Innocent Little Crimes (33 page)

She made it her mission to follow five
people’s lives closely, like watching bugs under a microscope. She
would pay them back, her old college buddies.

Every last one of them. No matter how long it
took.

The richer she got, the easier it was to
wreck their lives. Her obsession was her ‘raison d’etre,’ and
without it, she would have simply withered away.

Chapter 28

Peter set his empty glass down on the night
table beside Lila as the first hint of dawn crept into the sky. The
oil lamp flickered from the moaning wind seeping through the cracks
in the turret walls. Lila sighed and collapsed back against the
bolsters of her bed. The bottle of brandy, polished off, lay in her
lap. Her head flopped to one side.

Peter, drunk himself, felt inclined to curl
up under her down comforter and snooze. Exhaustion filled every
muscle in his body like a thick fluid. He listened to Lila’s
breathing as it deepened into a slight snore. As he stared out
across the Sound, the dim light etched the edges of the blanket of
storm clouds gathered at the horizon.

Through the long night, Peter had listened to
Lila as she spoke with passion and concentration. He watched a
fleet of emotions cross her face as she poured out her story. And
now, the house was too quiet. Maybe her guests had returned from
their mad folly and were sleeping hard. But he would have heard the
huge door open and close in the night, a sound that reverberated
off every wall in the house. Through the thickness of his thoughts,
he discerned that Lila’s guests were still outside, and had been
out in the cold and violent storm for hours.

He reached over and shook Lila.

“Where’s the fire?” she moaned. Lila pulled a
blanket over her head. Peter yanked it off.

“Come on, your highness, you’ve got to get
up.”

Lila lifted her head and glared at the
window. Then she turned and grimaced at Peter. “What the hell are
you waking me for? It’s not even daylight yet. You have some
nerve—”

“Listen, Li. You’ve got a group of guests
wandering somewhere out in the dark.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Lila!”

Lila sat up and looked Peter in the eye. Her
head swayed from side to side. “Haven’t you heard a single damn
thing I’ve said to you all night? Let them all freeze to death out
there. That’s what they deserve.” She waved a weak hand toward the
door. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make sure the front door is
locked. Then we’ll never be bothered again.” She retreated under
her blanket.

“You don’t really mean that.”

“You care about them so much, go join ’em. Go
ahead.” Lila grunted and turned her back to Peter. “I thought you’d
understand, but you’re just like them.”

Peter shook his head. “Lila, come on.” He
searched for words. “Sure, I can understand you being bitter. What
they did to you was low, but it was a long time ago . . .”

Lila jerked back around and poked her
head out. “Oh, Avon, don’t
you
start in with that excuse, like the rest of them.” Lila
whined in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Lila, we were so young, we
didn’t know what we were doing. It was so long ago and we were mere
babes.” She scowled. “I don’t care if it was a fucking million
years ago. There’s no statute of limitations here. A crime was
committed, so they have to pay.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you do a hell of a lot worse
to people over the years.”

“There’s a difference, Avon, a
big
difference. The people I screw
are rotten, manipulative people who deserve what for. But, when
these bastards did it to me, I was an innocent. Trusting, naive,
goodhearted. They had no right to do it. And they need to be taught
a lesson.”

“Looks like you’ve been paying them back for
years. Years.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Then what is?”

“With some crimes, no punishment is great
enough. They destroyed me. With their heartless, selfish fun, they
destroyed me.”

Peter waited for her anger to subside. “From
what you’ve told me, you’re trying to get back at the wrong people.
They aren’t the ones who destroyed you. It started long before
them. Your father—”

“Oh, pul-eeze, Freud. Can it with the pop
psychology.” Lila threw her covers off. “Okay, I’m awake. Are you
happy now? Now that you’ve piqued my curiosity, I’m ready to
go.”

“Where?”

“On a wolf hunt, you idiot! Get your coat,
Avon. I can’t wait to see what condition those frightened rats are
in.”

