Dark Beach (22 page)

“Fuck off!” She closed her eyes. Her throat ached, the breath rasping as he squeezed tighter.

“You’re not as pretty as she was.”

Jenny stopped struggling, held still as fear began to win over hate. The smell of him—age, body odor, and cigarettes permeated her senses. Nausea set in. He still hadn’t noticed Kip, big-eyed at the end of the bench.
Please, don’t let him notice Kip.
She tried with all of her might to think of something else, anything else but that moment.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where they are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I know you have them—you bitch. I heard you tell her about them. You’ll be dead, too.” He tightened his grip.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jenny choked out.

He laughed and squeezed her throat, holding her there in silence, watching for a long time as her eyes bulged and she gagged. Finally, she coughed and moaned, “I’m going to be sick.”

“That won’t scare me.”

She heaved, trying to swallow back the tide of vomit. Coughing, her throat burning, she swung her head back and forth, slamming it against the floor. “Kip, run!” she screamed. “Run! Run!”

She struggled harder and harder, faster and faster.

“Stop that!” he said, his hands tightening again. “Be still.”

But it was he who became still.

He crashed down on top of her—like a dead weight.

* * *

“Delayed,” said Ron, scanning the flight departures board. “Well, that’s just great!”

The generic airport store had everything he needed, at least. A magazine, a candy bar, and a souvenir later, Ron took his lonely seat in his designated flight area and watched the buzz of the busy airport around him.

Jenny’s cell phone had gone straight to answering machine. He’d left two messages already. He looked down at his phone, feeling the need to call again, but didn’t. He was immediately startled by the phone’s sudden vibration. He took the call.

“Ron?”

“Mom? I’ve been trying to reach you. How are you?”

She sobbed.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nana—she’s passed.”

“What? When?”

“Today, earlier. They don’t know why. They said she was eating, said she looked fine. They came back later and ... found her.” Her voice was choked, barely getting the words out.

Pain welled up in his chest, real physical pain. He leaned all the way back in the seat, his blue eyes prickled by tears. His mother’s sobbing made it that much worse. “Oh, Mom.”

A long moment of silence passed between them.

“Oh Ron, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not letting you see her. I’m sorry. I was so mad. When Mom mentioned that she was changing her will ... I just thought ... you and Jenny ... there in the beach house, visiting her. And all my debts.”

“Mom, don’t say that. Don’t think about that. I thought you hated the beach house. And what debts? Plus, I did see her, okay. It’s okay. It’s okay, Mom.”

“It’s the shop.” She sniffled. “It’s in trouble, and the beach house is worth a lot of money now. But you’re right: I do hate that place. And if she left it to you, then it is yours and that’s how she must have wanted it and I should never have stopped you...” She sobbed again and blew her nose. “I didn’t even get to see her. And I’m so sorry you couldn’t have been there, Ron. But at least she wasn’t alone. At least Jenny was there today.”

“She was?”

“Yes.” Rachael choked up and blew her nose again. “She called me earlier—about the house. She’s in danger.”

Everything blurred as Ron fought back tears. Yeah,” he said, confused. Not wanting to be seen like that in public, he gathered his bags and walked towards the men’s room.

“I have a bad feeling,” said Rachael.

“Mom, you’re going through hell; of course you have a bad feeling.”

“No, no. It’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The note,” she said, and her voice trembled.

“Huh? What note? What are talking about?”

“Him,” she said. “I’m talking about him.”

“Mom, you’re not making any sense.”

“Oh Ron, you need to get home. You need to get to the beach house … now!”

* * *

Jenny rubbed her eyes and strained again. The old man was heavy; it took her an age to manage to roll him off. He snored loudly, oblivious. She felt like kicking him. Scrabbling in the kitchen drawers, she found a roll of duct tape. The rest was easy. She left him, taped there in a heap on kitchen floor, and went to find her daughter. Kip was back in her bedroom, hiding under the bed.

“Kip. Kip, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. Come to Mamma.” She coaxed the child out. “It’s okay. The bad man has gone.” Climbing on the bed, she rocked with her until the child fell asleep and then tucked her under the covers, back in a soft land of pristine sheets and little boats. Shutting the door, she tiptoed out and made her way up to the hex room.
Think. Think. What did he mean
? She looked down at the ring.
The jewelry?

Why’d I have to get mixed up in this?
She gazed around the room. Notebooks were scattered everywhere. Picking them up, she stacked the journals underneath the bed. As she stood again, she realized the black and white photo of the woman standing before the jetty was cracked. Running her finger over it, she exhaled. On the wall nearby was the slightly paler mark where the painting of Barney on the
Retty
once hung.

You leave me, and you’ll leave in a box, you bitch.

The journals! Oh, my God. It wasn’t Rachael after all!

“
Barney, what did you do?” she said aloud
.

Just call the police,
screamed her commonsense and she realized her cell was still missing. It must still be downstairs on the bench. Her hand over her mouth, clutching the red journal to her chest, she tiptoed back downstairs.

The phone was on the bench, lying next to the odd little key Gerry had given her. She stared over at Barney, sprawled on the kitchen floor. He stirred slightly and a moan issued from his duct-taped mouth.

“Awake huh, psycho?” Jenny leaned over him, shook the journal at him. “This what you were after? Or this?” She showed him the key.

He nodded. Folding the journal lengthwise, she shoved it into his pocket.

