Troubled Waters (The Lake Trilogy, Book 2) (4 page)

“Whoa,” Finn says in the slightest of surfer dude voices.

“I know, right? So now I’m going to go to class and I’m sure he’s going to follow me.” I sigh, frustrated at the inevitable confrontation in my near future.

“You want to duck out the back? There’s an exit by the bathroom,” Finn offers.

“Oh, Finn! You’re a lifesaver!” I accept his offer and, as Finn covers me, I make my way to the bathrooms and then out the back door. I know it’s a quick fix for today, but at least I’ll get to class without having to look over my shoulder.

I spend the time in my English Lit class doing my best to pay attention. Knowing that Marcus is looming like a creeper out there somewhere is making that difficult though. It’s a good thing Heyward insisted on all honors classes. Even though this is a second year class, most of what my professor has covered so far I did last year.

The hour and a half goes by relatively quickly and as I gather my books and make my way down stairs I realize that getting to class was the easy part. Leaving, however, is proving to be more difficult. As I exit the building Marcus is seated on the bench directly facing me. I stop in my tracks and our eyes meet. This has gone far enough. Determined, I follow my path down the steps and Marcus stands as I reach him.

“Marcus, what are you doing?” I demand.

“Why, Layla, I’m so glad you’ve decided to communicate with me,” he says twisting my words to meet his selfish need.

“That is
not
what this is. I’m only
communicating
with you so I can tell you to stop following me. Don’t you have classes of your own? If you had any hope of us being friends, you can forget it. You’ve gone too far, Marcus.” I can feel my blood pressure rising from the anger bubbling up.

“I’m very disappointed to hear you say that, Layla. I had hoped this would be an easy journey for us, but I see you’re going to make me work a bit harder. No worries. I can do that.” His tone is unnervingly calm and my stomach twists into knots.

“What’s come over you?” I ask in astonishment at his brazen statement.

“I just realized that I have more potential than I’ve been tapping into and I’m not going to waste it any longer. You want space? I can give you space…but not for too long, my dear. I’ve got some…loose ends to tie up. I’ll be back soon.” Marcus lightly pinches my chin before walking away and a shiver runs down my spine.

As I rush through the front door I call out for Luke and Claire. Marcus has taken this farther than I ever thought he would. After I explain the events of the day to them, a switch gets flipped and Luke goes into full on dad plus lawyer equals you-better-watch-out mode.

“I’ll have his every move watched, his bank accounts monitored, and have him deleted from the university system. It will be like he never existed.” He’s talking and dialing and getting online all at the same time.

“What? You can do all that?” I ask in shock. I knew Luke had connections when he was with Meyer, Fincher and Marks, but I thought all that went away when we did.

“Layla, you have no idea what I’m capable of, but…perhaps it’s time that you did,” Luke says, smiling a satisfied grin.

There’s something about his declaration that actually puts me at ease. It’s a protective statement that it seems he’s wanted to assert for a long time. I got that feeling from him when he and Claire said they had enough dirt on Gregory Meyer to take care him down, but when Mr. Meyer came at us with a threat to ultimately erase our identities if we didn’t get out of Davidson and leave Will alone, I guess it was more than they could handle. But now…now that it’s just Marcus, Luke has got to feel confident in his ability to protect me.

Luke is on the phone chatting feverishly with someone about
trailing
. “Reynolds. R-E-Y-N-O-L-D-S….November 11, 1990…No, today…
now
…I want his every move watched…Yes…48 hours then I want a full report…Good.”

I stand there, my mouth agape, amazed at what I’m witnessing. “Layla, honey, why don’t you sit down,” Claire says, taking a break from searching files at her desk. “Luke,” she calls. “It’s time.”

Luke stops mid-dial and breathes a heavy sigh. “Layla…hmmm…how do I even begin to tell you?”

“You told me not to lie to you. Just tell me the truth,” I plead.

“Ok.” Luke repositions himself on the small leather couch in their office to face me, much like he did the night in Asheville. “You’re aware that I started my career at Meyer, Fincher and Marks as an intern. And I know that Claire gave you a general idea of some of my
responsibilities
for Gregory Meyer. Well…during that time I became acquainted with some less than desirable individuals: former FBI, CIA, and various ex-military. These men would prove to be great assets to Meyer. Do you remember when I told you that he never loses?” I nod. “These men are part of the reason he never loses.”

“What…what does that mean?” I ask nervously. My wild imagination could put it together, but I’m afraid that what it creates will be wildly accurate.

“Meyer represented these men in cases in which they were no less than guilty. Tax evasion, assault, manslaughter, attempted murder. But he did what he does best and they all found themselves with Not Guilty verdicts. Rather than charging his standard fees, Gregory determined that his attorney fees would be paid through favors in their areas of expertise. They were kept on retainer, being paid a monthly stipend, since their services could be required of them at any given time. If they refused, they’d find themselves in the hot seat of a courtroom again.”

“I don’t understand. They can’t be tried twice for the same crime. That’s called, um, double jeopardy, right? Why would they go along with it?”

“Very good. They agreed because Meyer always holds at least one card up his sleeve. One refusal to carry out his directive and evidence of new charges, real or feigned, would magically appear before the District Attorney.”

“So…what did these men
do
exactly?” I ask but I’m not sure I really want to know the answer.

“They’re experts at going unseen, deciphering code, getting into places and systems the average citizen has restricted access to, and…intimidation for the purpose of gaining information.” Luke speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully. He wants to be honest with me, but not scare me to death.

“I…I saw…
that
,” I squeak out.

“You saw what, Layla?” Claire asks firmly.

