Deceptive (12 page)

Anna was leaving the restaurant with the bartender. He had his arm around her waist as they strolled to her car. Anna took the driver’s seat and the bartender settled into the passenger seat.

“Time for us to move on,” Jack said as the Porsche backed out.

“Hope you have a wonderful time on the rest of your trip,” Zoe said.

“You, too,” Isobel called as Paul touched the brim of his hat with two fingers.

Jack had already settled the bill, so they crossed the street to their rental car and took off down the single lane behind the Porsche.

––––––––

J
ACK stayed back far enough from the black sports car that they wouldn’t notice them as they trailed Anna along the twisty road as it climbed back to meet the main road. Once back on the slightly wider road that hugged the coast, Anna turned left and they retraced their earlier route, whipping along the hairpin turns in the direction of the tip of the peninsula.

“Are you worried she’ll spot us?” Zoe asked.

Jack shook his head. “No. There’s enough traffic that I don’t think we’ll stand out.” Buses, cars, and motor scooters swooshed back and forth on the sweeping turns, providing camouflage for them until they turned off the main road and entered a small village away from the coast, which wasn’t nearly as scenic as Positano. Here, corrugated steel covered shed-like buildings. Instead of the bright white stucco of the villages by the sea, these homes and buildings along the narrow road were gray and plain. No bright tourist wares here.

Jack dropped back in the quiet narrow streets. They took the wrong road when it separated at a
Y
intersection. When it petered out into a dirt trail, Jack put the car in reverse, and they backtracked to the
Y
then took the other road.

They threaded through terraced olive groves and then the quiet road rejoined the main road with its smooth blacktop and clear white lane stripes. Jack pointed to a flash of a shiny black bumper disappearing around a curve. “There they are. That must have been a shortcut only the locals know.”

The road curved higher and there was less traffic here, so Jack kept a good distance back. The road snaked higher and higher toward the rocky white cliffs. They zipped through a little town, white rock walls on either side of the road.

The black car slowed, and Jack dropped back, following it through a quaint town with white stucco walls, a couple of stores and homes, some of them seeming to be carved into the rock of the mountain. The Porsche stopped short at a garage door set into the wall on the cliff side of the road. The glossy wood garage door had a well cared for look that contrasted sharply with the cracked stucco that had fallen away from the wall, exposing the stones. A mass of vines and scrub bushes grew along a trail above the wall, their vines and roots dangling above the open garage door. The engine revved, and the car slipped into the tiny space, stirring the trailing greenery.

Jack zipped by the garage, made a quick three-point turn and whipped into a narrow parking space, hugging a low wall on the side of the sea. The slot was probably for a motor scooter instead of a car, but Zoe figured it didn’t matter because there was an even bigger car wedged into the parking place in front of them.

Anna and the man came out of the garage, and it closed smoothly behind them as they backtracked a few feet then turned onto the dirt trail that ran up the hillside directly over the area where the garage was set into the hillside.

The man held Anna’s suitcase, and their arms were around each other’s waists. The trail paralleled the road, but rose steadily. They watched Anna and the man until a copse screened them from view.

“They looked cozy,” Zoe commented.

Jack opened his door. “We’ll have to follow them on foot. There’s no road up there.” Zoe repositioned her hat and stepped out of the car.

A sign at the foot of the trail had symbols of a hiker with a walking stick, a mountain, and a set of wavy lines, and declared they were headed for Baia di Jeranto. “Looks like we’re hiking,” Jack said. “I remember hearing about this trail when I worked in Naples. It goes all the way to a small secluded beach. The trail is the only way to reach it. Supposed to be amazing. Views of Capri and everything. I wanted to come down here and hike it, but never got to do it.”

“How far is the beach?”

“About a twenty or thirty minute hike, I think. One of the guys at the consulate told me about it.”

“Well, I don’t think Anna’s going that far, at least, not in those heels.”

“Maybe he’s going to carry her,” Jack said as they crossed the street to the trail.

“She certainly didn’t look like she’d object.”

