Ginny was written in George’s unmistakable script.
She could barely breathe. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she grasped the paper tremulously. Could I have been so blind? What a stupid old woman I am!
Gingerly, her small fingers touched the seal of the envelope, before jerking back. She didn’t dare open it quickly. No, this might be her last chance for success, and she savored the moment. When she couldn’t stand another second, she tore open the envelope and ripped out a notecard. It contained a single sentence.
When you place my body to rest, you will find the Crimson Star.
Then he signed his name, George.
* * *
Luke was amazed how much kissing Monica calmed his fears and distracted his thoughts; the more intense their passions became, the better he felt about the whole situation. As they groped each other, he began to imagine all his troubles were part of an exciting adventure. As if he were on a dangerous mission, James Bond and his hot leading lady. His hands became more daring.
The door swung open with a bang.
Monica and Luke jumped onto either side of the bed, adjusting their clothes.
“Don’t you knock?” Monica sputtered hotly.
“I’ve no time for formalities,” Ginny said, holding her chest and panting. She looked at Luke. “Boy, where did you see that gravesite with the cross?”
“You mean the one by the pond?”
“Yes, that’s the place. Take me there now. And bring a shovel.”
He grimaced. “I’m not going out there.”
“You must. That’s where the diamond is buried.”
“How do you know?” asked Monica.
“I found a note from George.” She waved it in her hand. “It’s buried right by the stone with the cross.”
Monica sprang from the bed. “So you’ll give us the hundred grand if we come with you?”
“Of course not. I’m the one who figured it out.”
“Then forget it.”
“All right. I’ll give you each fifty pounds, but you have to do all the digging.”
“I wouldn’t go out there for a million dollars,” Luke scoffed.
“Well, fine, I’ll dig it up myself and you won’t get a dime.”
They watched her walk out of the room, slamming the door with vigor.
“Do you believe that!” Monica stared at Luke, reddened with rage. She thought for a moment. “You know where that grave is, right?”
He tilted his head and tried to recall the direction he ran home that day. “I think so. You take a left at the fork. But forget it. I’m not helping her.”
“You don’t have to. We can get to the grave first and dig it up ourselves.”
“You’re nuts. I’m not going in those woods again.”
“Luke, you said so yourself, the hallucinations aren’t real. If we stick together, nothing can happen.”
“You don’t know that. Why would you want to take the diamond anyway? It’s not even yours.”
“Because she’s a bitch who’s gonna die soon. What good is half a million dollars to her?”
He stared at her wide-eyed. “I can’t believe you.”
“Oh, chill. I’m not gonna keep the whole thing. I’ll just sell it on eBay, take my share, and send the rest back to the old sleazebag.”
“You don’t have a share.”
“I spent a million hours looking for that diamond, wasting my time, while she promised us a hundred grand.”
“Only if we found it. Which we didn’t.”
She went to the window, looking pained. “I need that money. You said you were going to make sure I get to Paris.”
“Not by robbing an old lady.”
She stared at the sea. The whitecaps were larger, coming in fast. Above the horizon, dark clouds were rolling in. Monica licked her lips, not thinking about the weather. She wanted that diamond more than anything.
CHAPTER 29
ISABELLE HAD SPENT over an hour gathering flammable items from the attic, hauling them down to the library and dragging them to the back of the house. She went to the bluff to check for boats and spotted a band of treacherous clouds in the distance. A storm was coming. There would be no rescue that day.
She walked back to the house.
It seemed the only thing left to do was to study the plants herself, try to figure out what was happening to Jules. The door to the lab was open and she stopped before going inside. She peeked in the doorway.
The room was trashed; cabinets and tables were thrown over, books destroyed, files strewn about as if a burglar had struck. Isabelle barely took a step inside and froze.
SEEDERS was scrawled across the wall in red paint. The large capital letters were still wet and dripping, drying to a rusty brown. There was a tangy smell of copper in the room.
Blood.
She closed her eyes, fighting nausea. A low rumble of thunder shook the window and Isabelle could see clouds coming faster, gloomy and foreboding.
A large hand gripped her shoulder.
Isabelle spun around to see Jules staring down at her with narrowed eyes. She was struck speechless.
“What are you doing?” he asked flatly.
“Cleaning up,” she whispered. Thunder echoed outside and Isabelle stooped down and retrieved a pile of loose papers and then rose to her feet. “The place is a mess.”
She tried not to look at the paint—blood?—on the wall.
It seemed like his temper might flare again, but instead Jules smiled timidly and spoke in a gentle tone. “I want to apologize, Isabelle. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”
She saw a glimpse of the old Jules and was too stunned to answer.
“You were right. I should stay out of the woods, come back to the house.”
He was wearing dark clothes with dark-colored stains, but there was no mistaking the red stains on his wrists, under his nails, and in between his fingers. Isabelle spoke without thinking. “You have blood on your hands.”
At first he looked surprised. He folded his arms defensively. “I cut myself.”
“With what?”
“I was spearfishing, actually. Caught a rather large one.”
