Darkness Rising (The East Salem Trilogy)

by Lis Wiehl

  “I do. How is he?”

  “He’s good. At least that’s what he wants us to think. He still has a few . . .”

  “Demons? Don’t we all?” Cassandra said. “But I’m working on mine. I wanted to tell you I’ve taken a great many new steps since we last spoke. Apart from a One-a-Day Flintstones gummy vitamin, I am completely pill-free. I sleep like a baby and I exercise and I eat much better too. The tabloids hate me—they have nothing to say about me anymore. I’m completely boring.”

  “That’s good, Cass. Really good.”

  “I’ve started going to church again too,” she said. “With my schedule I can’t go every Sunday, but I go when I can. I like it. I still have a lot of questions, but I’m back on track, you might say. And I have you to thank for all of it.”

  “You’re the one who made the changes.”

  “Well, you never preached,” she said. “And I appreciate that. Unlike all the other men who’ve tried to tell me how to live. You just set a good example and trusted me to decide for myself.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. An awkward silence followed.

  “I was thinking I might stay the weekend and we could catch up,” she finally said. “But I guess that’s a no-go. I still might stay the weekend somewhere. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels to get out of the city.”

  “I can take you over to the Peter Keeler, if you’d like.”

  Cassandra saw the wooden box with the inlaid Celtic cross on the food island. “That’s beautiful,” she said. She moved to have a closer look and traced the cross and the circle with her little finger. “Where’d you get it? What kind of wood is it?”

  “Tag sale,” he said. “Not sure what it’s made of. Let me get my coat and I’ll drive you.”

  Trying not to rouse Cassandra’s curiosity, he casually picked up the box along with a stack of newspapers and brought them into the study. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t followed him, he moved a mirror on the wall to reveal a hidden safe. The man who’d built the house had been running a Ponzi scheme, but ended up swindling a Mexican drug cartel that was using him to launder their money, or so they thought. The Ponzi schemer had multiple reasons to be nervous, so in addition to the security system, he’d installed a large wall safe to hold his ill-gotten gains. Tommy’s friends had laughed when he’d showed it to them, and asked him if he had any revolving bookcases hiding secret passageways.

  The safe had two dials, one with letters and the other with numbers. He’d had the combination changed to Bond 007. The safe contained his Super Bowl rings, a folder of legal documents including his will, his mother’s diary, his high school yearbook with the embarrassing heart drawn around Dani’s picture with a red Sharpie, and a book of poems he’d written in middle school that he should have burned a long time ago but couldn’t. He put Abbie’s box in the safe, which he no longer thought of as safe, given the adversaries he was up against, but was safer than anywhere else he could think of.

  He grabbed a coat and walked back to the kitchen where he could hear his aunt talking to his ex.

  “I’d introduce you, but I see you’ve met,” he said.

  “Your aunt was just telling me about Dani,” Cassandra said. Tommy flinched, but then realized he was glad that Aunt Ruth had broken the news for him. “She sounds great. Are you going to let me meet her?”

  “I don’t know,” Tommy said. “She’s been really busy lately. Maybe. Sure.”

  “Well, then you must tell me everything about her on our way to the inn,” she said, grabbing her suitcase. “Your father is in Texas? How’s he doing?”

  On the way to the inn they talked mostly about Dani. Taking care not to violate anything Dani might have told him in confidence, and steering clear of any issues she might consider nobody’s business but hers, or theirs, Tommy told Cassandra that he’d met the right woman and knew she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, or ever could.

  “I’m happy for you, Tom,” Cassandra said, and sounded like she meant it. “You know what they say. Everyone has a purpose, even if it’s only to set a bad example. I do what I can.”

  Despite the joke, Tommy knew Cassandra was glad for him. She hadn’t come hoping to rekindle a dead romance, but rather in the spirit of friendship, at a time when she really needed a “home.” By the time she’d finished describing the soccer star who’d dumped her, it was abundantly clear to both of them that she was much better off without him.

