Scared of the Dark: A Crime Novel

by Easton Vaughn

  Mosley said, “They behave like wild animals.”

  Lemon looked up at him, forced herself to speak. “Who behaves that way?”

  “Men,” he said sadly, glancing at Lemon’s eye. “You were saying that they were nothing but trouble when Haywood and I walked up. I can’t argue otherwise, as much as I would like to. Nothing but trouble. And they oftentimes behave in ways that make me absolutely ashamed of my biology.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The woman named Deborah was mum on Lemon or anything else. She moved quietly about the one-room house, spiderwalking her fingers across the cranberry-colored walls, crinkling her nose as though something smelled rotten as she riffled through Lemon’s dresses hung on one of the clothes racks. With every move it was obvious that she was filled with envy. Aiden’s attempts to engage her were met with silence so thorough it was its own sound. Even though he hated to do so, he eventually gave up asking Deborah questions about Lemon’s whereabouts and the prospect of her return. That tact obviously wasn’t working; he’d have to figure out a different and more subtle way to get Deborah to open up.

  It came to him as she traced the wall with her slender fingers for what seemed like the millionth time. “You’re pitiful,” he said, forcing a laugh behind the words.

  It worked. Deborah turned to face him, her mouth turned up in a sneer. “Hell you babblin’ about?”

  “You’re jealous of a one-room shack,” he said, adding a smile to the laugh, “and a few threadbare dresses that were cheap even when they were brand new. I feel sorry for you.”

  “Sorry for me? Jeez-an-ages.”

  Aiden’s smile widened. “Is that island talk? I didn’t figure you for an island girl. I missed that. So I guess you’re used to this kind of life then.”

  “Yuh fadda head.”

  He held the smile, bolstered by the sudden appearance of a deep accent in nearly every one of her words. He was finally getting through to her. “Did you have a grass hut similar to this back in Antigua? Longing for that same luxury here?”

  “I’m Trini, ya idiot,” she yelled, spittle flying with the words.

  “Antigua. Trinidad. Same thing.”

  Her nostrils flared. “The resort hotels in Antigua dump their waste right into the sea.”

  “You should talk? What does Trinidad offer besides the pelau and roti? You Trinis stop cooking and you’d stop mattering.”

  Now, Deborah was smiling. Despite her beauty, it was an ugly smile, one that portended troubles ahead. Aiden swallowed. Had he pushed her too far? Would she alert the men that their slave was misbehaving? He imagined the lashing that would come as a result of that.

  “You’re one for head games,” she said, nodding to herself. “Get me off balance and you win. It won’t work.”

  Shit.

  “I just want to know if Lemon’s okay,” Aiden said quietly. “Whether she’s coming back or not.”

  “Your girlfriend’s fine.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Jus’ so?”

  “She’s the only one here to have shown me an ounce of kindness,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

  Deborah narrowed her eyes. “I cannot picture Sheldon being unkind to anyone. Yet you scalded him.”

  “I saw it as a means to an end,” he said quietly. “I didn’t feel good about it at the time. And I feel worse now. It certainly was not one of my proudest moments.”

  “Remorse, nuh?”

  He nodded. “I’m a doctor. It’s against my nature to hurt anyone.”

  “I was under the impression you were looking to be a doctor,” Deborah said, “but hadn’t quite made it yet.”

  “You seem to know a lot about me.”

  She nodded. “Make it my business to learn people. Knowledge is power. Take your girlfriend, for instance. What I know about her gives me the advantage over her even when she walks around wit’ her nose up high like her shit stinks none.”

  “Advantage over Lemon?” Aiden laughed. “You’re not in her league. Sorry to say.”

  “More head games, Almost-Doctor Aiden?”

  “No head games. Fact,” he said. “The bitter truth.”

  “You want the bitter truth,” she said, pronouncing it “bitta troot.”

  “All ears,” Aiden said, smiling again because he knew he was knocking around inside her head once again, disturbing her usual thoughts, throwing her completely off balance.