As she raced across the sand, Cynthia kept
her flashlight pinned on the sets of footprints. She was so weary;
running took unbelievable effort. The ocean crashed and roared like
some fierce animal let loose. The rain had been beating her for
hours, etching her delicate face raw. As she crested the rise,
Cynthia cried out in relief, when, down below, she spotted the
shapes of people. Then, with a quick scan of her light, she
realized in horror that Davis was not among them. A moment later,
as a wave sent the group scurrying back up the beach, she noticed
his supine body in the water.

“Oh my God! Davis!” No one was helping him.
Her anger fueled her feet, and she raced past the immobile figures
on the beach to the edge of the churning water. Davis lifted his
face up from the sand. He strained to look into her eyes.

“Cyn, is that you?” He managed a weak laugh.
“I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Jesus, Davis.” She pulled at his arm as the
water receded. “Get up! What are you doing? I can’t lift you.” Her
voice screeched over the deafening noise of the sea. “What’s wrong
with all of you? Help him, dammit.”

As Davis struggled to get onto his knees, the
others edged toward the water. Cynthia looked up and saw anger in
their eyes. She screamed at them.

“What in the hell were you trying to do
to him? Kill him? You’re all sick, sick!” Cynthia tugged Davis’s
drenched sleeve. “Look at you. You should see the expressions on
your faces. Lila’s turned you into wolves.
She’s
the one you should be furious with.
She’s
the one who ruined your lives.
Not Davis.”

“No one’s trying to kill him,” Della said.
“We’re just trying to get him to come to his senses.”

“Like this? Pushing him into the water?”

Jonathan shrugged. “He went into the water on
his own. We didn’t force him.”

“He wouldn’t come back with us,” said
Dick.

“For God’s sake!” Again, Cynthia pulled
Davis’s arm. “Come on!”

“Give me a sec, hon,” Davis muttered with a
lopsided grin. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“You don’t have a second. We have to get you
onto the beach.”

Cynthia shone her flashlight into Della’s
eyes. Then Jonathan’s, then Dick’s and Millie’s. They all stood
back, watching the water race back up around Davis’s legs.

“Millie, help me,” Cynthia pleaded. “Don’t
just stand there and do nothing.”

Millie waited until the water washed back
down, then inched over to Cynthia’s side. She took hold of Davis’s
other arm and tugged.

“I’m sorry, I’m not very strong . . .”

Millie sobbed, losing her grip on Davis as
she collapsed onto the sand. Cynthia glared at her.

“Dammit, Jonathan, get over here. Dick!” The
two men stood motionless, watching in fascination as the water
surrounded Davis and lifted him, carrying him back toward the sea,
with Cynthia dragging beside him. Davis fell on his side and
struggled once more to get up. A deep rolling chuckle spilled from
his mouth.

Cynthia, still clutching his arm, stared at
him, puzzled. “Why are you laughing?”

Davis shrugged. How could she understand?
There was no Davis Gregory. The Davis she knew was an illusion. A
creation of Lila Carmichael. The whole empire in Marin, his kingdom
of gold, was a meager sand castle, now being washed away by the
ocean. He even felt like a sand castle himself, eroding away one
wave at a time. Cynthia would never marry him now. He was a
nothing. The futility of his task overwhelmed him. He was fooling
himself about getting back to Marin and finding salvation. There
was nothing left. Lila had been too clever and too careful. She had
all those years of scheming on him. He would have to admit defeat.
He knew that was all she was after. She didn’t want to marry him.
She just wanted to see him suffer, as she suffered. And somewhere
under all the numbness it made sense. He understood.

“Now, isn’t that a pretty sight.”

Davis and the others lifted their heads and
looked up the beach. Lila stood with Peter by her side, poised
above them on a rise of sand. She shined a piercing beam upon them.
Her coat flapped in the wind as rain poured down.

“Are you dragging him in or out of the water?
What did I miss?”

Cynthia let go of Davis and rose to her
feet.

“You sent them to kill him!”

As Lila neared, Cynthia grabbed her coat.
Lila pushed her off like she would a groveling dog.

“I did no such thing. I only wanted them to
use a little persuasion.”

Lila squatted in front of Davis, who
struggled up onto his hands and knees. “Well, loverboy, have your
friends convinced you to give up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Water streamed off his
clothes. “You win, Lila. But, like they say, you won the battle and
lost the war. You know that.”

