Wreckage (36 page)

CHAPTER 31

DAVE

Present

“Looking back on this whole thing, Dave, what’s your biggest regret? What’s the one thing you wish you could change?” Genevieve placed a bony knuckle under her chin. It’d been a long day and the stress was starting to make Dave loopy.

“I’d say . . . that the plane wouldn’t have crashed, Ms. Randall.” Dave snickered along with half of the crew. Even Beth was smiling smugly, sitting literally on the edge of her seat waiting for the interview to conclude. One look at Genevieve Randall pulled the smile off Dave’s face. She didn’t get the joke, or if she did, she didn’t find it funny—at all.

“Yes, indeed.” Her attempt at a smile was painful and brief before she gave her question one last shot. “Would you change it, Dave, or do you think this is something that had to happen?”

He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. Would he change it if he could? He’d discovered what it was like to love and be loved, he’d become a father, and even when he came home he found his lessons followed him. After some work and rough spots, he and Beth were making things work. His little son would be born in a few months, in a hospital, with a doctor. Would he change that? No. But could he ever admit that, out loud, to Genevieve Randall?

“If I could go back in time and cancel the Dream Trip promotion, I would. Margaret, Theresa, Kent, Paul, they’d all be alive. Period.”

Genevieve Randall nodded and rolled through her cards one last time. Tapping them into a neat pile, she shoved them under her thigh and crossed her hands in her lap. “Thank you, Dave, for the interview. It was very enlightening.” Sighing deeply she put on a stiff smile. “I hope you enjoy watching the final product in a few months.”

Dave’s eyebrows shot up, shocked and relieved. It was over. “Thank you, Ms. Randall. I look forward to it.”

He’d done it. Gotten through the interview. And though Genevieve Randall had been aggressive and a thin film of cynicism coated almost every question, his secrets were still safe. He didn’t care how much he’d loved Lillian or what they did together in LA when she’d visited, he was never doing another interview in his whole life.

There must’ve been some secret signal he didn’t see but within seconds the room dimmed as the extra lighting was removed and cameras and cables packed up. A sound guy retrieved Dave’s mic. When he stood up from the couch free of wires, he felt like he’d been released from prison.

Stretching his arms up above his head, he twisted his tight torso and searched for Beth. She was across the room talking to intern Ralph, probably making small talk and counting the seconds till all the people would get out of her house. Dave was about to take a step toward the pair when the lean, severe-looking reporter intercepted him.

“Well, David, you did it. Congratulations. It’s over and you’ve kept all your little secrets.” She glowered at him with unconcealed hatred. He’d seen plenty of Genevieve Randall faces through their interview but never this one.

“Uhhhhh, I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Ms. Randall,” Dave said.

“I mean, you did have some help.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose, her fingers stained yellow from nicotine. “You have to give them credit too. Mr. and Mrs. Linden. Or should I say Counselor Linden and his little injunction?”

“I’m completely lost.” Dave’s head spun. “I haven’t spoken to either of the Lindens in months.”

She dug one shiny manicured nail into his shoulder, huffing. “This could’ve been Emmy-winning television, can’t you see? If you’d just been honest. Now, it’ll be just another fluff piece.” She took a step closer to Dave, her stale cigarette breath puffing in his face. “What I don’t get is why they keep covering for you.”

“The cameras are off. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Please let me go to my wife.” He eyed Beth longingly, silently begging her to look at him. But Beth kept talking, her hair bobbing with every friendly laugh. Man, that Ralph kid was getting on his nerves.

Genevieve Randall wasn’t about to release him. “I’ll let you go if you can admit it. It’s so easy to see. And I think I’ve laid enough groundwork that even with the injunction, most semi-intelligent people will see through your lies. They’re written all over your face.” She clicked and unclicked the cap on the Sharpie in her hand over and over again, the sound getting in his head, each click echoing,
she knows, she knows
.

