At the time, she didn’t understand how different it would feel when it was her turn. How everything she’d heard would somehow make a different kind of sense. How she’d feel betrayed, all the same, that nobody had explained to her exactly what would happen. Exactly how it would feel.
How scared she’d be.
“C’mon. Lie down.” Mitch wrapped her up and kissed her forehead.
She went to bed, hoping in the morning the cramping would be gone and everything would be okay. But by two a.m., she knew it wouldn’t be.
“Mitch.” She hit him lightly in the arm and he woke up.
He turned over and saw her. Saw the blood on her nightgown. On the sheets.
“God, Jessie. Oh shit. What do I do?” He sprang out of bed, wearing only his boxers. As she sat, paralyzed, he groped for his jeans. Flipped on the overhead light. In the half-shadows, it hadn’t looked that bad, but in the full halogens, their bed looked like a crime scene.
Jess looked down to the warm pooling sensation between her legs. She’d never seen so much blood.
Mitch grabbed the phone. Dialed and hung up. Dialed and hung up.
“Nine-one-one,” she prompted him weakly. Her belly clenched. The pain was dull and fierce at once. A vice in her lower back. A stabbing in her belly. And the warm gush of blood.
She tried to move toward the bathroom. Save the bed. But as soon as she stood up, the edges of her vision began to darken.
“Don’t move, Jessie.”
He dialed a third time.
“She looks so pale,” she heard him say. “I think she’s passing out. Oh fuck.”
She felt his arm around her, warm, strong as she slipped under. Toward the floor. Face against the carpet.
In the distance, sirens.
And now, as she sat in the kitchen watching the kids get on the bus, sirens. The sound pulled her away from the memory. An ambulance coming down the street.
It turned off. Down the main road, heading to the hospital. Jess made the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer for whomever it carried, then rinsed her coffee mug in the sink and put it in the dishwasher.
It was a brand-new appliance; she’d replaced it last fall. She’d heard that new appliances made a house easier to sell.
She’d take Jil’s advice and call the Realtor, too.
She’d tell the Realtor about Mitch. He’d see a grieving soon-to-be-widow. That would quell the gossip as well. Gossip that only a year ago she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate and now couldn’t care less about.
Let them talk. Yes, she would be a widow. A disabled widow. A disabled lesbian widow.
So fucking what?
Mitch was dying and there would be a Mass. She’d have to see everyone, but somehow that thought was vaguely comforting. Like a battle she could prepare for—get it all done at once. Shake hands with everyone. Greet them with smiles, even if she had to be pushed in a fucking wheelchair up the aisle because she couldn’t make it from the door to the altar.
There was a time when the thought of anyone seeing her stumble would have gored her, but being the pillar of strength had exacted too great a toll and she just felt exhausted. She didn’t care. She almost welcomed the pitying glances because at least if they pitied her they wouldn’t blame her.
All her teachers. All her students. Her community. They would all think the reason she resigned was because her husband had died and her body had given up on her. It was almost too convenient to be allowed. A blessing, a mercy she didn’t deserve.
Mitch—equal parts beard and shield, and even in death, protecting her.
In no way did she deserve that from him, or from God.
Chapter Fifteen
Jil bought an ice cream and walked down to the edge of the harbor. She and Jess had been missing each other all morning and had finally just given up and texted, with half-hour gaps between replies. With luck, they’d be able to connect tonight. It sounded like Jess was having a doozy of a day.
Jil had decided to take a taxi into town and see if she could find out anything about Baz, Tasha’s missing boyfriend.
“Heard he works at the wharf now,” Rebecca had said. “Catching fish or something. Can’t imagine him doing it, with what he’d get paid, but whatever he wants now, I suppose.”
Jil’s phone buzzed again. Another missed call from Jess. What the hell? It hadn’t even rung. She tried dialing back, but it went straight to voice mail.
“On or off!”
She looked up just as the edge of the swing bridge began to move away from the side of the canal. Jil hopped up on the bridge as the warning siren sounded. People ran off either side and jumped onto the docks as the bridge began to detach from the sides. Soon it was swinging into a horizontal position, two motors pushing it to one side of the canal.
“Thought you were gonna go headfirst into the water, staring at that phone.”
A stocky man grinned at her from his post inside the booth that controlled the bridge. She smiled back ruefully, and his dark chocolate face split into a wreath of smiles that showed off his missing front tooth.
“Tourists. Too busy taking pictures to notice the ground is moving.”
She grabbed a railing as the bridge swung out into the middle of the harbor. At the entrance of the canal, huge cargo vessels cruised in.
“Okay, okay,” the man muttered to a small boat speeding too close to the moving bridge. “Wait a minute. We’re getting out of the way. Damn harbor masters.”
“How long does the bridge stay closed for?”
“An hour. Two hours. Depends on how much is coming in. Ferries are starting, though.”
Jil watched as small ferry boats began to jet across the canal in either direction. They darted in front and behind the slow-moving cargo boats, taking two or three trips in between each.
