Siren's Call (Dark Seas)

by Debbie Herbert

  “So?” What the hell was going on?

  “Opa. O-p-a,” Sam spelled out. “Choctaw for owl.”

  “Oh-kay,” Nash drawled. “I’m in the dark here.” Bewilderment flashed to unease. “Has something happened to her?”

  “No, no.” Sam fluttered a hand in front of his face as if clearing cobwebs. “But don’t you remember all I’ve taught you about the animals? Owls are a sign of evil. Impending death.”

  The unease flared to an alarm that Nash tried to quell. “That’s a superstition. Why did Angier call about Opal?”

  “She’s here.”

  “Huh. I wasn’t expecting her back for another week.”

  “She’s not back, Nashoba. Sheriff says this Opal never left Bayou La Siryna. She’s been here all along.”

  The sweat on the back of his neck chilled and stung like ice chips. “But...why would she stay?” He felt as if he were moving in slow motion, half-buried in thick mud. His mind sludged through the implications. None of them good.

  Sam gave a slow nod. “Now you know your enemy.”

  Chapter 17

  Lily grinned at her friend’s wild muddy-red hair blowing in the breeze like an out-of-control forest fire. The temporary purple streaks of color she’d put in were gone. “I thought you were in the Appalachian Mountains taking photos of wild herbs. We weren’t expecting you back for another week.”

  “Nah, it turned out to be easier than I anticipated. Didn’t have to tromp about the trails much searching for specimens. It’s as if I was meant to be back on the island with—oomph.” Opal’s right foot twisted free from her sandal and she stumbled in the sand.

  Lily put out a hand and steadied her.

  “Drats.” Opal bent over, slipped both feet out of her old but still serviceable Birkenstocks and carried them in her hands.

  Lily noticed Opal’s wide freckled feet were unpedicured. Her gaze traveled upward and took in the cut-off shorts with loose threads dangling haphazardly. She wore an old faded T-shirt, a faded khaki cloth bag slung diagonally across her body and not a single piece of jewelry. It was one of the things Lily liked best about her—Opal didn’t bother with artifice. Her warm, friendly smile said take me or leave me, and it was her most endearing feature.

  Opal wiggled her brows. “Do I pass or fail inspection?”

  Lily cocked her head to one side, as if seriously considering the question. “Pass. You look great. Fresh-faced and lively as usual.”

  “And you look amazing as ever.” Opal gave a theatric sigh. “It’s so unfair. If you weren’t my friend I’d hate that about you.”

  Lily laughed. “I’ve missed you. Even tried to call you a couple of times but couldn’t get through. Figured you were in the boonies with no signal.”

  They resumed their way to the lodge.

  “I’d have called or at least texted you if I could have. So what are you doing out here today?” Opal asked. “More drawing? Or has Nash recruited you as his assistant in my absence? Looks like I might have been squeezed out of a job.”

  “Don’t worry. I’d be the world’s worst assistant. I talk too much when he’s trying to sneak up on the birds.”

  “Has Nash managed to get the mating shots of the rail clappers?”

  “Probably not. He’s been...distracted lately.”

  Opal winked. “I can guess why.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Lily said ruefully, climbing the porch steps. “Come inside, and I’ll bring you up to speed on everything.” She stopped suddenly and Opal slammed into her back. “Sorry. Just wondered if you’d rather sit on the porch.”

  Opal glanced backward, apparently watching the retreating backs of the elderly bird-watching couple as they headed toward the woods. “Let’s go inside,” she said. “More privacy that way.”

  Lily snorted. “I think you’ve forgotten how remote this place is.”

  Opal made her way to the sofa and flopped down, propping her tanned legs on the coffee table and slinging the tote bag beside her.

  “Make yourself at home,” Lily said unnecessarily. “Want some iced tea?”

  “Tea? Let’s drink something a little more fortifying. How about a glass of wine?”

  “I don’t think we have any.”

  “Sure you do. There are bottles of sangria in the cupboard below the sink.”

