The Red Roots (11 page)

“I lied.”

She took the band and slid it down her middle finger, next to hers.

“Mom?”

Isla glanced at her daughter and back to Reed. He laid his hand atop of hers, which slipped a bit from the swaying. She’d remember every feature, every expression. Isla had allowed revenge to strip her from the love she deserved. It couldn’t be recaptured. If she lost him, all the families would taste her wrath. Nothing would stop her or hold her back.

Amaranthine would burn.

Isla would be the gasoline.

The match.

The spark.

“I love you,” Reed said as he pushed the boat away from him.

Isla tasted her tears. He drifted farther from her as Rosa yanked the engine cord. In a puff of fumes and smoke they sputtered down the marshy channel. Isla anchored her gaze onto Reed until she could no longer see him.

Her wet hair thrashed against her. She rubbed the two wedding bands against one another.

Reckoning would come.

She’d kill them all.

9 Killed in Florida Mansion Fire Died of Smoke Inhalation and Thermal Injuries

MIAMI—A fire, which leveled a three-story mansion, claimed the lives of nine people. The office of the chief medical examiner released Wednesday its findings to investigators but not to the public.

The inferno reduced a 15,000 square-foot waterfront mansion to ashes.

Investigators are working to determine the cause of the fire. Special Agent Bruce Atkins released a statement saying, “We are dedicating our efforts to determine what caused the fire to spread so rapidly.”

Hot spots continued to spring up.

“ARE YOU LOST?”

“Yes, Reed.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

His fingers brushed along Isla’s cheek. “I’ll come back.”

“You won’t?”

A trail of hope brightened his eyes. “I’m always with you.”

Isla drifted from her sleep-deprived hallucination. She sipped the bitter coffee and leaned against the wood-paneled wall of Meg’s Café fighting back her sadness. No one ever bothered her, and the waitresses sat her in the back. The cook’s potato and corn casserole was crack in Pyrex.

The prattle of small town gossip and clanks of silverware faded. A yellowish water stain in the shape of an elephant occupied one of the ceiling tiles.

She stared at the discolored pachyderm. Isla had problems. Big problems.

Joe—bless his heart—thought he’d found the perfect hiding place. Determined, Isla located him with time to spare. Joe settled into middle-of-nowhere Alabama. She’d frequented the town knowing he was close. One of the waitresses recognized a photo of him. Lucky for her, he was a lousy tipper and Isla wasn’t. Within a few days, she was a welcomed stranger.

The rusted silver bell chimed above the café door. Isla turned her attention away from the ceiling. Her lips stiffened as Joe reached inside of his suit coat and pulled out a white handkerchief. He wiped his hands and scanned the room for an open table.

At first he didn’t notice her tucked back into the corner but when he did, Joe tried to leave. Keyword tried. Two lovely gentlemen Isla befriended her first day in town blocked him. He protested, but the men escorted him to her table. She insisted on him joining her. Glancing around for someone to help him, he finally sat down across from her.

The waitress approached, asked if he would like coffee. He did with a scowl. Isla requested another refill.

“Isla.”

“Joe, how nice to see you.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’d ask you the same question. What does a man like you do in a town like this? Harriet Township is a long ways away from New York. “

Joe raked his fingers through his oily hair. “None of your business.”

“You made it my business. How much did you pocket to kill Ellis? How much to set me up? How much to burn Pierce kingdom to the ground?”

Joe glanced over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down.”

“Fuck you. I should kill you right here for what you did.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

The waitress with her pressed white apron served Joe his coffee, pouring it into the ivory cup. She filled Isla’s to the brim and pulled her order pad out but Joe waved her off. With a nod, she walked back behind the counter.

“Reed’s missing.” Isla took a breath. “Did Martin and Vinny form an alliance? Clearly someone has paid off the medical examiner to keep the story under wraps. Be a man for once and tell the truth. Is Reed dead?”

“Not that I know of.” He sipped the coffee. “What I do know is Amaranthine is up for grabs. Martin wants control, he knows who you are, and what happened with Ronan Walker.”

Her stomach clenched into a fist. “You’re telling me he knows about Jules?”

“He knows
everything.
”

“He wants my shares. He wants it all. And, Zargotta—did he set us up for massacre? My innocent daughter to be slaughtered . . .”

Joe coughed. “There’s another player.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He or she is a ghost pinning family against family. The trust has been broken. War is coming.”

Joe’s skin blanched, and he pulled at his collar.

Isla leaned closer to him. “You’re wrong. I’m the ghost in this machine. I’ve been quite busy these past few days and was taught to never waste an opportunity. To protect family no matter what.”