They fell silent as they entered the tree-shaded portion of the narrow trail, which rose steadily. Dry yellow grass grew between flat white rocks that formed a wall higher than Jack’s head on their right, while a fence of wooden poles and wire lined the edge of the trail where the ground sloped away on the left. Vines dripped over the fence and the trees touched overhead, but they didn’t completely block the light. Sun dappled the trail, flicking over them as they moved. The climb wasn’t extremely steep, but Zoe felt sweat gathering around the brim of her hat.

As they emerged from the green tunnel, Zoe caught her breath at the view. They could see for miles along the coast, the green land dropping down to the sea in some places in a smooth curve, in others, a jagged, sheer drop. “Is that the beach?” Zoe asked, nodding at the bay with sunbathers and umbrellas on a stretch of sand and rows of boats bobbing on the sparkling water.

“No, too crowded. And, Jeranto is in the opposite direction.”

Zoe was about to comment on the view, but a throaty laugh floated back to them, and she snapped her mouth shut. The view was so stunning she’d forgotten about Anna for a second.

She and Jack exchanged glances. They moved through the small break in the trees and reentered the green tunnel of trees and rock, moving cautiously. They paused at a curve in the trail and watched as Anna and the man entered a gate set in the wire fence.

Zoe edged forward, leaning around Jack’s shoulder. From their vantage point on the high trail, they could see down into the small rectangle of land with a villa set into a terraced portion of the sloping ground. A gravel path led from the gate through olive trees to the small, whitewashed villa. It couldn’t be more than two or three rooms. Blue shutters framed square windows set in thick walls and a flagstone terrace enclosed the house on the three sides away from the path. Huge pots of flowers and vines edged the terrace. Several lounge chairs and a round iron table sat on the flagstone terrace at the back of the villa.

Shadows moved back and forth in front of the windows, then...nothing. No flickering movements in front of the windows. No snatches of conversation. No footfalls.

A bird called in the trees above them. “Siesta?” Zoe asked.

“I’ll bet,” Jack said with a smile.

Zoe tensed at a scuttling sound at the edge of the trail. A lizard disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Come on,” Jack said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s find somewhere a little more protected to wait.”

They gingerly explored the area around the villa. They settled on the far side of the gate where the trees again enclosed the trail. The ground dropped off too steeply from the flagstone terrace to go around the back, and the right-hand side of the trail with the rock wall rose straight up to a narrow, crumbling ridge with a few scrub bushes.

“This is a good spot,” Zoe said, settling on a tree root a few feet off the trail. “The trees and undergrowth will screen us from any hikers, and when Anna and the guy leave, they won’t go by us.” She took off her hat and wiped her forehead and the back of her neck. “Did you bring your binoculars?”

“Sadly, no. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll always carry them on me from now on.”

“Along with a screwdriver?”

“That, too.”

The minutes ticked by. Zoe counted each one of them. She couldn’t help checking her watch. She’d never been good at waiting, and this was killing her.

Nothing stirred at the villa.

A few hikers trudged by them returning to the village from the beach, but Zoe and Jack were well back from the path and lower down on the sloping side. They held themselves motionless and none of the hikers looked their way.

The light shifted as the sun glided lower, and the skinny shafts of light filtering through the leaves inched across the ground. After an hour, Jack had slipped away and moved as close to the villa as he dared, but with only a few rows of olive trees in the front, he couldn’t get close. “Can’t see a thing.” He dropped down beside her, his back propped against the tree trunk. “I hope they’re not in for the night. I’d rather not explore the house with them sleeping in it.”

“He’ll have to go back to work. This is just the siesta.” Zoe fanned herself with her hat. They were in the shade, but there was no breeze.

