Dark Beach (20 page)

“Did you have a good visit?” Marilynn called out, as Jenny hurried by.

“I did. Got to go, though.”

“Wait! I have to talk to you about something.”

Jenny paused by the front door. “Not now. I have to go.”

“It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Quick.”

“It’s about the power of attorney.”

“Yeah.” Jenny’s eyes were fixed on the end of the long beige corridor.

“Rachael called and stated that she does not want Ron to have any contact with Gerry.”

“Yes, I know. He told me. It’s fine. Really, I have to go.”

“There’s also a letter here. It’s for you.”

The tall, dark figure appeared at the end of the hall again.

“I really must go now.” Jenny snatched the letter from Marilynn’s shaky grip, crammed it into her purse, and dashed out the door, pulling Kip behind her.

Jenny fumbled with the button on the key fob, pressing it over and over. “Come on. Come on!” It beeped. “In the car, hurry. I don’t have time to buckle you. Come on.”

She fumbled the key into the ignition and turned on the car. As she backed out, tires screeching, she could see the hooded man standing at the front of the retirement home. He followed, falling behind when Jenny put the pedal to the metal.

Now what? Now where do I go? He’ll follow us to the beach house. I can’t go back there.
She racked her brain.
Kurt? No. I can’t go there either. What if it’s him? I don’t know for sure. No … it’s not him. It couldn’t be him.

She stopped in front of the tackle shop. The lights were off.

Maybe it is him?

There were few cars on the strip as Jenny drove up and down, over and over. Eventually, she settled on a small diner close to the main beach access road.

“Come, we need to eat.”

It was quiet in the diner, and Jenny slid into a green leather booth and ordered up a small feast. They ate happily and sipped hot chocolates.

“Mmm,” said Kip.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jenny smiled, content for a moment.

Then curiosity crept up on her as she remembered the letter. She ferreted in her purse and pulled it out. It had been mailed the day before—specially over-nighted. As she ripped it open, a note tumbled out.

Dearest Jenny,

I know you are there, alone. I know that he left you there. You must leave. I must warn you. He will never stop, never. You see, it’s his house. It’s always been his house.

Rachael

EIGHT

“Aw, you didn’t. You
didn’t
. You took my gun? I knew I should have locked it up.”

Kurt slammed the drawer shut, but it immediately sprang back open. He rummaged through a few more, shoving this and that out of the way.
Good thing there are no bullets in it. I can’t believe this! My gun—what the hell is she going to do with my gun?

He pulled on his heavy coat and continued searching the shop for his keys.

* * *

Whose house—the beach house? What is she talking about?
The handwriting was different from the journals. Something was off. Jenny dialed her mother-in-law’s number.

“Hello.” The voice sounded tired.

“Rachael? It’s Jenny.”

“Hi.” Rachael immediately sounded annoyed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I knew it.”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“He’s been in my mother’s ear.”

“What are talking about?”

“Ron! He wants the house. He doesn’t want to pay for it. I knew it. She told me about the will.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

Rachael raised her tone. “I don’t think so, and he can’t see her anymore.”

“Gerry? Ron has never done such a thing, okay. We were going to buy the house from you.”

“I need that money. I need it.” Rachael’s tone was fraught. “The shop isn’t doing well, okay. I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You have money trouble? He wouldn’t do that to you, Rachael. You know him.”

Rachael paused. “I don’t get it then.”

“Get what?”

“Maybe she was lying.”

“Who? Gerry?”

“Yes. She said she changed her will.”

“She can barely speak. She’s not in her right mind.”

“Sometimes she is. She said, ‘No will, no you’ to me on the phone. She repeated it over and over and over.”

“She’s confused. I just saw her. I don’t think you could be certain of anything with Gerry. I don’t see why you would just jump to conclusions like that. Ron just wanted to see his Nana. You know she’s not well. She has no teeth!”

“I’m sorry. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry...” Rachael’s words trailed off.

“Hello?” Jenny repeated several times into the sudden silence.

“I’m here.”

“By the way, I got your letter.”

“What letter?’

“The one you sent to the home,” Jenny said, wondering why she always found Ron’s Mom so exasperating.

“I didn’t send any letter.”

“These are not your words then?” Jenny read it out to her quietly, so the other occupants of the restaurant couldn’t hear.

“Oh no,” said Rachael. “It’s him.”

“Who?” Jenny ran one hand through her hair.
Great!

“The stalker.”

“The one from your journals?”

“Journals? What journals?”

“I found journals in the basement, and trinkets, a ring, and pearls.” She looked at the ruby ring that still adorned her finger.
Shit,
she thought, twisting it.
I meant to get that off.

“They’re not mine,” Rachael said. “There’s a lot of old junk out there in the basement. The previous owners left in a hurry. They left a lot of stuff out there in storage. Gerry got it all when she bought the house. I don’t think Mom and Dad ever got around to going through and throwing it out.”

“Ron told me Gerry built the house.”

“No, she didn’t. She bought it almost new. My mother wanted to build a house on the coast—that was the plan, but when they found the beach house, she fell in love with it. Ron has mixed up the story somehow, or Mom told him some story in her confusion. When she became ill, we moved her into the home. I wasn’t there long in that house. There’s something kind of creepy about it. My main focus was on getting it ready to sell. No point keeping a big house like that with no one using it. But it needed some renovations...” she paused. “I started to do it, but ... I had to drop the project.”

