What Lies Between (45 page)

“What are you on about, Maggie?”

“What do you think? Jason Marks. An employee of his claimed that when she refused his advances, he assaulted her. When she reported it, the git fired her. It’s blowing up across the pond. Has quite a bit to keep him occupied and out of your business. He admitted to a relationship, but said it was consensual. Looks like the woman has evidence it wasn’t.”

“I know his version of consensual,” I said dryly.

“Like I told you, he is a no-good sod,” she continued with disgust. “And that company you used to work for, who was that guy who ran it?”

“Leland—”

“—Templeton. That’s right. The woman claims he knew what happened and lied for Jason to cover it up. That Leland fellow has been named a codefendant in a civil suit.”

“Justice comes in interesting ways. Things that go around come back around. See, I don’t need to put Bethanne in jail. She’ll get hers, right?” I didn’t believe what I was saying, but I didn’t want to argue with Maggie right then.

Maggie grunted and sat back against the booth, pleased to have proof Jason was a bottom feeder. Jason always did manage to excel in bad behavior. It might finally be catching up with him. Leland being called to account, which had felt too long in coming, would be a bonus.

Peter plunked a brown paper bag with my sandwich tucked inside onto the bar. I shoved a tenner across the bar top. Maggie picked up my money and stuffed it into the bag.

“On me. You stay safe, and I hope your thinking time results in you doing the right thing: figuring out how to put John MacIver and Bethanne Ferguson where they belong—in jail.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” I said, patting the brown bag. “I’m off to the broch. I’ll see you later.”

Thoughts pinged and zagged in my mind as I stared at the sky from my favorite soft, mossy patch of grass in the broch. The charges against Jason opened the door for me to take Ian’s offer and then hire an attorney to work on nullifying my contract with Jason.

If I were going to stay in Scotland, John MacIver would be in my life, no way around it. Hearing Anna’s love for Gerard helped me better understand John. It couldn’t have been easy to live all those years with the knowledge that the heart of the person you loved belonged to someone else, even after death. But John went too far when he pursued Glenbroch at all costs. If I could ever pull together the energy and time to invest in seeing someone punished, it would be John I would hold accountable.

I’d only gotten down a few bites of my sandwich, but it was time to head back and face my uncertain future. I took the now familiar trail easily, my mind running through all the things I needed to complete to prepare to leave for Aberdeen.

The bridge’s swaying, which kicked up a phobic fear the first few times I crossed it, barely fazed me. My thoughts rolled through my endless task list, not sure how I would get it all done. A familiar leather scent filled my nose and I jerked my head up in recognition. Too late.

A gloved hand clamped over my mouth, and only then did my mind register the creak I’d heard behind me on the bridge a moment before.

I had no gun or knife, but the life inside me filled me with a primal, savage instinct. My body grew still, calm, centered in the eye of a storm spinning itself tight within me. And then the storm exploded with a fury. My body bent forward and then my head reared back, smashing into the assailant whose grip loosened enough for me to get leverage. Grabbing the side of the bridge, my heel thrashed, stomping at anything it touched. No panic to slow me down. A vicious determination fired my body toward one clear goal: survive.

I shoved my entire body back against the person, throwing us both against the bridge’s rope, knocking my attacker loose. I grabbed at the suspension wire, snagged it, and pulled myself forward, holding on as the bridge rocked and swayed. I took one step to run before hands grabbed my waist and arm, pulling me back again.

My arms swung wildly, punching anything I could make contact with. I could hear screaming and growling—it was me—and then a snarl that wasn’t. A flash of black and white leaped past me. Malevolent hands tore at my limbs. As their grip slipped from my body, I turned and saw a blurry mass of human and animal disappear over the side of the bridge.

Clinging to the wire as the bridge pitched and roiled, I forced my head as still as I could to calm my nausea, but my stomach released its small bit of lunch.

Legs shaking from an overdose of adrenaline, I pulled myself along the rope, step by step, to the end of the bridge, to solid ground, and then dared peer over the side to the river and rocks far below.

A person’s body was prone on a large rock shelf jutting out halfway between the bridge and the river. An animal’s body lay crumpled on top of a large boulder on the same shelf. Blood seeped from the animal onto the gray stone. Too much blood.

