by Dara Girard
“I’ll take her. You wait here.”
Michelle stole a glance at Delana as she sat curled in the passenger seat of the car like a scared creature. “Tell me what happened.”
Delana closed her eyes and fiercely shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’re positive James—”
Delana glared at her.“You asked me that before. I know what he did. You weren’t there.” She turned to the window. “I know why he left you now.”
Michelle gripped the steering wheel and focused on the two lane road ahead. It didn’t make sense for James to attack Delana all of a sudden. But you felt the darkness, a voice said. It was her fault for coming there. James’s life had been fine until her arrival.
By the time she’d gotten Delana registered at the hospital and returned to the house, evening was setting in.
James met her at the door, blocking her entrance. “How is she?”
“Shaken. She’ll live.”
He frowned, his voice tense. “You shouldn’t have come back here.” He held out her suitcase. “I’ve packed your things.”
Michelle pushed past him and walked into the house. “You didn’t do this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Let me see your hand.”
He sighed. “Michelle.”
She took his hand and looked at the swollen knuckles. “Where’s your First Aid kit?”
James pulled his hand away. “You’re leaving here tonight.”
“No, I’m not.” She took her suitcase and headed for the stairs.
He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Get out of here. It’s happening again and I…I can’t protect you.”
“You didn’t do this.”
“This is why I stayed away. This is why we can’t be together.”
“You didn’t do this.”
“It’s the same.”
“No, it’s different. Wrong.” I know why he left you now. Those had been Delana’s words and they bothered her. Why had she said them? The order was wrong. I know why he left you. If James were the abuser wouldn’t Delana think it would be the other way round? Wouldn’t she have suspected that Michelle left James? And her accusation felt scared and rehearsed. This wasn’t the darkness, this was something worse. She covered James’s hand and said softly not sure it would work, “You did not do this. You are not going to hurt me. I am safe with you.”
He shook his head. “Michelle—”
“Trust me this time. Let me bandage your hand then help me look in her room.”
“I won’t see anything.”
“There’s a lot you can notice without sight.”
She didn’t know what she was looking for, but Michelle knew something was off. She saw Delana’s bag near the bed.
She lifted it up, surprised by how heavy it was. She zipped it open and saw it stuffed with clothes. “Looks like she was going somewhere.”
“She didn’t tell me,” James said. “I thought she was happy here.”
Michelle turned the suitcase upside to empty the contents on the bed. “Why did she come here?”
“I met her when I was recovering at a retreat here on the island. She was sweet and kept my spirits up. It was probably a couple weeks after I’d left that she called me up one day said she needed to get away from trouble at home. I needed a cook so I said she could stay here. I didn’t ask too many questions.”
Michelle shuffled through Delana’s clothes. “You gave her your number?”
“I must have. How else would she call me?”
Good question. “Does your family know about her?”
“Probably.”
“I saw a bruise on her face yesterday. She covered it well with makeup.” Michelle turned to James when she felt him grow still. “I know it wasn’t you because she hinted at another man. She said you saved her. Perhaps her family troubles have followed her.”
“I did sense a presence.”
“When?”
“But I wasn’t sure.” He swept his hands over the clothes then stopped when he felt something hard. He moved the clothes aside.
“What is it?” Michelle asked, but the sound of cars and sirens stopped James reply. She rushed to the window and saw the police approaching. How could they have gotten here so fast? The time from Delana arriving at the hospital and police arriving on their doorstep seemed too perfect to be coincidental. Michelle turned and saw James shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s okay, love. I know they’re coming for me.” He gave her a sad smile. “I guess I won’t get my one night after all.”
“Yes you will.” Michelle quickly stuffed Delana’s things back in her bag. She didn’t want the police wondering why they’d been looking through her things.
“After you make a statement and they clear you, you are to leave this island,” James said resigned.
Michelle put the bag back near the bed and quickly surveyed the room to make sure it looked the same as when they’d entered it. “I’m not leaving.”
“I know you’re not leaving yet, but—”
She heard pounding on the door and left the room.
James followed her, his hand dragging along the wall to keep him oriented. “Michelle, slow down.”
The pounding grew louder.
“Michelle, don’t do this.”
She stopped and turned to him. “I have to.” Her heart raced, this was her chance to make things right. James needed her and she wouldn’t fail him this time. “I made a mistake before. All those years ago, I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“I do now. I’m not leaving this island without you.” She kissed him then raced down the stairs.
Chapter 42
Not on her island.
Cathy Lin looked at the grim pictures of Delana’s battered face and bruises with studied detachment. Few felt this assault would be resolved, especially considering the attacker. St. Clarine didn’t have the attention or resources nor was it as well known as its sister islands. Centuries ago, the island had been like a beautiful woman who had caught the eye of two dangerous yet powerful men—namely the British and the French—who’d descended on her to rape her of her riches until there was little left before they discarded the island to the Dutch, briefly the Portuguese and then the British, again, before they managed to gain independence.
