Everlasting (11 page)

“I am disapproving.”

Bryan popped the piece into his mouth. “Filet mignon,” he said, then sighed and closed the container. “You sure know how to ruin a guy’s appetite.”

Ivy laughed at him and he smiled back. Returning the meat to the refrigerator, he went back to searching the drawers and returned to the island with a bunch of grapes. “There are plenty more in there,” he said, “so don’t frown at me.”

“All right. Listen, Bryan, I have some questions.”

He sat down on a tall chair and pulled out the one next to him. “Obviously you didn’t follow me here to raid the refrigerator. I figured you wanted to talk about something—like Luke.”

Ivy sat down and wrapped her feet around a chair rung. “Luke was really in love with Corinne, even after she dumped him, right?”

“Yes. God, yes!”

“From what I read about Corinne, she was going to art school and had her own apartment and a job. Luke didn’t make it through eleventh grade. They seemed kind of a strange match.”

“No stranger than Luke and
you
,” Bryan said, dropping a grape in his mouth. “What draws you to him?”

Ivy thought quickly—Tristan, not Luke, had drawn her. She tried to remember how Bryan had characterized Luke the last time they talked. And she was careful to speak in the past tense. “I guess I saw a kind of need in him. On the surface he seemed strong, but underneath he was vulnerable—almost lost.”

“Exactly. Luke only had his mom, who’d do just about anything for a drink. She couldn’t take care of herself, much less him. No schedule, no real meals, no clean clothes from the time he was a little kid. Growing up, he hung around our house—I told you that. My parents laid down some rules and fed him. It helped. But after a while, I guess it gets weird hanging with your friend’s parents. Then he found Corinne. She was very sure of herself and was glad to order him around like a parent.”

“You didn’t like her,” Ivy guessed.

“I admired her. Corinne’s own home life was no picnic. Her mom ended up with the prince of evil stepdads, at best a jerk, at worst . . .” Bryan shrugged and didn’t finish the statement. “But Corinne was like a good athlete, disciplined and ambitious. You know the old saying, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’? That girl had steel in her, and Luke was drawn to it.”

“And she was drawn to his need, his vulnerability,” Ivy filled in.

“Aren’t all girls?”

Ivy grimaced.

Bryan shrugged. “Maybe not. Anyway, what was between them worked for a while, until Corinne cashed in her ticket. You need to understand, Ivy, everyone in River Gardens is looking for their ticket out. Hers was her photography. Mine was hockey.”

“And Luke—”

“Could have had one in hockey. He had more raw talent than me, but there were things he just couldn’t overcome.”

Bryan pushed the grapes toward Ivy and she plucked off two.

“Who were his enemies?” she asked.

“Luke didn’t have any
real
enemies.”

“But in an article I read he was charged with assault and—”

“Those charges were dropped,” Bryan said sharply. “Sorry, didn’t mean to jump on you. It’s just that, after Corinne died, reporters started digging around for old stories, you know, something to show that the justice system and social workers should have seen trouble coming. They made something out of nothing. Everyone in River Gardens knew he had a drinking problem and steered clear when necessary. When sober, he was a good friend, the best. The person who he got in a fight with—just a bar brawl—was passing through and acting stupid.”

“And yet,” Ivy said, “a few weeks ago someone beat him up—”

“Yeah, I see where you’re headed. If the news accounts were accurate, that was more than a scuffle.”

“He was left for dead!” Ivy said. “He was unconscious. If the tide had washed over him, he would have drowned.”

Bryan drummed his fingers against the shiny granite countertop. “He must have gotten help from someone in the stretch between me and you. He had to eat. He probably stole. Maybe he made an enemy while on the lam.”

Ivy sat back. She hadn’t considered that possibility. She could search out every detail of Luke’s life in River Gardens and still not find out who wanted to kill him.

“Do you know where he went after he left Providence?” she asked. “How far did you drive him?”

“I left him off in New York. He and I are city kids—he’d never make it hiding in the mountains of Vermont. Manhattan was a good a place to get lost in a crowd.”

And an impossible place for her and Tristan to trace Luke’s path
, Ivy thought. But he had ended up close to his roots, and she had to start somewhere.

