by Carolyn Hart
Cara’s lips parted in an O of surprise. Liz’s pale face flushed. She sat rigid as stone. Russell folded his arms, appearing massive and immovable. He did not look toward his wife. Buck’s eyes widened. Fran watched warily, turning the thin silver bracelets on her wrist.
“Darlene cried out in shock.” Annie wondered if they could hear that piteous cry in their hearts. “Jocelyn saw her and screamed at her to go away. Darlene ran. That was the last time Darlene saw Jocelyn.”
Annie looked at Russell with grave, questioning eyes.
Russell said nothing. His face was empty, defeated.
Liz turned to him, clutched at his arm. “Tell them what happened.”
Russell jerked toward her in surprise.
Liz’s voice was sharp. “Tell them, Russell.”
Russell tried to speak, stopped. His face crumpled.
Liz struggled to control her breathing. She was dangerously flushed. “I went after Russell when I saw Jocelyn pulling him into the fog. Darlene was ahead of me. I stayed off the path. No one heard me. I heard every word. When Darlene ran away, I came nearer. Jocelyn didn’t ask Russell for help for the baby.”
Russell turned a tear-streaked face to his wife. “You knew? You’ve known all these years?”
She took his big hand, held it tight. Her face was open and vulnerable. “I’ve always known.”
His voice was uneven. “You don’t despise me?”
“Oh God, honey. You were only a boy. I don’t know what you should have done. That night I hated her. I wanted her dead.”
The words hung in the silent pavilion.
Emma’s blue eyes were cold. “She died.”
Liz shuddered. “I didn’t kill her. I know Russell didn’t. His dad…Russell couldn’t have gone to The Citadel. It was his dad’s dream. Maybe Jocelyn could have had the baby, put it up for adoption. I don’t know. All I know is that Russell didn’t go into the woods with Jocelyn. Tell them, Russell.”
With Liz’s hand in his, Russell spoke in short, harsh bursts. “I’ve gone over that night in my mind. A million times. I let Jocelyn down. I should have stood by her. She and I weren’t right for each other. I’d already realized it was Liz I wanted, but I should have stood by Jocelyn. I don’t think she wanted to marry me. She had plans, too. I don’t know what she would have done, but she didn’t come to me because of the baby. She wanted help because of the note. She found a note in Sam’s letter jacket. He wore the jacket the night he died. The note was dated Friday. The message was brief: Pick me up at midnight at the foot of the drive. It was signed by Buck. The last Friday Sam wore the jacket was the night he died, a week before the picnic. Jocelyn wanted me to come with her to confront Buck. I told Jocelyn it didn’t matter if Buck was with Sam that night. Buck didn’t snort cocaine for him. I asked Jocelyn to drop it.” He took a deep breath. “She wouldn’t agree. I told her I wasn’t going to go after Buck. She said she’d go by herself.”
Fran came to her feet. “You aren’t going to make Buck the fall guy. Buck may have known something about Sam’s death, but he wasn’t the father of a baby no one wanted.” Resentment burned in every word.
Liz was implacable. “Jocelyn left Russell and went to find Buck.”
Fran flung out her hands, her bracelets jangling. Her ravaged face twisted in anger. “You and Russell have had plenty of time to invent whatever you please. Ten years of time. The baby would be pretty big by now. Ten years old. But daddy wouldn’t be a Citadel man, would he?”
Russell rubbed at reddened eyes. “Shut up, Fran.”
“Ten years old…” Fran’s voice wavered. She began to cry. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
“You think you’re sorry.” Russell’s voice was unsteady. “How do you think I feel? All these years I thought Jocelyn jumped off the pier. But now…” He looked toward Buck.
“I didn’t hurt Jocelyn.” Buck’s big open face looked haunted. “She told me she asked Russell for help and he refused. She and I went into the woods, but Jocelyn wasn’t scared of me. She was furious. I told her to let it go, that Sam was dead, that nothing would bring him back, to let him rest in peace.” Buck’s hands opened and closed, opened and closed. “I wish to God I could rest in peace. I’ve kept that night when Sam died a secret for ten years. I’ve always felt sick and ashamed. I’m tired of feeling like a coward. Oh hell, I was a coward. My dad would have kicked me out. I guess I could have gone to jail. I don’t know. I would have been in big trouble. I tried to make Jocelyn understand. I couldn’t have helped Sam.” He came to a full stop, swallowed hard. “But I left him there, dead in the forest preserve.”
