Storm Surge Page 18

  “Perfect. I’d love one. Do you need any help?”

  Felicia shook her head. “You just stay right there.” She pulled a can of coffee out of the closet.

  Paige stood instead and crossed the floor to look out the window of the country-style kitchen. The stone circle was visible through the trees, silicate particulates winking in the afternoon sunshine. “They look quite beautiful from here.”

  Felicia glanced through the glass and returned to the preparation of the coffee maker. “Quite a marvel, they are. Some people don’t like them. Believe they’re evil or a sign of devil worship or some such nonsense. I don’t think anyone’s really figured out how they came to be there. One might suppose the native peoples set them into place, though I don’t know if that would have been something they’d do. But the stones aren’t evil. They’re magic.”

  Paige shivered involuntarily. “Magic? How so?”

  Felicia favored her with a long, speculative look. “Sometimes you can feel something when you’re standing within the circle that you can’t feel anywhere else, as if your connection to the earth is stronger. Of course, that might just be my former Wiccan phase cropping back up. You had the chance to visit them yet?”

  “I have. I don’t know about feeling anything special, but I did see something there.”

  “You’ve seen the shadow, then.”

  Paige turned her back on the window, folding her arms across her chest. “You and Liam, you speak so matter-of-factly about ghosts, as if they’re nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Felicia pushed the button to start the coffee brewing. “I don’t know that the shadow is a ghost. I’m not really sure what it is. But ghosts are ordinary. They’re everywhere. Just not everyone can see or sense them.”

  “I never saw them before, but now I’ve come home, I’m getting quite the education on what exists among us.” Including psychos, she almost added, but maintained silence on that matter. At least for now. Depending on her comfort level, Paige decided she might bring the subject up later, if only to bounce the situation off someone who wasn’t directly affected.

  “Who’s Liam?”

  Paige smiled at the change of subject. “Liam Gray. He…he lives in the house I grew up in. Bought it off my dad.”

  Eyes flickering with an emotion Paige couldn’t decipher, Felicia reached into the cabinet to grab two mugs. “Grab the sugar bowl, will you? It’s on the other side of the stove.”

  Paige retrieved and delivered the lidded bowl to Felicia.

  “I’m sorry about your dad. And your mom. Deb wrote to me when she first got sick, did you know that?”

  “No,” said Paige, “I didn’t.”

  “We hadn’t communicated in quite a few years, but we started writing regularly after that, and calling. Old-fashioned things, letters are, but holding a letter in your grasp, putting it away somewhere to pull out again later and re-read beats an e-mail hands down. It’s like having a piece of the person with you.”

  Paige plucked at a stray hair lying on her sleeve. “You kept them? My mother’s letters?”

  “I certainly did. In a shoebox. Like when we were kids.”

  Paige drew an agonized breath. She hadn’t found any box of letters from Felicia when she’d gone through her mother’s possessions and wondered what had happened to them. As if reading her mind or her expression, Felicia smiled at her with a nod.

  “I’ve got the ones I wrote to your mother in the same box. She sent them all back to me just before she died.”

  A constricted exhalation shuddered out of her lungs. Oh, God, she was going to break down right here in front of her mother’s oldest friend. Paige turned away so Felicia wouldn’t see the tears coming faster than she could blink them away.

  “Cream and sugar?” Felicia asked in a way that indicated to Paige she’d seen her tears but wouldn’t fuss about it. They were going to have coffee, and that would be that. Even so, Paige’s breath throbbed in her chest, as if she couldn’t quite draw in enough oxygen.

  “Here. Come sit down. I’d offer cookies but that son of mine ate every last one before I left. Potato chips might be a good substitute.”

  “Where are they?” Paige volunteered in haste. “I’ll get them.” Following the jerk of Felicia’s chin toward the pantry, Paige whipped out the bag and removed the clip from the top, then set the open bag between them on the table as she sat.

