Ominous Island

by Rachel Woods

  “I always thought Nobody was an appropriate name,” Noelle had said. “Back then, I felt like a nobody going nowhere and with nothing to show for my life.”

  The PC-5 had made her feel like somebody, she’d explained to Beanie. The gang tricked her into thinking she was tough and badass, confident and independent. Soon, the PC-5 had bigger plans for her. Her talents were wasted as a thief, according to her faction leader had claimed.

  “What were these bigger plans?” Beanie had asked.

  Noelle had hesitated, ashamed to tell him, but eventually, she confessed. “I started selling drugs. Mostly weed and coke to rich European tourists. I wasn’t really good at it, though. After I lost a big shipment, they wanted to kill me, but they didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of my dad,” Noelle had explained. “He could have ratted on the PC-5 to stay out of jail or get a lighter sentence, but he didn’t. He was loyal to the gang, and they owed him, so they spared my life. Not that it was much of a life.“

  Quickly, Noelle had wrapped up her sad tale of woe.

  After learning about her association with the gang, Noelle’s mother made the bold decision to send her to the United States to live with Remus “Remy Martin” August, her mother’s brother. Remus August was a liquor distributor who’d left the Palmchat Islands when his business grew and took up residence in Washington D.C.

  “And you know what happened after that,” Noelle had said. “I went to college and then pharmacy school, and then I came back here to work, and you and I met and …”

  A long, sad exhale cut through the tense silence permeating the bedroom. Noelle bit her lip, trying not to cry, waiting for the backlash she knew was coming.

  “Noelle, I’m glad you told me the truth about your past,” said Beanie. “But, I want you to know—”

  “Look, if you hate me and don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, I understand.” Noelle stood and faced Beanie, who sat on the left side of the bed, closer to the headboard. “But, please—”

  “How could you think that I would ever hate you?” Beanie asked, staring at her. “I love you, Noelle, and I always will. I’ll never stop.”

  Shocked by his compassion and affection, Noelle said, “But I told you who I really am.”

  “I already know who you really are,” Beanie said, standing. “And I don’t care who you used to be or what you used to do. That doesn’t matter to me. You used to be in a gang—”

  “Not just any gang, Beanie,” she said, confused by his lack of anger and disgust. “The PC-5. A violent, ruthless gang that’s involved with drugs and—”

  “You’re not that person anymore,” said Beanie, walking to Noelle. “You did some bad things and made decisions you regret, but that is in the past. That stuff doesn’t define you, okay? You overcame your past, and that’s what I love about you.”

  Noelle sobbed quietly as Beanie put his arms around her, holding her close.

  “I hate that you didn’t tell me because you thought I would judge you,” Beanie said. “Who am I to throw stones at you? Have I lived a perfect life? No. I’ve made mistakes. Done things I regret.”

  “I was afraid I would lose you.” Clinging to Beanie, Noelle stared at the handsome face she adored. “I was scared you wouldn’t want a former PC-5 Handweg Ho to be the mother of your children.”

  “I don’t care about what you used to be, Noelle. You have to believe me,” Beanie said. “You are the only woman I want to be with, and I am so blessed to have you as my wife, and you are the best mother to our little boys.”

  Blinking through her tears, Noelle asked, “You really mean that?”

  “Every word,” said Beanie, leaning to press his lips gently against hers. “With all my heart …”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Mom said she is thrilled to have the boys stay overnight with her,” said Noelle as she closed the bedroom door behind her. “We have the house all to ourselves. So, what do you want to do?”

  Noelle ran to Beanie, who stood at the foot of the bed with his back to her and slipped her arms around him. Pressing her face against his back, she giggled softly.

  Turning to her, Beanie stepped back and crossed his arms.

  Her smile fading, Noelle’s heart lurched. “What is it?”

  “I still can’t believe that you went to see Grady Palmer without me.”

  Beanie hadn’t been upset about her PC-5 confession, but he was livid about her decision to handle the situation with Grady Palmer by herself. She’d told him after he’d demanded to know who had put the bruises on her face.

