by Sey, Susan
Her heart whispered Jax’s name this time and she had to breathe through a ridiculous bolt of hope. She set her bag down on the porch.
“Tell me again why I have to sleep here?”
Georgie cocked an expertly plucked brow. “Because Davis Place is a turkey-infested health hazard?”
“Oh come on. It’s not that bad. I have electricity—”
“A bare light bulb in your bedroom?”
“—running water—”
“In the kitchen only.”
“—and I don’t need heat because summer finally got here! So, really, I don’t see why you’re all worked up about my staying there. It’s fine.”
Georgie gazed at her for a long moment, a stone wall of skepticism. Finally she said, “I called Jax in the car on the way here and told him you were sleeping in a fire hazard.”
Addy stared. “You did not.”
“I absolutely did. He was not best pleased. He was all set to drive straight here from the Cities to drag you off to his cave by your curly little head but I told him that we were having ourselves a sleepover, no boys allowed.” She smiled evilly. “You’re welcome.” She pointed at Addy’s bag. “Now bring that inside.”
Defeated, Addy hefted her bag and trudged into the house. “I can’t believe you tattled on me to Jax.”
“That’s what you get for ambushing me with Willa Zinc.” Georgie drifted through the foyer and up the staircase at the back of the great room. “Plus you’re going to have to talk to him eventually, Addison. You know that, don’t you?”
“I talk to him.” Addy stomped up the stairs behind Georgie. “I spoke to him just yesterday about scheduling his guys for the Devil Days slip and slide.”
Georgie sent her a look of silent approbation over her shoulder and Addy scowled.
“He thinks he’s in love with me, Georgie,” she muttered.
“He is,” Georgie said serenely and floated down the hall toward Addy’s old room.
“No, he’s not.” Addy marched after her. “He feels sorry for me.”
“Of course he does. Diego was a dick and put you through hell. I feel sorry for you, too.” She smiled. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“That’s different. You’re not Jax.”
Georgie shuddered delicately. “Thanks be for that.” She pushed open the door to Addy’s room and waved her magnanimously inside. “But let’s give Jackson this — he knows exactly who he is and doesn’t give one good rip what anybody else thinks of that. He follows his own lights, marches to his own stars, drums his own whatever.” She drifted into the room behind Addy and sank to the bed, beautifully exhausted by goodness only knew what since she’d flatly refused to crawl under the porch with Addy and Willa. “All of which is to say, Addison, that my brother doesn’t lie.”
“I didn’t say that.” Addy dropped her bag by the door, suddenly weary beyond description. Everything was exactly where she’d left it a month ago. There was her quilt on the bed, her knickknacks on the dresser, her art on the walls. Being separated from these things had brought her to near-hysteria a few short weeks ago. Now they looked like a stranger’s things. Her heart didn’t even recognize them. “Jax isn’t a liar. He’s just wrong.”
“About what’s in his own heart?” Georgie smoothed her pretty plum dress with satisfied hands and speared Addy with surprisingly sharp eyes. “No.”
“No?” Addy stood there, her hands empty, her heart aching. “What does that mean, no?”
“Jax is careful, Addison. It’s who he is. It’s probably the most important thing about him. He wouldn’t throw the l-word around any more than he’d play with matches. And if you don’t know that by now, maybe you’re the one who doesn’t love him.”
Addy closed her eyes against her second hard shock of the day.
Georgie came off the bed; Addy heard the whisper of fabric, the squeak of the frame. Then she was in Georgie’s arms, those cool hands smoothing her hair, that expensive dress of hers absorbing Addy’s helpless tears.
“Oh, honey.” Georgie rocked her slowly. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily harsh. I really do hate Willa Zinc. She put me straight into the bitch zone.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re right.” Addy pulled in a shuddering breath but the tears just kept coming, sliding down her cheeks like a river, an endless current of pain. “It’s just…Georgie, I’m so afraid. I thought Diego loved me, too. How on earth am I supposed to know?”
“Know what?”
