrugged. “I guess so. Is it crazy that I’m terrified?”
Reaching out, I brushed my knuckle over her jaw causing her eyes to flutter shut. “Not crazy, but we’re safe. No one knows we’re out here.”
I hoped.
Ana’s unknown texter had been quiet, but it didn’t mean that someone wasn’t watching us. The thought had me glancing around the dark street. Nothing looked unusual. No cars lingered at the end of the street or people out of place hiding in the shadows.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” I exited the car and went around to the passenger side to help Ana out. She gripped my hand and I could feel the gentle vibrations of her fear transfer from her to me.
Knocking gently on the door, we waited. A light flickered on the other side of the door and then a latch rattled.
“Hello.” An elderly woman with wrinkled skin and frizzy gray hair smi
led up at us. “I’m Agatha. Come in.”
We followed her inside. She didn’t exactly look as I’d expected. Agatha had to be at least sixty-five, possibly older, given the way she hunched over and shuffled. Her face was soft though and welcoming, easing some of the turmoil churning up my stomach.
“Can I get you two coffee? Water? I think I have some juice left.”
“We’re fine, thank you,” Ana answered for the both of us.
Agatha motioned to the bench lining the far wall in the kitchen. “Take a seat. I have to take my meds.”
We took a seat while the woman helped herself to a glass of water. Ana curled herself into my side, and I let myself relax into her close proximity.
“So, you’re one of them?” Agatha locked eyes with mine, and I bristled under her attention. She didn’t look particularly angry, but something in the accusation in her voice and the way she regarded me made me feel uncomfortable.
“Them?”
“The Donohues.”
“My name is Jackson Pierce, ma’am,” I corrected her.
“So, it is true. You’re his son? That lovely woman from the library said it was you, and I suppose I can see the resemblance now that you’re sitting there. It’s the eyes, all in the eyes.” Agatha seemed off in her own bubble, and I glanced down at Ana who was also wearing a look of confusion.
“If you mean am I Michael Pierce’s son, then yes, I am.”
“Was,” she stated and I tensed.
“Mrs., hmm, Mrs.…” Ana interjected.
“Agatha, dear, you can call me Agatha.”
Ana nodded. “Agatha, Sarah said you knew something. Something about the accident that took Michael Pierce’s life?”
Agatha hissed a disgruntled noise through her teeth. “Wasn’t no accident. It was cold blooded murder, and I saw it all.”
The room closed in around us, the air pressing against me, stealing my ability to breathe.
