Tucker was silent.
“Sparrow was twenty-two when she was in the accident. Her room needed to be near the center of the house.”
“Why?”
“She had . . . challenges. Seizures. That’s what we thought happened in the cart. She wasn’t supposed to be driving it.” I handed him the photo I’d retrieved at the same time I’d brought out Sparrow’s pencil case. “Dove. For age progression. She’d be seventeen now. Almost eighteen.”
He didn’t speak. Instead his eyes searched my face, then drifted down my proffered arm. He took the photo, placed it on the table, then reached for my hand and lifted it as if to inspect my palm.
My pulse raced. I looked at the floor, not wanting him to see the longing in my face.
He slid my bracelet up, exposing the scars on my wrist.
I snatched my hand away.
“When did you do this?” he asked quietly.
Heat rushed up my neck and I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “After Dove . . . I couldn’t function. Could barely get out of bed. I don’t even remember . . . doing it. Ashlee found me at the guesthouse. Unconscious.”
He sucked in air as if to comment when BettyJo sauntered up. “Miss Mildred wanted me to be sure you had everything you need. Like towels and stuff.”
“Surely you can’t be serious?” I asked.
“‘I am serious . . . and don’t call me Shirley.’ Airplane!” Tucker grinned.
I had to grin back. “It doesn’t count unless you know the year.” Tucker had a way of making me feel comfortable, as if pushing back into an easy chair, yet also as if all my senses were in overdrive.
“Huh?” BettyJo stared at me a moment, shrugged, then headed to the blue room. After Tucker picked up the photograph, we silently followed.
Not only had the color and decor changed when Mother converted Dove’s bedroom to a guest room, but the layout had changed and a bathroom was added. The only remaining items from my daughter’s life—a few books and her favorite stuffed bunny, Piggy—were in a box in my room. Her heirloom christening gown, bonnet, and pacifier were stored in Mother’s room.
Joel had placed Tucker’s art supplies on the desk by the window. Tucker set the photo of Dove next to a sketchbook. The rest of his things were put away. BettyJo checked the bathroom, turned down the bed, and left.
Tucker looked as if the only thing holding him up was his crutches.
“Will you be okay?” I asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I left, intending to head for the deck and take a walk along the beach before facing Mother, but I paused at my bedroom door. Today had been a series of firsts. The first time I’d made an effort to see my sister. The first time I’d told anyone about Sparrow. The first time I could talk about Dove without feeling as if a knife were stabbing me. The first time I’d let someone stay in her old room. I wonder . . .
Upon entering my bedroom, I strolled to the closet and opened the folding louvre doors. On the floor in the back corner was a sealed box. In my handwriting across the top was a single word. Dove.
To reach the box, I’d have to get into the closet. I eyed the narrow space. “It’s okay. The doors are open. You have plenty of room. Take a deep breath.” Still I couldn’t move.
I gauged the distance to the box, got on my hands and knees, then shut my eyes. “Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion,” I whispered. “‘My goodness, what a fuss you’re making!’” Swiftly I crawled forward and snagged the box. “‘Well naturally, when you go around picking on things weaker than you are. Why, you’re nothing but a great big coward!’” I backed out, dragging the box. “‘You’re right, I am a coward! I haven’t any courage at all. I even scare myself.’ Wizard of Oz, 1939.” I was being ridiculous, but the only thing that helped was focusing on something else, usually movie dialogue.
I sat cross-legged next to the box, stroking the top.
After tearing off the tape with trembling hands, I opened the lid. On the top was Piggy, the stuffed bunny whose ear was still torn.
Picking up the toy, I stood and moved across the room to the small sofa in the corner, where I curled up and cradled the bunny. I closed my eyes. The words to the song I wrote and used to sing to her floated through my mind.
You are my angel, my soul mate, my friend.
I’ll be right with you till the end.
And when you fear the stormy gale,
I’ll keep you safely on the trail.
Our season together
Will be forever,
My angel.
