by Lisa Jackson
Henri was dead?
If Henri hadn’t killed Odell and Blossom, then…
* * *
THE STEPS WERE WET and slick. Willa fell, tumbling down the last few. She scraped her arm on the wrought-iron railing and cut her leg open. Her blood mixed with the rain as she struggled to get to her feet. Behind her, she heard her apartment door bang open. In a flash of lightning, she saw Blossom silhouetted against the storm. The light caught on the knife blade, glittering wickedly as Blossom descended the stairs at a run.
Willa was on her feet but Blossom leapt over the stair railing, tackling her and taking them both to the tile next to the pool. Willa rolled Blossom over, both hands on Blossom’s wrist holding the knife as she tried to wrestle it away from her.
But Blossom was strong and had obviously done this before. She bucked Willa off, throwing them both over the lip of the pool and into the putrid water.
Willa gasped as she hit the surface, dragged under by Blossom as they continued to fight for the knife. She opened her eyes but could see nothing in the darkness at the bottom of the pool as she and Blossom struggled.
Something brushed past her arm, wet and slimy. She choked, desperately needing air, but unable to let go of Blossom and the knife. She felt dizzy and could feel her grip weakening. And suddenly she saw something next to her in the water. The waterlogged face of the little boy from the photograph.
* * *
LANDRY SPRINTED through the arch into the villa, fear propelling him like a rocket into the courtyard.
Through the pouring rain, he glimpsed the two forms struggling by the pool, heard the splash as the two fell in.
Blossom and Willa.
He ran and dove headfirst into the rain-dimpled dark water. It was pitch-black beneath the surface. He swam blindly toward the spot where he’d seen the two go under, shoving away limbs and leaves that had decayed in the pool, feeling as if he was swimming through a decomposing soup.
His hand brushed against something that felt like hair and he brought himself up short as he felt pain slice across his arm.
Blossom had a knife and appeared to be frantically trying to swim to the surface, but something was holding her down. He didn’t see Willa anywhere.
Hurriedly he swam around Blossom, staying out of reach of the knife she was swinging in a frenzied arch.
No Willa.
He could barely make out Blossom, who was fighting desperately to free herself from something he couldn’t see. Needing air, he surfaced, and in a rush of relief, saw Willa hanging on the edge of the pool, choking and gasping, but alive.
He swam to her, pulled her into his arms. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, blinking through the driving rain at him as he let her go and pushing himself out of the water, pulled her out beside him.
He took one last look into the pool as he helped Willa up the stairs. The water had stilled except for the rain falling on it. Just below the surface he could see the dim gleam of silver from the knife still clutched in Blossom’s hand and her hair floating around her pale face.
Landry turned away from the look of horror on her face and helped Willa into her apartment.
“You’re bleeding again,” she said, her voice sounding far away as she slumped into a chair.
“I’m fine.” He locked the door and stooped to pick up the contents of the first-aid kit. His arm wasn’t cut badly but he knew he had to get some disinfectant on it after being in that pool. “Come on.”
He helped Willa to her feet and undressed her and himself on the way to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he regulated the water then climbed in with her. They stood, holding each other as the water washed over them. Slowly he began to soap her wonderful body, desire washing away the horror of what he’d seen in the pool, the terror of what could have happened if Willa hadn’t fought off Blossom and somehow escaped to the surface. How had she done that? he wondered.
Something in the pool had saved her.
He shook off the thought as she took the soap from him and began to lather it over him. He closed his eyes.
* * *
LATER, LYING IN BED, warm and dry and sated, his arm bandaged, his heart beginning to slow, he looked over at Willa. Her blue eyes were filled with tears.
Alarmed, he sat up and stared down at her. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, her lips turning up a little at the corners as she looked at him. “You could never hurt me.”
He wasn’t so sure about that.
“So much death,” she whispered. “I have seen so much death.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. “The storm is letting up. We have to leave here. The disk? I know you had it in your pocket. It wasn’t there when I undressed you. It must be in the bottom of the pool, huh?”
“I hid it in the bathroom.”
He let out a breath, not realizing how afraid he’d been that the disk had been lost, that all of this had been for nothing. “Then everything is going to be all right.” He drew back to look at her. “We survived it, darlin’.”
Willa looked into his dark eyes and cupped his cheek with her palm. Her heart felt as if it would break, she loved him so much. She’d been afraid in the pool. Not for her own life, but Landry’s. Willa had known she couldn’t fight Blossom off any longer in the pool. She was out of air, weak and losing hope.
“What is it?” Landry asked.
She wanted to tell him about what she’d seen in the pool. About what had happened when the boy had appeared. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Can we please get off this island?” she said instead.
He smiled and nodded. “The rain sounds like it is letting up. We should be able to see well enough to make it up the coast.”
She started to pull away from him, but he drew her close again and kissed her.
“I’ll get the disk,” she said. Everything else could stay here. She could buy new art supplies. If she ever painted again.