  “Gosh,” she said. “Just talking to you about him makes me see how stupid I was. What was I thinking? It’s amazing how things can seem so clear when you have to explain them to someone else. I guess that’s what therapy is all about. Well, duh.”

  “Just give it a rest before you fall in love again,” Tommy said. “Most people wait more than a few days for the smoke to clear.”

  “That is most excellent advice,” she said. “I shall not rebound.”

  “But don’t pass up any slam dunks either,” Tommy said.

  At the Peter Keeler he checked her in under the fake name she always used, Tess Tosterone. It was the name of the first character she’d ever played, in a movie about women’s roller derby called When Girls Collide. While she used her cell phone to get a rental car delivered to the inn, Tommy asked the desk clerk if Julian Villanegre was in. It occurred to him that the art historian might know something about Abbie’s mysterious box.

  When he was told that Villanegre had stepped out, Tommy asked her to give the Englishman a message, that they’d found an art object Abbie had left behind. Then he asked for Ben Whitehorse. The clerk at the reception desk typed that name in and then scrolled up and down before telling him that there was no one named Ben Whitehorse registered. He asked her to check again, and said he knew Ben was staying there because he’d helped him check in.

  She searched again. “No one by that name. Sorry.”

  He spelled it for her. “You said he was a sweet man,” he reminded her. “He thought you’d baked the Sara Lee muffins at the breakfast buffet.”

  It didn’t ring a bell. She checked again. “Nope. Sorry. You’re sure he was here?”

  “Well, I was,” Tommy said. “But now I’m not so sure about anything.”

  22

  At the train station, Dani checked her phone and saw a text from Quinn: MISSED TRAIN. NEXT ONE IN 30. I PROMISE WAIT WILL BE WORTH IT.

  “Typical,” she said.

  She called her office, Ralston-Foley Behavioral Consulting. The receptionist, a young woman named Kelly, told Dani that a trial at which she was scheduled to testify had been postponed again and another, involving a battered mother of four, had been settled with the husband pleading guilty. Dani asked to be connected to her office voice mail.

  “Oh—before I do,” Kelly said, “you also got a letter. I mean an actual letter, on paper, with handwriting on the envelope. I’ve never seen one of those before.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Doesn’t say. The return address just says Starbucks Guy.”

  Dani looked at her watch. If the traffic was with her, she could race to her office, pick up the envelope, and get back to the train station in time.

  “Hold on to it, Kell. I’ll be there in ten.”

  As Dani drove to her office, she asked herself again the question she’d been asking herself for the last four days—if someone was going to betray her, who would it be? She’d never suspected Tommy, but of all the people she needed to count on, he was the most important, and thus a betrayal from him would hurt the most. She ran the syllogism through her head: 1) Cassandra came to see him; 2) it was highly unlikely that she’d come to see him if he hadn’t invited her; 3) he didn’t tell her Cassandra was coming; 4) therefore he had lied, by omission if not by commission.

  She would not be in a relationship with someone who lied to her. It was that simple.

  At her office, she took the letter from Kelly, thanked her, apologized for letting the work back up, promised she
’d be in soon, and ran back to her car. She opened the envelope as she drove and shook out a single SD card, eight megabytes, black with no label. She stuffed it into her coat pocket as she pulled into the train station parking lot.

  Quinn was already there, full of apologies for having fallen asleep in Grand Central Station. When Dani asked how he—or anybody—could fall asleep amid the cacophony of Grand Central, he said he’d been up all night with Illena.

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” she said.

  “I think you do.”

  “I know I don’t,” Dani said, her tone sharp and angry and certainly nothing he deserved, she realized immediately. But she wasn’t in the mood for apologizing. He gave her a minute and then asked if something was bothering her.

  “A lot,” she said. “I’m sorry for barking at you. It’s not your fault. I just can’t—I can’t really tell you what’s going on.”

  “Do you mean with Tommy?”