  “You all right now?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Good.”

  For a full five minutes, they sipped their coffee and munched on rippled chips without speaking. The kitchen became silent enough to hear the wall clock’s battery-driven motor in between chewing and the rustle of the coated bag.

  “So,” said Felicia at length, “this Liam, is he someone your mother would approve of?”

  Paige’s cheeks heated. She’d hoped she hadn’t given herself away. “I think Mom would approve of anyone who wasn’t Dad.”

  Felicia lowered her mug to the table. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  “Okay, not anyone,” Paige backtracked, “but you know what I mean.”

  “Your mom only ever wanted the best for you, to keep you safe.”

  Paige stopped with her hand mid-way to the open potato chip bag. “Keep me safe? She was the one who needed protection. Dad never went after me the way he did her.”

  Felicia lifted the mug again, taking a long, noisy slurp of tea. “It might be time to unlearn what you’ve collected in that head of yours over the years.”

  Sitting up, Paige pulled her hand back to her lap. “What do you mean? This is why I’m here, you know, to see what you might be able to tell me.”

  “I figured as much. But let’s talk about Liam first. You like him, do you?”

  Paige nodded mutely.

  “How long have you known him?”

  “We met…we met the night I got here.” Goodness, how ridiculous. How could a person develop an attachment to another that quickly? Lightning fast connections didn’t have a good track record. Not for her anyway. But then again, she hadn’t known any other kind but the swift physical interactions, which she’d experienced in plenty. It was the affection, the emotion, unnerving her.

  “Don’t worry,” Felicia said with a smile, “I’m not judging. Love works in mysterious ways, or so the saying goes.”

  “I didn’t say anything about love.”

  “Right. You didn’t. And your face?” Felicia indicated the bruises with a nod.

  Paige darted her gaze to the mug, to the cartoon on the side depicting a man in a hospital gown and the words get well soon. “Not Liam.” She yanked the mug off the tabletop, the tea sloshing around inside, and drank.

  Felicia tipped her head to the floor near Paige’s feet. “What’s in the box?”

  “Photos. I haven’t looked at them all yet, but they’re mostly of me. Some have other people in them, with or without my face, and I don’t know all of them. I thought if you wouldn’t mind going through some…?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t mind going through them. I’m honored.”

  “Not all the photos are old. Some are relatively recent. Liam found the box in the attic, which makes me think Dad had them. I just can’t figure out how he got them. They don’t look like the fodder of a private investigator.”

  Felicia’s expression remained a study in neutrality. After a moment, she got out of her chair, lifted the box from the floor, and set the container on the table between them. She flipped the lid back. “I know how he got them, Paige. I gave them to him.”

  Chapter 24

  They had moved into the living room, box and all. Paige couldn’t remember how they got there. They hadn’t said anything, but had gotten up as one accord and gone to a place where they could settle in. This conversation wouldn’t be a short one once it began. Paige sat on the sofa’s far end, staring out the window, not quite ready or willing to start the exchange. The sky had gotte
n darker. She supposed the rain was finally coming.

  “Paige, it was your mother who asked that I give the photographs to your father.”

  Paige believed Felicia when the woman spoke those words. She couldn’t imagine, however, why they might be true.

  “At first, it was one or two here or there, but then she started sending them on a regular basis, passing them through me because…because it was safe to do so. Before she died, she sent a huge envelope. The newer ones she didn’t mark with any caption in order not to reveal your location.”

  Paige lifted her hands and rubbed her eyelids with the curve of each palm. “What was she trying to do? Make him feel guilty?”

  Felicia’s prolonged silence drew Paige’s gaze. She dropped her hands back down to her lap. Felicia’s brow had furrowed and her mouth was turned down. She looked exasperated and perhaps a little angry. Paige clasped her fingers into a knot to keep them still.

  Despite her expression, when Felicia spoke again she sounded calm. “How much do you remember about those months before you left?”