I stared at the still form, the horror slowly getting through. Jazz! He was badly hurt—or worse. I couldn’t swallow as panic began to set in. Jazz couldn’t afford for me to lose it. My thoughts riveted themselves on getting to him. I took a steadying breath, refusing to give in to my fears.

Inching down the embankment, I soon figured out the only way to reach Jazz was past my attacker. The person lay still, face down; whether dead or alive I wasn’t sure. Right then, I didn’t care. I negotiated my way over the hooded body and was nearly clear when a hand grabbed my ankle, pulling me off-balance.

The river rushed into view as I fell. I grabbed at rocks in a desperate effort to keep from tumbling into the boulder-filled rapids far below.

The only thing keeping me from plunging to my death was the malicious hand wrapped around my ankle.

28

“I never meant to hurt you.”

The voice froze my blood. Nothing in me moved or stirred. I didn’t want to meet his eyes. But I had to bear witness and face the person who would leave a scar on my soul for the rest of my life.

I turned to look upon this person, suddenly a stranger, unknown to me, eyes emptied of anything comforting, anything familiar. How had I not seen?

Memories of our times together rushed through me, slamming into reality, disintegrating on contact. I couldn’t hold any of the pieces together, couldn’t understand. What I did understand was that I had to break free from the grip on my ankle.

He didn’t release my ankle, but he didn’t pitch me into the river below as I inched over to a more stable place on the rocks.

“All you had to do was look at what was right in front of your eyes. I was always here for you. I was there for her too.”

The sound of his voice, his words, made my head spin, and I needed to keep my wits. “You’re right. You were always there for me, Henry,” I soothed, trying not to choke on the rancid taste of his name in my throat, certain I needed to keep him talking and keep the stress out of my voice. “And I do see.”

“He killed her. He kills everyone I love.”

“Who killed who?” I asked, forcing a calm I didn’t feel, afraid of the answer.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

I bit back frustration. “I must have forgotten.”

“Jessie. Ben killed her, back at university. I tried to warn her, like I tried to warn you.” Henry’s hand tightened around my ankle, but his grip had weakened. His eyes looked heavy with tears but none spilled. “She wouldn’t listen to me and she’s dead.” His voice darkened. “You’ll be dead too.”

My memory replayed the conversation with Anna about the photo in Ben’s room and Anna’s explanation.
She was killed in a car accident.
The scrapbook in Ben’s armoire.

There was more to Jessie’s story, I was sure. “How did Jessie die?”

“She couldn’t see I loved her, and she wouldn’t stop going back to him. You’re just like her.”

“How did Jessie die?” I repeated.

He ignored my question. “You know what’s unforgivable? Ben didn’t even see that I loved her, didn’t care what he did to her or to me. He moved on to the next girl and left me to pick up the pieces.”

“How did Jessie die?” I asked again, keeping my voice steady.

“It’s not suicide if someone drives you to it. He broke her . . . completely. I was the only one standing by her. Too much pain. She didn’t know how to make it go away. I had to help her. Made sure she was asleep when I sent the car into the water. She never had to cry herself to sleep again. I couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take it.”

His ranting words chilled the already cold air.

“I tried to help you too, but you ran yourself into the trees! And worst of all, you went to him! And Hogmanay?” Henry’s face twisted into a sneer as he continued, “I saw you at midnight. You’re more worthless than Jessie ever was. Did you think I would let you bring his . . .” He shook his head, disgust etched in his face. “It will never happen.”

Henry’s hand tightened on my ankle and he yanked.

In my precarious position, I had no leverage and fell backward, my arms banging against the rocks on the side of the precipice.

I grabbed at a clump of ferns and held on, my muscles weakening. My head was hanging over the edge; the rushing water and rocks below too close for comfort and too far to fall.

A wild hysteria thickened in my chest, threatening to black everything out. Fear wouldn’t save me; that half-blind monster would get me killed. I needed to focus . . . breathe. Long slow in, steady out.

Looking up, I caught sight of the tip of Jazz’s tail and focused my eyes on its slight flutter in the wind. I needed to get to him, save him. I strained to pull myself back up and my arms popped painfully but stayed in their sockets. Gasping for air, muscles screaming, I scooted back from the edge.

