You Will Pay

by Lisa Jackson

  But then she’d gotten involved with Lucas herself, had spent most of the summer either being with him or wishing she were. Even when she was with the campers, helping with crafts, or discussing Bible stories, or riding horses or kayaking, even during prayer service, her thoughts had zeroed in on Lucas.

  She’d thought he’d felt the same.

  And the uncomfortable feeling that had disturbed her, that sensation that something was not quite right that had slithered through her soul whenever she’d seen Lucas and Naomi together, she’d ignored. Bernadette had told herself not to trust the sensation that something was happening between Lucas and his stepmother or the idle musings of a preteen. After all, Leah hadn’t said anything sexual was going on; she’d just intimated that Lucas and Naomi spent time alone horseback riding.

  But the seed had been planted, lying fallow despite the looks she’d caught between them, or the trill of Naomi’s laughter whenever she would see him, or the way her fingers surrounded his biceps when she gave him an affectionate, motherly squeeze.

  It wasn’t until the day she’d overheard Jo-Beth confiding in Reva about the supposed affair, though, that the seed had germinated. After they left, she’d sat on the gravel lot trying to sort out what she was going to do, a montage of images of Lucas and Naomi together—in the office, on horseback, seated next to each other in the dining hall, Lucas fixing a loose pipe as Naomi stood over him, the little touches and smiles, all growing fast and ferociously, like the magical beans in the cartoon version of Jack and the Beanstalk—filling her head. That afternoon, as Reva and Jo-Beth were hustled back into the kitchen by Cookie, Bernadette had kicked at their smoldering cigarette butts and decided then to break it off with Lucas. She’d been aware of the irony of it. Elle was missing, ostensibly because Lucas had broken up with her because of Bernadette, and now, if the rumor she’d just heard was true, Bernadette was going to dump him. She just had to figure out how much, if any, of Jo-Beth’s gossip was true.

  Her heart had ached at the thought, a physical pain, but she had to do what was right. She’d climbed to her feet, dusted off the seat of her pants, and spied the cat, who had scrambled up a fence post in the shade of a pine tree to stare at her with wide, knowing eyes. As if he knew the truth.

  Now, as she drove, Bernadette remembered that day vividly. She recalled her emotions, the soaring highs and crashing lows of thinking she was in love. She’d thought breaking up with Lucas would be easy. But, truth to tell, back then? All his wild, raw, primal energy, his natural sexuality, had only heightened her curiosity, her interest. The fact that he’d slept with his stepmother wasn’t a true crime, except in Reverend Dalton’s eyes, and the fact that he’d gotten away with it had only added to his bad-boy allure. There had been a dark side to Lucas Dalton, one she’d only seen in the barest of glimpses, secrets he kept under wraps. She’d found him dangerous and absolutely fascinating.

  Well, at the time.

  “God, you were a fool,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” Annette, who had been caught in her own private thoughts, turned to stare at her.

  “Nothing.” Bernadette hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” Annette stifled a yawn and stretched her arms out in front of her, then rotated her neck and tilted her head, her chin-length hair falling to one side. She’d grown prettier over the years, the coltiness that was still with her in her teens replaced by a gentle, adult grace with her long, supple limbs, her hair no longer wild but trimmed, her features even. She’d never married. Come close a couple of times, engaged once but broke it off explaining only with, “I just couldn’t see myself waking up next to Connor every morning for the rest of my life.” And so she’d remained single. So far. Which was probably better than getting married and a few years later divorced.

  So much for their mother’s “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” motto.

  “So, what do you think really happened that night?” Annette asked thoughtfully.

  “That night?”

  “You know, the one we never talk about, the one that we’re all going to make certain we remember ‘correctly’?” She sighed. “It’s all a bunch of bull, y’know. Because I remember vividly. I know who was at that ‘meeting,’” she said, making air quotes with her fingers, “the one at the cavern and who wasn’t. Jo-Beth, she wasn’t there. Reva had to take over. Remember? And Monica, she didn’t make it either. And that’s not all,” she said, her face crumpling as she struggled against sudden tears, an inner emotional war waging. “And I know . . .” She glanced out the window, her jaw jutting forward as she thought for a long minute.

