Chapter Sixty-Five Isla
Chapter Sixty-Five
Isla
Present Day
Before Bennett could take another step, a new voice cut through the night. “Not the family reunion you expected.”
They whipped around as a flashlight flicked on, and Isla emerged from the shadows and the cover of the trees.
Jackson’s incredulity flickered to calculation. His eyes narrowed as he searched the woods from which she’d emerged. “How did you find us?”
“Tracking devices,” she said, waving her glowing cell phone. Thanks to Myles, who’d planted them after she’d given them to him the night he took her to the Red Roof.
Jackson snatched the shovel from Bennett’s trembling hands and took a deliberate step toward Isla. His intention was perfectly clear, and danger radiated from him.
“I heard it gets easier after the first time,” Isla said. “Is it true?”
“If you weren’t so stupid, following us alone, I’d be impressed with your courage,” Jackson said, raising the shovel. “Thought you were smarter than that.”
A sharp crack of twigs and the crunch of dry leaves and underbrush stopped him mid-step.
Figures emerged from the shadows—first a mass, then distinct shapes splintering off as they stepped into the moonlight. Flashlights flicked on, one by one. Myles. Victor. Dixon. Even Lawrence bringing up the rear. They were still in their tuxes, unlike Jackson, who had dressed to get dirty.
Jackson retreated, moving closer to Brooke and Bennett, who had been like deer caught in headlights from the moment Isla had made herself known.
Their faces as blank as their minds. But not Jackson’s, Isla thought.
His mind was churning. He was always two steps ahead and could slip in and out undetected, as he’d done for years.
She hoped that for once he wasn’t ahead of her and that her gamble would pay off.
“What did you do?” Victor’s voice blasted through the night as he stepped through the clearing, closing the distance.
Jackson quietly dropped his hands to his sides, the tip of the shovel sinking into the dirt.
Myles said, “The police are not far behind. If we hadn’t gone ahead like Isla said, what were you going to do, Jackson? Bennett?”
“Is it all true?” Victor’s voice held hope; what he’d walked in on because Isla had asked him back at the house to let her show him was too unfathomable. Isla knew his feelings because she felt the same.
Jackson’s calm was eerie. “You already heard it all, Victor. Why rehash?”
“All these years?” Victor asked, focusing on his wife and son. “You’ve been lying all these years and colluding with him under my nose. In my home. Bennett isn’t . . .” His voice broke, the enormity of their betrayal choking him, and he looked away.
“It’s not what you think, Victor.” Brooke’s voice trembled from where she and Bennett huddled together. “We’ve been deceived just like you. This is all a misunderstanding.”
Bennett pulled at his mother’s hand, silencing her before she could make things any worse.
“No! She was alive. She was alive, and you just let her die, and you left her all alone.” His gaze swept them; he was desperate for answers that weren’t coming fast enough.
“Bennett wasn’t even around when Eden was with the boys. You heard how he looked for her. He definitely—definitely didn’t,” Brooke affirmed. “He definitely did not kill Edie.”
“Don’t get it confused,” Isla said. “Bennett definitely set all of this in motion. He is not without guilt. He just didn’t actually kill her. Neither did Danny, Roger, or James.”
“Then who killed my daughter?” The question was an entreaty to end Victor’s suffering.
Jackson cursed, spurts of anger rising to the surface. “I guess you weren’t paying attention. No one killed Edie.”
Dixon spoke up. “But you did make her disappear.” He made a disgusted sound.
“All alone,” Victor murmured. “She’s been alone all this time.”
“Bennett.” Jackson took a step toward Bennett, imploring him.
“Bennett nothing,” Bennett spat, clutching his mother. “You didn’t keep the recording and the truck to protect me. They were collateral to control me with when I took over the company. You would have used them against me if you needed to. My so-called father.”
Jackson said, “I am still your father.” It was the only time his voice cracked from emotion.
“In DNA only,” Bennett muttered, turning away, resigning himself to his fate.
Jackson stood there watching Bennett and Brooke, the family he’d had for only moments before they were taken away. He whipped around and faced the rest of them. Glowering at Isla.
Isla continued, “You buried her. Forged a letter and used her bracelet, knowing Victor would honor whatever wish Eden had. What kind of person does that?”
Jackson said callously, “A smart one. I did what I had to do for my son. Edie was just an unlucky girl, and if anyone killed her, it would be you,” he added, sneering at Victor.
Victor moved before anyone could react.
Before anyone knew what was happening, Victor tackled Dixon and ripped the gun from Dixon’s holster. Dixon barely had time to react before Victor pulled the trigger.
Jackson dropped hard to one knee, gasping. His hand went to his left shoulder. He clutched it, dark liquid oozing between his fingers as he pitched forward. Brooke screamed and scrambled back, she and Bennett tripping over each other in panic. The gun hit the dirt, forgotten.
Myles and Lawrence grabbed Victor as Dixon recovered and then assisted. It took the three of them to restrain him as he struggled to free himself and get to Jackson again. Isla spun around and saw dots of lights getting closer as reinforcements double-timed, having heard the gunshot.
“Over here!” she yelled.
She looked back at the group, at the tiny clearing they were in, the shovels, the black bag meant for Edie. Oh God. Oh God! She covered her mouth to stifle a scream.
“All alone,” Victor sobbed, on the ground, covered in dirt. “You left her alone. All alone.”
Sirens echoed in the distance. Victor suddenly sprang back to life with a new purpose. He looked around desperately. “We have to get her out of there. We need to find her. Now.”
They looked to ask Jackson, but in the commotion he’d been forgotten, and he’d slipped away.
“They’ll find him,” Myles said as the reinforcements burst through. He refocused on Bennett, reaching down to grab a fistful of bloodstained shirt. “Where was he going to dig?”
Bennett dropped his head, the fight leaving him. His hand lifted, trembling, and pointed.
Victor followed the gesture. When his gaze landed on the mound of rocks that marked the spot, his breath hitched, and he half ran, half crawled to it, his voice roaring into the night.
“No one step in that area!” His hands shook as he grabbed Lawrence.
“Get whatever you need. Shovels. A machine. People. I’ll pay for it all.
Just—” His voice broke. “Just get my girl out. Get her out now!”