  “Did your girlfriend tell you why she’s here?” she asked, spittle flying again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he heard himself say, not liking where this was headed.

  She chuckled. “She really has your nose open. You don’t even want to know Miss Lemon’s transgressions, nuh?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he repeated.

  Deborah moved close to the cot, leaned over him, whispered, “She killed her little baby. Smothered the little thing.”

  Little sounded like “likkle” from her lips.

  Aiden opened his mouth to say “It doesn’t matter” for a third time, but no words came.

  “We can end the head games now.” Deborah smiled. “I win, nuh?”

  He couldn’t disagree.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Even though his heartbeat always seemed to slow in moments of chaos, and held true to form now, Merritt couldn’t deny the tight coils of tension that had taken hostage of the muscles in his legs and shoulders. Getting to the beach was of great importance, trumped only by getting there quickly. With that burden cramping his hamstrings and deltoids, he churned through knee-high muck, unaffected by the wet stink, Will at his heels, the other man’s breaths coming in deep rasps as he fought to keep pace with Merritt. The sun hung low in the sky, and both men were drenched with sweat, Merritt blinking it from his eyes, Will swiping at it with his hands. Merritt could tell that Will wanted to stop for a breather, and although Merritt’s lungs burned raw as well, he trudged on. Getting to the beach was of great importance, trumped only by getting there quickly.

  Their movement flushed a bird from the trees. It squawked and flapped its mighty wings and screamed off toward blue-white sky. Despite Merritt’s outward appearance of calm, the bird’s reaction had indeed startled him. His heartbeat no longer crawled. It was a wide, sprawling thing trying to escape from his chest.

  “Gotta get to the beach,” he muttered, urging himself forward, and unashamed at having to do so.

  “We’re almost…there,” Will managed, his voice broken and distorted.

  And several beats later they were, tumbling from the tree cover and sinking into a warm pocket of sand. Merritt looked toward the water and finally relaxed. The tension left his legs and back. “They’re still on the island,” he said, speaking of Sheldon and Miss Amelia, indicating the evidence of such with a nod. The island’s 24-foot Carolina skiff and two fiberglass johnboats bobbed in the calm waters just up ahead.

  “Then they’ll be found,” Will replied.

  Merritt nodded. He’d sent some of the other men to comb the island while he and Will made their way to the beach. His mind had been steeled for a chase, but he was relieved there was no need for one.

  “Be interesting to learn why they went missing,” Will said.

  “Faktisk.”

  “What?”

  “Norwegian. Means indeed.”

  “You spent time over there? In the service?”

  “No, but I once made company with a Norwegian girl. Hair so blond and bright it was like looking into a light bulb. Busty and always ready to get to it, guiding my hands up to her breasts. She liked it when I told her I wanted to fuck. Always replied ‘faktisk.’”

  “You have some stories,” Will replied.

  Merritt looked at him for a long bit, letting his gaze fall on Will’s face, looking deep into Will’s eyes. “That’s all any of us have,” he said after a while. “Stories.”

  “Head back?” Will asked, a tinge of alarm in his voice.

  He doesn’t like being appraised,
Merritt thought. Which means what? Hiding something he doesn’t want revealed under close inspection?

  “Yeah, let’s head back,” Merritt said.

  The return pace was casual, loose. Merritt told a few more war stories. Will listened, said very little in response.

  “Two klicks off course—that’s kilometers—our ammo low and our nerves high…” Merritt was saying. Then he suddenly paused, raised his hand for Will to be still as well. A frown creased his forehead. “Hear that?”

  Will shook his head. “I don’t hear any—”

  “Shush,” Merritt said, putting a finger to his lips.

