Evercrossed (15 page)

Twenty four

FROM THE MOMENT SHE AWOKE TUESDAY MORNING, Ivy checked her cell phone, but Guy didn't call. It was hard not to phone him, but he'd said he wanted space, so she forced herself to be patient.

Late in the afternoon, finding the phone's silence unbearable, she drove to St. Peter's to practice piano, hoping to fill her head with Chopin, Schubert, and Beethoven. At six thirty, she picked up a sandwich at a cafe near the church, then returned to practice.

What if something has happened to Guy? she thought, and almost used that as an excuse to call him. But she knew that Kip had her phone number "in case of emergency" and would have contacted her if there had been a problem. At eight twenty, she drove home, setting her phone on the car seat so she could quickly pick it up.

Arriving at the Seabright, Ivy saw that both Kelsey's and Will's cars were gone.

The cottage's windows were dark, and inside it was silent. Ivy walked quietly, reluctant to disturb the building's twilight In the kitchen only the night light burned, shining on a note from Aunt Cindy that said she would be out for the evening.

Hoping to take her mind off Guy, Ivy headed upstairs to fetch her paperback mystery. Halfway up the steps she stopped. Candlelight flickered against the bedroom's low ceiling. She tiptoed to the top of the stairs and stared with amazement at Beth, who was sitting on the floor by Dhanya's bed, focusing on the Ouija board.

Above the circle of tea lights, Beth's profile was ghostly white, a streak of crimson staining her cheek. She gave no sign of knowing that Ivy was moving toward her.

With her fingers resting on the planchette, Beth closed her eyes and chanted softly. Ivy leaned forward, trying to hear the words. "Answer, answer, give me your answer" Beth murmured.

Seconds ticked by. Beth's hands, shoulders, and head were still. The only movement was that of her eyes beneath pale, closed lids. She was like a person dreaming, her eyes darting behind the lids, seeing things that Ivy could not.

"
Answer, answer, give me your answer
."

The planchette started to move, its motion erratic at first.

"
Answer, answer
!" Beth chanted, her voice more insistent. The triangular piece moved in a slow circle around the board—counterclockwise.

Ivy counted six circles. Then six more, and six more again.

"
Answer, answer, give me your answer
, Is it you?"

The planchette moved to the letter G.

Ivy held her breath. Guy or Gregory?

The plastic slid sideways and down to the letter R.

Ivy watched, nerves tingling.

E...G...O...R...Y...

"Gregory," Ivy mouthed.

I...S...

"Is," she said softly, but Beth, deep in a trance, didn't hear.

H...

"Stop it!" Ivy cried out.

E...

"Stop it, Beth!"

R...

"Stop it now!''

Before the planchette touched the final E, Ivy leaned down and swept it toward GOOD BYE, then off the board.

Beth's head jerked back as if Ivy had slapped her. "Beth, what are you doing?"

Ivy demanded. "I can't believe you'd try to—"

"He's here" Beth said in a faraway voice. 'There's no stopping him now."

A loud knock made Ivy jump. She glanced toward the stairway—someone was at the cottage door. Beth leaned forward and calmly blew out each candle. Before she reached the last Ivy ran down the steps. Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door.

"Oh, thank God!" she said.

"Ivy, are you okay?" Guy asked and quickly stepped inside. "You're trembling. What's wrong?"

"I'm just—just spooked." It was too dark to see his eyes, but Ivy could feel Guy studying her.

"Spooked by me?" he asked.

She laughed shakily. "No. Beth—" How could she explain? "It's a long story."

"So let's take a long walk," he said.

"THE THING I LOVE MOST ABOUT BEING ON A BEACH IS that one half of the world is the sky," Ivy told Guy as they stood at the top of the steps that led down the bluff.

"One half of the world is the stars," he replied. Ivy turned to him. Tristan, she thought, do you remember? Do you remember kissing me in a cathedral of stars?

Guy gazed upward, his head back, taking in the stars. "They're so bright when you're away from town lights. They look closer."

"Close enough to touch," Ivy said.

"There's Orion, the hunter." Guy pointed. "I recognize his sword." They walked down the steps together, removed their shoes, and followed the path through the dunes. "Want to walk by the water's edge?" Guy asked. "Now that I know how to float," he added with a smile, "I'm not afraid of drowning in an inch of ocean."