Squeeeeak. Click.
I jerked upright. I’d fallen asleep. The room was dark. I hated the dark as much as I hated small spaces. Another effect of my imagining Dove’s death. Quickly I turned on the light by the sofa.
Had Mother come looking for me when I didn’t show up in her room? But hadn’t I locked my door? The small floor lamp cast a pale yellow circle around me, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. I shoved upright, and my cuts and bruises added their protest to stiffness from the sofa. I made my way to the door, turning on lights as I moved. My door was unlocked. Opening it to another soft squeak, I peered down the silent hall. If someone had checked on me, they were gone now. I closed and locked the door.
The digital alarm by my bed said it was two in the morning. I picked up Piggy from where I’d dropped her, propped the stuffed bunny on my dresser, and crawled into bed, but my thoughts were racing. Why did Joyce call me, then disappear? How did the reporter get a copy of the journal? Why did I wait so long to talk to Raven? Could I finally find closure on Dove by age-progressing her image? Why were both Mandy and Tucker able to get me to talk about my family so easily?
After tossing and flipping the pillow for two hours, I gave up on sleep. I showered and dressed, then hobbled through the still rooms to the kitchen, where I made a pot of coffee. While the coffee brewed, I did stretching exercises.
I grabbed a throw blanket from a bench on the deck, wrapped it around me, and sat in a wicker chair to watch the sun rise. As the glow in the east grew brighter, I took a sip of coffee.
“Oomph!”
I turned to see my brother standing in the door, coffee cup in hand but the contents now dripping down the front of his trousers. Ashlee was beside him. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” Tern glared at Ashlee.
“Hey, you’re the one who ran into me.” Ashlee pivoted and stormed away.
Tern glanced ruefully down at his pants. “Great. Just what I needed.”
“I’d be glad to wash your pants for you.” I gave him a cheerful smile.
“’S okay.” He turned and stalked back into the house, passing Mildred.
The older woman joined me on the deck. “Tern’s in a tizzy.”
“Ashlee ran into him and made him spill his coffee.”
“That would do it.” She shook her head. “Both your brother and your mother want everything to be perfect, and my job is to keep it that way, if possible. As your dear mother loves to say—”
“We have the perfect home on the perfect island for the perfect family,” I completed for her.
“Right. I’ll grab his clothes and get them washed before he can get totally worked up.” She started to leave, then turned back. “I almost forgot why I came out here. Lieutenant Gragg called. He has news on the café shooting and will be coming over this morning around ten. He wants the whole family to be here.”
My stomach did a little flip-flop. “Sounds significant.”
“Mmm.” She headed for the kitchen.
I stood. Nana was pacing on the boardwalk leading to the beach. No, he was pacing outside the fence around the empty pool. Did he think there was water in it? Or maybe his water bucket was empty.
As I walked down the steps to the boardwalk, I checked his bucket next to the faucet. Full. Up close, Nana was panting and drooling more than usual. “Come here, Nana. What’s the matter, ol’ boy? Are you sick?”
The big dog brushed past me and pawed at the
pool gate. I spotted something pale yellow fluttering in the deep end.
A crawling feeling wrapped around my neck. “Nana, sit.”
The dog complied.
“Stay.” I lifted the gate latch and slipped through. My feet weighed a thousand pounds. I didn’t want to see what had Nana so upset.
Slowly the pale yellow took shape. My windbreaker. On a body sprawled on the bottom of the pool, long light-brown hair sweeping outward. She looked like me.
Chapter 13
I swayed on my feet and backed to the fence. Lifting my arm, I opened and closed my hand. It looked real, solid, physical. Could I be dead and not know it?
Would anyone even miss me?
Nana whined and pawed me through the fence. If Nana could see me, I had to be alive.
Slowly I walked to the steps at the shallow end of the pool and descended. Come on, Piper. The words Officer Mandy Chou said to me when we were checking out Joyce’s home flashed across my mind. “Ya know, ya pay attention to detail. Ya mentioned the open journal. Tell me what you see.” From this angle, I now saw the pants—navy capris.