  “Actually, that’s the part I can tell you,” Dani said, surprised at Quinn’s perceptiveness. “I think he’s been seeing—let me rephrase that. Today, his ex showed up. He said he wasn’t in touch with her, but apparently he has been. Cassandra Morton.”

  “The actress?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I love her! Oh, I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

  “Ya think?”

  He waited a moment. “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know,” she said as she considered her options. “I think maybe you should go back to New York.”

  “Dani—”

  “I got you involved in something I never should have involved you in. It’s too . . . much. And I can’t tell you why, but I think you need to get your dog and your stuff—where is your stuff? Is it still at the inn?”

  He nodded.

  “I think maybe the best thing for you and for me and maybe for everybody, but definitely for you, would be to go back and pretend all this never happened. While you still can. I know that’s confusing and annoyingly mysterious, but just trust me.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes.

  “I don’t have very much to go back to,” he said.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You say there’s something I don’t understand. Well, you should know there’s something you don’t understand.”

  “Illena—”

  “Is a very nice person, but I don’t love her and she’s not part of my life,” Quinn said. “This . . . whatever this is—whatever you’re doing—feels rather important to me. More than anything else I’m doing. Or have ever done. And I need to do something important. It’s not just because I’m curious. So if you’re giving me a choice between in or out, I’m in. All the way. If you want me.”

  She pulled over to the side of the road and looked at him.

  “This isn’t a joke, Quinn. This makes whatever we were doing in Africa look like a game of hopscotch. This is really big. So much bigger than I can even explain right now. It could be dangerous . . . really, seriously dangerous. And it requires a certain suspension of disbelief. And actual belief too. I’m not sure you’re going to be on board when you get the full picture.”

  “Try me.”

  “We have to get your things,” she said, putting the car in gear and pulling back into traffic. “We’re going to the inn first, and then to Tommy’s house.”

  “Yikes,” Quinn said. “Tommy’s house? Really? Do you want me to punch him for you?”

  Dani looked at him and laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Quinn—have you ever hit anyone?”

  “No,” he said. “But how hard could it be? Has Tommy ever hit anyone?”

  “For a living,” she said. “They used to give him trophies for hitting people.”

  At the inn Dani waited in the car while Quinn went inside to pack his suitcase. She took the SD card from her pocket and looked at it, as if she could learn something just by staring at it. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, bringing Quinn into this. She knew she was doing the wrong thing by bringing him in without consulting Tommy and the others, but Tommy hadn’t exactly consulted with her when he invited Cassandra Morton up for a visit.

  No sooner had she thought of the actress than a blonde with long, stylish bedhead bangs came out the back door of the inn and stopped. She extended her arm and aimed a car-key remote in the general direction of the parking lot, sweeping from left to right and back again. Dani had to admit that she was even prettier in person than she was in movies, and she had a lot of help when she appeared in movies. She appeared to be frustrated. Dani would have left well enough alone if the actress hadn’t approached her car. Dani rolled down her window.

  “Excuse me,” Cassandra said. “Do you know what a Maxima is?”

  “It’s a car.”

  “I know it’s a car,” the actress said with a self-deprecating laugh. “The rental company dropped it off but they didn’t say where they put it. They said it’s silver, but half the cars out here are silver, and I don’t know what a Maxima looks like.”

  “Press the red button,” Dani said. “I think you were pressing the door unlock.”

  Cassandra pressed the red button, and a silver Maxima three rows back began to honk and flash its lights. She frantically pressed the button again to get the alarm to stop, but nothing happened.

  “You have to put the key in the ignition,” Dani advised.

  Cassandra ran to the car, unlocked it, and turned the key in the ignition, silencing the alarm, then returned to where Dani was.

  “Thank you so much,” the actress said, catching her breath. “That was so kind of you. I obviously don’t drive much. I’m sorry I bothered you, but can I ask one more favor? Is there a decent place I can get something to eat?”

