Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
T hroughout the third and fourth days, Frankie kept up appearances with Zane. She cooked for the residents of the beach house; she vacuumed; she quietly wept in bathrooms and behind closed doors, trying and failing not to remind herself just how badly she’d messed up. Ultimately, she stayed because she wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with Shelby. She waited until she overheard Zane say to Greg late in the afternoon, “Shelby’s coming by later. She expects seventeen.”
Seventeen? Seventeen grand?
Frankie’s hands were clammy. She was washing dishes in the kitchen directly next to the living room, but the water was only a trickle so that she could eavesdrop. It was clear that Zane hadn’t bothered to keep his voice down when he spoke of Shelby. Like he didn’t care if Frankie knew about it. He thinks he has total control over me, Frankie thought darkly. Maybe for a little while, he did.
And then she thought, He thinks he can control everyone.
Maybe he was a sociopath. Frankie remembered stories of sociopaths from her father’s favorite films and documentaries. She’d always assumed that the women at the mercy of sociopaths were weak or stupid. Her cheeks were inflamed. I’m one of them. But I’m not stupid. I’m not weak.
Her chest flooded with compassion for the victims of sociopaths.
And then she thought, Maybe Shelby’s a victim, too.
Frankie hid herself upstairs with a glass of water and a narrow view of the driveway. Here in the walk-in closet of an unused bedroom, she knew nobody would encounter her. Zane was often too immersed in work to look for her during the day; he probably assumed she was off somewhere, cleaning, cooking, or caring for someone. He probably assumed she had nothing to hide.
It took more than three hours for Shelby to show up. It was six fifteen, and the air was hazy and orange and filled with sand from the spontaneous gusts of wind off the sound. Frankie curled her fingers on the windowsill and gazed out at Shelby—beautiful Aunt Shelby— who sprang out of her dirty white car and wrapped her arms around Zane. Her eyes were rimmed red and filled with longing. Then she rose on her tiptoes and kissed Zane with the frantic desire and adrenaline that Frankie remembered well from her first dates with Zane.
Frankie’s heart pumped with alarm. She’s in love with him.
But their kiss wasn’t long-winded.
Shelby sputtered and spoke with her hands. She was crying, and then she was sobbing. Zane bellowed with anger. His face looked like a crunched tomato.
It looked as though he wanted to hit her. Zane wrapped his hand around Shelby’s chin and screamed and screamed.
The only words Frankie could hear this far up and through the window were:
“You don’t know what you’ve done! You’ve completely foiled the plan! How many times did we go over the steps? How many times did we adjust it because you lost control? ”
The plan? What plan?
Shelby sobbed and sobbed and turned on her heel to kneel over the front of her car and bang her fist. She looked like a woman who’d given up everything for love and lost love along with it. She looked like a woman on the brink of despair.
Frankie remembered what Zane had said about her mother. He’d said Shelby didn’t want to live under Ida’s control anymore.
He’s stealing from the business.
The money he paid me. It must be from the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers.
But why?
Frankie had to get out of there. She suddenly felt like a caged bird.
Where’s my phone? Frankie tiptoed through the third floor and returned to her second-floor bedroom. Her phone was no longer on its charger. She searched through the blankets and pillows; she took everything out of her backpack and looked through every drawer. But somebody had taken her phone. Somebody wanted every ounce of control.
Frankie knew Nantucket Island like she knew the back of her own hand. She knew they were on the outer edge of Siasconset, and if she kept walking to the south, she’d run into splendorous vacation homes owned by wealthy people who lived on the island part-time. She knew if she followed the road, she’d probably be spotted by Zane or a member of his crew. His cronies. She also knew it would be difficult to escape during daylight.
Frankie played it cool. She didn’t know how dangerous these people were. But the way Zane had screamed at Shelby, taking her chin and shaking it, terrified her. These people will stop at nothing to take and take and take. I’m nothing to them.
I was Zane’s prey.
Frankie returned to the kitchen to wash the rest of the dishes. She was manic, her motions wild and jagged, and she dropped a plate and cast shards into the corners of the kitchen.
“Uh-oh! We’ve got a clutz in here!” Bernice said when she entered the kitchen to get a frozen margarita. “Why don’t you have a drink? Calm yourself down.”
Frankie finished collecting the shards of the plate and smiled at Bernice. Does she want to escape with me? she wondered. But then she remembered that Bernice had her own car; Bernice could come and go as she pleased.
Bernice would turn Frankie in if Frankie insinuated she had plans to flee.
Bernice poured Frankie a frozen margarita and clinked her glass with hers. “You okay, doll?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” Frankie widened her smile. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
Bernice wagged her eyebrows. “Right! Well, you and Zane are falling in love. Nobody can sleep when they fall in love.”
“Right.”
She went through this, too, Frankie thought.
Where had Shelby and Zane met each other? And when? How long had it taken him to manipulate her into stealing money for him? A month? Two? Zane worked quickly.
“Come on,” Bernice said. “Come hang out!”
Frankie followed Bernice into the living room and sipped her margarita slowly. A girl with ratty braids changed the music, and a guy with dyed blond hair told her, “You know I hate this song!” and crushed his beer can with his hand. Beer sloshed across her thighs, and she shrieked.
Frankie laughed along with everyone, but her laughter was hollow, and she was staring out the window at the veranda and the crisp white beach. Was there a fence around the edge of the property? Was it impossible to escape out the back? She drank her margarita too quickly, and the edges of her vision blurred. She reminded herself to stay alert, to stay up. The minute darkness fell, and Zane got sloppy and the music roared from the speakers, she’d duck out the side entrance and run through the cover of night. She’d run until her thighs screamed and her heart pounded.