Max’s tone was sharp. “Did Sam pick you up at midnight?”
Buck avoided looking at Max. “I had a midnight curfew. There was an old live oak near my window and I used to climb down and meet Sam at the foot of the drive. My folks went to bed at ten. They never knew. That night was like any other. Sam was in a great mood. When I first started sneaking out, we’d take a couple of six-packs to the forest preserve and drink and think we were studs. Pretty soon Sam started bringing whiskey. He had no trouble getting bourbon at his place. His mom never knew how much she had, she just bought more. Then Sam started snorting cocaine. I never did. He ragged me, told me I was chicken. I told him I liked bourbon better. That Friday night we went to a clearing in the preserve like we always did. We got out of the car. I was pouring some bourbon into a plastic glass. I heard a choking sound and looked up. Sam was shaking and then he fell face forward. I rolled him over.” Buck looked sick. “He was dead.” He looked up in appeal. “Even if I’d called nine-one-one, it was too late. He was dead. I tried pushing on his chest. Maybe I didn’t do it right, but it didn’t matter. Nothing helped.”
Emma cleared her throat. “What did Jocelyn threaten to do?”
Buck looked hapless. “She was going to tell the police. I don’t know what they would have done. My dad would have kicked me out. Conduct unbecoming a gentleman.” His tone put the stiff words in quote marks, as if he’d heard them and hated them for many years. “I told Jocelyn it wasn’t my fault. Sam got the cocaine from Iris. Jocelyn said it didn’t matter how Sam got cocaine, I shouldn’t have gone off and left him like a dog that had been hit by a car. Yeah, that’s what I did. I was scared. I know that’s no excuse. But I couldn’t have saved him. He was dead, lying there in the moonlight, his face like marble.” He shuddered. “It happened so fast, he was laughing and swaggering like he always did, and then he died.”
Emma was blunt. “You were in the woods alone with Jocelyn. You were desperate to keep Jocelyn quiet.”
Buck straightened, his broad face earnest. “I didn’t hurt Jocelyn. I swear I didn’t. When she wouldn’t listen, I didn’t know what was going to happen. But there was nothing I could do. I left her there in the woods and went back to the picnic. Coach Butterworth asked me what was going on and I told him Jocelyn was upset about Sam. I thought he’d probably go and see and then I’d be done for. Instead he turned and went back to the picnic grounds. I told Jodie I was feeling sick and wasn’t going to stay for the awards. She was getting a letter in swimming. She said a friend would bring her home. Mom and Dad were in Atlanta. I went to the parking lot behind the pavilion and got my car and went home. I sat up all night in my room in the dark, looking out the window, waiting for car lights to turn into the drive. I thought the police would come and get me.”
Max’s face was sad. “Did Iris see you walk into the woods with Jocelyn?”
Buck turned strained eyes to Max. “I don’t know. But I never hurt Iris. Or Darlene.”
Cara stood and stepped toward them. “Buck is telling the truth.” Her voice was steady, weary. She glanced toward Liz. “I guess Liz and I wore our hearts on our sleeves back then. It paid off for Liz.” Cara’s angular face was passionless, as if she spoke of times so distant they didn’t matter. “Liz followed Russell and Jocelyn. I followed Jocelyn and Buck. Buck told you the truth. He ran back toward the picnic grounds.”
&n
bsp; Annie looked at Cara and felt cold. When Iris came back to the island, Cara visited her at Nightingale Courts. Had Cara been summoned because she was the last person to be with Jocelyn? But how would Iris have known?
Cara ran nervous fingers through her tousled short curls. “I talked to Jocelyn.”
Was there a ripple of fear in the pavilion?
Annie looked quickly from face to face. All of them bore signs of strain and despair and regret. Fran’s cheekbones jutted. Her eyes locked on Cara’s face. Buck’s shoulders slumped. His expression was a mixture of misery and shame. Liz clung to Russell’s arm, ready to defend him. Russell had an air of exhaustion, a man nearing the end of his endurance.