  “You’re Cassandra Morton,” Dani said. She realized immediately what a stupid thing it was to say. Then she wondered why Cassandra was dining alone. Was Tommy going to keep her hidden, make some excuse, and go to her later? Could he be that devious?

  “I am,” the actress said matter-of-factly but without any apparent ego. “You’re not hungry, are you? I’ll buy you dinner. I’d love the company. Unless you think that’s weird.”

  “You don’t know anyone in town?”

  “I have one friend but he’s busy tonight, so I’m on my own.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Dani said. “I know just about everybody here.”

  “I’m sure you know him,” she said, “but I shouldn’t say. Are you sure you won’t join me?”

  “Thank you, but I’m waiting for someone. Try the Pub. Across the green, about halfway down. Or the Miss Salem Diner, but the Pub is nicer.”

  “Thanks again,” Cassandra said, smiling brightly as she headed back to her rental car.

  Dani was left to wonder whether she’d just been fooled by an accomplished actress, but she found herself liking the woman despite how much she wanted not to. She seemed genuine and friendly and all those things you want to believe about actresses who portray plucky, likable characters. Dani didn’t think of herself as the kind of person who was impressed by celebrities, but perhaps she was, more than she wanted to admit.

  She was startled when Quinn opened the passenger side door and threw his suitcase in the backseat.

  “Should we check on Otto?” he said as he plopped in beside her.

  “He’s already there,” Dani said. “Arlo too.”

  At the house, Dani introduced Quinn to Tommy and Ruth, then asked where Carl was. Tommy said he still wasn’t back and that he was getting worried—Carl wasn’t answering his phone.

  “Dani, can I speak to you for a moment in private?”

  “I need to check something on my laptop first.”

  Tommy could sense she was bristling with anger. He desperately needed to address whatever it was that was bothering her.

  “Quinn needs to know the whole story,” Dani said. “He knows about Amos but not the rest of it. Why don’t you fill him in while I have a l
ook at this.” She held up the SD card.

  “What’s that?” Tommy said.

  “I won’t know until I see what’s on it, will I? Our friend from St. Adrian’s mailed it to my office.”

  “Use my desktop in the study,” he said. “That card reader is on the right.”

  Dani went into the study, closing the door behind her. Ruth went upstairs to finish turning down the beds.

  Tommy looked at Quinn and said, “Can somebody tell me what’s going on?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” Quinn said. “She thinks you should have told her Cassandra Morton was here.”

  “I just tried to,” Tommy said. “That’s why I wanted to talk to her in private.”

  “I don’t want to get between the two of you,” Quinn said, “but if it were me, I’d give her awhile to cool down. She usually does.”

  Tommy nodded, then went to his study. He hesitated at the closed door, thought for a second that he should open it, then decided he should knock, and then decided Quinn was right. It occurred to him at that moment that perhaps Quinn was right in any number of ways—a better match for Dani, more tuned in to the things Dani had studied and cared about. Perhaps the fantasy he’d been entertaining, that God and fate had brought her back to him for a higher purpose, was just that, a fantasy, a self-composed delusion.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?” he said to Quinn. In the kitchen, he put on his barn coat and then stepped out the back door.

  He went out into the yard and walked to an Adirondack-style bench set beneath a weeping willow tree overlooking the pond. The late November air was cold, the moon well on the wane, the sky overhead bright with stars. He pulled his collar up, buttoned it closed at the top button, kept his hands in his pockets for warmth, and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose three times, more slowly each time, and then he prayed silently.

  Jesus, I’m sorry. I think I’m letting you down. You called on me to do something for you, and I think I’m failing you. You sent Dani to me, but I’m losing her and I don’t know why. Something changed. I’m confused, Lord. If you could help me understand what she’s feeling right now, I might be able to figure the rest out. I don’t want to lose her, but if that’s your will, please make that clear to me because otherwise I’m only going to waste her time. I’ve never felt this way before, and I’m scared . . .