“If it’s real this time. I was so wrong before but if I let myself believe—” She broke off, unable to even say the words. “If I believed him but I was wrong? If he didn’t love me, or stopped loving me, or if I screwed up and ruined it…” She curled her arms around her stomach, around the ache and the fear pulsing there. “I wouldn’t survive it, Georgie. I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you would.” Georgie rested her cheek on Addy’s curls and ran a comforting hand up and down her trembling back. “You’d never die when somebody needed you, and I do, so there you go. Problem solved.” She drew back to inspect Addy’s face. “For heaven’s sake, Addison. How are you not a mess of mascara?”
“I’m not wearing any.”
Georgie blinked, sincerely shocked. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but how did you manage to make both of my brothers fall in love with you?”
“I have no idea.”
“You can tell me all about it at the slumber party.” She turned and headed for the door.
“Wait, we’re actually doing that?”
“Of course. I don’t lie to my brother.” Georgie stopped in the doorjamb, sent a smile over her shoulder. “We’ll have wine and I’ll introduce you to the wonders of modern cosmetics. By the time I’m done with you, Jax will be on his knees, begging to apologize for everything you’ve done wrong.”
“I don’t think even mascara is that powerful.”
Georgie only laughed. “Oh, Addy. You’re adorable.”
Addy jerked awake when her phone chirped. She lunged for it, missed the nightstand completely and crashed to the floor. What on earth? She rubbed her throbbing elbow, shoved a handful of ringlets out of her face and squinted around in the darkness for her phone. Where was it? Wait, where was she?
Georgie’s room. Right. Memory trickled back in. A bottle and a half of wine, an ill-advised amount of Mackinac Island Fudge ice cream, then dozing off on her half-acre of Georgie’s king-sized bed. Which would explain both her missing nightstand and the gentle snoring from the bed beside her.
The phone chirped again and Addy groped along the floor boards until she came up with her discarded fleece jacket, which she pawed until she found the pocket and her phone. Which chirped again.
“For pity’s sake,” Georgie moaned, “will you answer the damn phone?”
“It’s not ringing. It’s a text.” Addy squinted at the display and had to blink several times before she could make sense of what she saw there. “It’s Willa,” she said, surprise melting into concern.
“Willa Zinc?” Georgie cracked an eye.
“Do you know any other Willas?”
“Thank Christ, no.”
Addy peered at the screen.
Addison. Willa. You need to get up here.
She typed back, Where?
Davis Place.
Why?
Now.
Addy frowned down at the phone in her hands.
“I have to go to Davis Place,” she said. She leapt up and hit the lights.
“Argh.” Georgie flung an arm over her face.
“Sorry.” Addy was still wearing the sweats and t-shirt she’d fallen asleep in, so she shoved her feet into her sandals and snatched up her fleece jacket. The temperature dropped cruelly after sunset this close to the lake, no matter what the daytime high had been. She turned to sprint out the door and nearly barreled into Bianca.
Her mother-in-law stood in the doorway, tying a silky robe around her long, slim body. She arched a pa
le brow. “Going somewhere, Addison?”
“If there’s a God in heaven, she is,” Georgie said from under her quilt. “And turning out the lights, too.”
“Willa texted,” Addy said. “Something’s going on at Davis Place, and I have to—”
“Willa Zinc?”
“Yes.” Addy frowned. “Why does everybody ask that?”
Bianca’s nose wrinkled delicately, like she smelled something bad but was too polite to mention it. “Why does that girl even have your number?”
“She’s pied-pipering the turkeys out of Davis Place.” Georgie’s voice floated out of the bed. “Can we please turn out the lights now?”
“And the two of you have become chummy, is that it?” Bianca kept her eyes on Addy, her second brow lifting to join the first. “Trading cell phone numbers and midnight texts?”
“It’s 1:36, actually.” Georgie said with injured precision. “A. M.”
“She’s never texted before,” Addy said. Urgency beat in her veins and she shifted foot to foot.
