Erin Solomon Mysteries, Books 1 - 5

by Jen Blood

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked, finally.

  I shook my head, still unable to reach for him. The pain burned in my side, only slightly more potent than the fire in my gut.

  “I remember,” I said hollowly, when I could finally speak.

  “The island?” A shadow crossed his face at my nod. It hit home for the first time just how long he’d been dreading this moment. “How much?”

  “I don’t know. I mean… not everything. It’s still blurry. But I know Isaac wasn’t a good man. I know what happened to people who disobeyed him. What happened to my father. My best friend there…” It felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I slowed. Tried to get my breath. Diggs sat back, giving me time. “She was this girl. This skinny little kid with glasses. And I saw them… There was a place in the woods where he would take sinners, to punish them. I saw him with Allie. She broke her leg, trying to get away… But he wouldn’t let her go.”

  My voice shook, but my eyes were dry. Diggs raked his hand over his hair, still eying me as I shivered. The clock by the bed read five a.m. I thought of Einstein, and a lump lodged in my throat. In the real world, my everyday former life, I would have my bed and my things and my dog… Everything I needed to soothe myself, keep me on an even plane. I had Diggs now, but it felt too naked to lean on him right now. Too raw.

  “He hurt her,” I said, finally. My stomach rolled. I forced myself to stay with the memory, trying to sort through it. “I think… I think he might have killed her, Diggs.”

  Silence fell. I sat on the bed shaking. Sick. And suddenly, I knew. It wasn’t memory so much as knowledge:

  Isaac had killed Allie.

  He’d murdered her, in the woods that day.

  I closed my eyes. Ground the heel of my hands into them. I don’t know if I was trying to force the images up, or erase them completely. I felt Diggs’ hand on my back, rubbing in small, soothing circles. I was going crazy. All those memories I had of Allie: The two of us playing together. Her limping along beside me… Rooting through the house, looking through Isaac’s stuff…

  Were they even real?

  Why had I really been sent from Payson Isle?

  “Sol?” Diggs whispered. When he pulled me to him this time, I didn’t fight him. I leaned against his chest, my ear pressed to his heart.

  “I don’t even know what’s real anymore,” I said. “Those memories of me with my father… The people I loved out there… How safe I felt… It was all just some psychotic mind fuck.”

  “This is real,” he said. He pulled back and kissed my forehead. My nose. Looked me in the eye. “We’ll figure out the rest, Erin. Whatever happened out there… you can handle it.”

  I laughed. Sort of. “Yeah, right. You’re not the one whose childhood turns out to have been some kind of psychedelic fairy tale.”

  “True,” he said. He smiled. Again—sort of. “But it could be worse, right?”

  I arched an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline. “How’s that, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. It was the ‘80s. You could have been raised by Rick Astley fans.”

  This time, I really did laugh. It hurt like hell.

  Diggs held me for a few minutes, the two of us quiet on the bed, before he pulled away and kissed my forehead. Then, he got up. His boxers rode low on his hips—low enough to distract me momentarily, despite everything. Sensing the shift, he managed a slip of a grin.

  “Not too traumatized to ogle… I guess that’s a good sign. Come on. Get dressed.”

  “We’re not meeting the others until ten.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then why do I need to get dressed now?”

  “Because I’m asking you to.”

  “But why? It’s still dark out.”

  “Is it?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “I hadn’t realized. Come on, sweetheart. Up and at ‘em. Just because you’ve got a couple bullet holes and a childhood of nightmarish repressed memories doesn’t mean you should waste a sunset in Mexico.”

  I groaned, but I did as he asked. I figured considering all he’d given up and gone through for me in the past several months, it was the least I could do. When I started to put on yoga pants, he told me I needed shorts instead. And he still wouldn’t tell me why.

  I put on shorts.

  Love is hell.

  The air was cool when we left the hotel, the beach out front empty. We’d packed everything, and I felt a twinge of fear at the thought that Diggs had probably been right the day before: This would likely be the last chance we’d have to stay somewhere like this. Wherever we were going next, we weren’t headed for the lap of luxury. Without Kat or with her, whether Jenny lived or died, whether my father showed up or remained lost, anyway you sliced it, Diggs and I would be fugitives when the day was done.

  And in all likelihood, we would be fugitives for a good, long while.

  We got in the truck and drove north along the coast. I didn’t point out that we were headed in the wrong direction, figuring Diggs was well aware. He took a very badly paved road about half an hour from the hotel, and parked in a small dirt parking lot not too far in.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “Much time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he came around to my side of the truck and opened the door, helping me out. The sky was just beginning to lighten. I could smell salt and sand and the sweet tang of pot in the air.

  “No questions,” he said before I could ask. “Here—just lean on me.”

  “Lean on you for what?”

  “What part of no questions do you not understand, woman?”

  I got out of the truck.

  Pride kept me from taking his help, but he kept a watchful eye as I limped along beside him. We broke through a short, densely forested trail to find ourselves on the beach. A big beach. A beautiful beach. A few clusters of people—surfers mostly—rode gentle swells along the shore, but otherwise things were quiet. Diggs told me to wait, then jogged over to a group around a bonfire just beginning to die out. They talked for a few minutes before he dug out some pesos for them. A minute later, he returned to me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I rented a board from them. Come on.”

