CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 30

So there it was. Brooke hadn't talked to her sister in over a year, and the last words Leah had said to Brooke, "You'll never see me again," had rung true. So far. No phone calls. No email. No texts. Even the birthday card and last year's Christmas package had been returned, first by Leah herself, then by the post office, with a note that the mail couldn't be delivered as there was no forwarding address.

After a few tries Brooke had given up.

She'd known Leah was alive and presumably well, that she had some kind of long-distance relationship with Marilee, and she had never stepped between them. Brooke's erratic, love-hate relationship with Leah didn't include her daughter. And eventually, Brooke had thought, Leah would show up again, the old bad penny syndrome.

It seemed that time was now.

"Mom?" Marilee said, the sounds of the busy airport terminal audible in the background.

Brooke hadn't realized she'd been caught dumbstruck. "Oh, right. I guess so—"

Did the lights just flicker again?

"For crap's sake, Mom. She's your sister. You two need to work this out. And she said that last year you practically begged her to get together at Christmas."

That had been before she'd come to visit Seattle early to weasel money out of Neal. Brooke's suggestion was just to shine her sister on. Now she was using it as leverage with Marilee.

Marilee sighed audibly. "Do you know what I'd give for a sister or a brother?" she demanded. Brooke's fingers clenched over the phone. Her daughter had no idea how close she'd come to having a sibling, or a half sibling. If things had turned out differently, if she hadn't miscarried on the dock of the Medusa. Even now, she remembered the blood running down her legs in the shower at the gym.

"Christmas is in two days," she heard herself saying. "How would Leah even get here? Flights are booked and it would be nearly impossible—"

"That's on her," Marilee pointed out sensibly.

"I know, but—Leah should call me," Brooke said, watching as Neal closed the door and walked into the kitchen.

"Okay, right. That's the attitude, fight over who should call whom," Marilee was saying, unable to hide her disgust. "You know that sounds absolutely ridiculous? Like you're still in kindergarten? Phones work two ways, you know! And there's FaceTime and Zoom and oh, I give up. Geez, aren't you two, like, adults? Shouldn't you both just grow up? Do you even know that she finally divorced Sean or that she moved to San Francisco?"

"Of course I do, but—"

"Forget it! I've said what I had to. Look, I gotta go; I see my ride." And with that she disconnected.

Brooke clicked off, stunned by her daughter's attitude. Not yet sixteen and more adult than both Leah and her. At least on this issue. Marilee was right. After her first attempts to reach out to Leah, she'd barely kept up with her only sibling. The only real facts she knew about Leah were from bits and pieces she'd gleaned in conversations with her daughter.

"Marilee?" Neal surmised. "Don't tell me she's trying to weasel out of coming again."

"No. No." She shook her head. "She's already landed in Portland and should be here in a few hours. She was calling about Leah." There was a sudden flicker of some emotion in Neal's features—worry? Fear? Anxiety? It disappeared in a heartbeat as he pulled off his gloves and unzipped his jacket.

"What about her?" Kneeling at the fireplace, he stacked yellow, wadded newspaper, kindling, and a few large pieces of oak in the grate.

"She wants to come here. For Christmas."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Seriously? Like, in a couple of days?"

"I guess. I didn't know what to say." She filled him in on the sketchy details that Marilee had conveyed and added, "Marilee thinks I should call her."

"What do you think?"

There was the question. She took a sip of her tepid coffee and shrugged as he found a barbecue lighter on the mantel and tried to ignite the fire. The lighter just clicked, no spark visible.

"I don't know," she said, "but she's right. It's stupid that we don't even talk."

More clicking of the lighter and Neal gave up. "Don't suppose you still carry a lighter?" he asked.

"Not since I really quit smoking. But I think I saw matches in the junk drawer in the kitchen." She retrieved the old matchbook and handed it to Neal.

"Thanks." He struck a match and held it to the dry paper. Within seconds eager flames ate through the paper and reached the tinder-dry kindling.

"Oh shit." Neal reached into the firebox and opened the damper so that the smoke that was starting to seep into the living room was drawn up the chimney. "Damn. I always forget that," he said. "Now, what were you saying about Leah?"