“I should hope not.” Bianca tightened her belt with a satisfied tug that Addy didn’t like for some reason.
“Not that I’d mind. I like Willa—”
“You like your purse, too.” Georgie gave a massive yawn. “Shows what you know.”
“—which is neither here nor there,” Addy finished, all but bouncing on her toes with the urge to run. “Something’s wrong and I have to go now.” She stepped right into Bianca’s space. “Do you mind?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Bianca said sharply.
“I’m not?” Addy fell back a startled step.
“Not alone, anyway.”
“For heaven’s sake, Willa Zinc is not dangerous! She’s dependable, no-nonsense and really, really good at what she does.” And she was. Willa had spent the afternoon turning Addy’s porch and most of the side yard into a para-military anti-turkey zone. It had been fascinating. “I trust her, Bianca. If she says I need to get up there, I need to get up there.” She stepped back into the hot zone, prepared to do battle. “Now.”
Bianca studied her for a long tense moment, then tossed up her hands. “Good lord. You and Jackson deserve each other.” She shook her head and stepped into the room, backing Addy up along the way. “Fine, you can go. But take Georgie.”
“I knew it.” Georgie’s words floated mournfully into the air. “I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. I hate Willa Zinc.”
“Don’t we all?” Bianca poked her daughter. “Go.”
“All right, all right. God.”
Ten minutes later, Addy pulled Georgie’s Range Rover into the drive at Davis Place, Georgie snoring lightly in the passenger seat. Georgie had refused to either drive or fold herself into Addy’s little Honda, citing a deep need to continue sleeping. Not surprisingly, she’d strapped herself in and immediately nodded off. The girl truly could sleep anywhere. Addy threw the truck into park.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Georgie blinked herself awake and peered out the windshield at Willa standing on the back porch. Her lip did the exact same curl of disgust Bianca’s had.
“Okay, what?” Addy said. “Is there some kind of Davis/Zinc feud I don’t know about? Why do we hate Willa?”
“Heavens, Addy.” Georgie clicked open her seatbelt and stretched gracefully. “We don’t really hate Willa.” She stepped out of the truck and leaned back in to smile. “We wouldn’t bother.” She shut the door on Addy’s frown.
Addy shouldered open her own door, stepped out and slammed it shut. She shot Georgie a narrow look over the hood and said, “You’re going to explain that later.”
Willa came down the steps in her big boots and ball cap, ponytail swinging. “This way.”
She strode off into the darkness, the rising half-moon picking up the reflective piping on her fleece vest. Addy jogged after her and Georgie fell in behind with a long-suffering sigh.
Willa hiked through the narrow side yard, and Addy stayed tight behind her. She had no desire to run afoul of Willa’s anti-turkey campaign. Georgie teetered along behind Addy, cursing anything that offended her sandals.
Just when it looked like Willa was leading them straight over the rock wall protecting the casual viewer from plunging into the lake, she made an abrupt left turn toward the Kettle and disappeared into the bramble.
“Oh, now we’re going off road?” Georgie made an aggrieved noise. “I hate that girl.”
“I thought you wouldn’t bother.” Addy shoved at the branches and scrambled after Willa. “Seriously, what do you and your mom have against—”
Then she stopped abruptly. It was either that or run Willa over. She’d stopped just inside the trees, her mouth a grim line, her eyes shadowed beneath the brim of her ball cap.
“There you go,” she said and nudged a pile at her feet. She turned as if to go and Addy grabbed her sleeve.
“What is it?” Addy peered into the incomprehensible jumble of undergrowth.
Willa produced a flashlight, snapped it on and hit the ground with a brilliant white beam of light.
Matty lay at their feet, tangled in what looked like an oversized net. A bright smear of blood trailed from his nose down his chin and matted his t-shirt. Addy dropped to her knees beside him, patting frantically for some way to untangle him.
“Matty? What on earth?”