“After Corinne’s murder, how did the people in River Gardens see Luke? Did they turn against him?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Bryan replied. “It was April, and I was at school when the news broke. I went home for
the funeral, of course, but everyone was still in shock. The weekend after, I went home again, but that time I was just getting Luke out of there, not hanging out with old friends.”

“If someone from River Gardens recognized him, would they go the police?”

Bryan pushed away the grapes and leaned forward on his arms, thinking. “Maybe. If the police offered a decent reward, I know a few who would. I just hope Luke stays far away from Providence.”

“People travel all over in the summer,” Ivy continued. “A lot come here. There was the girl at the carnival—”

“Alicia Crowley? She’d never turn on him. Alicia had a major crush on Luke going back to River Gardens Middle. She left our high school at the beginning of senior year—her parents beat it out of the neighborhood as soon as they could. Anyway, I always thought she was in love with Luke. I know she could never hurt him, not like Corinne.”

“Do you think he killed Corinne?” Ivy asked bluntly.

Elbows on the table, head bowed, Bryan was silent for a long time, then shook his head. “I don’t see how the Luke
I knew
could have.”

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. Did she dare to hope? Or was this just a wish fueled by Bryan’s loyalty and her own desperation?

It didn’t matter—she couldn’t stop hoping. What if someone else had killed Corinne? What if she and Tristan
could prove Luke was innocent? Then they would be free to live and love in the open. That’s all she was asking for—a chance to love as they would have, if Gregory hadn’t destroyed their life together.

If this hope was real, they needed to find Luke’s enemy to protect Tristan, and Corinne’s enemy to free him. Which meant Ivy had to learn everything she could about Corinne as well as Luke. And the place to start was the third person in their unhappy love triangle—Alicia Crowley.

“EXCUSE ME FOR INTERRUPTING,” KELSEY SAID
sharply.

Bryan quickly raised his head and Ivy turned on her stool. They had been sitting silently, their heads close together, Ivy debating whether to ask for Bryan’s help in locating Alicia.

Kelsey strode across the kitchen, bearing down on Ivy. “When Will told me you were with Bryan, he didn’t mention you were having an intimate conversation.”

“We were just talking,” Ivy replied mildly.

“That’s how it starts.”

“C’mon, Kelsey,” Bryan said in a teasing voice. “Don’t you know roommates are off limits? That’s what Ivy told me.”

Kelsey took the bait: “So
you
were hoping—”

“No, no.” He reached for her hands and pulled her close. “I was just waiting to see when you’d get tired of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.”

Ivy slid off her stool, eager to get away before she got sucked into another round of their romantic game. “Where’s Will?”

“Trying to reach Beth,” Kelsey replied, leaning provocatively against Bryan. “He’s wasting the whole party texting. The girl he was talking to gave up and stalked off.”

To Ivy this was good news; it meant Will realized there was a reason to worry. She headed back to the party. After being sidetracked on the porch by Max and the girl who’d been lured by his expensive boats, Ivy found Will standing alone at the end of the yard. He looked at his phone, punched something in, then slipped it in his pocket. She walked toward him quickly.

“Did you hear from Beth?”

Will swung around. “No.”

“I’m worried, Will.”

“And you think I’m not?”

The thin peel of moon and stars had melted away completely. Heat lightning flashed in the distance.

“I know for a fact that you are,” she assured him. “With your car, she could be anywhere and—”

“You’re blaming me for lending my car?”

Ivy hesitated, then answered honestly. “A little. I know you meant well, but I don’t think you realize—”

“I’m not stupid! I can see she’s not acting like herself.”

Ivy remained silent in the face of his defensiveness, hoping they could get past it and really talk about Beth.

“You know,” Will continued, “when people go through rough times and act a little different than they used to, their true friends stick around and listen.”

“The problem is, Beth won’t let me,” Ivy replied, and took a step closer.

The edge of the lawn gave way to a short slope of rocks with four steps down to the beach. Will descended the steps, keeping a distance between him and Ivy.

“Beth has pulled away from me and nearly everyone else,” Ivy continued. “You saw her at the fireworks.”

“She doesn’t like Chase,” Will said as if that explained it all.

“You saw how she was yesterday, when Dhanya and I came down to the beach,” Ivy persisted, joining Will at the bottom of the steps. “And with the guests at the inn—you’ve seen how different she is from when we started the job—how cold she’s become.”

