Page 64 of Death in the Family
But introduce a high-pressure case, throw in our recent spat over taking the job—a job Carson knew McIntyre and Tim both supported—and Carson’s confidence in his plan had waned. He’d spent the whole day picturing Tim and me on the island, engaged in interviews he knew would push me to the limits of my rusty capabilities. It was Carson who’d treated me, and if I lost my shithis role in my recovery was bound to come up. From his perspective, I was playing detective with a man from his past who, with enough coercion, might actually, finally, get angry enough to snap. Carson had been right to worry after all.
“I have to go.” There were alarming sounds coming from the parlor, a noise like chair legs scraping the floor and raised voices, I wasn’t sure whose.
“Yes. Good. McIntyre said she hopes to get a boat out to you in a matter of hours. It’s about time that woman started doing her job. Until then, I want you to remember your breathing exercises and—”
“I’m not leaving the island, Carson. I’m leaving you.”
Saying it out loud was easier than I thought. I didn’t allow myself to think about the real-world implications—the call to my parents telling them the man they’d come to think of as their son-in-law and I were through, the e-mail to the wedding planner Carson hired explaining we wouldn’t need her services after all. When I spoke those words, all I thought about was Tim in his teens. A boy who hadn’t yet started to lift weights and didn’t realize he possessed all the strength he’d ever need. His eyebrows would have looked even more absurd on a thinner face. They would have hovered in bewilderment over the things Carson asked him to do. Carson, who was sharp and bold and knew, even then, he had a special sway over people in this world. How Tim contained his feelings of betrayal and anger, I’ll never know. What I did know was I could never marry a man who took pleasure in his power to inflict so much pain.
Carson tried to reason with me. I knew better than to listen. Just like Tim, I didn’t need him anymore. The sad thing is, neither of us ever did.
I had just ended the call when the kitchen lights flickered. A sound cleaved the silence, the noise like a bolt of electricity zipping along a wire, and the lights went out for good. I spun around to face the kitchen windows. In the distance, through the rain and far off on the shore, a tiny orange flash, and then another. Transformers blowing on the mainland, knocking out the power to the village. Wherever it was, the transformer feeding electricity to Tern Island had failed, too.
More bad noises down the hall. I heard a glass shatter with spectacular force, a muffled thump. Jade screamed, then Bebe. There were shouts from the men, brayed orders and exclamations of confusion. I turned to go. That’s when I felt a hand in my hair and the agony of a punch delivered with precision to my spleen.
Doubled over and breathless with pain, I reached for my gun, but it was dark and my grasp was unreliable. I was too slow. A hot, clammy hand closed over my mouth, and before I could do a thing about it someone was dragging my aching body across the slate kitchen floor.
TWENTY-NINE
He moved quickly, towing me along like a disobedient child. For a second I thought he was taking me to the basement, felt a kick of terror to match the fire in my gut, but it was Norton’s room he took me to. Then I realized. It was the closest room with a lock.
Inside, he slammed my back against the closed door, wrenched my hands above my head, and pinned his body against mine. I felt him reach behind me to find my weapon. He was trying to yank it free. I bucked under his mass, struggled with all my might, but he raked my burned hand down the wooden door. The tender boil left by the burn ruptured and my skin blazed with pain. He jabbed the muzzle of my firearm under my chin and brought his mouth close to my ear. His voice, when he spoke, was thick with rage. “You let her die,” it said.
The voice belonged to Ned.
In my state of shock I struggled to catch up.It was Flynn I’d been expecting to fight in the dark. I’d shot the man, on top of which he was vicious and unstable, already facing prison time. Flynn had nothing to lose—but Ned? His friend was missing, and all day Ned remained collected. It took Abella’s death to make him snap. Abella and Ned were friends, too, spent all their time together in the city. It was always the three of them there—Jasper, Abella, Ned.
Images of Ned Yeboah hurtled through my mind. Ned, overcome with grief next to Abella’s lifeless body. Holding her hand at lunch, and again in the parlor. Comforting her. Stroking her hair.
Ned was a friend to Abella. But to him, I realized then, she’d been something more. When Ned described his friendship with Jasper to me, he’d omitted a critical point. It wasn’t Ned’s disgust with Flynn that made him desperate to get away from the Sinclairs. It was Abby.
I coughed out a warning. He’d be charged with assaulting a police officer. I wasn’t the only investigator on the island. Ned would be arrested in no time, go to prison.
“You think I care? It doesn’t matter. You left.” Ned’s hot chest heaved against mine. “She’s dead. Abby’s dead because of you.”
“What about you?” I winced as the cold, hard barrel of my gun grazed my throat. “Where were you when she went upstairs to change?”
“I didn’t lay a hand on her. She had to use the bathroom. I thought...”
“You thought she was safe? Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”
Under the weight of his fury and sorrow, I sensed Ned drop his head. In that split second I acted. Every muscle in my bodycoiled and released. My knee connected with his groin. He sucked in a breath and let go of my arms.
I staggered away from him, deeper into the small room. Ned still had the gun. The safety was on, and I had no reason to believe he knew what to do about that. But I’d been wrong before.
Beyond the window lightning flashed, and I caught sight of Ned’s face. When he saw me it contorted with rage.
“Put it down,” I said as the room was enveloped in darkness once more. “Killing me won’t bring her back. Lay the gun on the floor and kick it over. Do it now, Ned. You can still turn this around.”
“You don’t understand. I loved her.”
“Enough to hurt Jasper?”
Far off, through the thunder, I heard more shouts. Tim calling my name.Not yet, I pleaded wordlessly, willing Tim to get the message.Wait.
“What happened after the fight,” I said, “when you and Jasper came back inside?”
Ned’s adrenaline was fading. He was coming to his senses. “I told you. I went to bed.”