  “What?” Bernadette prodded.

  “I know that . . . that I saw a ghost, Bernadette. I never said anything because you all thought I was just some stupid kid who spied on everyone and took notes and was a total useless geek. But I saw her. It. Elle’s ghost. That night after the damned meeting.” She turned to stare directly at Bernadette. “And she’s haunted me ever since.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Bend, Oregon

  Now

  Nell

  “Look, it’s not that big a deal, okay?” Nell was pulling off her Under Armour fleece, then peeling out of the tank top that had wicked the sweat from her body from her run, 8.75 miles, nearly 20,000 steps according to her Fitbit, and it wasn’t noon yet. Good. “I’ll just be gone a couple of days,” she yelled from the bedroom, toward the hallway leading to the living room of the condo she shared with her partner, Tasha, who was now pouting, ostensibly upset with Nell’s leaving.

  So what else was new?

  Picking up her clothes, she carried them into the bathroom and dropped them into the hamper. More loudly, she added, “You can get Elise to take over my classes or do it yourself.”

  “Very funny,” came the response, and Nell grinned. So Tasha was listening. Not quite as miffed as she’d pretended when Nell had announced she was taking a trip to the coast for a couple of days and she needed to do it alone.

  Stepping naked onto the scales, she eyed the digital readout and frowned. 118.7. Up two tenths of a pound. She’d have to take care of that. She caught a glimpse of her lithe figure in the mirror, was satisfied that not an ounce of fat showed and that her tan, compliments of the state-of-the-art tanning bed at the gym she owned with Tasha, was perfect. Not a blemish.

  Reaching into the shower, she turned on the tap; then she waited. As the water reached a warm temperature, she managed to knock off ten slow squats and just as many lunges. Steam rolled upward from behind the glass.

  Into the hot shower she popped, quickly scrubbing the sweat from her body, skimming her legs with her fingers as the water rolled over her body. No stubble yet. Good. A quick shampoo and she was out, toweling off, drying her hair quickly, applying zero makeup, and turning on the fan. She double-checked her weight, just in case she’d misread the scales, scowled at the results—the same—then, mentally telling herself not to obsess, pulled on leggings and a tunic, wrapping a long belt twice around her waist. A little gel in her hair, to make it stand up a bit and look a little wild and sexy, and she was out.

  Her bag was packed and she snapped it shut, then rolled it into the living room, where a fire was burning in the fireplace that ran up an interior wall to a soaring ceiling some twenty feet above. In front of the fire, Tasha was lying on their sleek couch, a glass of wine on the long ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. Next to the half-empty glass was a plate with two chocolate-chip cookies, crumbs visible; Tasha was munching on a third.

  “What’re you doing?” Nell asked, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. They owned a gym for crying out loud; they couldn’t afford to not be fit and trim. Cookies—chocolate chip or otherwise—were not on the diet and exercise regime they’d both agreed to.

  “I’m coping.” She took a bite from the cookie and with a rebellious glare silently dared Nell to argue. Long and lean, well, so far, Tasha was six feet tall, Nordic-looking w
ith a broad, beautiful face, flawless skin, piercing blue eyes, and blond hair so thick she had trouble taming it. Yet she did. Rather than cut it, she grew it so that even in a thick braid running down her back, the tip nearly reached her waist. Right now, her locks were spread around her in a pale golden cloud as she sprawled on the couch, a sloppy stack of those idiot women’s magazines on the floor near her, her iPad balanced on her flat abdomen. She was dressed in her favorite old, much-too-large sweats, faded navy blue. As if she didn’t give a shit. Which she very much did.

  “Doesn’t look like you’re coping all that well. Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym?” Calm down. She’s upset. Don’t say anything. Don’t be baited. You can deal with this little break in routine. Trying to cool her jets, Nell glanced out the window and through a copse of lodgepole pines to the golf course, the tenth fairway, where the clipped grass spread like a green carpet.