Cara spoke softly. “I begged Jocelyn not to tell on Buck. I told her how he’d grieved for Sam.” Cara looked at Buck. “Buck was sick at heart. But Jocelyn…” Cara shivered. “She was angry, white hot with anger, like a fiery sword. I’ve always thought how sad that she died being angry. Anger sucks out your soul. I was angry when Melissa died, angry at the emptiness of my world, angry for the years she didn’t have, angry at her father for running away. I had to root out the anger or it would have killed me. But Jocelyn was set on vengeance. She told me it didn’t matter if Buck was sorry. Being sorry wasn’t enough. She was going to talk to Iris and then she was going to go to the police.”
Cara pulled her sweater closer. “That’s the last time I saw her. She left me there and ran back toward the picnic to find Iris. I walked to the boardwalk and went home.” In the silence, she said abruptly, “I didn’t walk to the pier with Jocelyn and push her in the water. When Iris came back to the island, she called and asked me to come and see her at Nightingale Courts. I went there and we talked. I told her all that I knew. I told her that Buck left Jocelyn alive and I left her alive.”
No one moved or spoke. The silence pulsed with anger, hurt, sadness, and despair. Liz’s creamy complexion was tinged by gray. Russell slumped like a man who’d run too far and too fast. Fran’s cheekbones were hard and sharp, her eyes brilliant. Buck looked diminished. Cara moved uneasily like a horse scenting danger.
Annie felt sickening disappointment. Even if every word they’d heard was true, there was not to be an answer. Iris had admitted that she told Jocelyn the name of the drug supplier. Any of the haunted faces there in the pavilion could have been the shadowy unseen figure who provided cocaine to Iris. Jocelyn may have died because she confronted that hidden dealer of death. But drugs might not be the reason Jocelyn’s life ended in cold seawater. She may have died to hide Buck’s presence in the forest preserve. She may have died because Russell was determined to escape responsibility for an unwanted baby. She may have died because Liz was possessed by jealousy. She may have died because Cara was determined to protect Buck.
Fran jumped up. “This is intolerable.” Her voice was high and fast. “Buck and I have nothing to do with this. We don’t know what happened.” She bolted forward.
Buck slowly stood, lifted a hand as if to keep Fran near.
Fran hurried past Emma, then stopped, turned, gestured to Buck. “Let’s get out of here.” Her bracelets jangled. “We don’t have to listen to this.” She was perhaps a foot behind Emma.
Emma stood utterly still, as if shocked into immobility, her blue eyes wide, her lips parted. Slowly a hand came up to touch the red scar visible against the purplish bruise on her forehead.
“Emma?” Annie took a step forward. The author wasn’t that long from her stay in the hospital. Was she feeling faint?
Emma’s caftan swirled as she slowly turned to face Fran. “You.”
Fran drew in a sharp breath. Moving fast, Fran hurried to the wall and scooped up her purse. In four quick steps, she stood facing them, her eyes dark and empty.
Emma looked shaken. “I smelled your perfume.”
Annie remembered the hospital room and the spicy scent of carnations.
Fran took another step back.
“I heard your bracelets.” Emma once again touched her scar.
Through the open window of the hospital, flag rings had clanked against the pole.
Emma pointed at Fran. “You were behind the door in Iris’s cabin.”
Buck took a step forward. “Fran?” His voice was uncertain.
Russell came to his feet, hands clenched into fists. “Did you kill Jocelyn? Why? Dear God, why?” His voice was ragged.
Fran’s features were rigid. “Iris told Jocelyn she got cocaine from me. Jocelyn was going to go to the police. I got drugs at Frankie’s, the club on the mainland where I worked. I dated a guy, a bartender. He sold drugs. He had an MG and cashmere sweaters and a Rolex. I didn’t know it would kill anyone. I didn’t mean for anyone to be hurt. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” There was despair in her voice. “I didn’t know Jocelyn was pregnant. We walked through the woods and went out on the pier. I promised I’d never sell drugs again. She wouldn’t listen. She was going to tell the police and everything would have been ruined. I begged her not to go to the police. If she did, I would lose everything I’d worked for, going to school, having a decent life. I couldn’t help it if Sam died. He didn’t have to buy cocaine. If he hadn’t bought cocaine from Iris, he’d have gotten it somewhere. But Jocelyn wouldn’t listen.”