  “What if you had been killed, Elle?” Beanie paced back and forth in front of the bed.

  “I know I shouldn’t have gone to meet him without telling you,” said Noelle, knowing she couldn’t tell Beanie about the gun Grady had pressed against her head. “But, I knew I would be recording the conversation with Grady, and I was afraid he would say something about my past with the PC-5 and I didn’t want you to find out that way.”

  “You didn’t want me to find out at all,” Beanie reminded her.

  “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

  “I understand why you didn’t think you could tell me,” said Beanie, taking a pause from his pacing to pull her back into his embrace. “What I don’t understand is … did you think I wouldn’t be able to protect you because Grady Palmer is PC-5? Did you think I would ever let anybody hurt you?”

  “I know you wouldn’t let anybody hurt me,” Noelle said, pulling back to look at Beanie. “I was just trying to keep my past hidden. Grady had been insulting me, saying I was still a Handweg Ho and that you didn’t know who I really was and I was just convinced that—”

  “I would hate you,” said Beanie. “Which is ridiculous.”

  “I know it seems irrational,” Noelle admitted.

  “Elle, I really do understand why you didn’t tell me,” Beanie said. “I just … I want to break Grady Palmer’s neck for putting his hands on you.”

  “Nico Lecrae probably beat you to it,” Noelle said, remembering the disturbing screams coming from the airport hangar.

  Beanie shook his head. “I have to thank a PC-5 gang leader for saving your life.”

  “Nico wasn’t there to save my life,” Noelle said. “He was there to give Grady hell.”

  “Because, as it turned out, Grady was trying to start a pill farm without Nico’s permission.”

  “That’s what I figured,” said Noelle. “Grady must have a death wish. Trying to run a side hustle behind Nico’s back and thinking Nico wouldn’t find out?”

  “Well, I guess Grady Palmer will get what he deserves,” Beanie said. “I just hate that you didn’t get the evidence we need to prove your innocence, but …”

  “But?” Noelle asked, noticing the astonishment on Beanie’s face. “What is it?”

  “Just remembering that when I came home, I had something important to tell you,” Beanie said. “It’s about Kevin Cook.”

  “Kevin Cook?” Noelle asked. “He was in the intern program. What did you want to tell me about him?”

  Beanie said, “I think he may have killed Eamon Taylor.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Before we get to what I want to discuss with you, I have some news,” said Octavia Constant, taking a seat on the couch in her temporary office, the plush Queen Palm hotel suite where Noelle and Beanie had first met with her several days ago.

  Sitting next to Beanie on the couch across from Octavia, Noelle grabbed Beanie’s hand and braced herself. News about what? The blood on those jeans found in Kevin Cook’s laundry basket? Noelle was still trying to wrap her mind around what Beanie had told her. An anonymous tip to the Palmchat Gazette fingering Kevin Cook as Eamon’s killer and evidence that might implicate the intern in the brutal murder. Noelle wasn’t sure if she should hope for the best while expecting the worse. As much as she wanted—and needed—to find Eamon’s real killer, she was finding it hard to believe i
t was Kevin Cook

  Three days had passed since Noelle had tried to get the evidence against Grady Palmer. After her plan had gone wrong, she and Beanie had spent the past two days critically discussing her encounter with Grady. Recalling her ordeal in painstaking detail, several times, Noelle had detailed everything she remembered from the meeting.

  Based on Grady’s responses to Noelle’s attempt to trap him into telling the truth, she and Beanie didn’t think Grady had Eamon killed to force Noelle to help with the pill farm. Grady seemed to think Noelle had really killed Eamon Taylor. Noelle had initially thought Grady’s offer to help would be some sort of admission that he’d ordered Eamon’s murder. Grady, however, had planned to taint the jury in her favor so she wouldn’t be convicted.

  With no evidence to help her case, she and Beanie had decided not to tell Octavia about Noelle’s ordeal with the PC-5. Instead, Beanie had informed Octavia about Kevin Cook and the evidence which might point to him as the better suspect.

