I Wish You Missed Me Page 12

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me that?’ she said.

  ‘That’s not how I operate. Besides, I didn’t have any proof, just my gut.’

  ‘And what did your gut tell you about Farley’s trip?’ she asked.

  ‘Same thing. I knew he was lying but I figured it was a personal issue and didn’t give it a second thought.’

  ‘It never occurred to me that Farley wouldn’t be anything but honest about whatever he was doing,’ Kit said. ‘You realize that if you had told me what you suspected, maybe we would have figured out sooner that she was the one in the van?’

  ‘It’s occurred to me.’

  ‘Would you do it differently the next time?’

  His tight lips broke into a smile. ‘I would now. Back then, I thought I was doing the right thing.’

  She sighed to keep herself from saying something she’d regret, and he added, ‘It wasn’t the best judgment on my part, OK? I wasn’t sure how’d you react if I said I thought Monique was lying.’

  ‘There’s more I’d like to tell you,’ she said. ‘If you’re willing to really work together now.’

  He reached down, took her hand in his and lifted it. ‘What are we going to do about this?’

  In spite of the warmth that spread through her, she didn’t hesitate. ‘What we’ve been doing all along, I guess. Only one thing matters right now.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said and let go of her. ‘Finally we agree on something. Let’s go have dinner.’

  They drove slowly through the hills and Kit leaned back in the seat, wondering what else he hadn’t shared with her. Even with the windows up, she could smell the scent of the trees and the wind in his truck. John Paul had been as honest as he could with her tonight. He had accepted what she said about putting whatever else they were thinking about on hold.

  Headlights from a vehicle behind washed over them and she jumped.

  He shook his head, as if he knew what she was thinking. ‘Monique’s too smart for that. My guess is that she’s revisiting old leads, trying to find someone vulnerable.’

  ‘Vulnerable how?’

  ‘Character flaws. Weaknesses. Someone who will buy whatever she pretends to be selling.’

  Kit pictured Jonas in her mind but said nothing.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  If Farley didn’t improve in the next twenty-four hours, Jonas was going to contact Kit Doyle – the real one. He should have done it sooner but too much was at stake. Lying in bed, he tried to sleep, tried to stop worrying. If he had to come forward about what had happened to Farley, they would figure out a way to get Megan out of there first. This wasn’t like before, not this time. He cared about her. Priscilla, Michael and the others were good people. They could start fresh again somewhere else. They had committed no crimes.

  Trying to drift off to Debussy, he kept thinking about Megan – the way she looked at him with trust, the way her lips had hesitated when he kissed her. She was smart, both forceful and gentle. If it worked out for them, he’d help her with her education, her goals. And if it didn’t work out for them?

  I’ll help her anyway.

  He woke to silence and something else, an itching in his nostrils. Smoke. Jonas stumbled out of bed, threw on his clothes and ran outside. A gray stream drifted from the open barn door. Jonas rushed inside and ran into a wall that hit him in the chest.

  Just like that, Jonas was on the ground, looking up into the blurred sky. His nostrils burned and he remembered why he was out here. Slowly, he climbed to his feet. Whoever had attacked him had disappeared. The barn door stood open. Still shaky, Jonas rushed back to his cabin, yanked the extinguisher from the closet and ran back to the barn. The wall and the counters flickered and spread their fire. As his vision cleared, he saw it all – not one blaze but many. His guitars – only the guitars – were on fire, on the work tables and on the walls.

  Choking, Jonas shot the extinguishers at each crumbling instrument, knowing he could stop the fire but not the destruction. His guitars – all that work and love – were gone. Sweat ran down his face and he felt as if the fire had spread to him. As the flames died and soot filled his lungs, he heard a moan from the back of the barn. He headed in the direction of the sound and spotted someone trying to crawl toward the door. As she stretched her arm toward him he realized it was Virgie, Kit Doyle’s friend.

  ‘Help,’ she whispered, and then collapsed to the floor.