He was trussed up like a Christmas roast, his arms pinned at his sides, his knees bound tight. His yellow work boots — incongruously big — poked helplessly out the bottom. About all he could move was his head, and his eyes were brilliantly silver in the beam of Willa’s flashlight.
“Nice,” Georgie said on a breath of disgust only a sister could muster. “Mom’s going to love this, Matisse.”
“Matty, are you all right?” Addy’s heart hammered as she dragged at the coarse netting. “What happened?”
He gazed at her, his eyes defiant and angry. Then he deliberately turned his head away from her, his mouth a thin, silent line.
“He must’ve tripped the compressed-air net,” Willa said.
“You got caught in a turkey net.” Georgie shook her head and laughed. “You are an idiot.”
“What were you even doing up here?” Addy asked. She tore a nail on the rough rope and swallowed a curse. Sat back on her heels and stuck her finger in her mouth. “Crap.” Her throat went hot and tight as tears of fear and frustration crept in. “For heaven’s sake, Matty, why won’t you talk to me?” Nothing. “Okay, fine.” She stood and slapped the dirty leaves off her knees. “You want to stay here a while? Fine by me. You can just sit here until—”
She broke off, sniffed. Her heart clenched. “Is something burning?”
Chapter 34
JAX TOOK A corner on two wheels, then put his foot to the floor and sent the mini-pumper roaring up the hill toward Davis Place. Peter rode shotgun, his face grim, his knuckles white on the oh-shit handle.
“When did your mom notice Matty missing?” Peter asked.
“Maybe 1:30, 1:45. After Addy and Georgie left.” Jax glared at the darkened street like the blame lay out there instead of in here with him. “God damn it, I knew he was lighting those fires. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“But you do believe it? You’re sure?” Peter shot him a swift look across the cab. “I’m sorry, I know you went over it earlier but I have to admit I wasn’t completely awake.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I figured you could wait until morning to find out who torched your Dumpster and the resort, but then Addy and Georgie zip off to some emergency at Davis Place — without their cell phones, naturally — and suddenly Mom discovers Matty missing?” Fear locked his molars together but he flexed his fingers and breathed. “I didn’t like it,” he said quietly. “I gave you the wake up call because I figured you wouldn’t either.”
“Damn right I don’t.” Peter pulled his free hand down his face and blinked wearily. “I’m just having a hard time wrapping my mind around thi
s. Davis Place is supposed to be empty. I talked to Georgie myself a few hours ago. She and Addison are supposed to be painting each others’ goddamn toenails, Jackson.”
“I know. But they aren’t.” He gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands. “And Matty’s supposed to be in bed like a good little boy. But he isn’t, either.”
“What a goat rope.” Peter leaned his head back and spoke to the ceiling. “Tell me again about Matty. I think I’m awake enough to connect the dots this time if you go slowly and use small words.”
“I had a meeting with the Fire Marshall this afternoon down in the Cities. Turns out the Dumpster fire and the Hideaway fire were both started with the same type of ignition device,” Jax said, accelerating out of a curve.
“Ignition device? What does that mean?”
“It means both fires started the same way. Evidently Matty’s a fan of the molotov cocktail.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Rolled up a few sheets of paper, stuffed them into a fuel source — a soda bottle of gasoline in this case — and lit them up. We recovered some of the paper.”
“The paper? How is that even possible?”
“You’d be surprised at what doesn’t burn in a fire.” He shook his head. “God knows arsonists usually are.”
“And the Fire Marshall tied the paper to Matty?”
“No, I did that.” Jax’s jaw was starting to ache. “It turned out to be a particularly high grade drawing paper. The same paper Mom’s kept Matty up to his eyeballs in since birth.”
Peter frowned. “Okay, that’s not good news but it’s not exactly proof either, is it?” He rubbed his free hand over his scalp and said, “I mean, Matty can’t be the only kid in the county to draw on nice paper.”
“No, I know. I thought about that. But they pulled a pretty sizable chunk out of the resort fire.” He stopped. This was the part that particularly pained him. “Big enough for me to recognize what was on it.”