“She’s tired.”

“You’re making excuses, Will! Why can’t you face it? Something is very wrong with Beth, and simply listening to her is not going to help.” At the bottom of the steps a path led through a meadow of sea grass to the open sand. Will strode down the path. Ivy watched him for a minute, then followed slowly, trying to give him the space he needed, but determined to get to the issue of Gregory.

“Will, on Wednesday, Beth left broken glass in my shoe.”

He turned toward Ivy.

“You remember what Gregory did to Ella and me last summer,” Ivy continued. “It’s a warning.”

“Beth claims you put glass in
her
shoe.”

“I heard her tell you that, but she was either lying or confused.”

“You heard her? How?”

Ivy bit her lip.

“You were eavesdropping,” Will said, his voice accusatory. “You were sneaking around under my window.”

Ivy tried to explain: “I was coming over to tell you about the glass and got there just after she did.”

Will shook his head. “I think you’re both crazy.”

“You can think what you want about me,” Ivy replied, “and a lot of your anger, I admit, I’ve earned. But right now we’re talking about Beth, and I want you to listen hard—for her sake. Gregory has come back. He slipped inside her mind the night of the séance and is using her to get at me.
I don’t how to help her, how to get rid of him, how to bring back the Beth you and I love. The only thing I know for sure is that I need your help. Gregory is getting stronger.”

For a moment Will just stared at her. In the distance a flash of lightning outlined clouds over the bay. After a long pause, thunder rumbled.

“Think about it, Will,” Ivy said. Then she left him alone, hoping he’d figure it out sooner rather than later. For Beth’s sake.

SHORTLY AFTER, WITH A STORM APPROACHING, THE
party moved inside. Claiming she had a headache, Ivy made arrangements for Dhanya and Will to get a ride home, then headed to her car. The storm broke quickly, a smattering of fat raindrops on her windshield suddenly turning into a downpour. Peering through the torrent, watching the road ahead appear and disappear as images of it were wiped off by the rubber blades, Ivy couldn’t see the church as she drove past. “Be safe, Tristan,” she murmured and continued on to the cottage.

She planned to start her search for Alicia Crowley as soon as she arrived home. Hopefully, Alicia had posted enough information on Facebook to allow Ivy to get in touch with her. She could friend Alicia, but she didn’t want to leave an electronic trail for the police or anyone else who might be searching for “Luke.” A face-to-face meeting would work best.

Arriving at the inn’s lot, Ivy saw that Will’s car was still missing, but just inside the cottage door she found a pair of Beth’s shoes that she didn’t remember seeing earlier. The canvas shoes were coated with a damp and gritty mix of sand and soil, like the kind found on the grassy marshland of bayside beaches.

Ivy slipped off her own shoes, soaked from the downpour, and placed them next to Beth’s. Dusty emerged from the kitchen, mewing a greeting.

“You stayed nice and dry,” Ivy said, petting him. “Treats for you, tea for me.”

In the kitchen, Ivy knelt by the cat for a moment as he purred and crunched on his treats. After grabbing a raspberry iced tea from the fridge, she sat down at the kitchen table, eager to get started on her research. She lifted the lid of her laptop, surprised she had left the computer on. The dark screen leaped into life with a photo: She looked into the angry eyes of Gregory.

TRISTAN WAS SWIMMING, OR MAYBE HE WAS FLYING
—the luminous water was as light as air, and his being could move however he willed it. There was just one rule: He couldn’t look back.

He did, and he saw Ivy. Amazed, he turned quickly and flew toward her. She was farther away than he first thought. To reach her, he had to use all the strength and
grace given to him. As he did, the ethereal lightness around him changed. It darkened to a sea and grew heavy with salt and sand. He became aware of his limbs and the way they dragged him down. He heard murmurings from the depths of the sea—menacing, barely human voices. Their voices overlapped, wave after wave washing over him.

The dark voices grew louder, making it hard to think. Every sense except his hearing dimmed. “Ivy?” he cried out. “Ivy! Where are you?”

Tristan awoke, his clothes damp, a trickle of water on his cheek. He sat up quickly and was relieved to find himself in a familiar place, the church tower, and grateful that he heard only the wind high above him. Realizing that rain-water was coming through the open trapdoor, he climbed the ladder.