Take It to the Grave Part 6 of 6

by Zoe Carter

  The ocean does the rest, depositing us on the wet sand. Warwick lies there, panting, and I crawl to safety with Elliot, not wanting to risk the chance of getting sucked back in.

  “Oh, my God—are you two all right? Edward, help her, hurry. We can’t let them get washed back out there.”

  Warwick’s father takes hold of my elbows, lifting me to my feet. Eleanor hovers over us with an umbrella, which would have made me laugh if the circumstances were different.

  But then I discover my mother-in-law’s quick thinking has kept a blanket dry for Elliot. She opens it for him, but I hesitate. After everything I’ve been through, it’s difficult to let my son go again, even for a second.

  “It’s okay, Sarah. He’s safe now. No one will hurt him again, I promise.”

  It’s her eyes that convince me. They are full of tears, and her hands shake when she reaches toward me with the blanket again. For all her faults, Eleanor very much loves my son, more than I’ve ever given her credit for. I hand him over, careful to keep him in the shelter of the umbrella. As I do, I notice his skin has turned a pale shade of blue. He’s staring at me, still alert, but he’s so quiet it spooks me.

  Eleanor winds the blanket around him, cradling him close to her chest.

  “Do you think he’ll make it?” I’m desperate for reassurance.

  “Of course he’ll make it. Elliot has your stubbornness, Sarah. He’ll be just fine.”

  A smile falters on my lips, but then I remember my sister and Caleb are still out there. Warwick is on his feet now, and I run to him.

  “Caleb is trying to kill my sister. You have to help her. Please, Warwick. She saved Elliot—and me. We can’t let her die out there.”

  The tide sucks sand from around my husband’s ankles and he stumbles to get farther away from the water, breathing hard. He’s near exhaustion, but there’s no time to wait for help. If we wait, Caleb will drown Maisey. He may have drowned her already.

  “He can’t go back out there,” Eleanor says. “He’s too weak. If he goes out in that storm again, he’ll die.”

  At her words, Warwick seems to recover. He straightens to his full height, and even his breathing sounds better. Ignoring his mother, he turns to me. “Where did you last see them?”

  Pointing to a place not far from where he’d found me, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Hurry,” I whisper. “Please hurry. Don’t let her die.”

  He presses his lips to my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her.”

  “Warwick, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve saved your wife and son. You have nothing left to prove.” Eleanor looks around, helpless. “Where is Edward? Edward, tell your son he’s making a mistake.”

  But it’s too late. Warwick dives back into the swell. The waves are even angrier than before, throwing themselves against the beach in a fury.

  “Why would he go out there again? You shouldn’t have asked him. He’s going to end up killing himself,” Eleanor says, her voice wavering.

  “He did the right thing, El. Our son could never watch someone die. If he didn’t help, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Come on—we need to get farther up the beach. This isn’t safe.” Edward places a towel around my shoulders.

  I remain quiet, but I know Eleanor is the only reason Warwick went after my sister. My mother-in-law has never understood the effect she has on her son. She’s wrong if she thinks Elliot inherited all of his stubbornness from me.

  We stare at the churning water, silently praying for a miracle. Come on, Maisey—swim.

  “He’s not that strong a swimmer,” Eleanor says, and I’m about to argue with her when Edward beats me to it.

  “He’s stronger than you think,” he says. “Have a little faith.”

  Lightning arcs across the sky, making me flinch. I reach for Elliot and Eleanor lets me take him. Cuddling him close, I kiss his tiny nose.

  “Shh, it’s okay now, baby. It’s okay.”

  Elliot’s a healthier color now, and he wiggles in my arms. Perhaps the frigid water had shocked him into stillness. While I have to get him into the house, where I can draw a tub of warm water and get the blood flowing in his veins again, I don’t dare leave until I know Maisey and Warwick are safe.

  I press Elliot’s face to my bare chest, hoping to keep him as warm as possible.

  The water mesmerizes me as it crashes against the shore again and again, cursing our presence. If we make it through this, we’re definitely selling the beach house. I don’t care what Eleanor says.

  “My baby girl!” Mom cries, running toward the ocean. In the struggle to save Elliot, I’d forgotten all about her. Edward manages to get to her in time, but she struggles in his arms, trying to escape. “Where’s my baby girl? Where’s Maisey?”