  “I remember Mom’s eye blackened. I remember the blood running from her mouth,” Paige said.

  “Not the night you left. Your daily life leading up to that moment.”

  “What do you know about that night?” Paige demanded.

  “Think, Paige. It’s important.”

  “I remember it wasn’t the only time. I remember seeing Mom apply makeup to her face to cover marks. I was told recently the police had been called to the house, but Mom wouldn’t follow through and told them everything was fine.”

  Felicia reached for the mug she’d carried in with her and lifted it, taking a mouthful, swallowing carefully. “Those incidents stand out because they were traumatic. What else do you recall?”

  Paige leaned forward, elbows grinding into her legs a couple of inches above her knees. “What are you digging for? What is it you want me to say? That was all a long time ago. Why would I want to remember anything about that?”

  Clutching the mug against her stomach, Felicia leaned back into the cushioned chair. “Do you remember your parents arguing? Do you remember seeing your father hit her?”

  “I—” Paige stopped, recalling her thought processes on the beach a few nights past, and often since. She shook her head. “I never did. I guess he hesitated to do it in front of me. That would have made me a witness. As for the arguing, well, yeah, of course they did, but I can’t call to mind anything more than the normal type of quarrel except in the days immediately before. I’m not sure. How can I be? It was sixteen years ago. I do know that I didn’t want other kids coming around. That had to mean something.”

  “I’m sure it did.”

  Paige narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to tell me, Felicia? I spent more than half of my lifetime far away from here because my mother was in fear of my father.”

  “No, Deb stayed away to keep you safe.”

  “My father would never have hurt me!” Paige’s hand flew to her mouth, shocked at her own vehemence. She’d never said those words aloud before. On and off she’d believed them, coveted them like a talisman against her feelings of abandonment, but to admit them out loud seemed to betray her mother. “Debra Waters lived in fear of her husband,” Paige stated quietly.

  “Did she?”

  Paige’s vision glimmered with angry tears. “Of course she did.”

  “Did she say as much to you?”

  “Of course she did.” Paige considered, remembering past doubts. “She didn’t like to talk about it! When I asked questions, it upset her, and she would…she would tell me everything was all right. To not ask. To let it go…”

  Shoulders slumping, Paige dropped her head into her hands, shoved her fingers into her hair, and pulled it from the clip binding the locks at her nape. Across from her, Felicia stood and walked to a cabinet against the living room wall. She opened the door and removed a bottle that she carried back to the coffee table. She poured a bit into Paige’s tea. The strong smell of alcohol reached her nostrils.

  “Whiskey,” said Felicia. “It won’t kill you.”

  Paige peered up at her. “It’s not even three yet, is it?”

  “Who gives a crap? Drink it. You’re going to need it. Me, too.” She poured a healthy dose into her own mug, then screwed the cap back on and set the bottle on the table before she sat back down.

  Paige pulled the tea nearer and leaned over it, breathing in liquor’s hard, sweet scent. She’d wanted answers and was very much afraid she was going to get them. With determination, she brought the mug up to her lips and downed the contents. An immediate coughing fit followed, but warmth spread from her belly to her limbs within a few seconds.

  “Better?”

  Paige wiped her hand across her lips. “Better.”

  “You might want another one.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Felicia reached into the box and drew a photograph out. “Nice dress. Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Ashford,” said Paige with a snort of suppressed laughter.

  “Ash-what?”

  “Don’t ask. I think his parents had pretensions.”

  Felicia dropped the photo back into the box. “Your father wanted to know about your life. Deb couldn’t contact him directly so I was the go-between.”

  “He wanted to know about…me?” Paige frowned down into her empty mug. She reached for the bottle and poured an inch of liquid into the bottom.

  “Want a little soda with that?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s your funeral. Water and aspirin for dinner, got that?”

  “Got it. And pancakes. Don’t people eat pancakes when they’ve been drinking?”

