Isolation (23 page)

Joe didn't know who was stalking women in Micco County, but it was not his father.

***

Joe heard Emma's car door slam, so he got up off the deck chair and walked around to the garage. She was still driving the big boat of a car that Douglass had bought her for their last anniversary and she still paid somebody to keep its deep blue paint clean and shimmery. Joe could have sworn he detected new car smell when she opened the door, but he was probably smelling the freshly conditioned leather seats.

Emma dressed nice to go to the grocery store—flowery dress with a long flowing skirt, high-heeled red shoes, and matching purse—but those clothes weren't going to be very comfortable for their boat ride out to Joyeuse Island. She was going to have to change clothes.

“You're coming out to our house to stay for a while.”

Emma hooked her forearm through the handle of her purse and got out of the car, saying, “You're telling me what to do? That's cute.”

Joe reached down and took her hand. Emma was taller than Faye, but she was still little, so little. Joe believed he was going to a good place when he died, or at least he was trying his best to get there, and he believed that Douglass was already there. If Joe allowed harm to come to this woman, there was no doubt in his mind that Douglass would make his afterlife hell for all of eternity.

“Yes, you're coming with me, and not because I'm telling you what to do. You're coming because you're smart.”

Carefully and in detail, Joe described what he'd seen on the sandy bluff overlooking her house. He explained the chronology—Liz dead on Sunday night, Emma's security fob stolen on Tuesday and her window broken that night, a butt-print in the sand sometime after a Thursday rainstorm, an attempted rape on Delia early Friday morning—and asked her to tell him honestly that she believed she was safe in her big house alone.

Then he hefted all six of Emma's grocery bags and took them to the kitchen while she went upstairs to pack her things for an extended stay on Joyeuse Island.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Faye stood in the kitchen where Joe was putting away the leftover gumbo. It had taken him a solid hour to clean and chop the tomatoes, onions, peppers, sausage, and okra for that gumbo, because knifeplay was one of her husband's favorite strategies for dealing with stress. She thought Joe should probably have warned his father that he was bringing Emma home.

Sly had spent the hour before dinner standing uncertainly in the kitchen with Joe, shifting around on his feet like a fourteen-year-old boy forced to speak to a girl. Emma had stayed with Faye in the living room, because a woman of her age and grace did not chase men. Sly had not even come to tell her hello. There had been no dinner table conversation, just a two-year-old babbling at four grown-ups who sat as silent as a pile of rocks.

After dinner, it had taken maybe three minutes for Sly to move his things out of Amande's room into the smaller but perfectly adequate room next door. Then he had fled for the woods while Emma arranged her things in the room he had just vacated. Faye had watched him out the back window, walking with determination and swinging an ax from his right hand. He'd obviously been handling axes for a long time. Otherwise, Faye would have worried more about a man this distracted handling a sharp blade.

She'd felt Emma's skirt brush her leg as the older woman came to the window and stood beside her. “It can't have been something I said, because I didn't say anything. What did I do to make that man act this way?”

“I don't know what his problem is, but it's not you.”

***

Joe gave his father a half-hour to stew, then he went after him. Sly wasn't hiding. Joe followed the sound of his ax and found him working next to the ashes of yet another one of the campfires. He'd left them scattered all over the island, which made Joe a little nuts, but he hadn't said anything because he knew his father knew how to put out a fire. And also because when somebody got on your nerves as bad as Sly got on Joe's, you had to pick your battles.

“What's the matter with you, Dad? You weren't even nice to Emma. What are you mad at her for?”

Sly laid the ax on the ground and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Joe wanted one, but he waved the offered pack away.

“Ain't mad at her. I'm mad at you.”

“For what? Have I been cooking your breakfast wrong? Leaving you and your grandson alone to play and get to know each other—have I been doing that wrong?”

“No, Son, it ain't none of that. But why did you bring that woman out here?”

“Emma? Because it's my house and I'll invite whoever I want. And because she wasn't safe. I told you about the tracks outside her house. You wanted me to leave Emma where she wasn't safe?”

“You think she's safe out here? Take a look. Behind me.”

Then Sly stood with his back to Joe, so he could prowl outside the ring of bare sand surrounding the old fire without his father peering over his shoulder.

“When did you last have a fire out here, Dad?”

“Wednesday. Haven't been out here since.” Sly didn't turn around, so Joe knew that there was something else he was supposed to see.