  Jonas dropped the extinguisher, ran to her and half-dragged her outside. Still moaning, she coughed and gasped for breath.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He realized his voice was shaking. ‘Why have you done this? Why?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ On her knees, somewhat revived, the woman managed to get to her feet, still fighting for breath. ‘But I saw who did.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Kit and John Paul had eaten dinner in the brewery and taken their time over coffee. Megan’s assertion that Farley was alive was comforting but it didn’t bring them any closer to finding him. Tomorrow they’d confront Jonas together and convince him to tell them the truth.

  ‘Anything else?’ He glanced at Kit’s empty cup. ‘More coffee? Another beer?’

  ‘We probably ought to get back.’

  He nodded but seemed to be watching her from across the table. ‘What’s bothering you?’

  ‘Nothing but the obvious.’

  As they neared his truck, he said, ‘What is it? I’ve told you everything I know. I wouldn’t lie to you.’

  ‘Do you think we’ll find him?’ She could hear the tremor in her voice and knew John Paul heard it too.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  She felt both close to him and far away. Part of it was this place, the sound of the ocean and the breeze with what felt almost like a human touch on her shoulders. ‘What do you think happened?’

  ‘Don’t know that either.’ He opened the door of the truck for her. ‘Other than the fact that Monique is some kind of stalker girl and that Farley lied to her and everyone else about going surfing.’

  As they began to drive back, Kit realized that, in this truck, the sharp turns and deep drops didn’t shove her into panic.

  ‘Jonas is our best shot,’ she said.

  ‘You’re right.’ He turned off the main road and headed toward the motel. ‘We all care about Farley. Surely we can make him see that we want to help. I’ll pick you up, OK?’

  ‘Just tell me when.’

  He parked the truck and they hesitated. Then he reached over and hugged her. ‘Deal,’ he said. Then he stared, as she did, at the empty parking place. ‘Where’s your car?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She got out, ran to the motel room door and, with shaking fingers, managed to unlock it. They both went inside.

  The two beds were the same as Kit had left them – only Virgie’s vest was missing from the foot of hers. John Paul threw open the bathroom door.

  ‘She’s gone,’ he said.

  Kit’s cell rang. She grabbed it out of her purse. ‘It’s Virgie,’ she told him. ‘Where are you?’ she demanded into the phone. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘This is Jonas.’ The voice on the other end sounded unemotional, almost robotic. ‘I think she’ll be OK but you need to get over here. Someone set my barn on fire.’

  By the time Kit and John Paul arrived only a thin spiral of smoke drifted in the air. Virgie stood outside, holding onto the open door. She spotted them and broke into a smile.

  Kit jumped out of the truck and ran to her. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Not a hundred percent sure.’ Virgie allowed Kit to hug her for a moment and then shrugged her away. ‘But I saw who did it. As soon as I came through the window, I realized someone was standing next to it. I tried to get back out but he hit me from behind.’

  ‘He?’ John Paul stepped closer to Virgie, studying her as intently as he had the barn.

  ‘I think so.’ She rubbed her head. ‘It was dark and he was wearing a cap.’

  ‘Wha
t were you doing here?’ His tone was polite yet impersonal.

  Virgie marched past him and headed inside. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘This wasn’t no ordinary fire.’

  Jonas stood in the middle of the room, arms at his side. Wearing flip-flops and a wrinkled shirt, open at the neck, over his shorts, he looked at Kit with a stunned expression. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Who would do this?’

  The remaining smoke stung Kit’s eyes and she rubbed them as she took in the damage in the barn. The once-elegant guitars on the walls were shriveled now. The ones on the counter collapsed into rubbles of ashes.

  ‘Why would anyone burn only the guitars?’ she asked him.

  ‘I don’t know.’ His voice was a rasp.

  John Paul wandered around the room and then joined Virgie, Jonas and her. ‘What did you intend to do with these anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘Only good.’

  ‘Were you selling them?’

  ‘Donating.’ Jonas squinted at Virgie, who leaned against the counter. ‘Are you all right? Are you sure you don’t need medical attention?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m more in shock than anything else.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine how anyone could do this.’ Jonas motioned to the destruction around them. ‘I asked you before to stay away from here. Now I hope you’ll respect my wishes.’ He walked toward the door.