  The anguish in her voice breaks through my detachment. Maisey might die. I might actually lose my sister. “Warwick went after her, Mom. He’s going to bring her back, don’t worry.” I strive to sound more confident than I feel.

  “Wait a minute. I think I see them.” Eleanor points at something in the distance. “That’s them, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s them.”

  Out in the deep water, I can make out two people thrashing among the waves. One appears to be Warwick, and he’s fighting someone with dark hair. Caleb?

  Then lightning flashes, illuminating the sky again, and I see he’s grappling with my sister. Maisey has Warwick trapped in some kind of chokehold and he is straining to free himself. They disappear from view as a wave crashes over them.

  “What is she doing?” Eleanor shrieks. “She’ll kill him.”

  “Not Maisey! Maisey would never hurt anyone,” Mom says. Edward loses control of her and she falls to her knees on the sand. At least she seems to have reconsidered her earlier plan to go out there after them. She raises her hands to the sky like she’s praying for divine assistance. “Please bring my daughter back. I can’t lose another child, I can’t.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure my sister is trying to bring him in. She was a lifeguard.” I try my best to reassure Eleanor. “Sometimes people panic when they’re drowning, but Maisey was one of the best swimmers in the country. If anyone can bring Warwick in, it’s her.”

  Privately, I’m not so sure that’s what’s happening. I’m well aware of how lifeguards bring in drowning victims, and they don’t use headlocks. I’m pretty sure I know my sister well enough, even now, to understand what she’s trying to do.

  Forget it, Maisey—he’s not worth it. Don’t worry about me; save yourself.

  My mother continues to sob, pounding against the sand. “Why, God? Why did you take my babies? Why?”

  Walking over to her, I take her hand in mine, entwining my fingers with hers. I help her to her feet and put my arm around her. She shivers, leaning against me as I drape the towel over both of us. Now that it’s soaked, it’s not much comfort, but at least it’s something.

  “I don’t want Maisey to die.”

  “She’ll be okay, Mom. Remember how strong she is.”

  Despite Alice’s faults, she’s always refused to see anything but the best in her girls. Maybe her greatest flaw is that she did the same with Peter.

  “Warwick will be fine,” Edward tells his wife, pulling her away from the water’s edge. “Remember how strong he is.”

  I wonder if my sister knew what she was getting into.

  “Oh, hell with it.” Shrugging out of his rain jacket, Edward kicks off his shoes. “Do you still see them?”

  “No.” The waves are too high to see much of anything now. I’m shocked when Eleanor bursts into tears. She seizes her husband’s hand. “Don’t go. I can’t bear to lose you, too.”

  “Don’t give up on us so easily, my love. I need you to have faith.” Edward gently cups her chin in his hands, kissing her goodbye before diving into
the waves after his son. Other people have arrived on the beach now, guests of Eleanor’s from the party. Two younger men follow Edward into the ocean, easily keeping pace with him. They bob up and down in the enraged water, tossed about like toys. Mom squeezes my hand in a death grip.

  “This is madness. No one should go out there. The storm is too violent. This is suicide,” Eleanor says. Finally she turns away, unable to watch any longer.

  My eyes ache from peering into the dark water. It occurs to me that whoever emerges from the waves will determine my future. Will it be Warwick, forever using the love of my son against me? Or Maisey, who’ll insist we go to the police and tell the truth about our half brother’s death?

  Or Caleb, who is hell-bent on destroying me?

  “Look!” Mom says. She huddles against my body as if she’s trying to hide. “I think they’re coming back.”

  A cheer rises from the beach, but the celebratory mood vanishes as Edward and the other men drag the motionless bodies of my husband and Maisey out of the water. The wind howls, echoing my mother’s grief.

  “Maisey!” Alice scurries over to the pale figure outstretched on the sand. I run after her, Eleanor on my heels. The men from the christening party scream at us to get back, yell at us to give them space.

  Numb with shock, I can do nothing but stare as they pound on my husband’s chest, pinch my sister’s nose and breathe air into her lungs. They are tireless, determined, ignoring the wind and the rain as they fight to save Maisey and Warwick. Edward massages my husband’s hand.

  “Come on, son, don’t give up. Come on, son, you got this. You got this, Warwick. We need you. Come back to us, son.”