Ivy reached for Guy's hand and they walked toward the water. The tide was receding, leaving behind a cache of silver pebbles and shells. After they had walked a distance, Ivy turned to look at their footprints, his close to hers, matching strides. Guy turned too, then smiled and put his arm around her as they continued to walk.

"So tell me what spooked you,". Guy said, "Something about Beth?" Ivy nodded.

"Beth is psychic." Guy slowed midstride. "She is?"

"Yes, she truly has the gift. But it's a curse, too. What Beth sees, what she senses, often frightens her."

"You said she helped you last year. Did she figure out that Gregory was the killer?"

"She figured out an important part of it."

"What did Beth see tonight?" he asked.

Ivy shrugged off his question. "It doesn't matter. I overreacted. Sometimes I think that Beth mixes up what she sees and what she imagines. She's got a very fertile imagination."

With one hand, Guy turned Ivy's face toward him and gazed at her steadily. "I think it does matter, because it upset you. But you'll tell me when you're ready."

Then he dropped his arm from her shoulder, and said, "Watch this!"

He dashed into the water, up to his thighs, then turned to grin at her, letting a wave race past him. "Are you impressed?" he asked. "Tell me you're impressed."

"Very!"

She ran toward him, kicking up the frothy surf. They held hands facing each other, as wave after wave rushed at them. Each time a wave receded, she felt him gripping her hand harder. "You don't like the undertow."

"It scares me more than a breaking wave," he admitted. "It feels like the ocean wants to pull me back into the darkness."

"I won't let the ocean have you," she said. "Nothing can make me let go."

"How did I ever get this lucky? I must have done something really good in my life."

"You did many good things." He laughed.

"No, I know it!" she insisted.

Laughing still, he lifted her left hand and kissed her on the knuckle.

"And I believe in something much more than luck," she said.

"Your angels," he guessed. "You've nearly made a believer out of me... Nearly."

They waded back to shore and followed their own footprints, returning to the path through the dimes. Halfway up the wooden steps, at the landing with the facing benches, Guy reached up and caught Ivy by the elbow. "Can we stop? I want to take a look," he said.

Together they gazed out at the sea and sky, a black and silver eternity.

"I feel like we're floating in midair," he said.

"Halfway between heaven and earth," Ivy replied.

Guy turned to her. Holding her face with both hands, he tilted it up to him, then bent down to kiss her low, in the tender notch of her collarbone. His mouth moved up to her throat, softly pressing against it. "I love you. Ivy."

She rested against him. "And I love you."
Always have
, she said silently.

"I thought I'd lost all that a person can," Guy said. "But I told myself that things couldn't get worse—without an identity, there was nothing left to lose. I was wrong. I'm terrified now that I will lose you. If I lose you, Ivy—"

"Hush!" She stroked his cheek with her hand.

"If I lose you, it would have been better to drown."

"You're not going to lose me." He shook his head. "But if something should come between us—"

"Nothing can," she said. "I promise you, nothing in heaven or earth can come between us." They turned to climb the rest of the steps and walked slowly around the inn, his arm around her waist, her arm around his. There was no need to speak, no desire to.

Ivy didn't want to think about what had occurred in the past or what lay in the future. Tristan had come back to her. To live in the present forever was all that she wanted. All that she had ever wanted was here and now. "Luke McKenna?"

Startled by the deep voice, Ivy looked up and was surprised to see two police officers. Guy's head jerked around and his arm let go of her.

"You're under arrest," the man said. "You have the right to remain—"

Guy took off, racing for the trees. The officers spun around, flashlights on, but he slipped between the pines and melted into the darkness. The younger officer, a woman, set off in pursuit. The heavyset man stayed with Ivy, arms folded, studying her.

Her mind was reeling. Luke, she thought. His name is Luke. And he had known it—she had felt him react when the officer spoke his name. How long had he known it—since the carnival? Before?

The police officer turned to glance over his shoulder, and Ivy followed his eyes.

Will stood halfway between the cottage and barn.

"Are you aware of how much danger you were in?" the man asked Ivy. "Do you realize what Luke McKenna has done?"

She stared at the officer and said nothing. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, chilling her. "Lucky for you," the officer continued, "that your friend alerted us."

