Persuasion (5 page)

Hearing him mention Eight again, Barrie finally got her
throat to work. She filled her lungs and screamed for him. Where was he, anyway? How was he not there?

Her voice came out a strangled screech, instead of the words that she intended.

A muffled rustle and a rush of air pulled her attention back to Obadiah, but he was gone. Just gone. There was an empty flowerbed where he had been, and emptiness all the way to the corner of the house. Emptiness to the front steps in the other direction.

That was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

“Bear?” Eight rounded the corner at a sprint and stopped beside her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

A piece of Barrie clicked back into place when Eight touched her, the finding gift homing in on him in the Watson version of magnetic north. For the moment, their argument ceased to matter.

“You’re as white as that old peacock over there.” Eight grasped her hands and held them. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The albino peacock was, as usual, perched on the hood of Pru’s ancient black Mercedes, more proof that no one had run away in that direction. Obadiah wasn’t anywhere. Had he been there at all?

“Th-there was a man.” She fought to get the words out. “Obadiah. He was here a second ago.”

“Where? There’s no one.” Eight scanned the same empty flowerbed and vacant drive that Barrie had searched already.

She tried to summon up a picture to describe who she’d seen, but her memories were smoke. The more she tried to catch them, the harder it was to recall what she was trying to remember.

She had found something, hadn’t she? A green disk of some kind?

Thinking of the disk brought everything flooding back. Uncurling her fingers, she held her palm out, ready to show Eight the reason she had turned and seen the man in the first place. Because he had used it to test her finding gift.

Except the disk, too, was gone.

She stared at her empty palm. The imprint of a raven’s head was pressed into the heel of her hand where her fist had clenched around the token, and then that, too, disappeared. She opened her mouth to tell Eight to look, but the words slipped away. What had she meant to say?

“Why are you gaping like a fish, Bear? What happened? Who was the guy? What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Barrie dug her fingernails into her palms, hoping the twinge of pain would clear the strange fog from her head. “Maybe there wasn’t anyone.” She shook her head. “No, I’m sure. There wasn’t anyone.”

Eight’s lips paled as they tightened. “You’re scaring me.
Focus. You said the guy’s name was Obadiah. You didn’t make that up. Where did you see him?”

The name brought a brief tug of memory. Barrie pointed at the flowerbed, but a moment later, she couldn’t remember why. She followed close behind Eight as he stepped onto the loamy soil. She barely avoided a collision when he stooped to examine a footprint that had sunk deep into the ground a few inches from the house.

At the sight of the footprint, the image of Obadiah snapped back into focus. He had stood exactly there, in that spot, all of his weight resting on one leg while he’d propped the other foot against the wall.

Why hadn’t Barrie been able to remember that? He had walked toward her, walked right past where she was standing now, and the
yunwi
hadn’t liked it. . . .

“Bear? Are you okay?” Eight straightened, and she looked up.

Everything went fuzzy again, then blank. She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Someone was here, obviously, but I don’t understand how there’s only the one footprint. I really need you to think. What did he say? Did he hurt you? Did he threaten you? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”

“I’m trying to tell you.” Frustration fluttered in Barrie’s stomach. “But you never listen.”

With a pained sigh, Eight wrapped his arm around her waist, radiating heat back into her body where she’d gone cold. “All right. Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “Let’s get you inside.”

She stared up at him while the
yunwi
wove slowly around the bushes and the driveway as though they, too, were hunting for something or someone. “I’m not crazy,” she said. “I don’t make people up.”

“I know.” Eight cast another glance around the yard before he ushered her up the stairs and back into the house. “I really wish I thought you did.”

In the dim light of the foyer, with the front door safely closed behind them and the grim portraits of Watson ancestors watching Barrie from the walls, it seemed ridiculous to have been so shaken.

“Don’t say anything to Pru, all right?” She tugged the rolled-up sleeve of Eight’s shirt and coaxed him to a stop. “I don’t want to worry her about nothing.”