  “Go to work and not stick around to say ‘good-bye’?” Tasha cocked an eyebrow at Nell, then glanced at the screen of her mobile device, where she was absently scrolling through some social media site.

  “It’s not like I’m going on a world cruise. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, or the next day at the very latest. I’ll text you when I know for sure.”

  “Ummm.” She took another bite of the cookie. A bit of chocolate hung on her upper lip.

  Nell, standing near the front door, prodded, “The gym? You’re going in today?”

  “Elise and Guy are handling it.” Tasha licked off the chocolate, her icy blue eyes fixed on Nell, the tip of her tongue flicking and disappearing. A come-on? Maybe. It had been several days since they’d had the time to really get into it.

  “It’s our business, Tash. One of us should be there.”

  “But not you. Right? So I put up all the money to buy the place and you just come and go as you please, leaving me to run it.”

  There it was again: the money. Her inheritance was used to purchase a failing, out-of-date gym and retrofit it, adding new carpeting, new machines, new desks, and make it shiny, bright, and hip. Never mind all of Nell’s sweat equity. Who’d painted and laid the tile in the bathrooms, cleaned and polished the pool and showers? Who had trimmed and replanted the landscaping, adding a fountain near the front door? Who had come up with the idea for a climbing wall?

  Tasha shoved the iPad off of her body and stood up, her hair falling around her. Her beautiful face was set, her chin hard, every muscle in her body flexed beneath the dull clothing, and Nell was reminded that when she’d met her, Tasha had been a bodybuilder—all glistening overbuilt muscles stuffed into the scrap of a tiny hot-pink bikini.

  They had both been in Las Vegas, at a convention for all things geared to women’s sport. Spying Tasha on the stage, Nell had been awestruck. Watching her go through her routine, flexing and stretching, Nell had felt as if her heart were pounding so hard it might jump out of her chest.

  For her, it had been love, or at the very least lust, at first sight. They’d hooked up after the competition, consuming more than a couple of mai tais, though neither of them were big drinkers. Tasha had been bold enough to whisper in Nell’s ear, “Damn you’re sexy,” before sliding her tongue around the shell.

  The rest had been history—their history. They’d been together ever since that one fateful night and here they were four years later, owning a small, successful gym in Bend, Oregon, and engaged to be married.

  Everything had been perfect. Not a single bump in their blissful road, or at least nothing more serious than a tiny pothole, which was always about the money—Tash’s damned money. But even that wasn’t a serious problem. Her relationship with Tasha was rock solid. She’d felt that way until two days ago, when she’d heard about the bones being found at Camp Horseshoe.

  A flood of memories as intense as the tides near that cavern had washed over her, and Nell had done some quick investigating online through social media. She’d found Sosi Gavin Gaffney living in southern Oregon. Married, it seemed, with three kids, a boy and two girls. Still petite and freckled, her reddish hair longer now, in some kind of a mom bob cut, chin-length and feathery. Still pretty. Stupidly, Nell’s pulse rate had escalated while she scanned the photos.

  From what she had gleaned, Sosi was really into her kids and her church. The husband, Joshua Gaffney, didn’t have a page, but there were a few pictures of him scattered within the photos of children on Sosi’s page, either with the kids or toting a rifle. One shot particularly stood out in Nell’s mind, the husband, Joshua, dressed head to toe in camouflage, his rifle slung over his shoulder, bending down on one knee next to a dead deer—his kill—and holding the animal’s head up as the picture was taken.

  Nell had studied the man. He was handsome in that neo-Aryan sort of way, blond, clean shaven, etched jaw, intense gaze, and she guessed, just a gut feeling, that she wouldn’t like him.

  She thought about the nights she and Sosi had been together—learning, experimenting, not understanding where their relationship might lead . . . so long ago, so romantic.

  Until you got to the missing girls.

  And the scream.

  And what she’d seen that night when she’d followed that awful Reva with Sosi in tow. Nell had been worried because Reva, who had seemed mental at the time, her temper legendary, had snarled at them, gripping a huge knife in one hand so intensely that her knuckles had shown white in the darkness. Nell had initially panicked and run away, rolled off Sosi and headed back to the cabins, expecting Sosi to follow.