But by then, the infrastructure was damaged by greed and corruption. Only recently, a new patriotism had risen, and the island people used their wiles to set themselves apart and export a unique fruit native only to the island. The market for the fruit was too small for bigger industries to take notice, but big enough to provide the island with much needed revenue.
But enough money was still a problem, so tourism and island thrill seekers were still their largest moneymaker, but with them came trouble. Especially the wealthy ones. As a little girl she’d been warned about rich foreigners too quick to flash their white teeth and paper money. Her grandfather had been one of the Chinese immigrants brought over to work the railroads and her family had risen in status. Her brother worked in government and a sister was a professor. Her parents had been grossly disappointed that she’d chosen to be a police officer. But Cathy felt it was her calling.
She remembered a friend being taken and never found. They had always parted at the railroad crossing after school, but she had never made it home. It had frightened her and she didn’t like to be frightened. The police kept order; they knew things. She would protect her island and its people the best way she knew how. One day she would make commissioner. Right now she had a criminal to convict. Presently she had him sitting in one of their cells. The worst she could find. He hadn’t protested, to his credit, but she expected a high priced lawyer to show up shortly. The woman who had arrived with him was adamant that he was innocent. But of course, as his wife, she would say that.
Cathy believed Delana. She was a true island girl who had come from a good family. From what Cathy had
understood she’d gone to work for the wealthy Winfield man. She’d pitied him because of his blindness and he’d misinterpreted her tender care for something more. He’d gone into a rage. How Winfield’s wife played into the picture she’d uncover later. For now she had to put her case together. Before influence and money came to tear it apart.
Cathy didn’t raise her head when her door flew open. She knew who would come in—a man running like he’d disturbed a hornet’s nest.
“Did you have to arrest him?” Forton da Silva demanded.
Cathy looked at him. Despite his six foot frame, Forton would jump at the sight of a mosquito. Anything could make him nervous. He liked rules and regulations. He liked keeping his closet full of fine Italian shoes and French designer clothes. He liked his weekly trips to the barber and his house on the hill. Keeping rich people happy had gotten him that.
The only people Cathy cared about were the school children playing in the yard, the people in the market and the hard working islanders coming home after a long day. She would fight for Delana.
“Yes, I did.”
Forton closed the door and tugged on his tie. “Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t care who he is.”
“You should care. You have to tread lightly when it comes to people like him.”
“We’ve tread far too lightly.” They had yet to convict one rapist. Most domestic incidents ended with only a fine, and they’d had three disappearances within the past two years that hadn’t been solved. All trails led to the wealthy visitors who disappeared when the police got too close. The Winfield man wouldn’t be able to if she could help it. Lucky for Delana, she had a wealthy ally who would help them make a solid case.
Delana was lying, but she had no way to prove it. Michelle sat on the floor of her cell and sighed. Assaulting a police officer. What injustice. She’d accidentally hit him in the face with her elbow when he’d tried to restrain her from giving James a hug. And how convenient that there had been photographers as the police led her and James to the station. Must be a slow news day. Unfortunately, no one would listen to protestations of James’s innocence and no one would tell her how he was doing. She doubted even after her release that she’d be allowed to see him.
And she had no way to talk to Delana and find out what she was hiding. But why would she lie? Just yesterday she’d said James was so sweet. Why had Delana suddenly decided to leave? Did it have anything to do with Michelle’s sudden arrival?
At least the police had allowed her to call one person. She’d called Martha and told her that James was being charged with assault and battery. After Martha stopped laughing, Michelle told her she wasn’t joking. She said a lawyer was on her way. But Michelle could tell that the Detective Inspector Lin was determined to see James behind bars and it did look bad for him. Michelle hadn’t been in the house to witness anything.
How had he hurt his hand? What had he been doing in her room?
Don’t touch me! She remembered Delana’s frightened gaze when Michelle had come towards her, as if she were afraid Michelle would harm her too. Why would she think that…or did she know something about her? Perhaps she knew about Michelle’s gift and was afraid of what Michelle could reveal. But they’d never met so how would she know anything? Unless James had told her…or somebody else.
Joanna perhaps? No, she loved her son too much. She wouldn’t want to see him hurt. But why hadn’t Martha mentioned her or James?
Michelle rubbed her tired eyes. If she wanted to help James, and prove to him that he hadn’t hurt her, she’d have to uncover what Delana was truly afraid of.
Chapter 43
Kenneth looked at the online story with the grim interest of a bystander unable to tear their gaze away from a car crash. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He quickly closed his laptop when he heard the doorbell. He glanced across the living room at his nanny Joyce playing with his son Alex, who giggled with delight. He heard his daughter Syrah greeting Wendy at the door. She and Jessie were scheduled for tennis. “Hi,” Wendy said, bouncing into the room wearing a cute white tennis skirt and blue blouse which matched her eyes.
