by Margot Hunt
What the hell is she doing? I wondered.
The reporters were thrilled at the interaction. I could hear them swarm toward the car, shouting out questions, and the sound of camera shutters whirring. I held my breath and tried to keep my body as still as possible.
“Hello,” Ebbie said in her friendliest voice. “How are you all doing today?”
If the reporters were put off by this unusually friendly response to their swarming, they quickly bounced back. They began shouting questions at Ebbie.
“Why did your daughter kill Howard Grant?”
“What is your reaction to the rumor that Katherine Grant paid Alice Campbell to execute her husband?”
“Is it true that Alice Campbell is on a suicide watch?”
This last question startled me.
Suicide watch? I wondered. Where’d they get that?
But Ebbie just chuckled, as though the reporters were delightful scamps.
“All of you have far too much negative energy. I’m going to the grocery store, and while I’m there, I’m going to buy some sage. When I get back, I’ll do a cleansing ritual on all of your news trucks,” Ebbie said. I couldn’t see what their reaction was, but from the silence, I thought they were probably momentarily stunned, as Ebbie added, “Free of charge.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but that’s really not necessary,” one of the reporters said in a faltering tone.
“Don’t be silly. I insist,” Ebbie said. “Sage cleansing ceremonies are wonderful for clearing bad energy out of spaces and bringing us all closer to the Goddess of Earth.”
This seemed to result in more stunned silence. Then one of the braver reporters said, “Where are you going?”
“Publix,” Ebbie said. “Do you want to come along? I can show you all of the herbs I need to buy, and I’ll explain how they’re used in various rituals. No? Suit yourself. I’ll see you all when I get back. Bye!”
I felt the car move forward and heard the sound of Ebbie’s automatic window whirring back up.
“All clear,” Ebbie called out a few minutes later. “No one followed us.”
I pulled the blanket off me and sat up. “You were taking an awfully big risk there.”
“Inviting them to come watch me buy herbs?” Ebbie laughed. “No, I wasn’t. The last thing any of them would ever want to do is hang out with an old hippie who wants to teach them about herbal cleanses.”
“Do you really know how to cleanse negative energy?”
“No idea,” Ebbie said. “I made it up. I’m surprised they bought it.”
I shook my head but smiled. My mother was still capable of surprising me.
* * *
Hunched low in the back seat, I directed Ebbie to the lighthouse. She pulled into the visitors’ lot, which was half-full.
“Here?” Ebbie asked. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” I said. “The person I’m meeting will be by the lighthouse, but not until nine.”
“Why do you need to be here so early?”
“An abundance of caution,” I said. “You don’t mind making dinner for the kids?”
“Not at all.”
“Great, thank you. There’s pasta and a jar of sauce in the pantry. And you’ll come back to get me later?”
“Yes, what time?”
“I’ll text you.” It occurred to me that I had never received a text from my mother. I wasn’t entirely sure she understood how to send one. “Do you know how to text?”
“Don’t be so condescending,” Ebbie retorted.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, I know how to text. What time should I plan on?”
“Probably nine thirty, maybe even ten.” I hesitated. “What are you going to tell Todd?”
“I thought I’d tell him you were having cabin fever, so you decided to go to the movies,” Ebbie said. “Will he buy that?”
“Probably not, but it’s as good an excuse as any. And far more believable than telling him I’m hanging out at a meditation center.” I picked up my backpack and reached for the door handle.
“I don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re meeting, but, Alice...please be careful.”
“I will,” I promised.
Ebbie nodded. I could tell she was reluctant to leave me, and to be honest, I wasn’t thrilled at being left there for the next six hours. I didn’t know what to expect, and not knowing unnerved me. But I had to speak with Kat, and this might be my only chance.
“I’ll be fine.” I opened the back passenger door. “Don’t worry about me.”
“There’s no such thing as a mother not worrying,” Ebbie replied. “I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
28
The visitor center and museum for the Jupiter Lighthouse were housed in an older white clapboard building with a wraparound porch. I walked inside into a small room with creaky, uneven floorboards that served as both the museum store and the ticket counter. Passing by the display stands stocked with T-shirts, stuffed marine animals and souvenir seashells, I headed to the counter, which was manned by an older woman with very straight posture and short white hair.
“I’d like to buy a ticket for the lighthouse tour.”
“You’re just in time,” the woman told me. “The last tour is at four o’clock. One adult?”
“Yes, please.” I fished my wallet out of the backpack.
“That will be ten dollars.”
I paid cash for the admission and was given a sticker to put on my shirt. I thought the woman looked at me oddly, and for a moment I was worried she had recognized me from the news stories about my arrest. I tried to tell myself she was probably just wondering why I was wearing my sunglasses inside on an overcast day. Still, I quickly turned away and headed toward the gate, where she’d told me the tour group was gathering.