I didn’t own navy capris.
Forcing myself forward, I reached the girl. The brown hair covered her face. With trembling fingers, I brushed the hair away. BettyJo’s sightless eyes appeared.
I found myself on my rear, legs splayed in front of me. “No, no, no, no!” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her blank stare. Placing my hand over my mouth, I stifled the scream that threatened to follow the mindless chant. Get control. Act, don’t react.
Directly above the body was the chained-off opening where the slide would have been. BettyJo must have thought that was the way to the beach and plunged over the chain. It would have been dark. We kept the lights off outside so as not to confuse the nesting sea turtles.
Better. Pay attention to details.
When I thought my legs would support me, I stood. If she fell in the dark, she would have been here for hours. I approached her again and touched her face. Her skin was cool. I snatched my hand away, turned, and raced for the phone in the kitchen.
The house was oddly silent, as if realizing something terrible had happened. After three tries, I was able to dial.
“Nine-one-one. What is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s been a terrible accident here on Curlew Island. BettyJo . . .” I realized I didn’t know her last name. “A woman fell.”
“What is the address of the emergency and your callback number?”
I gave her the information.
“Approximately how old is this woman?”
“Early twenties.”
“Is she conscious?”
“No. I guess I didn’t make this clear. She’s dead.”
“Are you sure she’s not breathing?”
“Um . . . her eyes are open . . . lots of blood . . . her skin is cold . . . she landed on her head in a drained cement pool.”
“Okay. Please stay on the line for a moment.”
I could hear her speaking in the background, requesting assistance. She soon came back on. “What is your name?”
“Piper Boone.”
“Miss Boone, the police have requested you have someone at the dock to meet them and take them to the site. Is that possible?”
“Of course.”
“They’re on their way.”
Mildred was talking to Joel as she entered the kitchen. “BettyJo is late for work. I told that girl—” She froze when she spotted my face. “Oh no.”
“BettyJo had an accident.”
“Where?”
“The pool.”
“How bad?”
“Bad. She’s dead.”
Mildred reached for the counter. “Did you call—”
“Yes.” My brain was fuzzy and I wanted to sit down. “I’m . . . I’m going down to the dock to wait for the police. Could you tell the family?”
“Of course. Should I go . . . cover her?”
Another memory pushed into my mind. Sitting on the ground next to Ami.
“Mr. . . . Lieutenant Gragg, I have to cover her face. It’s not right, her just lying there.”
“Now, Miss Boone, I know it doesn’t seem respectful to your friend, but this is a crime scene and we have to secure and preserve it until the crime-scene folks can process it.”
“No. That might compromise the investigation.” Why did I say that? BettyJo’s fall was just a tragic accident. I bolted from the room before Mildred or Joel could say anything more.
Tern was walking from the north wing looking at his watch. “Can you tell Mildred I won’t be here for breakfast? I’ve got to make a fast trip to the mainland.”
I told him about BettyJo.
His face drained of blood. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I didn’t have to answer him. He could see it in my face. “I’m heading to the dock to meet the police and show them where she fell.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “If this gets into the news . . . We need damage control,” he muttered. “Look, Piper, let me handle the police. Hopefully that whole curse thing won’t emerge.”
The phone rang in the kitchen. Both of us turned. Mildred answered, then came to the hall. “Call’s for you, Piper.”
Tern patted me on the shoulder. “Take your call. I’ll take care of everything else.” He trotted off without waiting for my answer.
Mildred had brought me the receiver. “Hello,” I said.
“Hi. It’s Hannah. What’s going on? The police and ambulance and a bunch of other official boats have gone by . . . Oh, wait, that’s the marine patrol boat . . . Um, did they find my grandma?”
I walked into the living room and slumped down on a nearby chair. What kind of a person was I that I forgot about calling poor Hannah? “I’m so sorry, Hannah. No, it’s not Joyce. We had an accident here on the island.”