Russell took a step toward her, his face implacable.
Fran yanked open her purse, pulled out a dark blue pistol.
“Fran!” Buck’s voice shook. He reached out.
Russell tried to take another step, Liz came to her feet and flung herself toward him, clutched his arm, her face white.
Fran’s dark hair stirred as the gentle breeze eddied through the pavilion. Her tone was almost conversational. “Russell, don’t make me shoot.” She stared mournfully at Buck. “I’m sorry, Buck. I’m sorry for everything, for taking your gun, for…everything. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” She dropped her purse, held the gun steady with both hands. “I didn’t have a choice. I told Iris that Jocelyn jumped, that I’d seen her jump and I’d show Iris what happened if we went to the pier. I’d always been afraid Iris would come home. She was the only one who knew about the drugs. If she told anyone, my life was ruined. If only she’d been willing to stay quiet…But she said she had to tell the truth. She had to die. I thought I was safe until I saw the story in the paper.” She turned her tortured gaze toward Annie and Max. “I was afraid of what Iris might have told you. I got the gas tin from Cara’s garage. But you both escaped. When the police didn’t come after me, I began to relax. Until Darlene called. I convinced her that I’d walked into the woods with Iris but we talked and when I left her there I saw Russell going after her but I’d been afraid to tell the police. Darlene hated Russell. I told Darlene I’d call him and set it up for him to meet me in the woods and she could be hidden and hear everything and then we’d have proof for the police.” Fran’s eyes were weary. “Darlene was always a fool.”
Emma once again touched her forehead. “Why did you push me?”
Fran flicked her a dismissive glance. “I had to be sure nothing in Iris’s cabin pointed to me. No diary or notes. You came in and almost caught me. I didn’t have any choice.”
“Nothing ever seems to be your fault.” Emma’s gaze was cold. “And now?”
Fran’s face twisted in despair. “I’m going to Fish Haul pier. That’s where it started. Let me end it there. Alone.” She lifted the gun, briefly touched her temple, then swung it toward them. “If I hear anyone behind me, I’ll shoot.” Tears trickled unheeded down her gaunt cheeks.
Buck moved toward her.
She again raised the gun to her temple.
He stopped. “You aren’t well. Let me help. Let me take you home.”
Her lips trembled. “It’s too late. Years too late. Kiss Terry for me. Tell her I love her.”
Buck’s face folded in misery. Tears welled in his eyes.
Fran took one step back, then another. At the far end of the pavilion, she whirled and ran down the steps to vanish in the darkness.
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br /> Chapter 18
Annie pushed the small mahogany table a little to the left of the fireplace.
“That’s good.” Henny stepped forward. She set a black cardboard poster in the center of the table. A white sheet was pasted in the center of the poster. Henny read aloud:
HONORED SPIRIT
Iris Tilford
Iris was slender with soft brown hair and brown eyes. She was kind and gentle. Iris struggled in school and was grouped with the slower students, the yellow birds. One day she astounded everyone when she sang, her voice beautiful and clear, sweet as a canary’s song. From then on, she was proud to be a yellow bird. Her dream was to travel someday to the far reaches of the earth. Her spirit reeled when her mother died. Her journey became one of misery and pain and she sought oblivion in alcohol and drugs. She fought through the agony of withdrawal from drugs to sobriety. When she died, she was a proud member of AA and NA. She met death when she tried to make amends for her past. Her life was short but she lived and died with courage.
Henny admired the illustrations. Iris’s high school yearbook picture was above her name. Decorating the margins were a canary, a bright red biplane pulling a banner with the motto “See You in Zanzibar,” an iris in all of its springtime glory, a pale purple sand dollar, sheet music of “Magic,” and a brown owl. “Very nice,” Henny’s voice was warm.
“I think Iris would be pleased.” Annie arranged books in a semicircle face up: Witness to the Truth by Edith Hamilton, Mother Angelica’s Little Book of Life Lessons and Everyday Spirituality edited by Raymond Arroyo, and Seeking Enlightenment Hat by Hat by Nevada Barr.
Henny straightened a printed stack of the Twelve Steps.
