Page 84 of The Wicked

I’d been so busy thinking of the “what” I hadn’t stopped to consider the “why.” But now that the adrenaline was dissipating and the threat of jail had receded, I saw that Luca was absolutely right. Saralisa had been deliberately targeted.

“They knew she was there.”

“The question is how? I can tell you that the fact she’s been staying in the pool house isn’t common knowledge in Baldwin’s Shore. She only told me and Brooke two weeks ago. Until then, we thought she was staying in the big house the same as always. And before you ask, Brooke didn’t tell anyone and neither did I.”

It got worse.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.” The words were like sandpaper in my throat. “A meeting got cancelled at the last minute, and I flew back early to see her.”

If Mandy Caukwell hadn’t tripped over her Maltese terrier and ended up in the hospital getting her ankle pinned, I’d still have been in Los Angeles. And Saralisa would have gone through hell. She’d be in the damn morgue, not freaking out somewhere in this fucking house.

“So who knew the details of your schedule? The perp clearly wasn’t expecting you, and he wasn’t aware of the motion sensors either, which means we can probably rule out the Baldwin family hiring someone. When Brie’s team was fitting the system, EJ complained that the drilling was too loud, and one of the twins had a hissy fit about privacy because she thought we were installing cameras and she likes to sunbathe topless by the pool.”

Thanks for the warning.

Hold on a second… “You think her family would be capable of hiring that psycho? To rape and kill her?”

“We have to consider every possibility. What did Sherlock Holmes say? That once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

“It was Arthur Conan Doyle, actually. But I see your point.” And if we were going to philosophise, then another quote sprang to mind, this time from Arthur Schopenhauer:All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

I’d done the ridiculing, not openly, but in my own mind. And we’d sure had the violence tonight. I was heading toward stage three, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to arrive at the destination.

“I used to think the Baldwins were irritating yet harmless,” Colt said. “But one of them is in jail for murder and another for attempted murder, so I’m open to the idea that they could do something as fucked up as trying to have Sara killed. But the pieces don’t fit. Which leaves us with the possibility that someone fixated on Sara. I don’t think that happened here because the dead guy isn’t familiar, but I hear she’s been spending time in Roseburg lately. Did you see anyone following her? Get the prickly feeling that something was wrong?”

“We barely went out. Saralisa isn’t a party girl, and I don’t enjoy my every move being posted on the internet.”

But the pieces… Those jagged, illogical, unconscionable pieces…

“The perp’s prints aren’t in AFIS. Either he’s a first-timer, or he’s been too smart to get caught.”

Or he had connections.

“I need to make a call.”

“We haven’t finished here.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Colt shook his head.

I found an unoccupied music room and dialled my brother. I had to know. I had to know whether the horror story I was writing in my head was fact or fiction. Two minutes later, my worst fears had been confirmed, and predictably, Trey didn’t see what the big deal was.

“Lighten up. Elina probably forgot already. Hey, is it true that you emptied a clip at a guy with a machete?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Facebook. Angela’s hyperventilating. Mom made her breathe into a paper bag.”

“I used reasonable force to stop a man from killing me.”

“But was it, like, a whole clip?”

“It’s called a magazine, you fuckwit.”

I hung up and sank onto the piano stool, trying to collect my thoughts. This could all be my fault. I’d almost lost the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, my soulmate, and it was my fault for brushing away her concerns. For hearing but not listening. For thinking I knew best when she’d lived this nightmare for sixteen years.

Grabbing Saralisa and moving to a desert island was tempting, but I had to face the music. In the Marines, I’d parachuted into hostile territory with less trepidation than this, my heart hammering and adrenaline coursing through my veins. Colt and Luca were waiting expectantly when I returned.

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