“Um...last year…I saw Mr. Meyer overseeing some…intimidation. It was right there, out back, outside the law firm. These two guys were, well, they punched this guy in the gut until he lost his lunch.”

“That would be Furtick and Taylor. They’re the best at what they do, and Greg just cut them loose. He likes to bring in fresh muscle every few years just in case they start to get sloppy. I have a call into Furtick.”

“What? Why would you want these guys involved in our lives?” I ask frantically.

“These guys are the best resource I have. They’re ex-military and will know exactly what’s needed to get the Marcus situation under control.”

“I don’t suppose Mr. Meyer represented them because of tax evasion,” I say.

“No,” he says with a bit of a chuckle. “But that’s why we need them.” Luke takes my hand in a comforting hold. “Are you ok, Layla? I know this is a lot of information to digest. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t want Marcus to get hurt. I just…I just want him to go back to Davidson.”

“Marcus won’t get hurt unless he puts himself in a position to get himself hurt. And, frankly, I don’t care if that happens. My job is to protect you and I’ll do that by whatever means is necessary,” Luke declares. He’s in protective-mode and I can’t help but think he’s enjoying a fatherly moment he never thought he’d have after Penny died.

“I understand.” Luke gives me a hug and hurries himself back to the phone and computer. I hear the furious clacking of the keyboard and Luke’s instructions being barked out over the phone. Claire returns to the desk and continues to sort through documents.

As I sit there my mind races, thinking about Will and what life would be like if he weren’t missing. With him being at Princeton, would Marcus have braved a transfer to FSU to try to make something more of us? I can’t shake that something happened to him after I left. His whole personality changed. Marcus had been so gentle and caring. Now he’s someone altogether different. He’s demanding and assumptive, and the fire in his eyes is frightening. I don’t like that Luke is calling in the big guns on this, but I’m afraid that if he doesn’t, Marcus is going to do something desperate.

The coast seems clear over the next weeks of school with no sign of Marcus anywhere on campus. Just because I can’t see him, it doesn’t keep me from looking over my shoulder in between classes, though. By the end of the week I’m fully satisfied that Marcus is at least giving me the space I demanded. So, as I approach the counter, I enjoy ordering my chai tea latte from my budding friend Finn a little more comfortably.

“Hey! Where’s your stalker?” Finn says with a wink as he hands me my drink.

“Oh, I ditched him. He was totally cramping my style.” I tease only to keep myself from crying.

“That’s good. Having a stalker is so nineties.”

We smile and I move to find a table and get out of the way of the stream of students needing a caffeine fix to get them through the rest of their day. I sip my latte slowly while thumbing through the pages of magazine. I hesitate accepting this feeling of normalcy, but still, it’s starting to settle in. The drama of getting rid of Marcus is unfolding but working out well. With him out of the way, I can refocus on my life here, making things as normal as possible while I hope for Will’s return.

Walking into the house I toss my backpack in its usual spot on the big couch in the Great Room. I’m about to call out my Marcus-free day report when I hear something that sounds like someone sniffling. I search for the source and head to the kitchen where I find Luke and Claire looking solemn. I can see that it’s Claire who has been crying by her red, puffy eyes and sniffing nose.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, rushing to Claire’s side.

“Layla, you should sit down,” Luke says softly.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Layla…” Luke says slowly. “They found Will.”

“What? That’s great!” I say excitedly.

“No, it’s not,” Luke begins. “There was an accident.”

The sound of Luke’s voice is the last thing I remember.

*****

I wake up without opening my eyes. I’m in my bed and I can hear Luke and Claire’s muffled voices.

“How much longer did Carol say she thought Layla would be out?” Luke asks quietly.

“She said that there’s really no way to tell but considering her past experience, it could be a while. She said this type of shutting down is the mind’s way of protecting itself. Carol was surprised when I told her how fast Layla went from hysterics to passing out,” Claire says, seeming to relay a conversation she had with Caroline’s mom. Having a psychiatrist friend has its perks.

“Is there anything we can do for her?” I can hear the sadness in Luke’s voice.

“The best thing right now is to let her rest.”

The voices stop and I try to remember every word that Luke said about the accident. It’s getting blurry and I need to recapture it before the details are completely gone. If I can remember what he told me then I can piece together how it isn’t true; how there’s been a mistake.

Will and his mother were driving home from Hickory when something happened…Will lost control of the car. They hit…a tree…and the engine…it caught on fire. They were both knocked unconscious before the whole car went up in flames. There has to be something I’m forgetting. It can’t be that cut and dry. Oil slick? No. Cow in the road? Yes, maybe that was it. Luke said they were on a back road off Interstate Forty. Something about it isn’t sitting right with me. There’s been a mistake. Or, if it’s not a mistake, there’s more to it. It couldn’t be just a tragic accident. Not
another
tragic accident to add to the story of my life.

When I open my eyes the room is pitch black except for the bright red glow of the clock, which reads 11:45 pm. I get up and steady myself before I walk to the door and open it. My eyes are sore and swollen. It hurts to blink.

I walk carefully down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Layla! Honey, how are you?” Luke rushes to my side from across the room in one fluid slide, trying to steady me although I’m balancing just fine now. He helps me onto the stool at the island counter and Claire brings me a glass of water.

“I’m fine,” I say calmly.

“Would you like to talk, Layla?”

“How did you find out?” I answer, although the words were on the tip of my tongue before she asked.

“Will’s father called,” Claire answers.

“What did he say?”

“He told us what we told you. He thought…he thought you might want to know,” she continues.

“That’s very generous of him,” I say with as much insincerity as I know how to convey. “Did he sound upset?”

“Yes,” Claire answers slowly.