  “Did you forget the part where I have a couple of extra holes in me, or are we just ignoring that now?”

  “Just trust me.”

  Right.

  I followed reluctantly behind as he said something else to the surfers, then helped himself to one of their boards. It wasn’t a surfboard, though—not by a long shot. Instead, the board Diggs carried was twice the width and a couple of feet longer than your standard long board.

  “You’re taking me paddle boarding? Because, again… Bullet holes.”

  “Would you just trust me for once? Enjoy the morning. Don’t ask questions—which, I know, is completely contrary to your nature.”

  “All thanks to your stellar tutelage, Diggins.”

  He dropped his shoes and his t-shirt in the sand. On the horizon, the sun was just beginning to rise, the sky burning deep gold above the pale blue sea. Diggs waded to his knees, floating the paddle board behind him.

  “Hop on.”

  I looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought it was pretty clear: Hop. On. Get on the board, ace.”

  “I’m not supposed to get my bandages wet.”

  “Which is why I’m telling you to get on the board, not under it. You trust me?”

  “It depends on the circumstances.”

  He grinned at that. “Bullshit—you trust me. You know I’m not going to do anything to put you in danger. Now, hop on.”

  I waded out to him. The water was warmer than the air, instantly soothing frazzled muscles and frayed nerves. Gentle swells lapped at my calves. He helped me onto the board with minimal pain and very little rocking, then Diggs instructed me to settle in toward the front of the board.

  “Now what?” I asked, once I was seated.
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  He hopped aboard easily, showing nary a tremble in his strong calves as he positioned himself toward the back and began to paddle us out.

  A light sea spray wet my face as we moved farther and farther from shore. Diggs was right: I trusted him. If I ever needed proof, this was it. I sat calmly breathing in the sweet ocean air, no doubt in my mind that I was safe with him. The shore was still in sight but far off when Diggs stopped. He laid the paddle down and sat behind me, his hands at my sides, his legs spread so that his body cradled mine.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  He pointed over my shoulder, where the sunrise had turned from gold to deep pink. Something broke the surface of the water: A dorsal fin; the gentle curve of a dolphin’s body. My breath caught.

  “How did you know they’d be here?”

  “Lucky guess. Sunrise is one of their favorite times, and I’ve been here once or twice. I knew if we came out far enough, we’d find them.”

  For the next half hour, we sat in silence, watching the sun rise while a pod of dolphins leapt and dove, sometimes coming as close as a few feet away. The air got warmer. The sun rose higher. Diggs never moved from his spot behind me, rock steady. I could feel his heartbeat, combining with the movement of the waves beneath us to create a rhythm that was sensual and soothing by turns.

  By the time the sun was up, I’d forgotten the pain in my side and the fear of what was to come.

  When the last of the dolphins were gone and the sun was up, I forced myself to shake the spell. “We should probably get back,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Diggs agreed. He hesitated. Diggs isn’t usually the kind of man to monitor his words, but it was clear he was doing that now.

  I leaned back against him, loving the power and warmth of his chest and arms. “You have something you want to say, clearly. How about you spill it now, before we drift any farther out to sea?”

  He thought for another minute or two, then brushed his lips along my neck before he spoke. His arms tightened around me.

  “I was thinking, last night—about the before and the after. That line in life, when everything changes.”

  I twisted to look at him, ignoring the twinge in my side. I didn’t speak, letting him continue in his own time. He wet his lips, brow furrowed. Still thinking it through.

  “It’s that moment that you never see coming until it’s already passed. For me, there’s the day my brother died—before that day and after it are two different animals. The day I got clean... The day I met you. The night we made love for the first time.”

  “The fire on Payson Isle,” I said. I took his hand, stroking his long fingers absently as the memories washed over me. “The day I went to live with Kat. The first time you and I kissed.”

  “The before and the after,” Diggs repeated. “You can never predict how things will change when you’re still living in the before, you know?”

  “And you think right now we’re living in the before?” I asked.

  I could feel him nodding behind me, his head brushing lightly against mine. “I do.”

  “And after today, everything changes,” I said. I tightened my hands on his thighs, fear building in my chest.

  “Not everything,” he said. His certainty grounded me. “Some things won’t change. The way I feel about you—what we have. Wherever we are, whatever happens… that will stay the same.”

  “You don’t know that. You just said we’re living in the before. And you can’t predict what happens in the after when you’re living in the before.”

  I could feel his smile against my neck. “God, you’re a pain in the ass. It won’t change, okay? Before, after, or in between, no matter how hard I try to fight it, I’m in love with you.”

  “And we’re in this together.”

  The smile broadened to a grin. He kissed my ear. “And we’re in this together,” he agreed. “But I just want to take a few minutes to enjoy this… What we have now. Before it changes.”

  For a few minutes, I focused on doing what he’d asked—on marking the moment, staying with him without a thought of what had come before or what would come next. The waves rocked us gently, the water lapped at the board, and Diggs held me close as the sun beat down and the air heated and time passed.

  Too much time.