Kenneth smiled back, trying to appear casual. “Jasmine will be down in a minute.”
“Okay.” She bent down and petted their golden retriever Dion, who had pressed his wet nose against her olive-toned leg seeking more attention.
He hesitated asking her about what he’d seen, but before he could, her phone alerted her to a message. She glanced down, read for a few seconds then swore.
“St. Clarine?” Kenneth guessed.
Wendy nodded then looked at Joyce and switched to French knowing neither she nor Syrah understood it. “It couldn’t be her, though. Could it?”
“It looks like her.”
Wendy took a seat looking worried then made a dismissive wave of her hand. “Fortunately, the incident is too small for it to become international news.”
“We know about it.”
“Only because we’re interested.” Although neither was from St. Clarine they both liked to keep abreast of various Caribbean news.
“Does Jessie know?”
“Not yet,” he said.
Jessie came into the room, swinging her tennis racket. “What are you two talking about?”
Kenneth cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Joyce, but could you excuse us a minute?”
She nodded and took Alex away.
Wendy looked at Kenneth and continued in French, “Do you want me to tell her?”
“Let her see it first,” he replied.
“I don’t think she should see the picture until she hears it from someone.”
Jessie rested her hands on her hips. “That’s very rude, you know. Typical French.”
“We’re not French,” they both said in unison.
Jessie held up her hands in surrender knowing she’d hit a colonial sore spot. “Okay, okay. What are you talking about?”
“Where’s Michelle?” Kenneth asked.
Jessie shrugged. “Traveling on business. Why?”
He sighed.
Jessie became concerned. “What’s going on?”
“Michelle was arrested in St. Clarine.”
“That can’t be.”
“It’s online,” Wendy said. “They said she assaulted an officer.”
Jessie slowly sat down. “That’s impossible. That doesn’t sound like Michelle. And why would it make the news?”
Kenneth clasped his hands and leaned forward. “Because the case involves her ex-husband—”
“Estranged,” Jessie corrected him
“James Winfield.”
“Looks like a case of sex and money,” Wendy said. “He beat up his mistress. At least that’s what the story said. He’d been living with her on the island.”
“A mistress? James?” Jessie shook her head. “No way.”
Kenneth showed her the image online. “This is what he allegedly did to her.”
They sat in silence then Kenneth said, “Perhaps your concerns about him were right.”
“But what was she doing down there with him?” Jessie said. “Why did she say it was a business trip? Do you think she knew he was down there all this time?”
“We won’t know until we ask her.”
“We’ll have to tell Teresa.”
“Not yet, let’s find out more first.”
He couldn’t find much else about the case. Another news story mentioned that the victim had been James’s cook and that he’d allegedly demanded a more intimate relationship. Presently, it looked bad for him.
Jessie entered the living room holding Alex. “Could you hold him a minute while I get his bottle?”
Kenneth didn’t look up from the screen of his laptop. “Where’s Joyce?”
“I gave her the night off since I cancelled with Wendy.”
Kenneth motioned to the ground. “Just put him down and I’ll watch him.”
“I’m not asking you to watc
h him. I’m asking you to hold him for one sec—”
“Just put him down,” Kenneth repeated with less patience.
“Kenneth—”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. I could hold his head wrong or something. He needs to be a little stronger. He’s too helpless.”
“He’s sturdier than he looks. Kenneth, this isn’t hard.”
Kenneth snapped his laptop closed. “It’s hard for me. I told you that. I’m not ready yet.”
Jessie looked at him for a long moment. “Sometimes you act as if he were an accident. I thought we both wanted this.”
“I thought it would be easier.” Kenneth stood, unable to take the hurt in her eyes and headed for the kitchen.
She followed him. “Easier than what?”
He set his laptop on the kitchen table. “Just easier.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. “Let’s not talk about this right now. I’m trying to think of ways to help your sister—”
“All I asked—”
He slammed the fridge door closed. “Just be patient with me!”
“Patient? I discover my brother-in-law has been arrested for allegedly beating up his mistress, my sister may have been lying to me for years, and my husband won’t hold his son for one minute and you think it’s because I’m not being patient!”
Kenneth set the bottle on the counter and sighed with regret. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being unfair. I didn’t expect to feel this way.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Maybe we shouldn’t have…” He stopped.
But it was too late. When he looked at his wife’s face he knew he’d gone too far. Jessie stared at him wide eyed. “Maybe we shouldn’t have what? Go on say it. Maybe we shouldn’t have had him.” She looked down at Alex and cradled him close. “Maybe we shouldn’t have fallen in love. Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten married. Maybe there are a lot of things we shouldn’t have done. But it’s too late to back out now.”
