Raquel Byrnes (27 page)

“This, I have not seen since I was a child.” He pointed to the ring of candles. “It was done by my grandmother back in Romania during the war. She believed in the power of these rituals. The ones represented in the circle of light, the candles, are protected.”

“From what?”

“From this,” Josif whispered. He pointed to Simon’s handkerchief, the dark ash marring his initials on the crisp fabric.

“From Simon?”

Josif nodded, his jaw set. I stared at the ghastly display, the wind howling through the broken windows like ancient echoes crying out across the forest.

“But, Lavender had these things. She had them on the boat. She told me she took them to protect us.”

“I do not imagine a child of six would do this, but she must have seen it somewhere or heard of it from someone.” Josif shook his head. “But that is not what disturbs me.”

“Whoever did this knew about the things she’d taken. Took them from her backpack.”

“Yes, Rosetta. When was the last time you saw Lavender with these things?”

“At the marina,” I said, trying to remember. “When we came back from checking the dock’s damage and eating with Bernard. She was asleep, and Simon carried her in his arms. I grabbed our stuff, but left the backpack. I wanted to show him later.”

“On the
Lotus
?” Josif shook his head. “This does not help us.”

“We’ll just ask security if they saw anyone on or near Simon’s boat.”

“No, Rosetta, there is no one at the marina that watches the boats. Not on Noble Island. If Lavender’s backpack was on the deck, then anyone could have taken it. Anyone could have done this.”

“So we’re back to square one?” My spirits sagged. “We have no idea who did this or when. I haven’t been out to this place in almost a week. Have you?”

“No,” Josif said. “But we do know one thing.”

“And what is that?”

He picked up the braid of hair with the bones and the botany lens.

“Someone is watching you. Someone close.”

I crossed my arms and hugged myself, the cold wind pulling bumps up on my skin.

“Does Simon know about this?”

“I haven’t told him yet.” Josif nodded to the handkerchief. “This knowledge will add to his burden. His fear for Lala.”

“He has to know.”

“The items here will only serve to anger him. Make his temper flare against my people.” Josif shook his head. “He does not even believe in this.”

“But
someone
does, Josif. Do you know who would do this?”

“As I said, I have only seen my grandmother do this. And she is long from this world, Rosetta.”

True, I thought, but the rest of Josif’s family wasn’t dead.

Especially the ones who hated Simon.

33

I got back to Shadow Bay Hall in time to see a taxi pull into the driveway. I hurried through the kitchen to the foyer and caught sight of Mrs. Tuttle walking up the grand staircase.

“Mrs. Tuttle,” I called out.

She turned, nodded to me, and kept walking. A twinge of worry snaked through me. Was she still angry at me for exposing her secret? With Davenport’s supportive reaction, I had hoped to mend fences with her and O’Shay. I debated letting her alone but followed after her. She was in her room, packing a small suitcase. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“How is Tobias?” I asked from the door.

“He’s doing better,” she said and sighed. “Better than he was when he was here.”

I ventured closer, picked up a blouse from the bedspread, and folded it for her. She worked in her quick efficient manner, but her hands shook.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tuttle.”

She stopped working and caught my gaze with hers. Her mouth, normally pursed with disapproval, displayed a sad smile. “Had I not tried to hide things…” Her voice trailed off. “Toby is where he should be now, Ms. Ryan. In large part, thanks to you.”

“Has he suffered long with the seizures?”

“He started to get them after a car accident when he was a young child. They’re normally mild, controlled with medications.”

“The private school the Hale family pays for,” I asked. “It’s a school for people with medical conditions, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a special college.” She sank onto the bed next to the suitcase. “He was doing so well there. He had friends. Great grades. He’s a sophomore, you know. I had him terribly late in life, only ten years before a heart attack took his father. Poor Toby hated taking his medicine. Said it tasted horrible.” She nodded to the small black mortar and pestle on her dresser. “I used to grind it up for him and sneak it into his pudding.”

“You’re a good mom,” I said and smiled.

She patted my hand, went to retrieve the mortar and pestle, and held them out to me. “You could use this to prepare your teas and tinctures.”

“Thank you.” I took it and felt its heft. “Marble?”