"I don't have her number anymore." The last time she'd tried, on Leah's last birthday, the call didn't go through and she was informed by a robotic voice that there was "no new number."

"So you gave up?"

"Two-way street," she said, almost echoing her daughter's point.

He rocked back on his heels, the fire growing, flames licking upward and crackling. "Yeah, that argument doesn't hold a lot of water. Marilee obviously has no trouble keeping in touch. I'm sure she has Leah's phone number."

"I'm sure she does."

"Then?" he nudged.

What was that old saying about holding a grudge? Brooke mused. That it's like poison? You drink it and hope it harms the other person?

"I'm on it." Brooke texted her daughter, asking for Leah's number.

When she didn't get an immediate response she texted again, asking Marilee to pass the word to Leah that she was welcome.

Even if it was a bit of a lie.

"Done," she said, ignoring the uneasy feeling that had lingered ever since finding the bracelet. She spent the next few hours making certain the guest room was ready, that the sheets were clean, and the pillows plumped. Then she washed most of the dishes. Though she'd had the house cleaned by the local housekeeper before she and Neal arrived, Brooke didn't trust that all of the old cutlery, pots and pans, and dinnerware were dust- and/or spider-free.

More than that, she had to stay busy and keep her mind off the fact that at any second she could find some other reminder that Gideon had been in the cabin.

Eventually, Marilee texted both her parents to let them know that she'd been dropped off in Marwood on the other side of the bay and was boarding the ferry to the island.

"You're not coming with me?" Neal asked as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his parka and patted his jeans pockets to make certain he had his keys.

"No, you go. Have a few minutes alone with your daughter. I mean, how often does that happen?" Brooke said.

Neal's forehead wrinkled and the look he cast over his shoulder told her that he thought she was acting out of character.

She was.

But she had to.

She needed time alone.

"I thought you'd want to come," he said, stuffing a pair of gloves into his jacket pocket.

"I do, but I'll get everything ready," Brooke assured him. "Marilee will probably be starved. I'll get dinner together."

"Dinner can wait."

"It's already late," she argued. Why was he being so damned obstinate? She made waving gestures with her hand. "Just go! Go! She's already on the ferry."

"Okay." He gave her one more puzzled glance, then said to Shep, "Maybe you want to come along."

And then he was out the door, the retriever bounding ahead of him.

Brooke wasted no time.

She turned on the oven.

Then, the second she heard the engine of the Honda rev and tires crunch on the drive, she flew into the laundry room, retrieved the damned bracelet, and dashed outside. Using the flashlight app on her phone for illumination, she darted into the woods and along the path toward the sea. She didn't have time to get across the island and back again, so, for now, she raced to the bend in the path by the old stump. There, between the roots, she stuffed the horrid bit of jewelry in the same spot she'd hidden her diary as a child. Later, as a teen, she'd tucked in one of Nana's Mason jars for the cigarettes she'd swiped from her mother's pack, and the stash of weed she bought off the kid down the street, back in the days when she got high.

Now she pushed the sand off the rock that hid the hole, then jammed the bracelet into it, replaced the rock, and covered it with bits of leaves and small branches, before running back to the house, washing her hands, and trying to calm her jangled nerves.

The oven was hot and she slipped in a frozen potpie.

She tried to convince herself to calm down. With the bracelet out of the house, she could relax.

Or could she?

What if Gideon had left more little "surprises" for her?

What if she—or Neal—or even Marilee found something else he'd planted, some little reminder of the time they'd spent together?

Or Leah? What if her sister went nosing around?

She thought of the missing panties and bras she'd never found. Of the cameras and burner phone she'd chucked into the waters of the marina.

Or the gun.

Neal's pistol.

Her stomach turned to lead at the thought.

It had taken two weeks after she'd lost it in the dark water of Elliott Bay for Neal to ask about it. He'd been frantic, searching the house from top to bottom, accusing everyone. Brooke, Marilee, and Marilee's visiting friends had been scrutinized as potential thieves. Nick Paszek's name had come up more than once, to Marilee's horror.

