Beneath the Scars

by Melanie Moreland

  “No, I, ah, need a few things. I have to go in today.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Like what?”

  I searched my brain trying to think of something. “Um, cream…and some ah, personal stuff.”

  “Personal stuff?”

  “Girl stuff, Zachary.”

  “Ah.”

  “We’re almost out of popcorn and corn syrup.”

  He snickered, his mood shifting a little. “Well, if you didn’t drown ice cream in it and eat popcorn every evening, maybe we wouldn’t have to run in to town so much. Do we have any ice cream left?”

  “Only a little.”

  “I’ll add it to the list. I’ll let Mrs. Cooper know.”

  “Okay. You’ll come with me?”

  “You go without me.”

  “Oh.”

  He studied me, his eyes curious and wary. “Is it so important I go with you?”

  “I had thought—” My voice trailed off. It wasn’t worth pushing him. Ashley would let me bring the brushes home and return whichever ones he didn’t want, and my other plan could wait. “Never mind. I’ll go alone.”

  “You thought what?”

  “I wanted to go in today, and I wanted you to come with me. It’s quiet in town. I thought maybe we could have lunch at the café.”

  “Pick it up, you mean?”

  I shook my head, swallowing hard. I’d been thinking about this a lot. “No, I thought we could eat in the café.”

  His entire body stiffened. I wrapped my hand around his. “It’s still slow—only the locals. You said you’d try.”

  “What if…what if it’s busy?” His voice dropped. “What if they stare?”

  “If it’s busy we’ll try another day. If they stare, then they’re rude. It’s their problem, not yours.” I shifted closer. “You’ve already done this, Zachary. More than you realize, you’ve accomplished so many firsts. You go to the store, the doctor, the gallery, and even the park. At one point, you told me you didn’t think you’d ever leave this house, but you did it all, and you’ve done it by yourself. I’ll be there with you today.” I squeezed his hand. “It’s only lunch.”

  His eyes were filled with fear and his head already shaking no.

  “For me?” I pleaded, shifting closer. “How about we go into town and do our errands, then decide? Don’t say no right away. We can decide when we’re there.”

  I felt the shudder run through him. I started to tell him to forget it, I’d go in myself and we’d do it another day. I could pick up his gift, bring it home with me and surprise him there. He’d still love the gesture. Then, to my amazement, he straightened his shoulders.

  “Okay. I’ll come with you. We’ll decide when we’re there, but if I say no, it’s no. We’ll come home.”

  The breath I was holding, huffed out in relief. Maybe today would be a good day.

  “Okay.”

  “Your friend was in again, not long ago, Megan. He asked if you’d be in today.”

  I frowned at Mrs. Cooper in confusion. “I’m sorry—my friend?”

  She nodded as she packed the last few groceries into the box. “He was here the other day, as well. Ah, what was his name again? Nice looking young man. Tall, blond hair. Jamie? Gary?”

  An icy shiver, long and hard, ran down my spine. “Jared?”

  “Yes! That’s it. He said he was visiting you and Zachary last week and didn’t want to go to the house to surprise you if you were coming into town. He thought he’d surprise you here, instead. I told him you had called to say you were coming in.”

  My hands started to shake. Jared was in Cliff’s Edge.

  How did he find me?

  He had overheard more than I realized. If he was here, it was for only one reason.

  He was here to destroy.

  I swallowed, my throat dry and tight.

  Zachary.

  He was across the street, talking to Jonathon. I was supposed to meet him there when I was done, so I could surprise him with the gifts Ashley was holding for me. Then we were going to decide on lunch.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  I somehow knew. Jared was going to approach him—say something to him.

  But what? What was he going to do?

  Panic built in my chest, expanding and pushing the air out of my lungs.

  “I’ll be back,” I almost whimpered, running from the store, leaving everything behind me. I hurried across the road, cutting across the parking lot at the back of the gallery. Somewhere in my brain it registered there were more cars around than usual. I noticed the small crowd of people at the edge of the lot, but ignored them. My solitary focus was getting to Zachary.

  I almost made it across the pavement when the back door of the gallery burst open. Zachary stormed out, his face dark, everything about him screaming rage. He froze when he saw me, the expression on his face akin to revulsion. His skin was ashen and pale, his eyes horrified, and tension screamed from his stance. I stumbled in the heat of his hate-filled glare as fear shot through me, twisting like a snake around my spine. Then, I saw someone else.

  Jared.

  He smirked at me as he stepped beside Zachary. “The lady of the hour,” he mocked. “Come to watch the show, Megan?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, to plead, to do something, but no sound came out. Zachary kept staring; his hands clenched into fists so tight, his knuckles were white. A large wad of paper was crumbled in one rigid fist, and I watched as he threw it to the side, and if possible, his stare became darker. The crowd I had noticed earlier moved, and before I even understood what was happening, Zachary was surrounded. Flash bulbs went off, people were shouting, microphones were being shoved in his face. Horrified, I watched him go into protective mode, his head lowering, using one hand to shield his face as he used the other to push people away, and struggling to break free of the turmoil surrounding him. Without another thought, I lunged forward, pushing and shoving, screaming at them to leave him alone, trying to get to Zachary. A hand wrapped around my bicep, gripping me hard, tugging me back from the crowd and I spun, expecting to see Zachary. Instead Jared’s cruel, smug face towered over me. “What have you done?” I gasped, struggling to get away.