“Davenport brought it back from his travels,” she said and went back to packing. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“You’ll be missed terribly,” I said and meant it. Mrs. Tuttle’s hard outer shell did indeed hide a softer side as Simon had told me. Her heart beat for her child.

“Yes, well…” She looked at me with moist eyes. “I will be back soon, Ms. Ryan. You needn’t blubber on my suitcase.” Her slight smile made me chuckle.

“Of course, Mrs. Tuttle.” I rose from the bed and held up the pestle and mortar. “Thank you again.”

I left her and made my way down the hall to the stairs feeling the weight of the marble in my hands. The surface was smooth and cold. White powder dusted the middle of the bowl and the pestle, and I used a tissue from my sweater pocket to wipe it off.

Passing the cabinet on the landing, I heard Lavender rustling around in her hiding place. Maybe I could entice her with some strawberries. With fall coming, this batch from the garden might be the last. I rustled around in the kitchen, chopped up some berries and put them in a small bowl. I grabbed a bunch of grapes and decided to halve those for her too. Spying a pitcher of iced tea, I poured myself a glass.

Outside was muggy. The weather had changed from dark and cold to stuffy, and I wiped at my brow with my sleeve as I drank. Far off rumbling promised more of the storm to come. The image of what Josif showed me in the greenhouse came back, and I wondered where Simon was. A tinge of ache hit me when I thought of the look on his face last night. I’d hurt him with my doubt, my fear, and I wanted to make it right. Distracted with thoughts of Simon, the knife slipped and I sliced into my thumb and hissed at the pain. Blood oozed quickly from the cut, and I dropped the knife. I searched for a napkin, but they were linen. They would stain. I could find no paper towels either. I dripped on the floor before remembering the tissue and grabbed it, wrapping the gash.

Frustrated, I dumped the half done grapes in the trash and put the cutting board and knife in the sink. I stood at the window, my thumb clasped in my fingers, wondering if I needed stiches. Tiny seeds stuck in my teeth from the tea bugged me, and I spit them out of the open window. I left the kitchen, stood on the porch looking out at the woods, watching the distant flashes of light in the sky.

I struggled to unwind the threads knotting around Simon and Lavender. The things I was hearing from the sheriff and others about Simon had scared me, yet I believed in his innocence. I had to dig deeper. There must be something, some person who could help me find out what really happened the night of Amanna’s death. The flooded evidence room and Simon’s sudden absence from Noble Island nagged at me. Only one person had the means to do that. Question was, did he do it to save his son because he thought him guilty? Or did Davenport hope to keep Simon from being wrongly accused?

Wind skittered leaves across the ground, and I watched them, aware of the sounds of the waves, the song of the whales, and their slow cries from the deep. Tiny lights floated into my vision, bouncing, fluttering glimpses of orange. Buffeted by the breeze, I swayed with the gusts, and I found it strange that I could smell the sea…

My name came to me, a strange stir of echoes that brushed past my ears. I blinked. The orange lights, larger now, bobbed in a blanket of black. Waves roared and smashed in the shadows below. Wind, cold and moist, whipped my hair across my face.

“Rosetta.” Simon’s voice tugged at me, my thoughts slow. “Rosetta, don’t move.”

I swayed, my mind slipping back to the whale songs. The smooth skin of the orca slid past me, glistening. I reached for it, felt the edge of the ground slip away. So dark…

“No,” Simon screamed. His hand closed around my arm, wrenching.

The pain yanked me back, my eyes snapped open. Gypsy boats bobbed on the raging sea as I teetered on the edge of the cliff. Simon’s grasp was the only thing stopping me from plummeting to my death. Terror vaulted in my chest, and I screamed, flailing for him.

“I’ve got you,” Simon’s voice in the darkness called to me.

He pulled me back from the edge, clutched me to his chest, his breath ragged in my hair. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Panic sizzled up my spine, and I shuddered in his arms. He backed us up, away from the cliff, and we stumbled in the darkness.

“What—” I cried. “What’s happening?”

“Where have you been, Rosetta? What are you doing?” He sounded frantic, nearly angry with worry.

“What? No…” Why was it dark? “How did I get here?”

“You’ve been missing for hours, love,” Simon said, his voice cracking. “There was blood in the kitchen, on the floor, and then we couldn’t find you.”