  “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

  Paige leaned back into the sofa, wincing at the discomfort in her bruised hip. She clutched the mug to her breast, planning to nurse the whiskey inside. She didn’t relish a possible hangover. “Go on.”

  “They probably would have divorced, your mom and dad, if things hadn’t happened the way they did. But they remained married for all those years apart.”

  Paige waited. She didn’t think she could ask a sensible question with the information she’d been given because none of the dots appeared to connect. It wasn’t the alcohol confusing her since she wasn’t drunk, but she decided she would be before too much longer. If she’d been less cowardly, she might have chosen sobriety for a conversation she sensed was about to change her life.

  Be brave, Paige.

  Mom, I’m afraid.

  Pushing the mental conversation with her deceased mother from her brain, Paige focused on Felicia in her chair. “What did happen?”

  “Deb—your mom—had an affair.”

  “What?” Paige gulped a mouthful of liquid from her cup, squinting as it burned its way down her throat.

  “I don’t condone it. I didn’t then. But that’s what happened.”

  Paige frowned. “That’s it? That’s your explanation for everything? For why Dad beat her? Or was the abuse the reason she went outside the marriage? I really, really don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

  Felicia leaned forward, dumped a shot of liquor in her cup, another in Paige’s, and sat back. “This story’s only just beginning, and your father never touched your mother. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on her. It was her lover who did that.”

  * * * *

  Liam’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He yanked the phone out and checked the caller ID. Paige. With a glance toward the activity below, Liam texted that he would call soon. After a second, he forwarded another advising her to dial 911 if it was an emergency and then call him again. Otherwise, they would talk later. He’d almost stowed the phone away when her reply pulsed in his hand.

  K. Lts to tell. Ned to tlk. xo

  He frowned at the errors in the text. Or were they meant to be abbreviations? He knew she’d gone to spend the afternoon with an o
ld friend of her mother. Even if Paige hadn’t told him, the undercover cop tailing her had relayed where she’d gone and that she remained there safely. That had been hours ago. The day had come and gone with night settling down like a stifling blanket.

  Liam shoved the phone into his pocket, wiping his brow with his forearm afterward. The men below moved in near silence, speech truncated and barely discernible over the thundering waves. They worked without benefit of illumination with the exception of the flashlights utilized once inside the entrance of the cave, a cave that wouldn’t be visible come high tide. Even the flashlights were held in such a way as to center the beams inward, with no more than a flash to be glimpsed by anyone out on the water. Had they been more sophisticated, they would have used night vision goggles, but they worked in much the same manner men had since the first pirates and privateers had moved illicit goods from ships to the caves all along the shoreline around Alcina Cove.

  Tonight, the crates being moved into temporary hiding below held weapons. The usual operation was taking place. Store the cache away from prying eyes, wait until the appointed day, and restore the crates to the ship for an exchange out on the water. It wasn’t safe to keep the goods in a warehouse and certainly not on the ship while it was still being used for other jobs. Liam had been involved in these exchanges for nearly six months, waiting for the right one.

  A stone shifted with a sharp clatter, striking another. Liam turned his head. He saw a familiar silhouette against the sky behind and waited until it had neared.

  “Why aren’t you down there?” A harsh whisper.

  Liam shrugged. “You posted me as lookout. Make up your mind.” Liam played a dangerous game with his disrespect but it also kept the bastard on his toes. Raleigh never knew quite what to make of Liam, how far Liam would go. But with Edwin gone, Raleigh needed Liam in order to continue operations in the cave on his property. Liam remembered again the day Raleigh had approached him with suspiciously blasé questions about the natural features of the area, not as if they were new to him, but as if he were feeling Liam out. The moment couldn’t have been more opportune. Liam had followed through with arrangements for the cave’s use, including making every effort to keep people off the beach. With Raleigh’s mercurial personality, though, Liam wasn’t sure how long he could count on remaining in the man’s tentative good graces. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.