  He yanked me to his chest, his voice close to my ear, his fingers digging into my skin, pinning me in place. “What you deserved,” he gloated, then raised his voice. “Gentlemen, our own little investigative reporter! The woman who located and brought you the infamous Adam Dennis!”

  I was blinded by the flashes. Loud shouts and calls filled my ears. Jared kept my arms pinned at my sides and I watched gasping and helpless as Zachary broke free, sprinting to his SUV. He paused only for a brief second as he tore his door open, his eyes meeting mine.

  I knew what he saw. Jared holding me, surrounded by a crowd he thought I’d sent to find him. I shook my head, tears filling my eyes as I struggled to get free from Jared’s constricting grasp.

  There was only indifference in his gaze: blank, unforgiving, cold. He looked at me as if I was a stranger.

  No second chances, his voice murmured in my head.

  My head fell to my chest as I sobbed.

  The squeal of his tires would echo in my head for days.

  Hands tore Jared’s painful grip away from my arms. An arm wrapped around me, pulling me into the safety of the gallery. Stumbling blindly, I sank onto the floor, shaking and crying. Voices talked around me fast and panicked. I caught only snippets of words.

  He said…

  She did this…

  She wouldn’t…

  And one word that kept repeating.

  Zachary.

  I wept until there were no tears left to cry. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was in Jonathon’s office. The only other person in the room was Ashley, who was regarding me with anguish. “Tell me you didn’t do what he says you did. What he told Zachary you did.”

  “I love Zachary,” I rasped, holding out my hands in supplication. “I didn’t do anything.” A wa
ve of nausea ran through me and I clapped my hand over my mouth, my shoulders heaving. In sympathy, she pointed to a door and I rushed into the washroom, retching until there was nothing left. Washing my face and hands, I avoided looking in the mirror, knowing what I’d see—what Ashley saw when she looked at me.

  Guilt.

  Because of me, Jared came after Zachary. I might not have done anything, literally, but I caused it to happen.

  She was waiting for me when I came out. “Sit down.”

  “I have to go. I have to find—”

  She shook her head. “Jonathon is dealing with the police and chaos out there. You can’t go anywhere right now. The gallery is closed.” She shuddered. “I hope Zachary is safe. He isn’t answering his phone.”

  My stomach lurched again and I wrapped my arms around my torso to try and stop the shivers that kept running through me.

  She drew in a deep breath. “I want the truth, Megan. Who was that man?”

  My voice shook as I told her. I told her everything. About my book and what Jared did. How I met Zachary. I told her all of it. When I was finished, she was quiet, her fingers tapping out a fast rhythm on the arm of her wheelchair. “What did he say?” I asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it.

  She shook her head, disgust written all over her face. “I didn’t hear or see the start of it, but what I did witness was awful. There were people in the gallery keeping both of us busy and he cornered Zachary in the office. He told him you had set him up. You became curious about Karen’s reclusive neighbor, did some checking and thought you’d found a great story. You were using him to write a book on his life—a real exposé. He went on and on about how you contrived meeting him, your innocent act. He said the whole story about him stealing your book was only a cover to get you sympathy.” She met my eyes. “He took great pleasure in telling Zachary the two of you were lovers, but you had gotten greedy about not sharing the book with him, so he decided to speed things up.” Her voice dropped. “He also said you were getting tired of keeping up the act of being in love and letting Zachary touch you like he was”—she hesitated—“normal.”

  I whimpered. Without even knowing it, he hit all of Zachary’s weak spots. “What happened?”

  “Zachary hit him. Only once, but it was hard. He went down and Zachary bolted.” She shook her head. “That’s when he ran out the door and into the mess back there. Jonathon called the police and went out back and grabbed you.”

  I shut my eyes as fresh tears gathered. So easily broken. The fragile bond I knew would take time to strengthen had been so easy to break. Small cracks had been forming, and today, the final blow had been delivered.

  “I didn’t do this, Ashley. I’m not writing a book about him. I didn’t expose him.” The tremor in my voice grew stronger. “But, it is my fault.”

  “What?”

  “Jared heard me say his name and where I was staying. I thought I covered it up, but obviously I didn’t. He was looking for a way to discredit me so no one would ever believe me about my book, or anything else.” Bill had been right. A sob erupted from my chest. “It worked.” I met her eyes. “Zachary will never listen to me. He’ll never give me a chance to explain.”

  She rolled forward, clasping my hand. “I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “No one could fake the way you looked at Zachary, or how he looked at you. He was different with you.” She squeezed my hand. “You have to make him listen, Megan.”

  “He left without me.”

  “He was scared and in shock. The person he thought he could trust betrayed him.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she waved my words away. “The truth or not, that’s what it looked like to him. Think about it, Megan. He’s been here for ten years and until now, felt safe. Out of the limelight and away from his past. Then you enter his life—” Her voice trailed off.