* * *
THE RAIN HAD STOPPED by the time they were dressed and ready to leave. Landry got the gun from under the couch, insisting she keep it on her. “Just in case.”
She tried to tell him she wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger even if she had to. Not today. But she’d taken the gun and stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket.
Landry led the way out of the apartment. Willa glanced down at the pool and quickly looked away. She felt a chill as she followed Landry down the stairs, and when she looked up she wasn’t surprised to see the face at the window on the third floor.
Alma Garcia looked terrified, her eyes appearing even more crazed in the glow of the lamplight. She was staring at the pool as if hypnotized. Willa shuddered as she realized that the elderly woman had seen everything. Even the child in the water who had drowned thirty years ago?
Willa grabbed Landry’s arm as they hurried from the courtyard. The boat was at the dock. She could see a strip of green in the distance as the other islands appeared from out of the storm.
“Don’t get in yet,” Landry said as he began to bail the water out of the boat.
She stood, afraid to turn around and look back at the villa for fear of what she might see. Landry was bent over, scooping rainwater from the bottom of the boat. She could tell by his movements that he wanted off this island as badly as she did.
The dock swayed. Willa froze as she realized that someone had just stepped onto it. No. She squeezed her eyes shut, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. No. This was going to be over as soon as they reached the mainland. It had to be over. She felt powerless, too close to the edge. She couldn’t take any more today.
She opened her eyes as the dock swayed again. Landry was still bent over, unaware they were no longer alone.
Slowly she turned and gasped as she recognized the ghost moving down the dock toward her. It was the man who’d come into her art studio that night before her gallery showing.
“Hello,” Simon Renton said.
Landry swung around, his hand going for his gun.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Simon said.
Landry froze, his face a mask of shock and then slow realization. “No.”
Simon laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’ll take that disk now.”
“Why?” Landry asked on a breath, not moving to give him the disk.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m dead and that disk is worth a small fortune on the market.”
“You’d sell it to Freddy D.’s competitors?”
“Or Freddy D. if he can come up with enough money.”
Neither man seemed to have remembered Willa was even there. She could understand why. She felt small and insignificant, huddled in her jacket, standing on the end of the dock next to the boat watching the two as if all of this was nothing but a very bad nightmare. Any minute she would wake up and be in her art studio apartment upstairs planning her showing that coming night.
“You were the dirty cop,” Landry said with a shake of his head. “Not Zeke. But why did he try to kill me?”
“Could have been because of the information I leaked to him about you. I told him not to trust you. That I’d heard you were shopping the disk and that if you got your hands on it….” Simon shrugged.
“Zeke tried to kill me.”
Simon nodded. “I thought he just might. He hated dirty cops.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take the disk now.”
“Without the disk, I will always be a hunted man,” Landry said.
“But you’ll be alive.”
“Will I?” Landry said with a laugh. “You can’t let me live. You know I’ll go to the cops, the feds, I’ll tell them about you faking your death. How did you do that anyway?”
“It’s all about money. You pay the right guys the right amount and they will find a homeless guy your size, even get him a tattoo just like yours,” Simon said with a grin as he lifted his shirt, exposing a dragon tattoo that curled around his side. “All you need is two not real bright goons to help you fake your death and tell their boss they killed you.”
“T and Worm. So why didn’t you go back and get the painting and the disk that night then?”
Simon sighed. “It took a while to convince them they would be better off playing on my team. By then it was morning and I needed to lay low. After all, I was dead. But I knew if I sent the info to Freddy D. he’d send you to get the disk. And if I could depend on anyone to get it, it would be you.” He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Come on, Landry. The disk for your life and your girlfriend’s here.”
“You’re the one who hired Blossom—or whatever her name was.”
Simon smiled. “What happened to her anyway? I really thought I’d be hearing from her and not have to take things into my own hands, so to speak. Doesn’t matter. You can give me the disk or I can take it off your body. Which is it going to be?”
The gunshot startled Willa, bringing her out of her lethargy as she saw the bullet punch the water’s surface next to the boat.
“Landry!” she cried, afraid he’d been hit.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, not looking at her. “You want the disk, Simon. Fine. But let her go. I’ll start the boat. You let her get in and leave. Then I will give you the disk.”
Simon smiled. “So it’s like that, is it?”
Landry reached back and pulled the cord on the motor. The air filled with the throb of the engine. Holding up his hands, Landry stepped from the boat and reached for Willa’s hand, his gaze meeting hers.
She saw the warning, felt it in his body as he drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly for a moment before helping her into the boat. She stood in the boat, numb from the cold, the terror, the exhaustion.
“You can drive a boat, can’t you? Keep land in sight until you reach a town,” he said. “Keep going.” He shoved the boat out.
She swayed and almost fell as the boat drifted slowly away from the dock. She steadied herself as she saw Landry reach in his pocket for the disk. No.
She reached into her pocket for the gun.
It was gone.
Landry. He’d taken it. He’d known she would try to kill Simon. And probably fail.