She felt her lip tremble. “How’s Sean?”
“He is something, that boy. You should be proud of him.”
“I was hoping he’d come back to the house. You know how mothers can be, always worrying.”
He was looking out the window and didn’t respond.
“Jules?”
His expression flipped like a switch, from placid to crazed. With a quick hand he grabbed the back of her neck and Isabelle gasped. He leaned down close to her ear, his voice thick. “I want you to stop lighting fires. If you do it again, I’ll be very angry.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Good girl.” He inhaled the scent of her. “Now you smell like smoke.” He stroked her hair, smoothed back the loose strands. She flinched and he let her go, smiling and good-natured again. “There’s a storm coming. I’m going to bring some of my things back here. You’re not to touch them, understand?”
She nodded.
He started for the door.
“Jules?” Isabelle nodded to the writing on the wall. “What is that?”
He stared at the red lines dripping from the word and smiled. “I told you. The day of reckoning has come.”
She watched him walk outside, just as Ginny’s voice rang out down the hall. She stepped into the lab, excited and out of breath.
“Isabelle,” she said.
Jules turned to wave from the patio, and headed toward the woods.
“I have the most wonderful news. George has come to me from the grave with a message, bless his heart. Just when I’d started to think we’d never find that bloody Crimson Star.”
“Ginny, would you stop talking about the damn diamond!”
“Well,” she huffed. “Someone’s got her knickers in a knot.”
“You have no idea what
’s going on,” she cried, holding out her hands to the ghoulish word on the wall.
“Oh, who cares?” Ginny said, barely taking a look. “I know where the diamond is hidden.”
Isabelle blinked.
“This note is from George.” She showed the card to Isabelle. “It was in my room all the time.”
Isabelle read quietly to herself. “It’s another riddle.”
“Not at all. He’s most definitely referring to a spot on the island where he wanted us to be buried together. Now if I can just find it.”
Isabelle wrinkled her brow. “But the first riddle, the one Mr. Bonacelli gave you.”
Ginny reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out the well-worn paper that was beginning to rip. She shoved it at Isabelle. “Perfectly useless. You keep it.”
Isabelle looked at it, puzzled. “If a brilliant star isn’t the diamond, then what did he mean?”
“I couldn’t care less.” Ginny sniffed. “Now I’ll need you to take me to that blasted pond. Your son is too much of a crybaby to take me there.”
“It will have to wait until the boat arrives Wednesday.”
“It most certainly will not.”
The room was growing dark from the billowing clouds outside. “There’s a storm coming. Besides, Dr. Beecher is out there.”
“I’m sure he’s harmless. He might be rude, but he is a Brit, after all.”
“Wednesday,” she repeated. “And not before.”
“There won’t be time to look, with everyone so anxious to leave,” she said, flustered. “I’ll have to find it myself.”
“I can’t let you go out there.”
“Just try to stop me,” she snapped, and then put a hand over her mouth, looking shocked. “Oh, I see. You want the diamond for yourself, don’t you? Now that I’ve told you where it is, I guess you’ll send that boy of yours to go dig it up. Well, I won’t hear of it.” She stiffened her lip. “I insist you tell me how to get to the pond.”
Isabelle reached the end of her tolerance and snapped, “Why don’t you check the map in the study?”
Thunder rumbled from the windows, giving Ginny pause for a moment. “Of course,” she said, and hurried out the door.
Isabelle raised the scrap of paper in her hand and stared at her father’s last words, wondering what they could mean.
* * *
Monica did her best to convince Luke they should look for the diamond, but it was useless. He sat on the bed peeling the label off a wine bottle, unwavering in his decision.
“Beecher’s a geek,” she said. “Besides, there’s two of us and one of him.”
“He’s like seven feet tall. He’s got knives and a crossbow.”
“Has he hurt you? Has he hurt anyone? You can’t just assume a person’s dangerous.” She crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. “You said you wanted to go to Paris with me.”
“Not on stolen money.”
“It’s not stolen. We spent every day looking for that damn rock. You almost drowned.” She took the bottle from his hands and set it down hard. “We deserve our share.”
“It’s not ours. My grandfather wanted Ginny to have it.”
“Fine, I’ll go myself.”
He shot her a glance. “You will not.”
“Watch me.” For a moment she hesitated, and then Monica walked out of the room.
Luke heard her stomping down the staircase, making a big showy exit. He rolled over to the window, waiting for her to emerge into the yard, but hoping she wouldn’t.
Within a minute the kitchen door sprang open and Monica trudged down the path. Luke felt his heart kick up as she drew closer to the entrance of the woods. She slowed for a moment, and then the trees swallowed her up.
Another door opened at the opposite side of the house and Luke watched Jules emerge onto the patio, turn toward the lab and wave, smiling.
“No,” Luke whispered. “Go back in the house.”
But Jules began walking down the path toward the woods, and Monica.
Luke felt his blood turn cold, and when Jules reached the trees, Luke took off down the stairs and ran straight into Isabelle. She was rushing from the library with a stack of lumber in her arms, a hammer sticking out of her coat. She dropped the wood at his feet.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she said.