  My mother collapses at my sister’s feet. Clinging to her toes, she weeps, and I move to comfort her, feeling like I’m in a dream. It’s a horrible thought, so horrible I can’t bear to acknowledge it. But...

  What if I’m free?

  Kneeling on the sand, I embrace my mother. Her entire body shudders as she screams out her anguish at me. She strikes my shoulders, pushing me away. “Why weren’t you watching her?” She ages before my eyes, her despair turning her old and haggard. “Why didn’t you stop her? You were supposed to keep her safe. I trusted you. I trusted you to keep her safe.”

  The ugly side of my brain persists, the terrible thoughts crowding out the pain of her cruel accusations. My mother never accepted Maisey as a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. Once Frankie died, my sister was relegated to the baby-of-the-family role, a part she would always play.

  Warwick had a will drawn up after we were married. His mother can cut me off if we divorce, but not if he dies. There is enough money in his estate to start a new life, somewhere the Taylor-Coxes will never, ever find us.

  I could be free—my son could be free.

  “What about Caleb?” my mother wails at the men. “Where is Caleb? He was out there, too.”

  Edward is the only one who bothers to acknowledge her. “I’m sorry, Alice,” he says. “We couldn’t find him.” Warwick’s hand rests limply in his. As Edward’s eyes meet my own, I see the resignation. He knows his son is gone.

  “No, don’t you quit. Don’t you dare quit,” Alice yells at the rescuers as they pause their lifesaving efforts, slumped and panting, their heads lowered. “You have to save my baby. You have to save her.”

  How long do I have? Disentangling myself from my mother, I coldly survey the anguished faces of our sad little group. No one is paying attention to me. Everyone stares at the bodies, unable to look away. Eleanor weeps as she witnesses the struggle to save her son, a hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her agony. I feel a moment of pity for her—I’d come so close to losing my own.

  No one will notice if I slip away. Forget the estate; it’s too much trouble. Eleanor would fight me on it, anyway. Knowing her, she’d blame me for Warwick’s death.

  She’d wage war over every dollar. We really don’t require much, Elliot and me. A few simple essentials are all we need to get us started. His diaper bag is already packed.

  Peter’s voice echoes in my mind. “You’re a whore. All you’ll ever be good for is making men happy.”

  Ah, but you’re wrong, Peter. You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now. Maisey was right—I used to be smart. I used to be good in school. There are things I can do. Maybe I couldn’t get a job before, but I’m older now. I won’t give up this time, and maybe someday I’ll go to college. I can give my son a normal life, and I can keep us safe.

  I am enough.

  Alice huddles over my sister’s feet, sobbing. She’s focused on Maisey, jiggling her heels, tickling her toes, begging her to wake up. “Please wake up, baby. Wake up and open your eyes. This is your mother. Your mother needs you. You can’t leave me.”

  I feel a twinge of regret as I force myself to say goodbye to my sister’s lifeless body.

  I’ll never forget what she sacrificed to set me free.

  Goodbye, Maisey. Goodbye, Warwick.

  Moving slowly, casually, I edge away from my mother. If anyone glances at me, they will see a woman beset with grief, unable to stand the sight of her husband and sister lying dead on the sand. I cover my face with a hand, pretending to mourn with the others.

  Almost there. Almost free.

  Elliot whines, and I freeze, wondering if anyone will notice we’ve left the circle. The thunder rolls in like a freight train, the perfect partner in crime.

  There will never be another chance like this.

  “Hey,” a man yells, his voice audible in spite of the storm. “We’ve got a pulse.”

  Cradling my son against my chest, I run.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE!

  A 6-part psychological thriller that will have you guessing till the very end!

  “I know your secret. I’m going to tell.”

  As Sarah Taylor-Cox stares at the anonymous letter, her body starts to shake with dread. She has everything to lose—a gorgeous husband, a beautiful baby, and a picture-perfect house in the Hamptons. And now, the lies she’s built her life on are starting to crumble, one by deadly one…

  Collect all 6!

  Take It to the Grave (Part 1 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  Take It to the Grave (Part 2 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  Take It to the Grave (Part 3 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  Take It to the Grave (Part 4 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  Take It to the Grave (Part 5 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  Take It to the Grave (Part 6 of 6)

  by Zoe Carter

  ISBN-13: 9781488028670

  Take It to the Grave (Part 6 of 6)

  Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Shannon Curtis and J. H. Moncrieff for their contributions to this work.

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