“He could be off for the day.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve got to find out if the painting is in there.” Zoe glanced at her watch and again counted off the days in her mind. Had it really only been two days since Oscar showed up and turned her life upside down? She had until tomorrow. “The painting has to be there. If it’s not...I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“One step at a time.” Jack had been twirling the stem of a leaf between his thumb and index finger, but he tossed it aside and reached for her hand. He slid his fingers slowly along her palm then laced his fingers through hers. There was something deliberate and intense in his motions as if her hand were something delicate and precious. How could holding hands feel so...intimate? His thumb traced lightly over the back of her hand, sending out little sparks that traveled up her arm and made her feel shivery despite the hot day.

Zoe pulled her hand away. “Jack, you’ve got to stop this.”

His hand hung suspended in the air a moment, then he dropped it to his lap. He tilted his head and watched her from the corner of his eye. “Why?”

Zoe swallowed. Her throat felt thick. She wasn’t choking up, was she? No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t let this go on. It wasn’t fair to Jack. “It’s not going to happen. You and me. Again. It’s not,” she said as emphatically but as gently as she could.

His expression shifted, and he turned his head away, gazing out over the villa. “All right, if that’s what you want.” He looked back and his gaze was shuttered and distant.

“It’s not you,” she said in a rush. “You’re great. Now that we’ve got all that secret life stuff out of the way, you’d be wonderful. It’s me. You know how useless I am. I’m impulsive and flighty. I’d be a terrible wife. I
was
a terrible wife. You know that. You know what happened last time.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, his voice quiet, but firm. “You’re afraid.”

It took her a second to process his words. Afraid? Her? She was
never
afraid. “That’s absurd. I told you. I’m not good...wife material. You were there last time. You know what—”

“You’re scared to trust me. That’s what it all comes down to.” He looked away, down at the dirt at their feet as he spoke. “You’ve never really trusted anyone.”

“That’s crazy...and...wrong,” Zoe sputtered, feeling a white-hot twist of fury surge through her. It wasn’t only the words, it was the way he’d said them—clinical and detached. “What about Helen? I trust her.”

“But you don’t, do you? Not really.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze assessing, almost daring her to contradict him.

“I wanted to call her and tell her about Oscar before we left, but
you
convinced me not to.”

“You only wanted to call her because you were backed into a corner and worried about her safety. You didn’t tell her about Lucinda’s body going missing. And I know you didn’t tell her what happened in Italy. Sure, you told her eventually, but only when it was all going to come out anyway.”

“I didn’t want to lie to her.”

“But by not telling her, you were lying to her. At least, that’s how you saw it with me and my past. What did you call it? Lying by omission, I think.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“I can’t either, but I think I understand you now,” he continued in that subdued, rational voice. “This free spirit bohemian thing you’ve got going...that lets you keep everyone at arm’s length. You don’t have to trust anyone. You can’t get hurt that way. I understand part of it is the way you grew up. Your mom is something else, and she’s warped you, taught you that the only person you can depend on is you.”

“So this is—” Zoe realized her voice was loud and kind of screechy. She forced herself to breathe and start over. “This is my mother’s fault?”

“No. She set you on a course. You’re following it all on your own now.” A note of sadness mixed in with his measured tone cut her more deeply than if he’d yelled. She felt as if his words had slashed across her, leaving raw and painful gashes.

Zoe blinked to clear her wavy vision. “You’re just saying all this because I hurt you.”

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, leaned back against the tree trunk, and tilted his gaze up to the leaves overhead. “You’re right that I’m hurt. I took a risk. That’s what happens when you get close to people. You open yourself up.” He blew out a sigh. “Zoe, you think you’re all about being carefree and living on the edge, but you’re fooling yourself. It’s all an illusion. You’re playing it safe.”

Zoe opened her mouth to fling back a retort, but a sound came from the villa. Anna clacked across the flagstones, still in her heels and dress, a trail of cigarette smoke wafting behind her. “Giorgio,” she called impatiently, her voice floating distinctly up to them. She stood with her arms crossed, staring at the view, one hand moving the cigarette to her mouth with each drag. The young man appeared, a cell phone at his ear. She tossed the cigarette away and they went back through the house, up the gravel path to the gate, and back along the dirt trail toward the village.