  “There are? I hadn’t noticed.” Lily scurried to the kitchen.

  “Pour it over some ice, will you, sweetie?” Opal called from the den. “I’m parched.”

  “No problem.” Lily opened the cupboard and, sure enough, there were a couple of sangria bottles. She fixed a glass of ice and carried it to the living room along with the wine. “I’m glad these are the twist-off tops. I haven’t noticed any corkscrew openers here.”

  Opal straightened and put her feet on the floor. “Nothing but the low-end stuff for my gourmet tastes,” she joked. “Hey, aren’t you going to join me?”

  “It’s a little early in the day.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t make me drink alone. What kind of hostess are you, anyway?”

  Lily hesitated. Oh, what did it matter? It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. “Okay. Be right back.”

  Opal smiled. “Take your time. We’ll have some fun girl talk all afternoon. When do you expect Nash to return? I assume he’s out taking shots.”

  “He’s not here. His grandfather isn’t doing well. Nash is staying with him until Sam’s friend arrives later in the afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. What happened?” Opal waved a hand. “Get your drink first and then you can tell me.”

  Lily returned to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. This would be fun. She’d never had a wine-and-girl-talk kind of day. Glass in hand, Lily went to the den, where Opal paced.

  “There you are,” Opal said brightly as Lily poured herself some sangria. She stood next to Lily and clinked their glasses together. “Cheers. Here’s to a revealing afternoon.”

  “Revealing? Oh, you mean like sharing confidences, I suppose.”

  Opal took a sip. “Mmm. So good. Drink up.”

  Dutifully, she tasted the wine, her mouth exploding with the sweet tang of blackberries and citrus.

  Opal returned to the sofa and patted the seat beside her. “Come tell me what happened to Nash’s grandfather.”

  “Poor man had another heart attack and was in the hospital until they released him this morning.” Lily sat down and kicked off her shoes, then tucked one leg beneath the other. “Sam has refused another bypass surgery and nothing Nash says can change his mind.”

  Opal shook her head. “Never underestimate the stubbornness of a man, huh? Nash taking it hard?”

  “Yeah.” Lily took another swallow of the sangria. “He’s pretty crushed.” Here she was having company all day and lazing about while he cared for Sam. “As a matter of fact, I should call and see how they’re doing.” She scanned the coffee table for her cell phone.

  It wasn’t there.

  “Where’s that damn phone?” she muttered. “I could have sworn I left it right there.”

  “Maybe you took it in the kitchen when you got the glasses,” Opal suggested helpfully.

  Lily stood and frowned. “I don’t think so, but let me see. Be right back.”

  “You might want to check your bedroom and the porch while you’re at it,” Opal called from behind. “I’ll call your number so you can hear it ring.” Opal rummaged through her bag for her phone.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Back in the kitchen, she checked the countertops. Not there. With a sigh of exasperation, she went to the bedroom, checking nightstands and the dresser top. Still no phone. Lily peeked in the bathroom and then to the unused back bedroom. She must have left it on the porch earlier when she was talking to Shelly. Lily
retraced her steps and passed back through the den.

  Opal held up her phone. “It’s ringing. Think you might have turned the ringer off?”

  “I never do that. Don’t hang up— I’m going on the porch to look.”

  Outside, her gaze swept the porch, but there was no sign of it and no ringing, either. Lily lifted chair cushions and searched the floor, thinking it might have dropped. Damn it, she’d lost another one. Lily jerked open the screen door and stalked back to the sofa.

  “No luck?” Opal said with raised brows, turning off her phone.

  “None.” She flopped next to Opal and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I can’t believe it. This is the third time in the past year.”

  Opal patted her arm. “Don’t be upset. I’m sure it will turn up. Here—” She picked up Lily’s glass and held it out. “Relax. You’ll find it later. No sense getting all worked up.”