Lila pressed closer to Davis’s face. So many
years ago—the last time she was this close to his eyes, his lips.
The memory of his features pained her. They linked her unbidden to
another place, another lifetime. How could that innocent, naive,
love-struck girl have been her? Repulsion filled her every pore.
Repulsion at Davis and repulsion with herself.

“I’m no loser, Davis.” She spit the words
into his face. “I have everything, everything!”

Cynthia yanked again at Davis’s sleeve. “But,
you don’t have love, Lila,” she said. “You wouldn’t know love if it
slapped you in the face.”

“Oh pul-eeze. Bring out the violins.”

The five others watched silently at the
water’s edge. Lila glanced over at Peter, knowing he fought the
urge to run down to help. She turned back to Davis. “Well,
loverboy, have you changed your mind about marrying Cynthia?”

Davis only moaned.

“Or maybe the little princess has changed her
mind.” She turned to Cynthia. “You still want this poor, tragic
nothing?”

“So you take away his money. So what? He can
start all over again. At least he has a kind heart.”

Lila straightened and glared at Cynthia.
“Haven’t you learned anything this weekend—you with your
rose-colored glasses? Your fiancé’s a fake, a schemer. He lied to
you. And he lied to me. He took the heart of an innocent, trusting
girl and ripped it to shreds. There’s a monster under that
Ultra-Brite smile.”

“I guess saying sorry isn’t enough,” Davis
mumbled.

“You’re damn right.” Lila stepped closer to
Davis. The icy water rushed around her ankles, but she didn’t care.
She burned with fury.

Cynthia released her hold on Davis. “Get up,
Davis. Please try.”

Lila ignored her. “I had two weeks of
happiness in my entire life. Two fucking weeks in thirty-five
years.”

“I’m sorry,” Davis murmured. He let his cheek
drop to the sand. “You know, I really did like you, you were a
sweet kid. Serious, funny . . .” Lila heard his shallow breathing.
“It just got out of hand . . . I was cruel.” He closed his eyes and
sighed. “But, honestly, I never intended to hurt you . . .”

Lila panted. She felt the anger drain from
her face. Her whole body shook. She’d waited fifteen years to make
Davis say he was sorry. But now, hearing his apology didn’t fuel
her sense of victory and vengeance. Instead, she felt sick all
over. Her heart began to ache.

Lila looked in his eyes. She had been fooled
by that warmth before, that mock humility. She leaned into his
face. “Maybe you cared. A little. But what you did was
unforgivable. You bastard.” Lila fought back the tears, but they
ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.

Davis seemed to force the words from his
mouth. “. . . Yes, you’re right . . . Forgive me?”

Cynthia hoisted him up, her arms under
his armpits. “You can do it, darling. Try.” To Lila, she said,
“It’s over.
Over
. You made
your point, now help me get him out of here.”

Still in tears, Lila reached out to grab
Davis’s arm. Behind her, she heard Peter yelling.

“Lila, watch out!”

She looked back at Peter, silhouetted on the
dune with the glaring morning sun rising over his shoulder. He was
pointing to the sea, waving his arm wildly. Then Millie
screamed.

In one moment, Lila heard the deafening
crash, and in another became engulfed in water.
What was it called?
she wondered, as the wave
assaulted her. The dreadful, fearful ninth wave. The mother of all
waves.

An image drifted into her mind. That terrible
day when her father forced her face under water to baptize her. She
was eight years old. What was it he said? Something about
repentance for the remission of sins? Repent. And ye shall receive
the gift of the Holy Ghost. In ablution, your sins shall be washed
away.

Something was being washed away, from deep
inside her, and from all around her.

For a few seconds, her hand gripped Davis’s
sleeve, and then he was wrenched from her grasp. She stumbled
forward into the swirling, chilling foam and landed on her knees.
The cold knocked the air from her lungs. She crawled away from the
impelling water, like a lemming struggling up the beach. When she
caught her breath, she dragged her body around and looked back at
the ocean. Cynthia lay on the sand in her sodden coat, coughing
water from her mouth.