Chapter 39
Outside lights illuminate the empty courtyard, the cement benches still and solid as tombstones. The crow fountain at the center continues to spray water, the tranquil sound at odds with the anxiety I feel rising inside of me.
Marmee’s estate is expansive. There are countless places a person could hide if they don’t want to be found. The gardens at the back of the house. The shed to the left of the premises.
The pond makes the most sense. It’s where Preston found Damien before he was attacked. If he’s trying to taunt me, the pond would be the perfect location. Maybe after Damien snapped the photo of me at the crow fountain, he followed me there and watched me dispose of Oliver’s car.
I follow the trail to the left of the fountain.
The trees overhead swallow me whole within minutes, dark forest enclosing around me.
After a few minutes, I pass a small shack hidden beneath a canopy of low-hanging branches.
It’s the same eyesore I remember as a child, with splintered wooden walls and a rusted roof.
I notice immediately that the latch across the front door is broken.
Maybe Damien came here looking for a weapon, the one he used to strike Preston.
I pull open the shed door and slide my hand inside, feeling for the copper chain that dangles overhead. Light spreads throughout the small shack, the place empty except for miscellaneous gardening and landscaping tools.
Leaves rustle beyond the footpath. My body goes still, breath held. Someone or something is out there. A kind of threat? After everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t be sure.
“Who’s there?”
The rustling grows louder, more frenzied. I place my hand over the pocket of my dress, preparing to reach for Marmee’s gun. Heat rises throughout my body as I wait for whatever, whoever may emerge.
A figure bursts from the foliage. The sudden sound forces me to scream. Two dark beady eyes stare back at me.
It’s only a doe, head twitching from left to right.
Its wiry legs spring, and within seconds it’s off again, vanishing into the night.
I exhale in relief. Only breeze-blown bushes and gaunt trees remain.
Alarm shoots through me. The doe may not be the only creature out here, after all.
Damien could easily be lurking around, following me.
I’m immobilized with fear, despite having angled for this all night, an opportunity to catch Damien alone.
I trudge forward in the direction of the pond. My chest is heaving from all the hard breathing when I reach the clearing. The waterfront is just ahead, but there are no lights at night. It’s difficult to see what’s right in front of me, let alone who might be waiting on the other side of the pond.
I retrieve my phone, nothing but a useless rectangle of plastic and glass up until this point in the night, and turn on the flashlight. The bright orb cuts through the darkness enough to show what is right in front of me, but little else. Waving my arm back and forth, I march forward, searching.
Just ahead, a shadowed silhouette appears. A person. I get closer and recognize the familiar plaid shirt.
“Damien?”
At the sound of his name, he turns. In seconds, he has his own phone out, the light fixed on me. The brightness stings my eyes, but he quickly lowers his arm.
“Tippi! Thank God!” he calls. “Where’s the trail leading to the house?”
“Stop!” I shout at him, my outstretched hands a warning. “What were you doing out here in the first place?”
“I couldn’t take Constance’s crying anymore,” he says. “The way she was acting, I’m surprised she doesn’t take a dive off the balcony after Marlowe.”
My jaw drops at the insensitivity of his comment. He staggers toward me. The hairs on my arms stand at full attention.
“Sorry about that. I’ve had too much to drink.
I’m just ready for this night to be over.
” He rubs his forehead with his palm. “You have to understand where I’m coming from.
I’ve only been dating this girl a few weeks.
She talks me into going away for the weekend with her friends, all of whom are crazier than shit, by the way.
Then she dies! And we can’t even get the police to come. ”
“I know you didn’t come here because of Marlowe,” I say. “You came here because of me.”
“What are you talking about?” He won’t stop walking toward me, his stomps creating threatening splashes as he skirts the water’s edge. “Look, I’m hurt. I think I’m bleeding. Please, take me back to the house.”
It’s a ploy to keep me vulnerable. “Preston told us you attacked him.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’ve been lying to us ever since you got here. Marlowe told me the truth about how you met. Did you orchestrate dating her just to get closer to me?”
Damien shakes his head. “I lied about how we met because I don’t like diving into the details of my first marriage—”
“Enough. I don’t believe you. You’ve been leaving messages around the house all night, and I finally figured it out. You’re Doc. You were helping Oliver all along. You broke into my apartment. You’re even wearing his fucking watch!”
“Who the fuck is Oliver?” His voice trembles. He’s becoming desperate. “Tippi, I’m telling you. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just want to go back to the damned house!”
I raise the weapon, hoping the sight of it will keep him distracted. “I’m not taking you back to the house until you tell me the truth.”
“Are you pointing a gun at me?!”
“Just tell me what you want, and we can end this.”
“Don’t point that at me!”
Damien steps forward. I only have a second to decide whether I’m brave enough to pull the trigger, if I’m really capable of killing another person to keep my weakly woven web of lies from coming undone.
I take too long. Damien lunges toward me in the darkness, his rugged hands clenching my forearms. Shaken, I drop the gun, brace myself for whatever he’s bound to do next.
A sound breaks out behind him. Damien is either too drunk or too deranged to respond. Another person creeps from the bushes. Preston. A shovel is gripped in his hands, reared back as if he’s preparing to swing a baseball bat.
He follows through, and the metal blade connects with the top of Damien’s head with a sickening sound. Damien falls, his face plunking into the muddy soil.
I take several deep breaths, my heart pounding inside my chest.
“Where the fuck did you come from?”
“I told you it was too dangerous for you to be out here alone.” He drops the shovel. “I’m so glad I got here in time. Are you okay?”
I bend down to inspect Damien’s injury. I pull at his limp body. When I turn over my hands, even in the darkness I can see they’re covered in a murky film. Blood from the wound to his head. His body is eerily still, but I detect the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
The Rolex glitters in the moonlight. My fingers long to touch it, pinching at the clasp to slide it off his wrist. I turn over the watch, anticipating the personalized inscription on the back.
It’s blank. Not Oliver’s watch.
“Wait, this isn’t—”
Before I can finish, a sharp, blinding pain strikes the side of my neck. The muddy earth rises to meet me.