“This wasn’t nothing. I need to go back out there to look around.”

“If you’re going, then I’m going with you.”

“Whoever was out there disappeared when I showed up, which means you’re the one he was after. You’d be safer in the house with Pru.”

Barrie hated when he was logical.

Catching her hand, Eight hurried toward the kitchen with its 1970s avocado-colored appliances and lack of anything remotely modern. The warm scent of roasting beef and herbs hung to dry in the window mingled with the perfume of fresh-cut roses in the bowl laid on the crisp cloth draping the kitchen table. If love had a scent, this was it: food and flowers and herbs and warmth. Coupled with the sight of her aunt slicing tomatoes at the counter beside the sink, it instantly made Barrie feel more grounded.

“Now, where did you two get to?” Pru turned with a smile. “I went to see if you wanted some tea after Seven left, but you had disappeared.” Her smiled faded as she took a closer look at Eight. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Not at all,” Barrie said.

Eight sent her a sideways glance, but continued undeterred: “There was someone trespassing out front. A man. He tried to speak to Barrie.”

“One of those ghost-chasers from the river?” Pru’s voice went tight, and the tendons in her neck stood out, as taut as strings beneath her skin. “I swear, I’ve had it up to here with them. One of them came sneaking up past the fountain this morning. I had to tell him to clear out.”

“I’m not even sure I saw anyone,” Barrie said, sending Eight a fearsome glare. “It could have been a shadow, for all I know. If someone was there, he’s long gone by now.”

Pru turned to Eight for confirmation. “I don’t understand. Was there someone or wasn’t there?”

“He left a footprint in the flowerbed,” Eight said without looking at Barrie.

“Which could have been there last week, for all we know,” she pointed out.

Eight tilted his chin at her. “It looked pretty fresh to me.”

“Because you’re suddenly an expert on footprints?”

“Oh, I am so tired of these people!” Pru wiped her hands and tore off her apron. “Why can’t they let us have some peace and quiet? Seven should have forced the sheriff to arrest a few of them days ago, and then we wouldn’t have trespassers roaming around thinking they can do whatever . . .” She stared at the floor, and then her head came back up.

Eight watched her with concern. “Want me to call Dad and get him to come back here?”

“No. I’ll do it.” Lips pursed, Pru threw the apron onto the counter before marching toward the square, black phone on the wall near the back door that led out to the porch and upper terrace. She picked the receiver up to dial.

Eight poured himself the last glass of sweet tea from the pitcher and dropped into a chair. “Want this?” he added as an afterthought, holding the glass out to Barrie as if nothing had changed between them. As if one little worry wiped away their entire argument.

“No, and for someone who knows what I want, you pay zero attention. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Why
aren’t
you making a big deal out of it?” Folding his arms, Eight studied her, taking her apart and putting her back together. “You’re the girl who used to hate having strangers wandering around here when the garden was open. Now some random guy shows up and you aren’t even scared? That makes no sense.”

He was right. Barrie should have been scared. She should have been panicked.

Why wasn’t she?

Eight seemed to believe she had mentioned a man named Obadiah. Not only did she not remember saying the words, she didn’t remember why she would have said them. As if the memories themselves had been plucked from her brain, leaving behind empty spaces.

Pru half-turned away to speak into the telephone, winding and unwinding the loopy black phone cord around her finger as she talked to Seven in a voice designed for Barrie and Eight not to overhear.

When she finally hung up, she came back to the table. “Seven’s coming back over now. And, Eight? He told me to remind you that Wyatt Colesworth had some unsavory friends. Regardless of how it turns out with Ernesto, you shouldn’t go out there by yourself.” She caught Eight’s eye and held it a
moment as if there were more to the message than the words.

Barrie’s stomach knotted and she gripped the edge of the table. “What do you mean, ‘turns out with Ernesto’? I thought the police assumed that his body swept out to sea or the alligators got him? He’s dead.”