“The renovations? Why?”

Rachael sighed down the line. “I stopped and left when I was attacked.”

“Attacked?” Jenny shivered.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you, but I also wanted to sell the house—needed to, to pay off some of the shop’s debts. I thought he was gone. But if he isn’t, you need to get the hell out of there. You need to leave—now. He won’t quit. He’s coming.”

“Who?”

“I never knew, okay. Sometimes it feels like a nightmare, just a dream. But I didn’t stay to found out. I left. I haven’t been back since.”

“You never told anyone?”

“God … I couldn’t tell anyone. You don’t understand.”

“Why not? Why not call the police?”

Rachael hesitated again. “Because ... I ... I thought I killed him, okay! He attacked me on night and I sprayed him with oven spray, self defense. He passed out. Jesus Christ. I dragged him out to the ocean and I put him in the surf. Until now, I thought he was dead.”

“Oh fuck!” said Jenny. “I’m in deep, huh?”

“Leave, okay. Just leave.”

* * *

The key was small and tarnished. She turned it over in her hand, wondering what in the house it could belong to—nothing came to her.

“I’ve got to go back. Got to get Charlie.” Jenny stuck the key back in her purse.

“Sleep.” Kip slumped back in the diner booth.

It was almost nine. She looked at the tousled head, snuggled against the green leather, and thought,
how can I do it? How I can take her back there?
Guilt swamped her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Kurt, hi. It’s late. We have to go.” Jenny wrote out a check and left it on top of the bill, stuffing some dollars for a tip in on top of it.

“But I just got here. Didn’t feel like cooking.”

His timing was bad, very bad. “I know.” She stood.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Something’s up. I can tell.” He motioned for her to sit.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting funny.”

“No I’m not.” Jenny put a palm up, and then bit her lip. “I’m just tired that’s all. It’s late.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she insisted, staring at his feet—at the big black boots on his feet.

“Okay then. You can always stay with me.”

“Why would you say that?” Jenny faced him squarely.

“What do you mean?” asked Kurt, putting out a hand to her.

“That’s a strange thing to say, especially…”

“What? You know … stop right there.” His tone grew firm. “All I have done is help you—ever since you arrived in this town. Don’t get mad at me, not after everything.”

The diner wait staff swiveled their heads to stare at them.

“I need to go, okay. I can’t talk to you about this.” She took a step toward the door.

“I knew it. There’s something going on. Tell me.” Kurt plonked down in the booth, patting the leather beside him.

“No. I’m going home now, back to the beach house.”

“You can’t. You have something of mine.”

“What?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You know damn well what.”

“I have nothing of yours.” She took another step, watching Kip yawn.

“Fine. Play it that way. I’ll see you later.”

Kurt jumped up and stalked off to find a waitress.

Jenny watched, feeling like she should go to him, but deliberately ignoring the pang.
He’s not your husband. You can’t rely on him. You barely know him. What’s wrong with you?

Sighing, she tucked her purse tighter under her arm.

Kurt did not look at her again until she had already started the car. He stared out at her and they locked eyes. In the quiet of the diner, he whispered, “Damn you, woman!”

With a nod of go
odbye, Jenny took off down Rocky Shore Road. There was little traffic and most of the houses were dark—the tourists having fled as winter approached.

I should go. Rachael’s right. I should grab Charlie and just leave?

“Kip, what do you think?” she asked.

But Kip was already asleep.

* * *

“My work is done. I’m not staying.” Ron stared down at the empty dry dock.

“We need you on this job. It’s not over.”

Carl’s southern accent was becoming more obnoxious as the hours wore on, or was it Ron’s exhaustion?

Ron rubbed his face—his hands coming away dirty and wet with sweat. “I left my pregnant wife alone at a beach house on the Washington coast to be here. It was the first vacation I’ve had in well over a year, and I get called to this mess!”

Carl backed up, his hands raised. “Wait a minute here, now. We need you. Take a look around. You’re right an’ Ah won’t argue with you on that. This place
is
a mess. Ah’m happier than a pig in shit with what you’ve achieved, but we need those doors back on, the hydraulics fixed. The sub will be back soon after that test run. We need to prepare. There’s damage in the dock from the destroyer. Ah can’t let you go.”

“I’m going,” said Ron.

“You’ll be fired.”

Ron stared at him. “Fire me, then.”

“God dammit now, Ron. Reason with me here.”

“You can finish this. You have all the men you need,” Ron yelled and threw his hands up in the air. “She’s sick. I have to go to her. I quit.”

“You quit, just like that? That’s your choice then.”

“It is and we’re done here.”

* * *

Jenny looked at her sleeping daughter. Her fair head nestled into the pillow. Eyes closed, rosebud lips partly open.
How can I disturb that for a drive in the dark to an empty house? Maybe I should just call Ron, see what he thinks?

“One more night. We’ll leave first thing,” she whispered, stroking Kip’s cheek. Then she tiptoed out and prepared, making sure every window and every door was locked. She
drew the blinds, closed the curtains, and then, striking a match, lit the stub of a candle in the lantern and carried it into the living room, setting it down on the white wicker table, just in case the lights went out.