Darkness Rising (The East Salem Trilogy) (28 page)

Quinn was already there, full of apologies for having fallen asleep in Grand Central Station. When Dani asked how he—or anybody—could fall asleep amid the cacophony of Grand Central, he said he’d been up all night with Illena.

“I don’t want to hear about it,” she said.

“I think you do.”

“I know I don’t,” Dani said, her tone sharp and angry and certainly nothing he deserved, she realized immediately. But she wasn’t in the mood for apologizing. He gave her a minute and then asked if something was bothering her.

“A lot,” she said. “I’m sorry for barking at you. It’s not your fault. I just can’t—I can’t really tell you what’s going on.”

“Do you mean with Tommy?”

“Actually, that’s the part I can tell you,” Dani said, surprised at Quinn’s perceptiveness. “I think he’s been seeing—let me rephrase that. Today, his ex showed up. He said he wasn’t in touch with her, but apparently he has been. Cassandra Morton.”

“The actress?”

“That’s the one.”

“I
love
her! Oh, I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“Ya think?”

He waited a moment. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she considered her options. “I think maybe you should go back to New York.”

“Dani—”

“I got you involved in something I never should have involved you in. It’s too . . . much. And I can’t tell you why, but I think you need to get your dog and your stuff—where is your stuff? Is it still at the inn?”

He nodded.

“I think maybe the best thing for you and for me and maybe for everybody, but definitely for you, would be to go back and pretend all this never happened. While you still can. I know that’s confusing and annoyingly mysterious, but just trust me.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t have very much to go back to,” he said.

“Don’t say that.”

“You say there’s something I don’t understand. Well, you should know there’s something
you
don’t understand.”

“Illena—”

“Is a very nice person, but I don’t love her and she’s not part of my life,” Quinn said. “This . . . whatever
this
is—whatever you’re doing—feels rather important to me. More than anything else I’m doing. Or have ever done. And I need to do something important. It’s not just because I’m curious. So if you’re giving me a choice between in or out, I’m in. All the way. If you want me.”

She pulled over to the side of the road and looked at him.

“This isn’t a joke, Quinn. This makes whatever we were doing in Africa look like a game of hopscotch. This is really big. So much bigger than I can even explain right now. It could be dangerous . . . really, seriously dangerous. And it requires a certain suspension of disbelief. And actual belief too. I’m not sure you’re going to be on board when you get the full picture.”

“Try me.”

“We have to get your things,” she said, putting the car in gear and pulling back into traffic. “We’re going to the inn first, and then to Tommy’s house.”

“Yikes,” Quinn said. “Tommy’s house? Really? Do you want me to punch him for you?”

Dani looked at him and laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Quinn—have you
ever
hit anyone?”

“No,” he said. “But how hard could it be? Has Tommy ever hit anyone?”

“For a living,” she said. “They used to give him trophies for hitting people.”

At the inn Dani waited in the car while Quinn went inside to pack his suitcase. She took the SD card from her pocket and looked at it, as if she could learn something just by staring at it. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, bringing Quinn into this. She knew she was doing the wrong thing by bringing him in without consulting Tommy and the others, but Tommy hadn’t exactly consulted with her when he invited Cassandra Morton up for a visit.

No sooner had she thought of the actress than a blonde with long, stylish bedhead bangs came out the back door of the inn and stopped. She extended her arm and aimed a car-key remote in the general direction of the parking lot, sweeping from left to right and back again. Dani had to admit that she was even prettier in person than she was in movies, and she had a lot of help when she appeared in movies. She appeared to be frustrated. Dani would have left well enough alone if the actress hadn’t approached her car. Dani rolled down her window.

“Excuse me,” Cassandra said. “Do you know what a Maxima is?”

“It’s a car.”

“I know it’s a car,” the actress said with a self-deprecating laugh. “The rental company dropped it off but they didn’t say where they put it. They said it’s silver, but half the cars out here are silver, and I don’t know what a Maxima looks like.”

“Press the red button,” Dani said. “I think you were pressing the door unlock.”

Cassandra pressed the red button, and a silver Maxima three rows back began to honk and flash its lights. She frantically pressed the button again to get the alarm to stop, but nothing happened.

“You have to put the key in the ignition,” Dani advised.

Cassandra ran to the car, unlocked it, and turned the key in the ignition, silencing the alarm, then returned to where Dani was.

“Thank you
so
much,” the actress said, catching her breath. “That was so kind of you. I obviously don’t drive much. I’m sorry I bothered you, but can I ask one more favor? Is there a decent place I can get something to eat?”

“You’re Cassandra Morton,” Dani said. She realized immediately what a stupid thing it was to say. Then she wondered why Cassandra was dining alone. Was Tommy going to keep her hidden, make some excuse, and go to her later? Could he be that devious?