  “Yesterday afternoon, I spoke with the police about Kevin Cook,” Octavia said. “Officer Fields told me that the forensics team analyzed the denim jeans given to them by Sarah Linde which were found in the laundry basket in Kevin Cook’s apartment.”

  “Was it Eamon Taylor’s blood?” Asked Beanie, leaning forward.

  Octavia shook her head. “Unfortunately, no, it wasn’t.”

  “Whose blood was it?” Noelle asked, feeling as though the wind had been knocked from her, realizing she had been hoping against hope that the evidence would confirm Kevin Cook as Eamon Taylor’s killer.

  “It wasn’t blood,” said Octavia. “It was latex paint.”

  “Latex paint?” Beanie shook his head. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was,” Octavia said. “Officer Fields told me that when they questioned Sarah again, she suddenly remembered that, oh yeah, Kevin and some friends had helped another friend paint a barn and he’d gotten paint on his pants.”

  Trying to ignore her disappointment, Noelle asked, “What about the anonymous tip sent to the Palmchat Gazette? Were the cops able to trace the email?”

  “All they know is that the email was sent from a computer with an IP address registered to the University of St. Killian’s library,” Octavia said.

  Noelle asked, “Can the police find out who sent the email?”

  “The name on the email was Anonymous Tip,” said Octavia. “The computers at the university are all public access so anyone on the island could have logged on and sent that email to the newspaper.”

  Rubbing her eyes, Noelle tried not to cry. Her husband’s firm grip, a show of solidarity and strength, didn’t seem strong enough to temper her disappointment and the feeling of hopelessness threatening to drown her.

  “Once again, we need to focus on showing the police that Noelle could not have killed Eamon Taylor,” said Octavia. “I realize that’s easier said than done especially since the evidence against Noelle makes her look beyond guilty.”

  “Did you find out if Eamon Taylor had any enemies?” Beanie asked.

  “My cousin Icarus did speak with a few of Eamon Taylor’s relatives and some of his friends from Handweg Gardens, where he grew up,” said Octavia, “and no one had a bad word to say about him. His family is devastated and can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him. His friends can’t believe he was murdered because he was never in any trouble. Even though he grew up in a rough neighborhood, he didn’t succumb to the normal pressures that young men from disenfranchised areas fall prey to. He didn’t get into drugs, never accidentally got a girl pregnant, and didn’t get involved in gang life.”

  Noelle took in a quick breath, ashamed of how she’d given in to the dangerous seduction of the PC-5, but when Beanie squeezed her hand, she remembered the past was behind her. There was no reason to condemn herself for her former mistakes.

  “However, Icarus found out that Eamon owed money to the PC-5,” said Octavia. “Apparently, he borrowed money from them to pay his university tuition. He was having problems paying the gang back. The police found threatening text messages on his cell phone about some debt he needed to pay. We have to consider that maybe the PC-5 killed him. I’ve got Icarus looking into that theory.”

  Noelle said, “I don’t think the PC-5 killed Eamon.”

  “How can you be so sure that they didn’t?” Octavia asked. “Eamon owed them money. They threatened him. They may have killed him because he didn’t pay them back.”

  Shaking her head, Noelle said, “Well, I know Grady Palmer didn’t kill him.”

  “Who is Grady Palmer?” Octavia asked.

  “Son of a bitch who tried to get Noelle hemmed up in a pill farm scam,” said Beanie.

  “A pill farm scam?” Octavia exhaled. “Okay, start at the beginning, please, and don’t leave anything out.”

  After a long sigh, Noelle told Octavia everything about her involvement with Grady Palmer, starting from the very beginning—fifteen years ago—and ending with those horrible moments in the PC-5 airplane hangar, when Noelle had been certain she would be shot to death.

