Ripped From the Pages (26 page)

“It’s mellow, but spicy, too,” I said, taking another small sip.
“Plummy. Herby. Nice tannins. And I’m getting a little toasted oak, definitely from
the barrel.”

“What do you think of that?” Jackson asked, always looking for opinions on barrel
fermentation.

“You know me,” I said. “I love an oaky red.”

We continued the wine talk for another ten minutes. Jackson estimated how many days
were left until the harvest, and Derek expressed his interest in taking part in the
event.

“We’ll welcome every able-bodied human we can find,” Jackson assured him. “And you’ve
already proven yourself to be an excellent field-worker.”

“High praise,” Derek said. “I appreciate it.”

Finally, I met my brother’s gaze and said, “So.”

“So?” he said coolly in response.

There was no soft and easy way to introduce the subject, so I got right to the point.
“Last week in the exhibit hall, you disappeared the moment I tried to introduce you
to Elizabeth. So, do you know her? Why did you run away? What’s the story? Do you
think she’s dangerous? She’s living in a house where a murder took place. Do you think
she did it? Is Trudy in danger?”

“Slow down, speedy,” he said. “Nobody’s in danger from . . . What did you say her
name was?”

“Elizabeth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Right. I . . . know her. No, she’s not dangerous.” He frowned
and added, “Well, at least not to Trudy.”

“But you ran away that day. What was that about?”

“Is that important, love?” Derek asked softly.

I looked at him. “Well, maybe not in the larger scheme of things, but I want to know
if my brother is hiding from the law or something.”

Jackson snorted, and I turned back to him. “Well then, what’s up with that? Why did
you leave?”

“None of your business, squirt.”

“I’m thirty-three years old,” I said through gritted teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

“All right, punkin’.”

“And that.” Another dreaded childhood nickname. “Just grow up and answer the question.”
Brothers, no matter how old and mature they grew to be, always retained a talent for
obnoxious behavior.

“Okay, okay,” he said with a stiff laugh. “Look, this is not something I’m prepared
to discuss with anyone.”

I could see Derek studying him more closely than usual, and I wondered what he was
thinking.

“Fine,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. But look, if there’s a problem
or if you’re in some kind of trouble . . .”

“There’s no trouble,” he assured me.

“Okay,” I said, stifling a smile. “But if she turns out to be your probation officer,
all bets are off.”

“Very funny,” he said, not laughing. “Look, just accept the fact that Elizabeth didn’t
have anything to do with Trudy’s attack and Amelia’s murder, and let’s change the
subject.”

Derek’s gaze focused in on him. “Are you her alibi?”

“Damn it,” Jackson swore, and clawed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” I said, the light dawning. “You’re her alibi? She was with you those
couple of days when she was gone from Trudy’s?”

He sighed. “Yes. And that’s all you have to know.”

“But how do you know her?” I frowned. And all of a sudden the pieces fell together.
“Wait. She didn’t come here to see Trudy. She came to see you. But why? Where did
you meet? I’m more confused than ever.”

“So just let it go,” Jackson insisted, but then couldn’t help but
add, “And she didn’t come to see me. She was just as shocked to see me as I was to
see her.”

“Fascinating,” I murmured.

“Overseas,” Derek guessed. “Africa? The Middle East?” He thought for another few seconds.
“Of course. Southeast Asia.”

“I’m not saying anything else.” Jackson glared at Derek. “You, of all people, should
know that.”

My eyes widened, and I stared from Derek to Jackson. “Oh no. Not you, too. What are
you, CIA? Military intelligence?” I waved the question away. “Never mind. Don’t tell
me. You’ll just have to kill me, right?”

Suddenly Jackson was grinning. “Yeah, I’ll have to kill you, so stop asking questions.”

“All right, all right,” I muttered. “But what about Elizabeth,
if
that’s really her name. What is she? Some supersecret spy you met while rapelling
down some treacherous cliff in Burma?”

“Maybe, in your own warped mind.” He was laughing at me now, but he still wasn’t spilling
the beans. And why did that not surprise me? Jackson had always been the stoic one
in the family, quietly going about his business. He’d been great at keeping secrets,
like the time he caught me behind the school gym, kissing Richie Kirk. Back then,
I was shocked that he hadn’t told my parents about it. There were other incidents
as well.

So I guess I didn’t care if he told me the whole story. For now. It was enough to
know that much of Jackson’s past was truly secret. I would honor that. And I was glad
to know that Elizabeth—or whatever her name was—was innocent of harming Trudy or Amelia.

Which meant that I could take her off my suspect list. And we would have to look elsewhere
for the killer.