The last time I’d been to the lighthouse, a few years earlier, I’d accompanied a class of enthusiastic ten-year-olds. This time, the tour group—which, at twenty strong, was larger than I had expected—was older and less rowdy. It was made up mostly of adults, and judging by their ages, mostly retirees. I waited quietly to the side, pretending to read the lighthouse brochure and hoping no one would recognize me.
A petite young woman with a long ponytail and wearing a Jupiter Lighthouse T-shirt arrived.
“Hi, everyone. My name is Cassie. I’ll be guiding the tour up to the lighthouse today,” she said. “I’ll tell you about the lighthouse’s history as we walk up the hill.”
She unlocked the gate and began to lead us up the winding gravel path.
“The original plans for the lighthouse were drawn up by Lieutenant George Gordon Meade in 1854. However, construction wasn’t completed until 1860,” Cassie detailed. She walked backward so that we could hear her as we ascended the hill. “The lighthouse is one hundred five feet tall, and it stands one hundred fifty-three feet above sea level.”
As Cassie rattled off her list of facts, I tuned her out while I looked for the best place to hide and wait for Kat. I needed to pick a spot where I was completely concealed, but where I could still see anyone approaching the lighthouse. The path wound up a hill, and we passed the original lighthouse keeper’s house to the left and a large outdoor tiki hut to the right, which the museum used as an educational center. I discounted both spots as being too out in the open.
Finally we reached the steps that led up to the red lighthouse with its black top. I had grown so used to the sight of the lighthouse on the vista, a backdrop to our daily domestic life, that I barely noticed it anymore. So now, looking at it, stretching over a hundred feet high, I was struck by just how impressive it really was.
“Before we begin our climb up the lighthouse, turn your attention to the banyan tree. It was planted by Captain Seabrook in 1931, and as you can see, it’s still thr
iving today,” Cassie said.
To the right of the steps was a large banyan surrounded by a deck. I smiled. The tree had multiple twisting trunks and low swooping branches. It would be the perfect place to hide. The center trunk was so wide, I could crouch behind it and be completely concealed from anyone approaching the lighthouse. I just needed to get away from the rest of the group.
“And now, if you’ll come this way, up the stairs, we’ll go into the lighthouse,” Cassie continued.
The group herded toward the steps leading up to the base of the lighthouse and formed a line. They slowly made their way into the tower, disappearing one by one, until only Cassie and I were left on the deck next to the banyan tree.
“After you,” Cassie said, turning toward me with a swish of her ponytail.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I’m afraid of heights.”
Cassie frowned, her forehead wrinkling. “It’s not that bad. And the view is totally worth the climb.”
I shook my head. “No, I really can’t do it. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it.”
“I’m not supposed to leave anyone alone down here,” Cassie said.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said, sinking down onto a bench. I bent over, pressing my hands to my temples, looking, I hoped, like someone on the verge of a panic attack. “Don’t worry. I’ll just sit here and wait for you to come back down.”
“Okay, but please stay here and don’t wander off. We’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Cassie said.
I nodded weakly. Cassie turned and headed into the lighthouse.
I waited for three beats, then stood and quickly slipped into the small wooden shack next to the lighthouse. Cassie had said it was the electrical room, and it housed a large generator, coils of electrical wires and an assortment of tools. The little shack was hot and airless, but I was concealed for the moment. I just hoped Cassie wouldn’t think to look for me in here.
I waited for what felt like much longer than twenty minutes, but finally I heard voices again. The tour group had returned. And Cassie had noticed that I was missing.
“I told her to wait here,” she said, sounding fretful. “We’re not supposed to let people wander off on their own!”
“She probably went back down to the visitor center,” one of the others said. “Especially if she wasn’t feeling well.”
“I guess,” Cassie said. “I just hope my supervisor doesn’t find out. Anyway, let’s go down the hill, and I’ll take you through the house where the lighthouse keeper and his family used to live.”
I looked at my watch. It was quarter to five. I decided to stay in the electrical shack for an hour, well past the time that the lighthouse and visitor center closed, just in case Cassie or someone else came back to look for me.
* * *
The next hour felt like one of the longest of my life. I was wedged between the electrical equipment and a rough wall, sitting on a hard cement floor, and I had to keep taking deep breaths, trying to calm the claustrophobic impulses that made me want to bolt back outside to the fresh air and spaciousness.
Luckily Cassie didn’t return. When the time was finally up, I stood and stretched my stiff muscles, then stepped outside. It was nearly six, and the sun slanted down at a sharp, blinding angle. I slid my sunglasses and hat back on and headed toward the banyan. I picked out a spot at the base where I could sit without being seen by anyone approaching the lighthouse on foot.
Then the real wait began. Kat would arrive in three hours. Or she wouldn’t. Those were the only two choices. One, we were still friends, still allies. The other, we were playing a very different game, and I didn’t know the rules to it.
I read for a while, although I had a hard time focusing on my book. My eyes kept sliding over the words without taking them in. Finally I gave up and checked my phone. Todd had called a few times and left messages. He’d also sent a text:
Where r u? Ebbie said ur at a movie, but I don’t believe her. Please call me back, I’m worried!