Ivy glanced toward Will, then fixed her eyes on the officer's face. "What is Guy—Luke—being charged with?"

The man's heavy chin and jowls rested against his uniform collar. He was sizing her up, as if he thought she might be faking ignorance. "You have no idea?"

"No," she said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Murder."

Twenty five

IVY DOUBLED OVER AS IF SHE HAD TAKEN A FIST IN the gut. She could barely walk to the cottage door, and finally reaching it, sank down on the step.

A few minutes later, the female officer returned, winded. 

"I couldn't catch him," she reported between gasps. "He's in good shape and knows the area better than me. Of course, I could have used some back up."

The older officer replied, "I didn't hear his bike take off. And we know where he's living. We'll get him."

Then he nodded toward Ivy. "I want you to take her in and get a statement. She doesn't seem to know anything."

"How old are you?" the woman asked.

"Eighteen," Ivy said, assuming that would keep them from contacting her mother.

"We're not charging you with anything, we just want to ask some questions. Even so, you have a right to have a lawyer present."

"I don't need a lawyer."

"Want to bring your friend along?" the woman suggested, gesturing toward Will, who was approaching them.
Will to the rescue
, Ivy thought,
Will to the rescue
one more time
.

"Thanks. I prefer to go alone." Will stopped in his tracks.

"Okay, my car's in the lot."

The older officer stayed behind, waiting for assistance in picking up the motorbike. Ivy followed the police car in her Beetle. At the small station she was led to a room that reeked of burnt coffee and the artificial butter of microwave popcorn.

"Can I get you anything—water, coffee, tea?" the police woman asked, pouring herself some muddy coffee, then mixing in dry lumps of creamer.

Ivy shook her head.

"My name's Donovan," the officer said, sitting down at a table across from Ivy. "Rosemary Donovan." She handed Ivy a card with her name, badge number, and phone number, then opened a folder. "I've got some questions."

Slowly, painfully. Ivy answered all of them—how and when she met Luke, how he left the hospital, and what he had told her about his past—nothing. The final question was the most difficult for her: What had she observed about him when she was with him?

Ivy stared at the coffee rings on the table between them. What could she say—that she had observed his kindness toward a stray cat?

That when Guy—Luke—kissed her, she nearly wept at his tenderness?

How could someone who had seemed so loving be a murderer? How could he have acted so convincingly? Gregory is here. Remembering the message from the Ouija board, Ivy went cold all over.

Gregory had come back, just as Beth said. And Lacey was right: Slipping inside Guy's mind, Gregory could easily persuade, tempt. After a long silence, Donovan asked, "Are you in love with Luke?"

Ivy felt sick. How could she have fallen in love with a heart haunted by Gregory? She dropped her head in her hands. "Is there something you want to tell me?" the officer asked quietly.

"No."

"Maybe you want to ask some questions," the woman suggested. 

Ivy looked up. "Who was killed? Why do you think that"—she hesitated, then made a determined effort to use his real name—"that Luke did it? How did Will know Luke was wanted for murder?"

"Will O'Leary?" Donovan checked the file. "He contacted the hospital in Hyannis, telling them about a patient who had skipped out on them. O'Leary supplied the patient's first name, and the hospital contacted the local police, who contacted other municipalities.

A match was made and we realized we were investigating a person who had more than unpaid medical bills on his record. "As for the victim—" She handed a photograph across the table. Ivy gazed down at a girl with dark hair and dark eyes, eyes with a spark of mischief in them. "Her name is Corinne Santori."

"How old?" Ivy asked. "Nineteen. She was a former girl friend of Luke's. One friend said they were secretly engaged. She broke it off and he was furious."

"How did he ... do it?"

"Strangled her."

Ivy shut her eyes, remembering, halfway between heaven and earth, the tenderness with which he had kissed her throat. "You okay?" the woman asked.

"Yeah." Ivy took a deep breath, then described the girl she had seen him talking to at the carnival. She did not hide the fact that he had lied, denying that the girl had called him Luke.

Lying, denying, and pretending to care, Ivy thought. Why didn't I see Gregory's presence in Guy? When they were done, the officer offered to follow Ivy back to the cottage. "I'm okay," Ivy insisted.

"Then I'll tell my partner to expect you." Ivy nodded.

"Be careful. Ivy. Be really careful. We don't want to find another dead girl."