  “The one thing he needed, the one thing he counted on—his privacy—was suddenly taken away from him and he was told you were responsible. He knows this’ll be all over the news. He’ll hide for a while until he figures out how far this will reach in the media and how adversely it’ll affect his life.” She shuddered. “I hope they don’t know where his house is located.”

  I stood up, gasping. “I have to get to him.”

  She tugged me down. “Jonathon will drive you once he thinks it’s safe. You can’t be followed, either.”

  “What if he won’t listen to me?” I whispered.

  “You have to give him some time. Let him think it through. Once he calms down, I’m sure he’ll realize who is actually the one lying.”'

  “You didn’t see how he looked at me.”

  “I saw how he looked at you before this happened. You need to hang on to that image.”

  I shut my eyes, my entire body exhausted.

  I was pretty sure that wasn’t the image I would remember.

  Time passed as I sat in Jonathon’s office. Slowly the crowd dispersed, the town once again quiet. When they realized there were no more pictures to be taken, and no one in the town would even talk to them, the reporters left, although I was sure they’d be back.

  I stood in the shadows outside, waiting for Jonathon while he went to pick up my purse at the store. He was not as convinced as Ashley was about my innocence, but he was at least being polite. I tried calling Zachary, but the calls went straight to voice mail. Every time I heard his terse message, I began to cry again, so I didn’t leave him any messages. I doubted he’d listen to them anyway. I needed to see him face to face.

  A ball of paper caught my eye and remembering it had been in Zachary’s hand, I bent down, picking it up and unfurling it. My eyes widened at the pictures. Zachary and me on the beach the day before—close up and zoomed in on his scarred face. Another one of us walking in town. Then others, of me with Jared, his arm around me, taken when we were dating. All the pictures were date stamped, but the ones of me with Jared were falsified. They were dated so it looked like they were taken last week when I was in Boston; made to look like we were still dating. To make Zachary believe I was the horrid person Jared said I was.

  A figure moved and I tensed when Jared appeared.

  “I’ve been waiting.”

  “How?” I whimpered.

  He laughed, the sound cruel. “Did you forget what I did before I started writing, Megan? I was a researcher for the publishing house. I checked facts, dug up information.” He sneered. “You made this little project so very interesting for me.” He sniggered. “I passed you on the highway last week, and waited for you here. I heard you talking to your lawyer and say where you were staying, so I rented a different car and followed you. Once I was sure where you were heading, I drove in front of you and waited.” His eyes narrowed. “So worth my time, too.”

  “Why, Jared?” I asked, my voice shaking with barely concealed hatred. “Why did you do this?” I threw up my hands, shaking the fake pictures. “It’s a book, it’s only a book!”

  “A book you wouldn’t give me.”

  I shook my head. “I emailed Bill the other night and told him I would accept your offer. You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to destroy someone else’s life!”

  He laughed again, the sound low and evil. “Don’t you get it, Megan?”

  “I guess not.”

  He stepped forward, close enough I could see the bruise forming on his face from Zachary’s fist. “I get what I want. I warned you not to fuck with me. Thanks to your stupid, inane mouth, I get it all. Luckily for me, I know you well enough to know what a lousy liar you are and there was no new dog. Good thing no one else has figured that out yet, and now they never will.” An evil smile curled his thin lips. “Even if this little story dies a fast death, which it probably will, no one will ever believe a word you say again. I get your book and discredit you,”—he smirked—“and, I get it all for free. I don’t have to pay you a dime.”

  Revulsion tore through me. “You’re the most despicable
person I’ve met. I regret the day I ever heard your name.”

  He leered at me as he shrugged his shoulders. “Regret away, Megan. I still win.” His eyes glinted, dark and nasty as he shoved some more papers into my cold hand. “You made it all so easy, as well.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving me looking at the order receipt from Zachary’s paint, which had flown away, and some more pictures of the two of us together. He’d been here and seen me—he’d been watching us—following us. He found the information he needed because of my careless mouth and a piece of paper I let blow away. I hadn’t noticed him, never saw him passing me on the highway or watching us.

  I swallowed the bile rising in my throat again. I had led him right to Zachary.

  Jonathon came around the corner, frowning when he saw Jared’s departing figure. His eyes softened when he saw my tears, and he slipped his hand under my elbow to steady me. “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  “Let me take you home, Megan.”

  Home.

  Zachary.

  “Yes,” I mumbled. I had to get to him.

  I stumbled into the house, refusing Jonathon’s offer of help. I needed to be alone and think before I went to see Zachary. The roads had been deserted, so I knew no one followed us from town, but I still hoped Zachary was safe in his house. I stopped at the sight of Dixie on the sofa, my hand clutching the doorframe for support. She’d been at Zachary’s when we left.

  Why was she here?

  I gasped as my eyes swept the room. Sitting on top of the mantle was a canvas I would know anywhere. Tempest was leaning on the wall; one long rending tear slashed diagonally across the painting, the image ruined. With slow steps and fresh tears falling down my face, I crossed the room, my fingers tracing the edge of the tear gently, the meaning behind the gesture plain.