“Oh no!”
“Tern, my brother, said he’d handle the police. Are you ready to come out to the island?”
“Yes.”
I checked my watch. I didn’t have time to get her and take her to her grandmother’s house before the family met with Lieutenant Gragg about the shooting, never mind the emergency crews arriving to take care of BettyJo. “I’m tied up here for a bit, but I can have Silva pick you up. He works for us.”
“You can’t come?”
I heard the longing in her voice. “Of course. I’ll come as soon as I can. I’ll take one of the smaller boats and pick you up. I can take you directly to your grandma’s dock.”
We disconnected. I trotted out looking for Mildred. I finally found her on the deck staring down at BettyJo’s body. Mother was standing next to her, her hands holding the rail with a white-knuckled grip. Both turned as I approached. They had identical looks of dismay on their faces.
“Now, Miss Caroline?” Mildred asked.
“Yes,” Mother said.
Mildred nodded, crossed the deck, and descended to the pool level. I moved over to the railing to see what she was doing.
“I just heard.” Ashlee raced to the rail next to me and peered over. His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he turned and looked at me. “I thought it was you for a moment.”
I wasn’t losing my mind or feeling paranoid. “Me too.”
Mildred entered the pool and walked over to the body.
“Mildred, what are you doing?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me. She bent over BettyJo and carefully removed the yellow windbreaker.
“Wait! You can’t—”
Mother put a hand on my shoulder. “Piper, stop. We can’t have the police making an incorrect assumption—”
“But you’re tampering with evidence! A crime scene.”
“Evidence? Crime scene? It’s an accident, a tragic accident.”
Mildred by now had made her way back to the deck, windbreaker in hand. Mother looked at her. “Make that disappear.”
Without a word, Mildred left.
Mother glan
ced back at me. “Because of this unfortunate accident”—she emphasized the word accident—“we’ll postpone the stockholders’ meeting for a day or two.”
“That’s a good idea. I was going—”
“Now I do feel a headache coming on.” She walked into the house without a backward glance. Ashlee and I were left alone.
Ashlee was handsome in his late twenties when we first married, and the passing years had treated him well. He was lean and fit from daily workouts, and his deep, sepia-brown hair had silver-white streaks, contrasting with his tanned face. A few lines furrowed his forehead and around his hazel eyes. He’d been considered the catch of the season, and I was stunned when he asked me to marry him. My family approved, and our wedding had been the event of the year.
“Good. I have a chance to talk to you while we’re alone.” He looked me over as if he were judging a hog at the county fair.
“You’re looking good, Piper. Put on a few pounds.” He smiled, exposing his perfect teeth.
He was too near, crowding my personal space. I stepped away and folded my arms. We may have been married at one time, but his nearness now gave me the chills.
He closed the space between us, still smiling. “Watch it that you don’t put on too much weight. You wouldn’t want to become fat.”
I really hoped I’d see a hunk of spinach caught between his two front incisors. I stared at his teeth as if willing a green spot to appear.
He glanced away and did a quick dental check with a finger.
Gotcha.
“I think she looks spectacular.” Tucker hobbled across the deck.
Okay, Tucker was now officially the greatest human on the planet. I made a point of looking for Nana so my face wouldn’t radiate hero worship.
Ashlee left, leaving behind a cloud of Clive Christian aftershave.
Tucker maneuvered over to me and leaned against the rail. He jerked upright. “Oh my sweet Lord!” he whispered. “That looks a little like you.”
“Before Mildred removed my yellow windbreaker, she looked a lot like me.”
“Huh? What happened?”
“It’s BettyJo. She fell. Police are on their way.”
* * *
Tucker closed his eyes and bowed his head. Lord, give BettyJo’s family peace in this very trying time. And, Lord, let me be salt and light to the Boone family. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen. He glanced at Piper. She was staring at him.
Relative Silence Page 11