“What do you mean?” With labored breath he looked down at the coffee cup. “You . . .”

“Dear Joe. You’re going into cardiac arrest. The odorless, flavorless poison that I laced your cup with won’t be detected. I’ve built quite a status here and donated much to rebuilding this working class town, including a substantial endowment to our fine waitress, Lily, who you’ve stiffed on numerous occasions. Not nice, Joe.”

Isla lifted her mug toward the blonde behind the counter. She winked and carried on filling the saltshakers. Isla sipped the lukewarm brew but watched Joe squirm across from her.

“You won’t . . .” he hacked and gripped his chest, “get away . . . killing me.”

“Oh, I will. One by one the giants will fall. I don’t forget, and I don’t forgive. You’ve given me nothing to convince me to keep you alive. Aww, what will Martin and Vinny do without their little rat?”

His breath sputtered, and Isla watched with pleasure while Joe died in front of her.

With Ellis gone, it was time for a new revolution. In her heart, she knew Reed wasn’t amongst the dead. Call it denial, call it conviction, call it what a person will, but Isla wouldn’t give up on him.

Joe gasped, knocked his coffee cup off the table, and it shattered across the worn wood floor. All who sat in the café minded their own business. His head thudded onto the table. Coffee spilled over the edge of her cup. She pulled out her wallet and thumbed a few hundred dollar bills, and laid them near the edge.

“Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll pick up the tab.”

Isla instructed the waitress to clean up the coffee and call the police ten minutes after her departure. Lily thanked her again for all her financial help. She had five kids, a deceased husband, and no one to lean on. Isla set up college funds for each of the children. They deserved at least one easy step in life.

She slipped behind the wheel of the rental car. Isla coasted down the two-lane highway out of the township, two police cruisers with their sirens blaring passed her. Nothing else mattered but Jules and Reed.

HER HENRY WAS gone, never to return.

Isla listened to his last voicemail over and over until she could no longer bear the pain of his loss.

“It’s me. I know it’s late, but . . . I miss you. Please come for a visit soon. Jules nursed an injured baby squirrel back to health. She named him Steven and he sleeps in bed with her.” Henry laughed. “She’s quite extraordinary, just like her mom. Ok, have a pleasant night and call when you can. Be safe.”

Isla never called him back. Her life imploded before she could and now he was dead.

Her Henry was dead, never to return.

ISLA PUNCTURED THE ranch-soaked lettuce with her fork. Her appetite came and went. She sipped her white wine no matter the hour. A row of laptops covered the top of the desk. Her shoulder ached. Rosa checked the bandage, scolding her about her unhealthy habits. Isla ignored her.

Rosa mourned Erik. Jules mourned Henry. She was a broken heart who stayed close to Isla. She slept on the loveseat in Gavin’s office, which Isla had commandeered. Carys brought in a fresh vase of tulips and sat them down near the window. She mourned as well. Not because of Ellis, but the possibility of Reed being dead. Isla offered a weak smile. Their downtime consisted of plotting and vintage wine.

Purple shadows shaded below Isla’s eyes.

Two detectives informed Carys the day before about her father’s death, but made it clear all details would remain under lock and key. All bodies were burned beyond recognition, but Ellis’ remains were identified using dental records. They refused to disclose any more, but Isla knew who was there. She knew who perished, except for Reed.

Carys smelled the tulips. “I don’t want to plan a memorial. What about my siblings?”

“Ethan and Zoe won’t care,” Isla said and picked out an onion slice from her salad. “They hated him.”

“True. Gavin said I must because of the families.”

“It’ll be a show for the media. It has to be done. Whoever is covering up the fire is causing more rumors to fly around the gossip sites. Plus, Martin won’t keep his mouth shut.”

Carys motioned to a sleeping Jules. “How’s she doing?”

“I can hear you,” Jules said as she moved the blanket off her head. Static hair clung to the cotton weave as she moved and sat up.

“Do you want to sleep in my room?”

“I’m good, but I’m hungry, though.”

Carys crossed the room, “Come on, kid. Let’s go raid the kitchen.”

Jules’ gangly limbs stretched, and she moved her hair from her face. She walked over to Isla. Her wide eyes were filled with a storm of emotion. Isla patted her lap. Jules nestled into her mom’s embrace.

Isla kissed the top of her head. “What’s on your mind?”

“I had a dream about Henry.”

“A good dream?”

“Yeah. Do you think he’s in heaven?”

Isla glanced up at Carys who gave her a small wave and left the room.