“Okay, you’ve got my attention,” Dave said, no longer glancing around the room, his eyes locked on Genevieve’s face. “I know you want to say it out loud, so please, go ahead.” Dave went from wanting Beth to be by his side to hoping she’d stay away until the reporter finished her confrontation. Genevieve took a deep breath, and Dave shoved his hands in his pockets, ready for the worst.

“I honestly can’t believe you’ve gotten away with it this long. I can see it any time you say her name. You fell in love with her, didn’t you? I don’t know how long it took for it to happen but I know it did. Did she ever love you back, I wonder?” She searched his face as though she could find the answers there. “I can’t read her as easily as I can read you.”

Dave’s short list of people he hated, the one that contained Kent, had grown by one person—Genevieve Randall. What a power-hungry, fame-seeking wretch. “This isn’t a conversation. I’ll listen but I won’t be answering any questions. Not one.”

“You already have, David.” She said his name vengefully as though it were a nasty swear word. “I’ve figured it out. Like I said, you fell in love with Lillian and then she went and fell in love with Kent.”

His lips twitched when he tried to hold them in a straight line as she continued, her face alight with more animation than she’d shown over the whole long interview session.

“You should’ve seen the way she cried in her interview when she talked about losing Kent. Sobbed, really.” Genevieve Randall grinned like a satisfied cat, looking for a reaction. “And you . . . in our interviews you couldn’t contain your hatred of Kent. It’s clear you were eaten up with jealousy and when she had his child, you took matters into your own hands and murdered him in cold blood and then disposed of his body. Lillian, afraid of your temper and in desperate need of a caregiver once Kent was gone, agreed to go along with your lies. That’s why you don’t want Paul’s body removed from the island and that’s why you and Lillian are estranged though you put on a pretty good act in public at the Carlton Ball. You killed the man she loved and she can never forgive you.”

She stared at him. The furious clicking had stopped and Dave thought she was trembling in anger. So this was what she’d been hinting at all day? This was the story she’d been dying to break and it was wrong . . . so wrong.

“That’s a very interesting theory, Ms. Randall.” Dave coughed to cover a laugh. “I’m sure you feel better now that you got that off your mind.” He smiled politely, feeling like he could do a little dance. “Now if you’d please excuse me, I’d like to get started on my resolution to never speak to you again, ever.”

Genevieve Randall gathered up her cards and her papers and her briefcase and left in a huff, sputtering about “the truth” and “fighting them in court.” Dave shook his head. The infamous Ms. Randall, hard-edged investigative reporter, had been different than he expected. Smart? Yes. Ruthless? Yes. Correct? Not even close.

As he watched the hanging light fixture swing from the force of her exit, a horrible realization swept over him. If a journalist who’d met two sitting presidents, won a Peabody award and three Emmys, and interviewed terrorists, rapists, and murderers for a living could get his secrets so wrong, what did Beth think of his story?

Beth was finishing up with Ralph. Dave strode quickly across the room where he wrapped his arms around his stunned wife.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he said into her strawberry scented curls.

“I’ve wanted you to do this all day,” she laughed, slipping her arms around his waist, her tiny belly pushing against him as if their whole family was in on the hug. Her head didn’t even reach Dave’s shoulder.

He searched for any remnants of suspicion or pain or anger, but found none. “I’m so done with that. If I live my whole life without speaking to another reporter, I’ll be happy.”

Beth scrunched her nose and smiled. “Sorry, I may have signed you up for one last interview.”

“What?” Was that what she was talking to Ralph about?

“I invited them back after the baby’s born.”

Dave knew he had to be careful. He couldn’t let on that he was hiding something but he also couldn’t stand the thought of spending one more second in the same room with Genevieve Randall. Who knows what kind of accusations she’d have spinning in her head by then?

Beth seemed to notice something was off. “It’s not a real interview, I promise. They asked to come and take some shots of us, with the baby. You know, to show how happy we are now.”

“Ah, so no questions?”

She shook her head. “Nope, just you, me, and our baby. That sounds okay, right?”

“Pictures with you and the baby? I’d love it.”