She was floating away, the motor on the boat idling. Did Landry really believe that Simon would let him go? Let her go, as well? Simon would come after her. She and Landry knew he was alive. He couldn’t let either of them live.
Landry started to hand Simon the disk.
She grabbed the handle on the motor, spinning it around as she’d seen Gator do, and hit the throttle. The bow of the boat shot up. She couldn’t see the pier but she heard a startled sound come from it as the boat roared toward the two men.
The bow hit the pier and sent a shockwave through her as it glanced off throwing her to the side. As she fell she heard the pop of a gun going off. It was the last thing she remembered before waking up in Landry’s arms.
EPILOGUE
Landry walked out of the police station, stopping on the steps to breathe in the warm Florida morning. He was free. Free of false charges. Free of being an undercover cop.
He wasn’t sure how he felt yet. Everything that had happened had taken its toll on him. He wasn’t sure he would ever get over Zeke’s death. Or Simon’s for that matter. Landry had ended up killing them both. They’d been his partners. He’d trusted them.
It had taken days to make his statement. Thank God for the disk that proved that Simon was the cop who’d gone bad—not Landry. Not Zeke. It was little consolation. A lot of people had died unnecessarily, Zeke among them.
The body of Blossom—real name Angela Warren—was brought up from the bottom of the pool on Cape Diablo. The police found that part of the baggy black garb she’d been wearing as her Blossom disguise had gotten caught on a large limb that had fallen into the pool.
Landry remembered the look on Willa’s face when she’d been told that. She didn’t seem to believe it. He wasn’t sure he did when he recalled how Blossom had been fighting to surface, striking out at water as if she thought someone was holding her down.
Blossom, that is Angela Warren, turned out to be a young prostitute whom Simon had once arrested. A hundred thousand dollars was found in her checking account supporting what Landry said about Simon hiring Angela to pose as Blossom at Cape Diablo to get the disk—and get rid of Willa and Landry.
Odell, it was assumed, had either run across Angela as an investigative reporter and recognized her when she came to the island or let it slip what he was working on and it had gotten him killed.
Henri had been exactly who she said she was. Nothing more than a guest on the island. While Landry had been suspicious when she’d pretended to be drunker than she was, he suspected she was just hoping Odell would take advantage.
Maybe she really had come to the island thinking she wanted solitude to get over her recent breakup. But once she’d met Odell she must have decided she wouldn’t mind a little male comfort. Instead, she’d only met death.
Henri had definitely picked the wrong island for any kind of peace. Willa had made the same mistake. Only, he thanked God, with a different ending.
While Willa gave her statement and was released, Landry had been held for more questioning. With the information on the disk, the police and feds were able to throw a wide net over organized crime in Florida, bringing down Freddy D. and his associates and underlings, except for T and Worm.
Their bodies were found in a dump, both shot, gangland-style, in the back of their heads. Freddy D. no doubt had heard about Simon Renton’s “second” death on Cape Diablo and realized T and Worm had double-crossed him.
When the cops were finally satisfied with what was on the disk and Landry’s and Willa’s statement, the chief broke the story, dragged him in front of the blazing lights of the media and gave him a medal. The story made headlines across the state. He was a hero.
He hadn’t wanted any of it.
&n
bsp; But once labeled as a dirty cop, it took a hell of a lot of fanfare to clear his name and he wanted that more than anything. He needed that before he could go find Willa St. Clair.
He’d heard she’d gone back to South Dakota, some tiny town he couldn’t even find on a map. He’d had to fly into the capital of Pierre at the center of the state and rent a car, driving north until he spotted a grain elevator with Alkali Butte printed on it.
After that, he’d only had to ask for directions, then taken a series of dirt roads until he spotted the white farmhouse on the horizon and slowed to pull into the drive.
* * *
WILLA HEARD THE VEHICLE pull into the farm yard and looked up from her painting to see the unfamiliar car stop in a cloud of dust.
She’d never thought she’d come back to South Dakota. But after everything that had happened, she realized a true home didn’t have to be one you’d been raised in all your life. It was anywhere there were people who loved you.
Her mother and stepfather had been wonderful through all of this. She’d seen how much her stepfather loved her mother and it had made her realize she’d never given him a chance.
Being around family had helped her regain her strength if not heal her aching heart. But she was painting again and that she knew was a sign that she would be all right.
“Who’s that?” her mother called from the kitchen. The house smelled of homemade bread and beef stew since it was almost suppertime.
“Someone lost,” Willa called back as she put down her paintbrush. No other unfamiliar cars ended up in the yard otherwise. “I’ll take care of it.”
She left the small room off the living room where she’d set up her studio and walked to the door, pushing open the screen to squint out at the car, the sun glinting off the windshield.
The driver’s door slowly opened.
She blinked, her heart soaring as Landry Jones climbed out. Over the weeks since she’d seen him she’d heard he’d cleared his name. But she’d never expected to see him again. Because she never planned to go back to Florida. And she’d never dreamed he’d come all the way to South Dakota.