In the distance, she spotted a cruise ship.
“Two big cruise ships today. Four cargo vessels. It’s busy, busy this time of year.”
“What’s coming in?”
“Oh, everything. Everything the island needs to survive. Food, clothing, building supplies. Tourists.” He gave a laugh. “You name it, it comes in through this port.”
“Anything come in that’s not supposed to?”
He guffawed. “See those guys over there?”
Jil followed his finger point. “Yeah.”
“That’s their job. All day, every day. Harbor masters. Jump from one ship to another—the big ones, the small ones—looking for anything and everything. Cocaine, heroin, marijuana, prescription drugs, firearms. You name it, people try to smuggle it.”
“Why here?”
He shrugged again. “Convenient gateway, I guess. Out in the middle of nowhere. Huge ships, lots of places to hide things. Lots of visitors traveling in and out every day.”
Jil nodded.
“What’s the biggest bust you’ve ever heard of?”
He thought. “This year? A case full of protein powder containers. You can guess it didn’t contain protein powder.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. Once heard of a pallet of rifles arriving in a DIY house kit. I could tell you some stories.”
“I’ll bet.”
Another boat sped by, narrowly missing the bridge.
“You’ll wanna slow down, man,” he muttered. “Always in a rush, these ones. In a right mood about something.”
“What is it?”
He shrugged. “Don’t like to repeat gossip, but I hear…I hear, there’s someone moving some hot powder in and out. Not the usual suspects. And the captain of the gendarme is something pissed about it.”
The side of the bridge glided smoothly along the side of the canal, and Jil spotted a ladder that led up to the top.
“This is me,” she said.
The guy grinned. “Going shopping?”
“Why not? Can you tell me where I might find the fish market?”
“Turn left when you get up there, heading toward the wharf. You’ll smell the ocea
n. That’s the fish.”
“Thanks.”
Finishing her ice cream, which was melting fast in the Caribbean sun, Jil sauntered down to the wharf. Boats were anchored in the shallow water, offloading their catch onto the docks. Tables filled with ice lined the wharf, and Jil walked up and down, marveling at all the different species.
“Red snapper, miss?”
“No, thank you.” She kept moving, until she spotted a tall young guy with freckles and blue hair.
Casually, she approached his booth. How many teenagers working the wharf would match this description?
“Hey. Any recommendations for dinner tonight?” she said to him.
He looked up. Barely. “How many people?”
“Just me.”
He grabbed a lobster. Only it wasn’t like any lobster Jil had ever seen. “Can’t beat it.”
He smiled, but it was a surface greeting. Not reaching his eyes by any stretch.
“It’s not what you’ll be expecting from a lobster. It tastes different from the North American kind, but it’s an experience you’ve got to try.”
“Sure. Thanks. You know a lot about fish?”
“Fish, mammals, any sea life really.”
“Ever ridden a dolphin?”
He cracked a smile. “Once or twice. During my old job.”
She paid him for the lobster. “During your work at the aquarium?”
He flinched. “You’re kind of curious, aren’t you?”
“I understand it was your girlfriend who was killed at the sea aquarium.”
He looked down. “Yeah, that’s right.”
She smiled. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
“What are you, the police?”
She shook her head. “No. But I hear the police aren’t exactly on the ball with this investigation.”
Was it her imagination, or had he blushed just then? She decided to cut the crap.
“I’m a PI. I’ve been hired to look into this case. I would think you’d be happy to know someone’s examining it more closely.”
“Look, I’m busy right now. I loved my job and I loved my girlfriend, but I want to put it behind me now. The police have shut the case and I need to get on with my life. Okay?”
“You aren’t curious to know what really happened?”
“I know what really happened. Tasha went somewhere she wasn’t supposed to and she paid the price. She’s gone and that’s it. I have nothing more to say.”
She decided to try a different tack. “I hear you were supposed to be on a date the night she was killed.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and she tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“Yeah, that’s right. She told me to pick her up at the aquarium. Said she had something to take care of after hours—that she would explain when I picked her up.”
“Did it have something to do with the poisoned fish she found?”
Baz looked up. “How do you know about that?”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t know. She didn’t say. I told her maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be sneaking around after hours.”
“Why?” Jil interrupted.
“Well, just, you know…” Baz stammered.
“No, I don’t know. If I wanted to go into my work place after hours, I wouldn’t expect to come to any harm, so why did you warn your girlfriend about doing that?”
He blushed red. “It’s just, you know. There are animals there. It’s a different scene at night when the lights are off and the shows aren’t on. When it’s just you and an orca, or you and a pod of dolphins. They’re wild animals, miss. You know?”
Jil nodded. She’d seen what a pissed-off whale could do. “Yeah.”
“Anyway,” Baz turned to sling some more fish onto the cutting board, “I’m busy now, okay? I’ve got to get back to work. My mother’s already pissed off enough that I quit the aquarium. Can’t afford to get fired from this job too. She’d have the entire gendarme after me.”