  A rustling sound, twigs snapping, clopping footfalls. A big man. Or a big animal. Merritt wasn’t sure which would be worse. He was physically and mentally spent. Next to no fight in his weary body. He had no time to focus on any of that, though, because in another beat the sound was on them like a thick fog. Merritt’s jaw muscles churned and his nostrils flared. He balled his hands into fists, ready. He’d use every ounce of strength he could muster to defeat whatever danger was fast approaching them. Soon as he had that thought, however, a figure emerged from the clearing and for the second time today, Merritt relaxed.

  Pleasant announced, “Lemon’s coming,” and moved off under a canopy of trees, out of earshot. Will joined him in the shade.

  Lemon was a second behind Pleasant, and came marching directly over to Merritt, just the two of them facing off. “Did you kill Ruck?” she asked.

  Merritt smiled. “Straight to it? Goodness, Mrs. Potter. You could at least get me wet first.”

  “I’m not playing this game with you. Answer the question.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Merritt said.

  “No?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Doesn’t it hurt to move your face like that?” Merritt asked. “Your bruises look painful.”

  “Answer the question,” she repeated.

  “Did I kill Ruck? I might’ve kinda sorta probably farmed that task out,” Merritt said, smiling. “He was a good friend, as you know. I couldn’t actually be there when his lights went out. I’m sentimental that way.”

  “You’re going to get yours,” Lemon told him.

  Merritt nodded. “I plan on it. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m taking over the island. Your husband is done. We need new leadership. Fresh thoughts. This place can be so much more than it currently is.” He reached forward and touched Lemon’s chin and for once she didn’t flinch or shrink away. “Play your cards right and you can remain first lady.”

  “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you,” she said.

  “What movie is that line from?”

  “One where the heroine sinks a long knife into the heart of a cruel, callous man,” she said without missing a beat.

  “Is that a threat, Mrs. Potter?”

  She nodded. “A very serious one, I’d say.”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, then shook her head and left without a further word.

  Pleasant stepped forward and fixed his hard eyes on Merritt. Merritt sighed and gave a slight nod.

  Pleasant moved off to follow Lemon.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “I need you to be straight with me,” Sheldon said. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me everything you know. If I’m comfortable that you’ve been forthright, I’ll untie you and set you free.” He focused his tired eyes fully on Miss Amelia’s face, searched it for a hint of either honesty or duplicity.

  “Forthright? You are one scheming motherfucka. Had all of us thinking you were retarded. Motherfucka.”

  “Don’t worry about any of that. I’m going to ask you my question, and I need you to give a thoughtful response.”

  “What if I refuse to answer?” she asked.

  “It won’t go well for you if you do.”

  “You’d hurt me? An old lady?”

  “If I believe you’re holding out on me?” Sheldon said, and nodded.

  “Just who are you?”

  “We’ll get to that. It doesn’t matter at this moment.”

  “You’re a rat bastard, you know that?”

  “Sheila,” he said. “I’ve heard her name mentioned by the others several times. You were scared when we had that talk about someone on the island being killed because they had the devil in them. Remember that?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “Tell me everything you know about Sheila’s time on the island and…what happened to her.”

  A smile brought out the wrinkles in Miss Amelia’s face. “That what this is about? I had a feeling,” she said, shaking her head. “What was Sheila to you? Girlfriend? Wife? Sorry to tell you, she wasn’t the faithful sort. You should talk to Merritt. He knew her a lot more closely than me. Knew her better than anyone else here did, for that matter. Though, wait, I do recall a few hushed stories about her and Ruck of all people. Oh, and, Shepherd, too. Your lady got around, big guy.”

  “Be careful what you say,” Sheldon hissed.

  “Ain’t nothing more pitiful than a cuckolded man. I know a few big words too, rat bastard.”

  “You have it all wrong,” Sheldon said.

  “Educate me, motherfucka.”

  “Can’t get over your mouth,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Educate me, motherfucka,” she repeated, enunciating each word, especially the last.

  “Sheila’s my sister,” he said.

  That caught Miss Amelia off guard. She took a moment to regroup. Then said, “Was your sister. Past tense.”