  Following a stern rebuke of Noelle’s dangerous plan, Octavia said, “Well, just because Grady Palmer didn’t kill Eamon doesn’t mean Nico Lecrae didn’t put a hit out on him. I want Icarus to dig deeper. We need a better suspect. The police still believe Noelle was the only person who had beef with Eamon Taylor.”

  “Because she confronted Eamon about those bogus harassment claims?” Beanie asked.

  “I never sexually harassed Eamon,” said Noelle. “I would never do that.”

  “But Eamon Taylor was a good-looking guy,” said Octavia, a hint of devil’s advocate in her tone. “You never once wondered what it would be like if the two of you—”

  “Never,” said Noelle, her denial adamant. “I have a husband I love and adore. I’m not interested in any other man. I don’t care how good-looking he is.”

  “Well, the evidence seems to suggest that you were interested in Eamon Taylor.” Octavia stood and went to the desk in the far right corner of the living area. After removing a file from her briefcase, she returned to the couch. “The police believe they have Noelle’s motive for the murder, which is that she killed Eamon because she was afraid he would sue her and she’d be fired.”

  “Before he was killed, Eamon told me, when I confronted him, that he had proof that I had harassed him,” said Noelle. “He never showed it to me, though.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” Octavia said. “I have the so-called proof in this file. The police spoke to an attorney named George Gaston.”

  “I know about him,” Noelle said. “He sent me the letter saying that he wanted to mediate a settlement concerning the harassment claims.”

  “Do I have that letter?” Octavia asked. “If not, I need it. But, as I was saying, the police spoke to Attorney Gaston, who told them that Eamon provided him with copies of emails you supposedly sent to him. When Attorney Gaston saw the emails, he decided to take the case, thinking it would be a slam dunk.”

  Noelle shook her head. “I never sent Eamon Taylor any emails. I mean, I did, but they were always related to the internship program. And I never sent any emails just to him specifically. The emails were sent to all the interns in a group email.”

  “That admission only helps to convince the police that you sent the emails because you did have Eamon’s email address,” said Octavia.

  “I’m not the only one who had his damn address,” Noelle said, her temper flaring but then Beanie’s firm pressure calmed her down a bit.

  “What do the emails say?” Beanie asked.

  “The messages are rather lewd,” said Octavia, opening the file. “What concerns me, even more, is that the first email Eamon Taylor received was sent from a computer located at your address.”

  “Our address?” Noelle was confused.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “The police traced the IP address to a computer located at your home address,” Octavi
a maintained. “So how did that happen? Could anyone besides the two of you have had access to your home computer?”

  Beanie shook his head. “No. We only have one computer. It’s in the home office and Elle, and I are the only ones who use it.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” said Octavia.

  “How many emails are there?” Beanie asked.

  “Four or five, I think,” said Octavia, shuffling through the contents of the file. “Only one email came from your computer. The other emails came from an unknown IP address which was probably a burner with internet and data capabilities.”

  “And my name is on these emails?” Noelle asked.

  “The emails are signed ‘Dr. Bean’,” said Octavia. “The email addresses aren’t any of your official addresses, but the police think you created fake email addresses and used a burner to cover your tracks.”

  “This is crazy,” Noelle said. “How am I supposed to prove I didn’t send those emails?”

  “You let me worry about that,” said Octavia.

  “Can I have copies of the emails?” Beanie asked, and Octavia agreed to make copies on her portable copier.

  “One more thing,” she said, flipping through more papers in the file. “I found out that the police talked to the residents at the apartment complex where Eamon Taylor lived. The building has eight apartments. The police were asking if anyone had seen anything suspicious when Eamon was killed. No one claimed to have seen anything. However, when I looked at the reports, I noticed that the officer who did the interviews only spoke to six of the eight residents. Two of the residents were not home at the time. Mr. Stanley Reese in apartment three and Ted Chen in apartment seven. However, there is no report of the officer going back to talk to those two residents, probably because of the strong evidence against Noelle.”

  “You need to talk to those two residents,” said Noelle, daring to hope. “Maybe one of them saw something or someone.”