  Finally, I squeezed his leg and took a deep breath.

  “Okay. I’m with you. Now what?”

  I could almost feel him gearing up for the shift we both knew was coming. “Now, we move forward. Whatever comes next.”

  He stood, got the paddle, and pointed us back to shore. As we got closer, I was surprised to find peace give way to a sense of focus I’d been lacking until then. Whatever was about to come, it would happen whether I was prepared or not. Better to meet it head on with Diggs by my side than to fight it any longer.

  A cluster of miscreants were waiting for us when we got back to shore: Jamie, Juarez, Monty, and Carl. I was shaky on my feet and already in pain despite our reprieve, but Diggs provided a supportive arm when I stumbled. Beyond that, though, I felt clearer than I had in months.

  “We thought you’d left us,” Monty said when we were within hearing range. They all remained seated, lounging in the sand. “Figured Diggs was just gonna run you out to sea with him somewhere.”

  “I was tempted,” Diggs said, then nodded to the paddle board under his arm. “Let me just return this. I’ll be right back.”

  When he was gone, I lowered myself carefully into the sand with the others. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “I really appreciate this. I know you didn’t have to.”

  “And miss out on recon in sunny Me-Hico?” Monty asked. “Forget it. It beats freezing my balls off in Maine. Now… what’s the plan, senorita?”

  I looked at Juarez, surprised. “You haven’t gone over it yet?”

  “We have,” he assured me. “But we want to make sure everyone is on the same page.”

  “Right.” I agreed. “Okay, well… Diggs and I are booked for a commuter flight to Valladolid at noon. We’ll rent a car and drive to Coba from there. The meeting time is six o’clock. Then—”

  My cell phone rang before I could finish my itinerary. The steadiness I’d felt seconds before took a serious hit.

  “Did you get a good night’s sleep?” Jenny asked as soon as I’d said hello. The words were no surprise, but there was something about her tone—a tension I was sure I hadn’t heard before.

  “I’ve had better,” I said. “Why are you calling? Did something happen?”

  “Not at all,” she said, too fast. Something was wrong. I could feel it; could hear it in her voice. “There’s just been a little change in plan, that’s all. New meeting time. Same location, but we’re pushing it back. Ten o’clock tonight.”

  “What?” I said, just shy of shouting the word. “You agreed on six—”

  “And now I’m changing it. Use your friend’s plane and you can get here in plenty of time for a little sightseeing before we meet.”

  I hesitated. It was a good move on her part: I was instantly on the defensive, Jenny fully in control. “My friend?”

  “You think I don’t know you’re with Juarez and that cute blonde friend of his? Give me a break. I told you—I know every move you make. It doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t try to bring the cops into this. I’ll see you in Coba.”

  “Wait! What the hell is going on? I want to talk to Kat—”

  “Forget it,” Jenny said abruptly. “I’m done playing games. Be there at ten, or Kat dies. And I’ll send her back to you piece by piece. Capiche?”

  She hung up.

  Diggs returned just after we had disconnected, the phone still in my hand. I couldn’t figure out whether I was pissed off or just plain terrified.

  “Was that Jenny?” Diggs asked.

  “She changed the time. The exchange is at ten now... And she said we could use Jamie’s plane.”

  “How does she know about Jamie?” Juarez asked.

  “No id
ea. She’s got to have someone following us. Or… I don’t know,” I finished lamely, thinking of spy satellites and hidden cameras, microscopic listening devices and the rise of Big Brother. Or, the more disturbing answer: Someone in our group was leaking information.

  “Why is she changing it at the last minute?” Diggs asked, directing the question to Juarez.

  “To shake you up, I would assume,” Juarez said. “Re-establish the fact that she’s in control.”

  “There was something different about her today, though,” I said. “Like she wasn’t in control.” I paused, forcing myself to consider what that could mean. “I think something happened.”

  “You don’t know that,” Diggs said. “Juarez is right: She’s had us by the shorthairs from the start. This is just another power play—she gets off on this shit.”

  “What did she say when you asked to talk to Kat?” Juarez asked.

  “She just cut me off—said we needed to be there at ten or she’d start sending Kat back to me piece by piece. That’s a quote, incidentally.”

  “She’s trying to psych you out,” Diggs said.

  “Well, she’s doing a damn good job,” I said. “I’m so sick of waiting for this freaking thing. I just want it over.”

  “If she’s shifting things around, she’s doing it for a reason,” Juarez said. “Even if that reason is just to prove she has the control. I don’t like the idea that she’s calling all the shots here. It’s not as though you aren’t bringing something to the table.”

  “What do you suggest? That I send up a smoke signal with my counter-offer and hope she gets the picture? Forget it—I’m not risking Kat’s life by playing games.”

  “You’re risking everyone’s life by following her rules,” Juarez insisted. “There’s no way you can call her back?”

  “None. This has always been on her terms. The only other option is to sit here and wait for her to call when I don’t show up tonight.” Juarez looked like he didn’t think that was the worst idea in the world. I shook my head. “No. I’m not sitting around anymore. You guys can hang out here waiting for a call, but I’ll do whatever Jenny wants if it means I get Kat back safely and end this thing.”