“But I was just there. I was cutting grapes for Lavender.” I shook my head, trying to clear the jumbled thoughts. “It was lunch—”

“No, Rosetta,” Simon said. He bent, picked up a flashlight still on in the grass, and held it up, his eyes searching me with worry. “You’ve been gone for hours. We’ve been searching all over. It’s nearly midnight.”

“What?” My knees gave way, the pounding in my head so intense that I sank to the ground. Simon eased me to a sitting position. “I lost…I lost a whole day?”

“Oh, Rosetta, I was terrified that…” Simon stood the flashlight on the ground between us. The shadows it cast on his features made the worry on his face all the more alarming. “When we found O’Shay and then the blood, I thought the worst.”

“Found O’Shay, what does that mean?”

“We found him on the road to the village during the first hour of our search.”

“Is he all right?”

The expression on his face made my heart race. He pulled me close, his embrace tight.

“He’s…O’Shay is dead, Rosetta.”

“What?” My mind reeled. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed to death.”

“No.” My throat closed, the lump so painful I couldn’t swallow. “What…who…” I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to ask.

Simon helped me to my feet. He took a two-way radio from his waist, and it hissed when he put it to his lips. “I found her.” His voice cracked. “She’s OK. She’s with me.”

Footfalls sounded in the distance, and a flashlight beam slashed across the field where we stood. The squawk of another radio came as a running man emerged from the darkness.

“Where was she?” Josif came up to us, his face pulled with the effort.

“She was on the cliff.” Simon slipped his arm around my waist. “She nearly went over.”

Josif’s face registered shock in the glow of the flashlight.

“This has to stop, brother,” Simon growled. “What you told me today; the ghost line, the circle of candles. That all points to one place.”

“You can’t believe that—” Josif started.

“What am I supposed to think, Josif?” Simon yelled. “You know their hatred for me.”

“But this, Fratele,” Josif shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“On this day. With all that’s happened between our two families?” He pulled me closer. “They know I love her.”

“But to hurt a woman,” Josif said with shock. “Not like this. Why?”

“Revenge for Amanna. To terrify Rosetta into leaving. To ruin any chance of happiness for us.”

“You have no proof.” Josif’s voice took on an edge, his jaw set.

“They sneaked into her room. Filled my daughter’s head with superstitions and fears, and now this?”

Simon let go, started for the forest.

“You can’t go down there, Simon.” Josif grabbed his shirt, whirling him around. “Don’t—”

Simon spun and punched him so fast I didn’t have time to scream.

Josif stumbled back, going down.

I ran after Simon, got in front, my hands on his chest to stop him. “Please don’t do this!”

“This has to end,” Simon said, gently pushing me aside. “Go back to the house, Rosetta.”

“Just…just wait for Sheriff Levine. Wait until morning at least, Simon,” I called. But he started to run. The shadows of the night engulfed him in seconds.

Panic surged through me. Josif moaned behind me, and I turned. He staggered to his feet, a hand to his jaw, opening and closing his mouth. He limped, fell back down.

“Your leg, its twisted?”

“My knee,” he said, wincing. Josif reached for me, his face tight with worry. “We have to get there before him. Or we won’t be able to stop it.”

“Stop what?” I turned to the woods. I couldn’t see Simon anymore.

“The bloodshed.”

34

We ran through the meadow towards the house as fast as Josif’s knee would allow. Each minute that ticked by filled me with dread. We neared the house, its bright yellow lights slicing through the dark night like beacons across the sea. We stopped at the kitchen door, and he put his finger to his lips.

“The sheriff is in the house,” he whispered. “If we get them involved, there will be no stopping the violence.”

“What do we do, then?” Bright flashes of pain shot through my eyes, and I held my hands to my cheeks, panting. “My head feels like it’s about to split open.”

“Can you make it?” Josif asked, his face concerned. “I think Simon will only listen to you.”

“I can make it.”

Nodding, he led us around the back of the house to a storage shed. He closed the door leaving us in pitch black. Worry thrummed through me. The beam of his flashlight sliced across the dark, and he grabbed a canvas cover, ripping it to the ground. A dirt bike leaned against the wall.