  John Paul didn’t budge. ‘You’ve got to report this,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’ Jonas turned around and gazed at each wall. Then he started toward the door again. ‘Stay here as long as you like. There’s nothing you can do that’s any worse than what’s already happened to me.’

  ‘Wait.’ Kit caught up with him at the door. ‘If you have any idea who did this, you have to tell us.’

  ‘I told you two to stay out of here.’ He turned and pointed at Virgie. ‘Yet you didn’t respect that and now I have a barn full of worthless works of art. Do you really think I’d talk to you about anything?’

  ‘Not if you’re trying to cover up what happened to Farley,’ Kit said.

  For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then he leaned down, lifted a guitar from the floor and brushed the ashes from it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I know he’s alive.’

  ‘I’ve never doubted that.’ He picked up a small brush from a side table and whisked it gently across the surface of the instrument. ‘You people need to go back where you came from. Or don’t. Just leave me alone.’

  He put the guitar over his shoulder and the variegated blue stones caught the overhead light.

  Kit’s chest tightened. ‘Beautiful strap,’ she told him. ‘Blue crazy lace agate, right?’

  ‘So you know beads,’ Jonas said. ‘Impressive, but it won’t help me recover what was taken from me in here. I’m going inside now. If I see any of you here again, I will shoot you.’

  He stomped out of the barn, clutching the guitar.

  ‘I believe him,’ Virgie said.

  ‘I can’t imagine why anyone would do this.’ Kit breathed in the smoke and stepped outside to keep from coughing. ‘There’s no doubt that destroying those instruments was the reason for the fire. It’s not just the barn. It’s every guitar except that last one that was under the table.’

  ‘Pure hatred,’ John Paul said. ‘Do you remember anything else about the person who hit you, Virgie?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And you were here because …?’

  ‘Come on, Kit.’ Virgie nudged her with an elbow. ‘I don’t feel like explaining myself right now.’ In spite of her harsh voice, her eyes were weary.

  ‘She needs rest,’ Kit told John Paul.

  ‘I’m sure there’s an urgent care facility somewhere around here.’ He crossed his arms and leaned against the barn door. ‘I’d be happy to drive you.’

  ‘I can drive my own self if I need to,’ Virgie said. ‘Right now, I’ve got to sleep.’

  ‘And you aren’t going to tell me what you were doing out here tonight?’

  ‘You and Kit were out. I figured I’d do some checking.’ Before John Paul could ask more, she added, ‘Checking for Monique, I mean. Since she’s stalking Farley and his friends, I just figured she’d show up here. Guess I was wrong.’

  ‘Guess you were.’ John Paul lowered his voice and Kit realized that was exactly what he did when he wanted information from her. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll stop by tomorrow, just to be sure you’re all right.’

  ‘Call first,’ Virgie said. ‘Come on, Kit.’

  From the moment they got into the car, Virgie seemed to gain strength. ‘Don’t say nothing,’ she whispered as she backed out onto the road in front of the barn. ‘For all we know, John Paul can read lips.’

  Kit laughed from relief as much as anything else. ‘Welcome back,’ she said.

  Once they were on the road, Virgie turned to her and grinned. ‘Blue crazy lace agate.’ She sang the words in the stillness of the night. ‘Want to see if Nickel is still awake?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Kit said.

  TWENTY-SIX

  They pulled into the camp and encountered pure silence. No Nickel. Just a calm, gray evening sky with few stars disturbing its surface.

  ‘You really want to wake this guy?’ Virgie asked.

  ‘Do we have a choice?’

  Virgie rubbed her head again and Kit wondered how much of her own pain she was trying to hide. ‘We know Nickel made at least one of those guitar straps. He needs to tell us what else he’s doing.’

  They parked and approached his cabin.

  Kit knocked on the door and it moved. Not latched. She pushed it the rest of the way open.