The area of dirt around the ashes had been scuffled by someone's feet since the rain on Thursday, so since Sly's last visit. Most of the marks were indistinct, but one footprint stood out clearly. Its low-relief texture was highlighted by the slanting light of early evening. It was the unmistakable imprint of the treads of a sneaker and it was right in front of an overturned bucket that Sly had used as a stool. Somebody had been sitting in this spot, and for no good reason Joe could think of, since there hadn't been a fire to enjoy.

Faye wore boots for work and sandals to relax. Joe wore moccasins or went barefoot, unless he needed boots to protect his feet. On the rare occasions that Sly shed his work boots, he wore flip-flops. Emma and her stylish loafers had just arrived. Michael did own a pair of sneakers, but they were tiny. Nobody who belonged on Joyeuse Island had made this print.

“I never seen Gerry or any of those environmentalists leave the path between their dig and the dock,” Joe said. “I don't think they did this.”

“Me, neither. Besides, they wear safety boots. And Faye didn't bring that weirdo guy—“

“Oscar.” Joe didn't like the way the name sounded coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah, and his girlfriend Delia—Faye didn't bring them over here.”

“I saw you follow them out of the house yesterday.”

“You didn't stop me.”

Joe shook his head. “Nope. But I did go up to the cupola and keep an eye out. Can't see much through the trees, but the paths all come out into the open now and then. Sometimes I could see bushes move when they passed through them, but you move better in the woods than they do. Still, I could track you.”

“I bet you could.” Sly squatted outside the sandy ring, on ground strewn with a thick bed of pine straw. He stared at the dead ashes as though they were still aflame. “Why did you bring that woman out here, Son? Why did you put Emma in danger that way?”

“I told you. I saw prints on the bluff above her house. Somebody's been watching her. She's safer out here on the island, with you and me to look out for her—well, at least she's not alone now. Even if the person who did all those things comes out here, she's not alone.”

It had been years since Joe heard his father's temper explode. Sly's voice was cannon-loud, just as he remembered it. “When you was little, I thought you was dumb, but now I know you're not. Think, Son. Whoever it is
has already been out here
. Look at that footprint by the fire.”

Joe looked at the print. He couldn't argue with it. Maybe a random trespasser had left it. He himself had first met Faye because he was on Joyeuse Island when he wasn't supposed to be. Deep down, however, he knew that his father was right.

His father wasn't finished yelling at him. “Look at that print real good. Who was the person wearing that shoe looking for? Faye?”

Joe flinched.

“You like the idea of letting that little woman be in the same place…the same world…as that animal what tied young Delia up? And Emma? I can't do it. Never could. I can't do it.”

“Can't do what, Dad?”

“Keep 'em safe. All of 'em. Emma, Faye, my grandson. The granddaughter that's coming home on an airplane soon, the one I ain't met yet. You.”

And my mother. You can't say her name, but this is about her, isn't it?

“I don't need you to take care of me, Dad.”

“I don't care if you do or you don't.
I
need it. I needed to do it a long time ago, and I couldn't figure out how. You and your mama. You needed me to fix things and I didn't know how.”

“That's over and done. Besides, we have the law to help us this time.”

“You talking about the same law that thinks I killed Liz and hurt Delia and tried to hurt Emma?”

Joe recognized the belligerent set to Sly's jaw, because he had seen it in the mirror. “I'm talking about the same law that we should have called as soon as you saw that track,” he said. “It's dark now. What if it rains tonight? That track might prove you're innocent and we need the law to see it.”

“They'll just say that I made it myself.”

“Let 'em say it. I'm calling Detective Steinberg and asking him to come out here and look at this. I'm asking him to bring a camera and the brightest lights he's got, because we've got to get a picture of this. He's been straight with us through this whole thing. He came out yesterday on his time off, just to look at that hole you found. He'll come look at this print. If we're lucky, he'll come before we get some rain that washes it away.”

Joe wasn't just afraid of rain. He was afraid of a stray breeze that might kick up just enough dust to hide the details of the tread of that sneaker. It wasn't just proof that someone had been on the island. It could be evidence that would convict Liz's killer.

“You do that. You call the detective. Then you help me lock up the doors and shutters on the basement of that big house you live in. They're stout oak and the walls might as well be made out of concrete. If we put the women and the baby behind those walls, we can look out for 'em.”

“Do either of those women seem like somebody who'll smile when you tell her you're locking her up for her own good?”

“They don't have to know. I spend a lot of nights outside with a cigarette in my strong hand. Tonight, I'll smoke with my left hand, because this will be in my strong one.” He brandished the heavy ax. “We've got to get this problem cleared up. I'm looking forward to meeting my granddaughter, and I don't intend for her to set foot on this island until you and I have cleared it of vermin. You sure you trust the law to help us do it?”