“To the kitchen,” he answered.
“Where’s Monica?”
He swallowed hard. “Upstairs.”
“Grab a bunch of wood. We’re going to board up some of these doors and windows. I’ll do the front rooms and you start in the back.”
“Mom, there’s like a million windows in this house. Some of them are huge.”
“Mostly in the library, and I can keep an eye on those. The large ones are strong, but the smaller ones could use some reinforcement.”
Luke shook his head at the planks. “This isn’t going to stop someone who really wants to get in.”
She knew he was talking about Jules. “It might slow him down. Until I can shoot him.”
His face drained of color. “You really think he’s dangerous?”
“Yes. I do.”
He could tell she meant it.
“I’ll have to look for Sean if he isn’t back soon. He’s out there with that maniac. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you and Monica not to leave this house again. Now take this wood and get started.”
He looked out the window. “Can I get something to eat first?”
“No, come with me.”
He had no choice but to follow her instructions.
Not my problem, he thought but felt sick to his stomach.
CHAPTER 30
BLACK CLOUDS ROLLED across the sky from the north. The woods grew dark, the temperature had dropped, and the island was becoming bitterly cold, eerily silent. Monica turned up the collar of her leather jacket and moved swiftly down the trail, trying to squelch the ghastly images of Hodges that kept popping into her mind.
Instead, she kept her pace steady by focusing on objects along the path—smooth, round stones and perfectly formed leaves, roots and saplings protruding from the ground. It was the first time she noticed that everything was covered in the black fungus, just like Luke said. But she wasn’t going to think about that now.
The important thing was to follow the red tags and never look up. Even if you heard voices. There would be a fork up ahead and then she would take the left path, or did Luke say right? Shit. No, it was left, definitely. She pictured herself digging up the diamond. Shit. No shovel. She’d have to dig with her hands, which would take forever. Shit. Shit. Shit. She could have at least brought a spoon. There was no turning back now, not if she wanted to get the jump on Ginny. Plus she’d have to face Luke again, listen to him whine about the diamond.
As she rounded the bend, someone was standing in the middle of the fork. It was Sean and he was smiling, shoulders hunched and arms hanging loose at his side. He was wearing a light jacket that wasn’t even zipped. Monica thought he must be too dumb to know it was cold.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
Then she asked, “You know where the pond is?” She mouthed the words, slow and loud. “Pond. You know”—her arms made a wide circle—“big puddle.”
Sean didn’t move.
“Get out of my way.” She stepped to the left and so did Sean. Then she went right, but Sean copied her moves, blocking her each time she tried to slip by.
“Cut it out, weirdo.” She smacked his shoulder.
Sean pushed back with both hands, so she fell against a tree. He wasn’t going to let her pass and she lifted her chin, ready to fight.
Behind Monica came a cheery voice. “Ah, le dahlia noir!”
Jules was coming down the trail behind her. She drew in a breath, startled by his appearance. The combination of soiled clothes, muddied hair, and gaunt face covered in black rot and stubble resembled a man buried and raised from the dead.
<
br /> “Ravi de te voir,” he greeted her. “I was hoping for visitors.”
She raised a lip. Jules seemed more clownish than dangerous. “I’m not visiting. Unless you have a shovel.”
He squinted. “Shovel, shovel. Yes, I do. If you come this way, mon petit chou.”
Monica knew she didn’t want to go anywhere with him. Sean followed Jules, but she didn’t move.
Jules turned with a puzzled expression. “Coming?”
“Actually, I was going to find the pond.”
“The pond? Yes. It’s right down this path, just past our camp. Shall we?”
“Never mind. I have to go back, I forgot something.”
He smiled wryly. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Yeah, right,” she said with a snort.
“The pond’s not far. You want my shovel?”
She didn’t reply.
“Well, then, come along.”
Although Jules’s appearance implied insanity, his grin and jauntiness made him seem fairly harmless. Besides, he was far less scary than getting lost and confronting Hodges again. So Monica followed along. Pretty soon the trail narrowed to nothing. She was stepping over trees and tangled vines that scratched her pants, holding her arms out for balance. She swallowed hard, keeping a close eye on Jules as he took long strides and passed through the woody terrain with the dexterity of a native.
The pines were getting so thick she couldn’t see around them. It was unnerving to be off the trail. What the hell was she doing following this guy? She wanted to turn back but Sean was right on her heels, clicking his tongue, making some kind of weird noise. Perhaps he was talking to the trees. The thought made her chuckle. Suddenly her two companions seemed comical.
She spoke loudly to Jules. “So, I hear you talk to the trees.”
His eyes shifted, but he didn’t answer.
“I don’t hear anything,” she said.
“They speak to the enlightened. I see little hope for you.”
“Hey, I’ve seen weird things too. So how do they do it? Is it every plant or just the ones on the island?”
Jules walked faster.
“What did George do to them? Is it the black stuff that makes you see things? This fungus or whatever? Did George grow this shit all over them? Is that how they can hear you?”
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