  “I guess,” Lily said with a sigh. “Sure is frustrating, though.” She sipped the wine, willing it to mellow her sour mood. A hint of bitterness mingled with the fruity taste. Lily raised the glass to her nose and sniffed. “Can sangria go bad? This has a weird aftertaste.”

  Opal laughed. “Nah, you’re probably used to the gourmet stuff and not this cheap shit I picked up at the gas station.” She raised her glass. “The more you drink, the better this will taste.”

  Lily followed Opal’s cue and downed another mouthful. A flavor of bitter almonds lingered, but it wasn’t too bad.

  “Anything else go on while I was away? Twyla give you any more trouble?”

  “Yes and no. There’s been trouble, but Twyla’s not to blame. We’re actually friends now—or at least not enemies.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Lily recounted the break-in and hang-up calls, drinking more of the sangria. It was like she couldn’t get enough liquid—her mouth was parched and her tongue wanted to stick to the roof of her mouth. Opal said something, but Lily couldn’t focus enough on the words to catch their meaning. She stared into Opal’s blue eyes until the color shifted, became alive and splashed like seawater spilled into a miniaquarium. And she was in that water, her mermaid fishtail swishing back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Lily’s stomach roiled with motion sickness.

  “I feel funny,” she said. “That sangria doesn’t agree with me.”

  * * *

  He had to get to Lily and warn her about Opal. Nash checked the time on his cell phone and cursed. “The noon ferry’s already run. I should have insisted Lily stay with me today.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Sam said. “You told me she promised to have a family member stay with her.”

  Nash barely listened to his grandfather’s reassurances as he speed-dialed Lily’s number. It rang and rang and rang. He punched in Tillman’s number, who picked up on the first ring.

  “Nash? We’ve got a problem. Landry and I’ve been reviewing the old case files the past few days. We decided to focus on Opal since she came to Bayou La Siryna with you. After a thorough background check, we now suspect Opal Wallace is the person who broke into Lily’s house and may be responsible for the deaths of Rebecca Anders and Connie Enstep.”

  “Why?” he asked quickly. A small, still-rational part of his brain wanted something more concrete than Sam’s association of her name as a sign of evil. He’d known her for years, had never once suspected his friend and assistant might be the cause of so much grief.

  “Did you know she was once a person of interest in the murder of her foster brother, Thomas Drake? They apparently had a secret long-term affair and when he tried to break it off, Opal stalked him. A restraining order was issued and Drake died four months later. An autopsy revealed he’d been poisoned by white snakeroot. The case has never been solved.”

  “Shit.” His skin crawled as if a hundred hairy tarantulas had been loosed on his body.

  “There’s more,” Tillman continued. “Not long after Drake’s death, Opal was committed to a state psychiatric hospital for an acute psychotic episode. Given her prior arrest, the background of mental health issues and the fact she’s lied about her whereabouts, I’d say she’s our prime suspect.”

  “What do you mean, Opal lied about her whereabouts?”

  There was a pause and Nash tensed, anticipating more bad news.

  “Opal never left Bayou La Siryna. She’s been holed up in a motel right outside of town.”

  Hearing it from the sheriff instead of his grandfather seemed more damning and official. All doubt fled. Nash jumped to his feet as adrenaline flooded his system. “Then go take her in! What are you waiting for?”

  “We can’t. She’s on Herb Island. She disembarked on the ferry as Shelly boarded.”

  “Damn it! Who’s with Lily now?”

  “No one except Opal. Lily thought she’d be safe with her.”

  Nash balled his left hand into a tight fist. Lily was alone with a psychotic killer. It was hard to imagine Opal as a killer, but the facts were too incriminating to think otherwise. “How soon can we get over there?” he growled.