“No, Dad. We're not keeping Faye and Emma in the dark. We're going to tell them what's happening. Faye can be dangerous with a gun, and they're both of 'em smarter than we are. We need them.”

Joe opened the bag tied to his belt. He pulled out a leather sling and three heavy rocks that fit into the sling's pouch. Then he pulled out a hand-chipped stone blade lashed to a handle that was balanced for Joe's hand and Joe's hand alone.

“And, yeah. I do plan to trust the law, but not only the law. I also trust myself. And I trust Faye. My wife and I will look after the people under our roof. If you want to help us, you're welcome.”

***

Gerry was standing on their doorstep in less than an hour. He wasted no time setting up lights and getting photos of the footprint and zapping them through the Internet to shore. Joe's pictures of the butt-print near Emma's house went with them. Come what may, the sheriff would have these two weapons in his fight to find and convict Liz's killer.

Faye, Joe, Emma, Sly, and Gerry sat around the kitchen table.

“You agree with me, don't you, Detective?” Joe said. “You saw the footprint Dad found. You know somebody's been out here. Somebody's been watching us. And I'm telling you that I also saw prints uphill from Emma's house, right where somebody could keep an eye on her.”

“I believe you about the prints at Emma's. I saw the pictures you took. I'd give a million dollars if you'd found a shoe print that matched the one here on Joyeuse Island, but I do agree,” Gerry said. “It looks like somebody's been watching all of you.”

“Or maybe not all of us,” Sly said. “It was Liz that got killed and Delia that got attacked and Emma here that had a close call. They're all women. Maybe the person who left that footprint wasn't here to watch all of us. Faye's the only woman living out here. Maybe they was here to watch her. I won't stand for it.”

“I won't stand for anybody being in danger, man or woman,” Gerry said. “But you're right. Somebody does seem to be stalking women. They've been doing it on an almost daily basis ever since Liz died. It's only been six days, yet we've had a death, an attempted home invasion, an attempted rape. Now we have evidence that someone has been lurking—recently—near the homes of one of the victims and yet another woman. I don't blame you for being worried. Have you considered taking your family ashore?”

“Where?” Faye asked. “Emma's house isn't any safer than ours. Should we all go stay with Sheriff Mike and Magda? How long should we plan to sleep on their floor? Or should we go get a few hotel rooms and stay there until we spend what's left of our money?”

Joe had both hands flat on the table in front of him, his long thin fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. “We've got four adults out here—Emma, Faye, my dad, and me. Liz was by herself when she was killed. Emma was by herself when somebody tried to get in her house. Oscar was in the house with Delia, but she was alone in her room. I think we'll be okay.”

Faye put a hand on Joe's, quieting the tapping fingers. “Gerry, if we're lucky, that footprint will help you find the person behind all this. It could happen tomorrow. Or maybe some other clue will come along tomorrow to help you crack this case. But that's tomorrow. We'd appreciate any advice you can give us on how to stay safe right now, tonight. The nights last a long time out here so far from people.”

“I know they do,” Gerry said. “That's why I'm not leaving all of you out here alone on this island tonight. I'm staying. It's my job to serve and protect. Tonight, I think you need protection.”

It rattled Joe to know that a law officer thought the situation was so serious that he wanted to stand guard over his family. This meant that the law officer agreed with Joe that the danger was real. Joe would have preferred to be wrong.

Joe looked at Faye and she gave a little nod, so he said, “Thank you, Detective. We're grateful for your help.”

***

The sky was going quickly dark and Emma had carried a drowsy Michael to his bedroom for a story. Sly had positioned himself on the front porch and Gerry had let him, telling Joe, “I'll take the back porch. You take the cupola. You'll have a line-of-sight in all directions up there. With eyes like yours, you'd see a boat coming before your dad or I would.”

“If that boat's got its running lights on.”

“The moon won't be up for a good long while. It'll be pretty damn dark till then. You think somebody could get all the way out here without lights?”

“I could do it. Dad could do it. Lots of people could do it, if they were brave enough or stupid enough. Or patient enough to go slow and pay attention.”

“I'm guessing that would be your strategy, to go slow and pay attention.”

Joe nodded. “That's the way I do a lot of things.”

“So you're okay with taking the cupola?”

Joe wanted to be on the front porch, waiting for trouble like the hero in an old Western, but he said, “Yes.”