“I am,” the actress said matter-of-factly but without any apparent ego. “You’re not hungry, are you? I’ll buy you dinner. I’d love the company. Unless you think that’s weird.”

“You don’t know anyone in town?”

“I have one friend but he’s busy tonight, so I’m on my own.”

“Who’s your friend?” Dani said. “I know just about everybody here.”

“I’m sure you know him,” she said, “but I shouldn’t say. Are you sure you won’t join me?”

“Thank you, but I’m waiting for someone. Try the Pub. Across the green, about halfway down. Or the Miss Salem Diner, but the Pub is nicer.”

“Thanks again,” Cassandra said, smiling brightly as she headed back to her rental car.

Dani was left to wonder whether she’d just been fooled by an accomplished actress, but she found herself liking the woman despite how much she wanted not to. She seemed genuine and friendly and all those things
you want to believe about actresses who portray plucky, likable characters. Dani didn’t think of herself as the kind of person who was impressed by celebrities, but perhaps she was, more than she wanted to admit.

At the house, Dani introduced Quinn to Tommy and Ruth, then asked where Carl was. Tommy said he still wasn’t back and that he was getting worried—Carl wasn’t answering his phone.

“Dani, can I speak to you for a moment in private?”

“I need to check something on my laptop first.”

Tommy could sense she was bristling with anger. He desperately needed to address whatever it was that was bothering her.

“Quinn needs to know the whole story,” Dani said. “He knows about Amos but not the rest of it. Why don’t you fill him in while I have a look at this.” She held up the SD card.

“What’s that?” Tommy said.

“I won’t know until I see what’s on it, will I? Our friend from St. Adrian’s mailed it to my office.”

“Use my desktop in the study,” he said. “That card reader is on the right.”

Dani went into the study, closing the door behind her. Ruth went upstairs to finish turning down the beds.

Tommy looked at Quinn and said, “Can somebody tell me what’s going on?”

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Quinn said. “She thinks you should have told her Cassandra Morton was here.”

“I just tried to,” Tommy said. “That’s why I wanted to talk to her in private.”

“I don’t want to get between the two of you,” Quinn said, “but if it were me, I’d give her awhile to cool down. She usually does.”

Tommy nodded, then went to his study. He hesitated at the closed door, thought for a second that he should open it, then decided he should knock, and then decided Quinn was right. It occurred to him at that moment that perhaps Quinn was right in any number of ways—a better match for Dani, more tuned in to the things Dani had studied and cared about. Perhaps the fantasy he’d been entertaining, that God and fate had brought her back to him for a higher purpose, was just that, a fantasy, a self-composed delusion.

“Will you excuse me for a minute?” he said to Quinn. In the kitchen, he put on his barn coat and then stepped out the back door.

He went out into the yard and walked to an Adirondack-style bench set beneath a weeping willow tree overlooking the pond. The late November air was cold, the moon well on the wane, the sky overhead bright with stars. He pulled his collar up, buttoned it closed at the top button, kept his hands in his pockets for warmth, and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose three times, more slowly each time, and then he prayed silently.

Jesus, I’m sorry. I think I’m letting you down. You called on me to do something for you, and I think I’m failing you. You sent Dani to me, but I’m losing her and I don’t know why. Something changed. I’m confused, Lord. If you could help me understand what she’s feeling right now, I might be able to figure the rest out. I don’t want to lose her, but if that’s your will, please make that clear to me because otherwise I’m only going to waste her time. I’ve never felt this way before, and I’m scared
. . .

He stopped when he realized he was putting his own needs and desires ahead of something of far greater importance. He’d lost focus. This wasn’t about him. He’d forgotten the lesson his father had taught him a long time ago after reading a book called
I Am Third
. “God comes first,” Arnie
had said, “and others come second. You’re third, but I think you’ll find if you take care of the first two, you won’t need to worry too much about yourself.”

When Tommy stepped back into the kitchen, Ruth was telling Quinn about Amos Kasden and the party the night Julie Leonard was killed.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Tommy said, glancing toward the door of his den, which was still closed.

“Please do,” Ruth said. “You know these matters far better than I do, and this young man needs to understand everything if he’s going to help us.”

Dani wanted to climb out the window, get in her car, hit the interstate, stomp on the gas, and drive until she couldn’t drive any longer, and then sleep for a few hours, wake up, and drive some more, and perhaps by the time she reached Alaska, or Mexico, or both, she’d be able to breathe again.

Stupid, stupid woman! In over your head. Trust your instincts. Why didn’t you know better? You ran away from him in high school—you knew then that this would happen. He’s a player. He was always a player. You should have taken better care of your heart. You should have proceeded with caution. You weren’t ready for this. You made a bad decision. You’re smarter than this. Take it slow—that’s what your better judgment was screaming at you. Why didn’t you listen?