  The place smelled like Murphy’s Oil Soap. In the flickering candlelight, Nickel sprawled, face-down, across his immaculate table, an open bottle of beer beside him and a partially beaded guitar strap over the chair across from him. Behind the chair, on the kitchen counter, sat the bowl of beads they’d seen before. One beefy arm was flung over his head and his body lay still.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Virgie whispered.

  ‘Huh?’ He mumbled indecipherable words and curses, and then grabbed hold of his chair as if trying to keep his balance. ‘Who?’

  ‘Guess he ain’t dead, after all.’ Virgie walked to the tiny hall. Kit knew she was checking to be sure they were alone.

  Nickel jerked himself the rest of the way awake and glared at Kit. ‘Too late for check-in.’

  ‘We’re not here to check in,’ she said.

  ‘Then please leave this park.’ He breathed alcohol fumes at her and managed to lift his sturdy frame from the table.

  ‘Nice guitar strap you made with the blue crazy lace agates,’ she said.

  ‘Shit.’ He stood from the table with the grace of a sober man.

  ‘Who are the straps for?’

  ‘The kids.’ He staggered to the cast-iron coffeepot on the still-glowing woodstove, lifted it and filled a white mug.

  ‘What kids?’ Kit asked.

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’ Holding his cup, he roamed the small room as if trying to remember how he got there.

  ‘You just told me the straps were for the kids.’ She lifted the partially completed one from the back of the chair.

  ‘I was half-asleep. Didn’t know what I was saying.’ He returned to the table and leaned over the back of one of the chairs. ‘Lady, you got no right coming into my place uninvited.’

  ‘We’re not leaving until you tell us about these straps.’ Kit reached into the bowl of blue beads, lifted her hand and let them slide through her fingers. ‘I saw one that you made with these in Jonas’s barn.’

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ He poured the coffee back in the pot, pulled out the chair, slid into it and reached for the beer. ‘You act like it’s a crime or something.’

  ‘If it’s not then why are you lying about it? And why did you lie about Farley leaving here and driving north?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ His face turned
a deeper red.

  ‘Farley knew this part of the country and wouldn’t need you to show him the way to the freeway.’

  He rubbed his temples and sighed. ‘You don’t understand people out here. We chose this life and this place because we want to be left to ourselves.’

  ‘Then why do you run a campground?’ Virgie asked from the back door.

  ‘I think I told you most the people here are long-time tenants. Besides, I’m different from some of the others.’ He lifted the beer bottle, looked at it and shook his head. ‘Bad habits make you unreliable, and clearly I am.’

  Virgie opened the back door. ‘Kit, he’s got a marijuana plant back here.’

  ‘It’s legal,’ he said. ‘Yeah, I’ve got a few plants in the back. But I’m not breaking any laws.’

  He got up, more alert now, and strode past Virgie into his tiny fenced backyard. Kit and Virgie followed. The resin smell of the plants was unmistakable. Blending with the scent of pine and the sound of water, it would have been peaceful under the right circumstances. Two wicker lawn chairs with off-white cushions sat on either side of a small fire pit. This must have been Nickel’s refuge. At the moment, though, he looked as if he were caged.

  ‘Why did you lie about knowing Jonas?’ she asked.

  ‘I didn’t think it was any of your concern.’ He took a swallow of the beer and sat down in one of the lawn chairs.

  ‘You told him we were trying to find him that night, didn’t you?’

  ‘What if I did? As I said, we’re wary of strangers up here. Jonas and those people are even more wary. Some of them keep to themselves full time and they don’t want anything to do with outsiders.’

  ‘Jonas and what people?’ she asked.

  ‘The people from his school. The others around here.’

  ‘Like Megan and the pregnant lady from the fruit stand?’

  This time the gulp of beer was more reflexive and desperate. Kit crossed her arms and waited.

  ‘You’re lucky I’m a peaceful person.’ He wiped a knuckle across the corner of his mouth. ‘Most of us are, but not everyone.’

  ‘Like the person who set the guitars on fire in the barn?’