“It’s all yours. You killed her, didn’t you? Just like you would have me. You pulled the trigger. Then what would you have done? You’re crazy—under the cloudy sky mad.”

He moaned, as if he wanted to speak.

“No. You have to listen now. What did you do to her? And what did you do to Rachael? Is that why you can’t see? It’s not cataracts, is it? She blinded you with oven spray—jog your memory?”

He lay still.

“I’m right. I know it.”

He turned his head away from her.

“And I’m the one who’s crazy,” Jenny scoffed. Taking his feet, she hauled him, still moaning, into the downstairs bathroom and shut the door after him. “I’m calling the police … I don’t want my daughter to see you.” She looked down at the phone in her hand and dialed a number.

What am I doing?

NINE

“Sir, I’m sorry. Your flight has been cancelled.”

Ron leaned over the melamine ticket counter. “How? I’ve been sitting here for hours now! It was delayed earlier.”

“We don’t have a full crew. Flight delays from other regions affected yours.”

“But it’s the middle of the night.” Ron drew himself up to his full height.

The young flight attendant was immaculately groomed, not a brunette hair out of place, as if she woke up every morning wearing fresh pink lipstick. “We can put you on standby for a six am departure.”

“Standby?”

“The flight is full, sir.”

“You mean I could wait even longer and not even make the next one. Is there nothing open?”

“We can get you to Salt Lake, then to Seattle, arriving at nine pm.”

“I could drive just as easily and get there sooner. I need to get back. I need to get back NOW.” He put a firm fist down.

The flight attendant’s face remained blank, unsympathetic.

* * *

“Kurt.”

“Jenny? How you doin’?”

“I’m okay,” she lied.

“You sound tired.” Kurt swirled coffee around his mug.

“I am. I had a bad night.”

“
My gun didn’t help?”

She paused. “No, it was a bad idea to begin with.”

“It generally is.”

“Kurt, I need you to come by the house. There’s something ... someone here that I need you to deal with. Gerry has passed away, and I—”

“Gerry,” Kurt interrupted. “Dad’s secret girlfriend? Does he know?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t exactly ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kurt, he’s at the beach house.”

“What? Your house? My dad?” He scratched his head.

Jenny sighed. “Yes. He broke in last night and attacked me. He’s duct taped in my
bathroom.”

“Huh? Are you serious?”

“Deadly!”

“How the hell did he get all the way to your house? He can’t even see?”

“Oh, I think he can see a little,” said Jenny, “or enough.”

“What the…?” Kurt put one hand on top of his head, completely dumfounded.

“He’s the one who’s been following me, who left the lantern. That’s why I took your gun. He tried to shoot me last night with it, while I was in the tub.”

“No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s tame. I’m telling you, my old man wouldn’t do that.” Kurt shook his head. You sure it was him?”

“I’m sure. He’s wearing a green sweatshirt, and he looks like you, but older.”

“I believe you. I do. That green sweatshirt—they’re all he wears. He has five of them. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

“I don’t understand why he’d come here.” Kurt shook his head as Jenny opened the door.

“To kill me,” Jenny answered.

“Why? You’re cute. Who’d want to kill you?” He studied her face intently. Despite her composure, he noticed her hands shook.

“Really? Your dad tries to kill me and all you can do is flirt with me?” she said. “He tried to shoot me, and he bit me.” She lifted up her elbow, pulled up the sleeve of her white cardigan and showed him the bite mark.

“He tried to shoot you. Jesus Christ,” Kurt said. “Lucky I don’t keep that gun loaded. Let me see your elbow again.” He examined the bite mark. Three teeth were missing. He shook his head. “It’s his all right. You know, sometimes he says odd things, but I never paid much attention. He’d say ‘That bitch’ over and over.”

“Kurt ... I think...” she trailed off, unable to say it. “You have to deal with this,” she said finally, her voice cracking.

“Thank you.” He put a hand on her arm. “For calling me, I mean. How long’s he been in there?” Kurt put an ear up to the bathroom door, listening.

“Um … a while.”

“On three?”

Jenny nodded.

“One. Two. Three!” He
opened the door. A bundle of ripped-up duct tape sat on the tiles.

“Well, he ain’t here.” Kurt’s expression was doubtful, apprehensive even.

“He was there. I swear to God, Kurt.” She paused. “Oh, my God. Kip!” Turning, she fled up the stairs. “KIP!”

She rushed to the child’s bedroom with Kurt close behind her. The coverlet was drawn back, but the bed was empty.
Kip. Kip. Kip!
screamed her thoughts. She checked under the bed, motioning for Kurt to check upstairs. Then she turned and followed him. She poked her head into the master bedroom—empty—and then followed him up to the hex room.

“Dad?”

Barney stood against the window, silhouetted by the moonlight.

“Where is she? Where’s my Kip?” screamed Jenny.

“What?” the old man’s voice wavered.

“My daughter!”

“The little girl? Haven’t seen her.” He put his head in his hands.

“If you’ve hurt her—”

“I’m not a monster,” he snarled.

“Dad,” Kurt rushed toward him.

“No!” The old man put a shaking hand out. “Stop, Son. Stay where you are. Stop.” Something gleamed in his other hand.

The revolver,
thought Jenny and looked at Kurt.
Are you sure it’s not loaded?
her eyes said.

“Don’t move. Put your hands up,” Barney gestured to her. “You too,” he told Kurt.