  “I’ve been trying to call Ned, but can’t reach him. The next scheduled ferry is hours away. In the meantime, our office is contacting everyone we know with a boat large and sturdy enough to get out there. I know you’re worried. I would be, too. Landry and I are doing everything possible—”

  “Call me when you find someone,” Nash said, cutting him off. “I’m going with you.” He turned off the phone and faced his grandfather’s worried eyes. “Lily’s alone on the island with Opal and no one can get out there for hours. If something happens to her—” He couldn’t go on, couldn’t form the horrible words. “I never suspected Opal. Never. I thought she was my friend. And she never made a pass at me or indicated she had feelings for me. She told me once she was having a long-term affair with a married man. Like an idiot, I believed her story.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t the first person to ever be deceived and betrayed by a false friend.”

  “It’s all my fault.” Nash’s fingers curled into his palms. “I led Lily straight to a killer and there’s nothing I can do to save her.”

  “There is a way to the island,” Sam said. “But you may not like it.”

  * * *

  “Poor baby.” Opal stroked Lily’s head. “Your hair’s so pretty.” She ran her fingers through the long locks. “And silky, too.”

  Lily closed her eyes and relaxed into the comforting touch of fingers stroking her scalp and the nape of her neck. The nausea subsided, replaced by a deep lethargy. She felt weighted down and longed to curl into a ball and sleep. For days.

  “I wish I had your hair.”

  Lily yawned and roused herself. “There’s nothing wrong with your red hair. It suits you.”

  “It’s a curse,” Opal said. The words came out loud, harsh. “I mean—” she gave a small laugh “—I wish I looked exactly like you. There’s this guy... Well, he doesn’t ever notice me that way. Know what I mean?”

  Lily opened her mouth, but Opal cut in before she could speak.

  “Of course you don’t know what I mean. All men love the lovely Lily.”

  The singsong bitterness in Opal’s voice made Lily’s spine prickle with unease. Maybe Opal was like the other human women after all. And here she’d thought she’d found a true friend.

  Opal laughed again, her face returning to its plain, open warmth. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol talking.” She poured them both another glass and raised hers in the air. “To friendship.”

  “I don’t want any more.” Her voice sounded weak and plaintive, as if she were a small child protesting something forced upon her.

  “Fine. I believe you’ve had enough now,” Opal said gently. “You look paler than usu
al. Feeling a bit strange, my dear?”

  The room went fuzzy, the edges of everything blurred like one of her impressionistic watercolors. Maybe she had landed inside one of the paintings. Maybe her own body would become wave-washed until all that remained of Lily Bosarge would be an indistinguishable smudge on a forgotten canvas. She tightened her hands, welcoming the sharp pain of her nails digging into her palms.

  “I’m still here,” she said, sounding like a lost, confused child even to her own ears.

  Opal smiled, but there was no warmth or comfort in it. Something about her expression hardened, became cruel. She ran a finger down the faint scar on her right cheek. “You see this atrocity?”

  “It’s barely visible,” Lily protested, overcome with the need to cajole the stranger beside her. Where was that damn cell phone? Lily swiped her hand across the coffee table as if the phone would magically materialize. She’d left it right there, she knew she had.

  An explosion of glass on the hardwood floor echoed in her head, like shock waves from a dynamite detonation. Lily clasped her hands to her ears and watched a rivulet of sangria spill over the edge of the table. It slowed to droplets, like blood dripping from an IV. “I need my phone. I need to call Nash and—”

  “Shut up!” Opal hissed. “You shut the fuck up.”

  All traces of friendship were wiped out. Opal’s eyes deepened to a blue blackness of fury and her thin lips pursed. A wall of hate smacked Lily’s body like a wet towel, sharpening her hazy senses. Understanding flashed. “You’re the killer,” she whispered. “It’s been you all along. You hate me because you’re in love with Nash. You put something in my drink...”

  “Yeah, genius. I hate you.” Opal threw her glass against the wall and it exploded. Tiny glass shards and sangria cascaded downward in slow motion, like a red waterfall. Lily couldn’t stop staring at it, all the while willing her mind to concentrate on reality. “What did you put in my drink?”

  “A little angel’s trumpet, my dear.”

  The answer filtered through her drugged trance, though the sound was distant, as if it had come from the abyss of an underwater volcano.