CHAPTER 32

LILLIAN

Six Months Later

Why she’d thought it was a good idea to invite people over to watch the
Headline News
premiere of their story, Lillian would never know. They’d titled it
Nightmare in Paradise
, which she found a tad melodramatic. But it fit with the tone of the whole piece, a big ol’ mess of melodrama.

It’d been a full six months since Genevieve Randall had come to their house but it felt like years. The program was supposed to run in June, the one-year anniversary of the rescue, but because of the ongoing lawsuit it had been pushed back to the end of the summer.

In the end,
Headline News
gave up the battle. Jerry said the news program probably would have won on freedom of speech. But, Lillian guessed that her little story wasn’t worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees. Or, maybe they realized the story had plenty of sensationalism already and the parts Ms. Randall wanted to extrapolate were actually unnecessary?

Whatever it was, it felt like they’d never see the completed program, so when Ralph called last week, explaining that they were scheduled to air, Lillian could hardly believe it. News spread fast in their little subdivision and everyone wanted to talk about the premiere. So instead of dealing with a hundred different questions, they decided to make a party out of it. Dashing off a quick e-mail, Lillian invited a few family members and neighbors.

That night, they let Josh and Daniel stay up a little late and join all the people gathered in their basement rec room. Once the show started, everything went by in fast-forward. The montage talking about the crash, the summary of events, and the stunningly boring interviews with the survivors were a blur. Every time they zoomed in on her face on that seventy-inch flat-screen monstrosity Jerry got when he’d been a widower, every line and pore were magnified. By the end of the night she’d decided HD wasn’t her friend, but HD made the island look like paradise. In one segment they’d done a special zoom effect where the camera backed out farther and farther into the sky until her island disappeared among the vast ocean surrounding it. It felt like the same thing was happening in her life. The more time she spent off of the island, the more it blurred into the years before and after it. Some days she forgot about that part of her life entirely. But not today. Today she could remember every detail, the red-veined plants that surrounded camp, the itchy bites of the tiny brown sand fleas that snacked on her ankles, the smell of smoldering bamboo. Every kiss, every cut, every tear. She forced herself to watch anyway.

Dave looked amazingly normal in his interviews. His skin was a rich golden brown, close to the toasty caramel he’d been on the island, and his straight teeth shone like polished marble. Even if she’d never been in love with him, it was clear that he was gorgeous. At the same time, he didn’t look like
her
David. Her David had more facial hair than Blackbeard. Even jittery and somewhat annoying Dave Hall from the plane had a nervous, insecure soft center that you’d never believe from looking at the self-assured, devastatingly handsome man on the screen.

Seeing Dave was surreal. If she squinted she could make out the remnants of the man she’d lived with. His rich baritone brought tears to her eyes and she had to turn away and pretend she’d forgotten something in the kitchen to keep everyone from noticing her reaction. It was that voice that brought her comfort through her worst trials, the voice that laughed and cried with her. Sometimes she wanted to hear it again, like wanting to listen to your favorite song over and over after not hearing it for a long time.

It’d been ten months since the ultimatum in the hotel hallway when she’d walked away and promised Jerry never to speak to him again. So many times her fingers had punched in the numbers, thumb hovering over the green Talk button, but every time she’d caught herself. Lying about a past that seemed increasingly surreal was one thing, but lying about real life? She was tired of being a liar.

The show was over fast, just an hour long, and between the commercials and snack breaks, Lillian felt like she did an above-average job keeping things under control. Even when they showed that final shot of Dave snuggling a dark-haired baby boy and Beth cooing at him in his father’s arms, she let out an “Awww” with the rest of the group. They seemed very happy. It gave Lillian a conflicting rush of jealousy and relief; she didn’t know which one was real.

Thankfully, everyone started to leave as soon as the credits rolled. Lillian’s working theory was Jill had threatened them with physical harm if they dillydallied. Jill knew how to push her way into other people’s business, but this time Lillian was glad for it.

After giving her last hug, she closed the door with a loud click and walked upstairs, intercepting Jerry as he was leaving the boys’ room after putting Josh down in the bed beside his already-sleeping brother.