When Brooke had suggested that maybe he'd moved it, he'd asked her if she were crazy, reminding her that the firearm was not only dangerous but an heirloom of sorts and he would not forget moving it. Panicked, he'd vowed he was going to report the loss to the police.

But if he'd notified anyone in law enforcement, she didn't know about it. No one from the department had phoned or stopped by and she'd let the subject drop.

He'd eventually quit mentioning it. End of story.

Yet she couldn't stop worrying as she opened one of the bags of salad she'd brought from Seattle.

What if Gideon had found the pistol? It probably had landed somewhere near the bracelet on the bottom of the bay. She'd always assumed the gun, along with the cameras, burner phone, and bracelet were lying at the bottom of Elliott Bay, or possibly drifting into the deeper waters of Puget Sound.

She'd never expected any of it to surface again, but she had learned not to underestimate Gideon. She flashed on the wet suit she'd seen hanging on a closet hook on his boat, the diving gear nearby.

"Shit." Her blood pressure was skyrocketing. Don't go there, she told herself.

Gideon had left one item to make a point, to remind her, to have the last word. Only one point. And he hadn't scraped the bracelet off the bottom of Elliott Bay, so the other items that had landed there were probably safe.

Probably.

She heard Shep barking and car doors closing as she tossed the salad, dumping the packet of dressing onto the greens.

Marilee breezed into the house. "Oh my God, it's cold here!" She shivered and raced to the fire to warm the backs of her legs.

"It's Christmas. Well, almost. It's supposed to be cold." Brooke couldn't help but grin at the sight of her daughter. She'd missed everything about her, including Marilee's sometimes caustic tongue and bad attitude.

"But not freezing!" Marilee protested. "And not inside. Dad says it's gonna snow." Marilee shot a worried look out the back window to the gray day beyond. "I didn't think it ever snowed here."

"Rarely but yeah. And wouldn't that be great? A white Christmas?"

"Ugh!" Marilee bit her lip. "I can't be trapped here. I told Wes I'd be back on the twenty-sixth."

"You just got here." Brooke walked into the living room and gave Marilee a hug while Shep was losing his mind, dancing and wiggling at her feet, crazy for her attention. "Don't worry about leaving yet."

"Says the woman who worries about everything." Then, to the dog, "Didn't I give you enough love in the car? Geez, Shep, chill!"

Brooke let out a short laugh and sniffed back emotional tears. "He's missed you." Then added, "I have too."

Brooke braced herself for a snarky reply, but Marilee's chin wobbled. "Me too," she said, and tears welled in her eyes.

At their feet Shep whined. "Yeah, and of course you too!" Marilee let go of her mother to sit on the hearth and rub the dog's shaggy coat. "Especially you!"

Brooke's heart melted. "You could come home, you know."

"Yeah," she said, still petting the dog. "I know, Mom. I've thought about it." She bit her lip. "I really wanted to when I first got there, was really homesick, you know? But I think . . . I think for now this is better." She wiped away her tears and smiled. "Maybe next year. But can we talk about it later? I just got done with finals and then had to get to the airport. I just want to crash."

"You're not hungry?"

"Got something at the airport."

"Did you get hold of Leah?"

Marilee nodded. "Yeah, she's coming. Didn't she text you?"

"No."

Marilee rolled her eyes. "Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise?" She thought for a second. "Yeah, maybe I wasn't supposed to say anything. Oops." She pulled a face, then shrugged. "My bad. Pretend you're surprised, okay? Like over the moon with shock."

"Will do."

Marilee headed upstairs to "her" room, the smallest bedroom of the three, little more than a nook built over the front porch, complete with a dormer and round window that faced the mainland. It was still furnished with the bunk beds that Brooke and Leah had shared growing up. Brooke had spent hours in the upper bunk or staring out the window or reading, while Leah, on the lower bed, had played with her Barbie dolls and plastic horses, caught in a world of her own.

And now Leah was coming back for Christmas, presumably to mend fences.

After over a year of ice-cold silence.

What could possibly go wrong?