“Of course.” Pru and Eight exchanged another look. “This close to the ocean, they might never recover the remains,” Pru said. “But it never hurts to be cautious. The point is, he and Wyatt weren’t smuggling drugs alone. There had to have been other people involved. Quintero Cartel people, not to mention locals—Colesworths, most likely—helping them on the boat. It’ll be months before the police untangle all of that.”

The smile she gave Barrie was meant for reassurance, but the best Barrie could manage was a stiff nod in return. Pru didn’t push the point. Averting her face as if she were the one who needed time to collect herself, Barrie’s aunt crossed to the butler’s pantry and disappeared. Barrie dropped into the chair beside Eight’s and kicked his ankle beneath the table.

“Ow.” He gave her a wounded look. “What did you do that for?”

“You know exactly why, you jerk. You didn’t tell me the police were still investigating Ernesto. Also, I told you not to upset Pru about Obadiah.”

“She’s not that upset. Anyway, what about
me
? Here you are, talking about a guy who disappears into thin air and then
telling me he wasn’t there and acting like
I’m
the crazy one for being worried.” Eight’s eyes were grave, and despite his teasing tone, he was clearly more shaken than he let on.

Lifting the empty pitcher of tea from the table, he sloshed the ice around in the bottom, and then poured the last few drops of liquid out into his glass as Pru came back into the kitchen. She was carrying a large bowl filled with raw sweet potatoes, which she proceeded to peel at the sink in a flurry of flying skins. A Band-Aid-size strip of potato skin hit the backsplash behind the sink and slid slowly down the tiles.

Barrie watched it, oddly mesmerized. Then she gave Eight’s ankle another tap. “Right. Clearly Pru’s not upset. At all.” She pushed her chair back, then crossed over to the sink. “Want me to peel those potatoes for you, Aunt Pru?”

“That’s all right. I’ve got it. I need something to do with my hands anyway.” The furious peeling paused, and Pru plucked the skin off the counter and threw it into the sink.

“Speaking of doing something . . . I think I’ll go check to make sure all the doors and windows are locked.” Eight got up from the table.

Pru cast him a narrowed look. “With everything that’s been going on, I’ve made sure every one is closed up tight, believe me.”

Barrie thought of Pru alone in the house, alone without even Seven nearby to call, and people creeping around the
property at night. It upset her all over again. How could the Beauforts have kept that secret from her?

“What about installing motion detectors along the waterline and dock?” she asked. “We had them in San Francisco. I’m not sure if animals or the
yunwi
would set them off—the
yunwi
might think that was fun—but it might be worth a try.”

Pru tilted her head as she considered. “It’s not a bad idea. You could explain to the
yunwi
. They seem to listen to you, so maybe they’d leave a system like that alone. On the other hand, we do have raccoons wandering in from the woods, not to mention gators and birds, so we could ask whoever installs the system to adjust the sensitivity. Darrel down at the hardware store ought to know who I could call for that.”

As Pru returned to the phone, Barrie opened the cabinet and took down four Blue Willow plates. The sense of familiarity that came from seeing the same pattern she had used all her life at her mother’s house was comforting.

For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe it had been more than nostalgia that had made her mother try to re-create Watson’s Landing in the San Francisco house, from the style of the house itself and the furnishings down to these same Blue Willow plates.

The Watson gift had already been exerting its pull on Lula the night she had run away after finding the entrance to the Watson tunnel. After having taught his daughters that the
gift was evil so that they wouldn’t discover Luke and Twila’s bodies, Emmett must have been scared and furious. And how had Lula felt when she ran away from that rage? She had rowed across the river with some romantic notion that Wade Colesworth was going to save her, envisioning a Romeo and Juliet romance. Instead, she had stumbled across Wyatt smuggling drugs, and then spent her life exiled from Pru and Watson’s Landing while her gift did its best to pull her back.