  “However it turned out,” he said softly, “she is my sister. A bond like Sheila and I had never ends.”

  Miss Amelia narrowed her eyes. “You knew she was coming to the island?”

  Sheldon looked pained. “She left behind a journal just before she came here. It included all of the details about this place that I needed. I think she had reservations about coming here, and wanted me to know what she was up to in case this all went sideways.”

  “How did you get Shepherd to let you come here?”

  Sheldon smirked. “He’s an interesting character. I truly believe that he thinks he’s giving a second chance to the unredeemable. So I made sure I fit his profile. And Sheila had left me information about how she came in contact with him. All I had to do was insinuate myself into his path.”

  “Scheming motherfucka.”

  Sheldon nodded. “I’ll accept that.”

  Miss Amelia harrumphed. “Your sister stirred up a lot of trouble. She wasn’t here a hot minute, and yet she tore up the balance of the island. Had the men at each other’s throats.”

  Sheldon nodded. “Sounds just like Sheila.”

  “She wasn’t very discerning when it came to men, was she?”

  “No reason for her to come to harm though. You’d protect the men who killed one of the few women on the island? That sits okay with you?”

  Miss Amelia said, “I liked her. I really did.”

  “Then tell me what happened to her”

  “None of us knows for sure,” she said after some time. “Shepherd told us she drowned trying to escape, but as with everything here, there were whispers that that wasn’t all the way true. Like I said, talk to Merritt. He was mixed up in all of that mess.”

  “I will,” Sheldon said, “right before I kill him.”

  Miss Amelia smirked. “That what the cross I caught you building is for? You here to crucify the person or persons responsible for your sister’s death?”

  “I’ll drive nails through their ankles and wrists. I’ll pierce their sides until they leak blood.”

  “Give them vinegar to drink,” she said, smiling.

  “Someone’s paying for what was done to my sister. Paying in a very public way.”

  She shook her head. “You’re crazy. It won’t work.”

  Sheldon leaned down, grabbed the collar of her dress. “Enough of this. Tell me everything you know.�
��

  “Your breath smells.”

  “That what you need to be worrying about right now?”

  “I don’t want to get involved in your mess.”

  “Everything you know,” he said once more.

  She hesitated a long moment. He kept the tight grip on her dress. Finally, she said, “They pulled her from the water, brought her body to us so we could see what had happened. Claimed it was so we could properly bury her, but I suspect it was a warning to the rest of us. In addition to stirring up the men, your sister had been making noise about leaving the island. So the story about her drowning while trying to escape made sense.”

  “Keep going.”

  Miss Amelia nodded. “Stirred up a lot of trouble, like I said, and then walked around pouting because there was so much tension here. Most of it her doing. Made me sick, to tell you the truth.”

  “So you think Merritt drowned her?”

  “If I had to guess,” she said, “yes.”

  Sheldon loosened his grip on her collar. “Shepherd was okay with Merritt…harming Sheila?”

  “I suspect Shepherd might’ve given the order.”

  Sheldon’s shoulders slumped. “What did they do with the body? You mentioned a funeral?”

  Miss Amelia shook her head. “Despite what you think, I’m not cruel. I’ve said enough.”

  He gripped the collar of her dress again. “Everything you know.”

  “Goodness. Okay. Stop repeating yourself.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s ironic, really,” she said.

  “What’s ironic?”

  “Where they buried her.”

  Sheldon licked his lips, took a deep breath. “Where?”

  She looked at him with her hard, dark, and yes, cruel eyes. A tight smile broke on her face. She was enjoying this, in spite of what she said. Everyone on the island had this terrible sort of darkness within them. Shepherd’s belief that living on the island would bring them light was flawed to say the least.

  “Where did they bury my sister?”

  “It’s really ironic.”

  “You said that. Tell me where.”

  “Thing about your garden,” she said, smiling. “I’m guessing your sister’s remains are much better for the soil than your compost.”