“Why?” Jil asked.
Baz smiled weakly. “Captain’s privilege.”
Jil stared at him. Now she saw the resemblance. Baz’s hair was longer than his mother’s, but he had her build: petite and fluid, with nut brown skin and a straight nose.
“Your mother’s the captain of the gendarme?”
He rolled his eyes. “Try getting into any trouble at all as a kid.”
She smiled tightly. “Sure. I get it. But if there’s ever anything you want to discuss, feel free to give me a call.” She handed over her business card and left with her lobster.
Damn.
When she looked up, she saw a flash of blue hair heading toward the taxi stand. She frowned. Quickly, she turned around and followed him, keeping three or four people between them. Maybe he was chatting to a friend.
Baz leaned into the window of a cab, and Jil ducked behind a restaurant sign, pretending to scroll through her phone as she watched. Unpleasant looking guy. Older, rough. They didn’t smile at all. Not friends then.
Baz handed over something and the guy reached into his pocket and gave Baz a sack, almost like a pencil case.
Baz shoved it in his pocket and walked away.
Jil put her phone into her pocket, ninety percent sure she’d just witnessed an illegal transaction.
Chapter Sixteen
Jess drove around the side of the school to the teachers’ parking lot, observing that her spot was filled with a black Lexus. Instead, she took a spot in the main lot.
Not the accessible slot. She couldn’t stand that at her own school.
The door was heavy, almost too heavy, and the familiar scent of cafeteria food, sweat, and wood shavings hit her the second she opened the door. It hurt her stomach physically, being in that building.
She should have met him at the school board office. Why did it have to be here?
She walked into the atrium.
“Hat,” she said automatically.
A student took off his baseball cap and stuffed it in his backpack.
“Hi, Miss. Are you back?”
She looked at the two senior girls. They wore gym suits. One carried a basketball. She wondered if the team was on track for championships.
“No,” she replied. She smiled but didn’t fill in the blanks. Not yet. Soon. Never, actually.
I’m meeting with the superintendent right now to resign.
Resign.
The meeting lasted five minutes.
“My husband is dying. My illness is getting worse. This job is just too stressful.”
Words that had sat in her mind like shards of glass, piercing her thoughts, her heart—words she never thought she’d have to say—she used to cut the cord that had been strangling her for the past year.
She handed in her notice. She walked away.
Then she got in her car and drove to the hospital.
The day was interminable. And driving home that night, alone, she wished more than anything that Jil were waiting for her.
Hours later, Jess’s tablet finally rang.
She hit Accept and Jil’s face swam into view.
“How are you?” Jil asked immediately.
Jess shrugged. “Pretty good for a liar.”
“It’s not exactly a lie, Jess.” Jil’s voice made Jess want to crawl through the screen and into her arms. “You are leaving for health reasons. Emotionally, you’re exhausted. Physically, you’re a train wreck. What exactly did you expect to be able to sustain before caving? And when would you let yourself? Never.”
Jess pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and picked up her glass of Carnivor. The wine warmed her insides and helped dull the ache in her joints.
“Well, now,” she returned. “Now I don’t have a choice.”
“No, you don’t. Your body is saying enough and your heart needs a rest. So rest.”
“I am resting.”
She looked past Jil’s face at the view from her balcony, the gr
een margarita in her hand and the sun going down over the ocean. A million miles away.
“I mean the internal dialogue.”
“That, I can’t seem to turn off.”
Jil exhaled and something clinked, like ice in a glass. “What is it? Tell me the problem.”
“I feel like an imposter. Like I’m getting sympathy I don’t deserve.”
“Because you fell in love with a woman?”
Jess felt tears welling up in her eyes, hot and thick in her throat. “Twice,” she whispered.
“More the second time, though, right?” Jil said. Something about the way she said it made Jess pause. Like she didn’t quite believe it.
“Yeah,” she said seriously. “A lot more the second time.”
“You deserve to be loved, Jess. And to have someone make love to you the way I want to make love to you right now.”
Jess closed her eyes as the memory of Jil’s hands on her body made her heart race. “I do like that,” she said.
“I know.”
“It might even be worth eternal damnation.”
Jil whispered, “I don’t believe in that.”
“I know.”
“There’s enough hell on earth, Jess. Nobody’s waiting to punish us for loving each other and doing our best in this life.”
Jess let the tears fall down her face. Tonight everything was just too heavy, and she wanted to sink into a bath in the dark and let it all wash over her head.
“Remember the lavender salts. It’ll help you sleep,” Jil said.
She laughed softly at the way Jil could read her mind sometimes. “Good night. I love you,” she said.
“Same here, babe. See you soon.”
Jess sat on the side of the tub, waiting for it to fill, but the memories kept coming, hot and fast, like tears she’d rather not shed. The water filled, she added lavender and watched the mini bomb break apart, pieces floating to the surface before dissolving.
Invalid Evidence Page 9