  Nell’s steps had slowed when she’d realized Sosi wasn’t coming. Something was going on, and Nell had decided to find out exactly what it was. She didn’t like Reva or anyone else sneaking up on them, and the whole attitude that because they were not only smoking a little weed, but also girls doing their girl thing, making out with girls was somehow worse than what the rest of them were into.

  That had burned Nell then and it sure as hell burned her now.

  She’d gotten some of her nerve back about halfway to the cabins, so she’d turned and followed Reva and Sosi and had seen Sosi almost pushed down the trail to the beach.

  But Sosi hadn’t been harmed.

  At least not at that point.

  Whatever Reva had intended to do with the knife, it hadn’t been to butcher Sosi, and Nell had taken heart in that knowledge, backtracking once again toward the cabins and the campers they’d left unattended.

  Until the scream.

  Sosi’s bloodcurdling shriek had reverberated over the rush of the ocean.

  At that moment, Nell had done a one-eighty and barreled along the path and, without a second’s thought, taken the switchbacks to the beach below to find it empty. Desolate. The wind rushing in, clouds covering the moon. She’d felt she was all alone, her heart trip-hammering with fear until she’d spied the footprints, several trails of them, sometimes next to each other, other times crossing, almost braiding along the pristine beach.

  Something was going on, something that made her blood run cold, but she’d followed that trail, feeling the push of the wind, adding her own footprints to those of the others. She tried to sort out exactly how many sets, but it was impossible in the darkness and didn’t matter anyway as she saw they all continued across the stretch of sand to the north end of the beach where Cape Horseshoe curved out to the sea, whereupon its narrow headland, at a rocky shelf called Suicide Ledge, rumor had it that Elle Brady had leapt to her death.

  Swallowing back her fear, Nell had trudged ever onward, reaching the narrow opening leading to the cavern and seeing a slit of weak, watery light that seemed to beckon her forward.

  She’d had to force herself to move forward. For Sosi, and for herself.

  She’d never never wanted to ever think about that horrid camp again. Yet . . . here she was. The truth was, she needed to go to back to Camp Horseshoe now and that bumblefuck little town of Averille to make sure that the truth came out and that it had nothing to do with Sosi or herself. She was starting a new
business here, in Bend, which was not the most liberal spot on the planet, so she didn’t want the least whiff of a scandal touching her. So far her clientele didn’t care that she was gay, but in this part of Oregon, unlike the metro area surrounding Portland, the attitude was definitely more redneck and conservative—and proud of it. So, she and Tasha didn’t throw their sexuality into others’ faces.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she said, and lifted up on her tiptoes to deposit a kiss on her fiancée’s cheek, but Tasha pulled away and Nell felt a little jab of disappointment in Tasha’s pissy attitude. “I promise.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.”

  Fine. Be that way, Nell thought as she picked up her bag and walked out the door to the bright sunshine and blue sky that was typically central Oregon. Drown your bad mood in red wine and store-bought cookies. See if I care.

  But she did. Care.

  She slipped on a pair of sunglasses and climbed into her older Subaru, parked outside, of course, as Tasha’s BMW was in the garage. She knew she loved Tasha. Probably too much. Despite her bitchy mood. But these little things really got under her skin.

  Switching on the ignition, then backing up while strapping on her seat belt, Nell cast a quick glance in the side-view mirror to the two-story cedar condo that Tasha had bought and she felt a little pang. Maybe she shouldn’t be driving to the coast, maybe Tasha was sensing that things would go wrong—she did have a little weird ESP thing going on—maybe she should play it safe, or at least safer, and stay here, where she belonged, with Tash.

  Then again, she thought, ramming her little Forester into drive, when the hell had she ever played it safe?

  And besides, truth to tell, she wanted to see Sosi again.

  CHAPTER 19

  Camp Horseshoe

  Then

  Lucas

  Something was up. And it wasn’t good.