I exhaled while I considered my reply. There had been a time in our marriage not too long ago when Todd’s feelings would not have been at the top of my concerns. It was different now. I had been through a lot over the past few weeks, and Todd had been my champion throughout, his support never wavering. And this was how I paid him back—evading him about my whereabouts, stranding him at home stewing in worry.
I replied,
Am fine. I’ll explain everything when I get home. Try not to worry, everything will be all right.
Actually, I had no idea if everything would be all right, now or ever again.
* * *
Time ticked by. I was glad that I had not opted for a career as a private detective. Stakeouts, especially ones conducted sitting outside, leaning against a hard and bumpy tree, were no fun. I had anticipated boredom and hunger, but I hadn’t thought of the other inconveniences, like a full bladder and stiff muscles.
The sun set just after seven thirty, leaving behind a hazy purple sky in its wake. As the sun drifted down, the lighthouse suddenly lit up. No one had come, so I figured it must be on an automatic switch. The light was comforting, especially as night fell, but I was glad that my chosen spot was still covered in darkness. I would be able to see anyone approaching the lighthouse—Kat, ideally—but I would remain hidden as long as I stayed where I was.
Finally, at eight forty, I heard a noise, something distinctly different than the chorus of frogs I’d been listening to. Footsteps against the gravel. Someone was coming up the hill. I tensed and, crouching behind the banyan tree, twisted in the direction of the path and waited for the person to come into view.
It wasn’t Kat.
At first I could tell only that it was a man, which was enough to make my pulse quicken. Was he a security guard, or worse, a police officer? Had someone seen me?
As he drew closer and stepped into the pool of light cast down from the illumination of a thousand watts, I could see him more clearly. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t appear to be a police officer or security guard. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, not a uniform. He was a young man in his twenties with a square, muscular build, a closely trimmed goatee and tattoos winding around his arms and neck. His expression was hard, and there was something menacing about him that frightened me. I instinctively knew to stay hidden.
He walked over to the deck between the lighthouse and the banyan tree and sat on the same bench where I’d feigned illness a few hours earlier. He took out his phone, checked it and then put it back in his pocket. He was fidgety and restless, but one thing was clear—he was waiting for someone.
29
The bench where the man sat was about twenty feet away from my hiding spot. I was completely concealed in the darkness, but if I moved or made any sound at all—a sneeze, a gasp, anything—he would probably hear me.
I had no idea who the man was or why he was here, but I certainly had no intention of alerting him to my presence. For now, we waited. I waited to see if Kat would show up, and he waited for whomever he hoped to see. Maybe he was meeting a lover, or maybe he was a drug dealer waiting for a customer.
Or maybe Kat had arranged for him to be here.
I huddled against the tree, my pulse racing, as I considered what I knew.
Kat had set me up to be here, isolated and alone. This man had shown up at the very time and spot she’d arranged for us to meet. And Kat was nowhere to be seen.
Was it possible that my best friend had sent this man to scare or even hurt me? A week earlier, I would have said no, never. But now I wasn’t so sure. I certainly didn’t know Kat as well as I’d thought I did.
I might not know her at all.
* * *
I didn’t dare look at my phone to see how much time had passed. It could have been anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. The man occasionally took
out his phone and checked it.
Just as I was starting to feel the strain in my muscles from staying so absolutely still, the man stood. He looked around, and for one heart-stopping moment he stared right in my direction. I held my breath. But then he looked away, and I realized that he had not heard me or sensed my presence but had been looking at the waterway beyond.
He turned toward the path. He was leaving. I watched him, backlit by the bright pool of light shining down from the lighthouse, and suddenly had an idea. It might be foolish, and yet I thought it might be beneficial someday.
I slid my phone out of my pocket and, cupping my hands over it so its light wouldn’t give me away, opened the camera app and checked to make sure the flash was turned off. Moving very slowly, I lifted the phone and took several photos of the man in the seconds before he turned and headed back down the hill and into the darkness.
After he left, I checked the time on my phone. It was nearly ten o’clock.
Kat was clearly not coming.
Still, I waited another half hour before texting Ebbie. I wanted to make sure the man was gone before she pulled into the parking lot. Finally I texted,
Can u pick me up now?
Ebbie texted back immediately,
On my way.
I took out my pepper spray, just in case, and crept slowly down the hill. When I reached the gate, I saw that it was unlatched. The chain had been cut and was lying on the ground. I glanced around but didn’t see or hear anyone. Still, I couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t waiting for me somewhere close by. I tried to move as stealthily as possible until I reached the parking lot and saw that it was empty. Relief flooded through me. The man, whoever he was, appeared to have left.
A minute later, Ebbie drove up in my car, headlights shining in the unrelenting darkness. I ran out to it and quickly opened the rear door and got inside.