Henry’s grip tightened on my leg.

Fighting back the urge to vomit, I said, “It was you with the pipes, and on the road that night, at the barn; that was all you.”

“You kept taking his side. You slept in his cottage, let him hold you, make tea for you, play his guitar.”

He had been watching Ben and me all this time? My gut wrenched and vomit filled the back of my throat. I turned and spit it into the water below, but it fell on the rocks . . . a shiver jerked my body at the thought . . .

Henry’s eyes looked through me at something else. His words were directed to me, but he wasn’t talking to me.

My mouth and throat dried and shriveled. As soon as his words were used up, he would finish what he had begun. I needed to start talking.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have come to you. But you don’t understand. I did this for us. I needed to persuade Ben to let me keep Glenbroch. And then you and I could be there together. You know how much I love being with you. I didn’t know you would think I was serious about Ben. And I did lie to you because I was too ashamed about Jason and what he did to me. He forced himself on me, but I can deal with Jason’s baby and we can still have our life. Don’t let me go. Everything we want is in our hands,” I pleaded with all the sincerity I could manage. “I’m cold, Henry, and I need you to hold me.” All the lessons from my childhood had been a gift. I knew the words to use, the lies to tell, to convince someone I meant no harm.

Straining to reach for the rock I had glimpsed behind me, my arms and fingers stretched to near tearing. I couldn’t get hold of it.

Henry’s dead eyes studied mine. If ever my eyes needed to lie it was now. I flashed back to Ben and how I met him, lying at the bottom of the hill, rubbery-legged and soaking wet—a good memory. A memory that gave my face the truth it needed. I would only have a split second.

Sometimes lies hold the deepest truth. He released my ankle, but instead of scooting closer, I pushed back, wrapping my hand around the rock. He grabbed hold again and yanked me toward him.

Swallowing down the bile rising from the pain in my body and the knowledge of what I had to do, I steeled my nerves. Using my free leg and hand for leverage, I sustained my balance as he pulled. As his hand tightened around my ankle, a satisfied grin spread over his face. Henry was a beat or two away from done with me. I would get one chance and it had to count.

A pained smile was the best I could muster as I twisted my body up and over him. “It will be all right,” I lied as I brought the rock down onto his skull. Lifting it higher, I smashed it down on his head again, then again. I didn’t want to see his face any more, didn’t want to hear his voice. I needed him never to look at me with those eyes again.

The grip on my ankle loosened then fell away. I held the rock above my head, hesitated—Henry’s face came into focus. My mind urged me to finish it. Before I could, the rock sailed over the edge, the splash and thunk as the rock sunk below the surface inciting another sick wave through my stomach. Knowing I had thrown it over the edge, I stared at the water where it disappeared, disembodied, as if the hands that had held the rock and bashed it into Henry’s face belonged to someone else.

“Ellie!” Ben’s voice rang out, sharp, jerking my fuzzy mind loose from its thoughts.

I turned to see him at the center of the bridge, cell phone to his ear, heading my way. I dragged my leg out of Henry’s reach and leaned against a boulder, willing the rising vomit back into my gut. I didn’t have time to be sick. My arms and ankle screamed in pain, but I would be fine.

Jazz wouldn’t.

“Are you okay? Emergency services is sending a helicopter,” Ben said, giving me a quick once-over as he scrambled over the rocks toward me.

Henry mumbled and Ben turned to look at him, his eyes widening in shock as recognition sunk in. And there was the blood. Henry’s forehead was mangled and his head and face were covered in dark streaks of blood that ran down his neck onto the rocks. I had done that. But he was alive. I had held back, restrained my blows. My arms had resisted my mind’s objective: kill him. The same instinct to survive had enough sense to shut itself down before I took actions I would never get over.

Revenge didn’t suit me. Looking at Henry’s bloody body, replaying his words—he destroyed his life for nothing. 

“Jazz is too high for me to reach, Ben. I need you to get him down and get him to the vet.” I grabbed Ben’s sleeve. “Jazz has to be okay. You have to make sure he’s okay. Promise me.”