*   *   *

T
he three of us walked out to the dark parking lot together, and Derek and I waved
good-bye to Jackson.

“That was fun and educational, too,” I said as we watched Jackson drive his truck
out of the lot.

“The wine was very good, too,” Derek said, smiling broadly as he unlocked the car
and held my door open for me.

“Always.” I turned to look at him. “Do you believe Jackson was telling the truth when
he said he didn’t know Elizabeth would be here?”

Derek’s expression sobered. “I do. He has no reason to lie to us, other than evading
other details of his past. But I don’t hold that against him.”

“I guess you’re right.” I shut my door and watched Derek circle the car and climb
into the driver’s seat.

“I should’ve known he was in intelligence,” Derek muttered a moment later as he glanced
in his rearview mirror.

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” I said lightly. “You people seem to have a built-in radar
when it comes to detecting that aspect of one another.”

“And I missed the signs with Elizabeth, too.” His frown deepened.

“I don’t blame you for that. She’s a whole different story. She told me the reason
I wasn’t able to place her accent was because she
was a navy brat and had traveled all over the world. Now I wonder if she just said
stuff like that so I wouldn’t realize that she’s a German spy or something.”

“I doubt that she’s German,” Derek said, chuckling.

“You’ve probably figured out what she really is.”

“Mossad, I imagine,” he murmured.

I stared at him. “You think she’s Israeli?”

“Not positive, but it’s an educated guess,” Derek said, checking his rearview mirror
again. “Mossad has a discreet relationship with Thailand’s intelligence community.”

“Okay. So what’s the connection?”

He glanced at me. “The tattoo on Jackson’s left arm is a Thai phrase.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What tattoo? My brother has a tattoo?”

Derek grinned. “You’d know about the tattoo if you had toiled in the fields like I
do.”

I laughed. “Oh great. So what’s the word?”

He pronounced the phrase using a sharp, guttural tone, sounding completely unlike
himself.

“Wow. What does that mean?”

“Tranquility.”

I thought about it. “That suits him. But couldn’t he have gotten it anywhere?”

“It’s possible, but not likely. Thailand is made up of hundreds of communities, each
with its own language and colloquialisms. The phrase tattooed on Jackson’s arm is
from an obscure area in northern Thailand. I doubt he could’ve gotten it anywhere
else in the world.”

“How do you know so much about Thailand? Did you work there, too?”

“Yes, briefly. I had to take immersion courses in languages and
customs in order to complete the mission.” He glanced in the rearview mirror once
again.

I could tell he was distracted, so I relaxed and enjoyed the ride. Two seconds later,
I gasped and turned to him. “Wait a minute. If she’s Mossad, she could be looking
for artwork stolen from the Jews. That’s brilliant, Derek. It has nothing to do with
Thailand, but it’s brilliant.”

“Thailand simply provides a possible connection between Jackson and Elizabeth.”

“Right. There are so many different threads to this situation, I can’t keep them all
straight.” I thought of the rest of Elizabeth’s backstory. “Is she really the granddaughter
of a friend of Trudy’s?”

“We’ll have to ask her.” He pulled over to the side of the road.

“What’re you doing? Is something wrong with the car?”

“No. I saw someone sneaking over the hill back there.”

“It’s so dark out, how could you see them?”

“They had a flashlight turned on for a moment. They were headed in the direction of
the caves.”

“Damn it! We’ve got to stop them.” I shoved my door open and had one foot on the ground
before Derek grabbed my arm.

“Brooklyn, wait,” he ordered, yanking me back. “Close the door, please. The interior
light might alert them.”

“Oh crap.” I scrambled back into the car and tried to shut the door quietly. “I’m
sorry. That was stupid.”

“Never mind,” he said more calmly. “I believe we’re far enough away that they didn’t
notice the light through the tinted windows. But I don’t want you charging off without
a plan.”

I thought about the last time I had charged in without a plan. I had gotten bashed
in the head. “Okay. Sorry.” I took a few deep breaths to chill out. “With all the
trauma we’ve been through, my first thought was to hunt them down and throttle them.”

“Perhaps you’ll get your chance.” He glanced up at the sky
through the windshield and then scanned the landscape in four directions. The moon
was a sliver and the sky was cloudy, so there was almost no light shining down on
the nearby vineyards and surrounding countryside.

“How did you see him?” I asked.

“I saw his silhouette—that is, I assume it’s a man, but it could be a woman—when he
or she skulked across the fire lane that runs parallel to the cabernet vineyard.”

“That was lucky. It’s the only spot around that isn’t covered in vines or thicket.”

“Yes, lucky indeed.” He looked at me, frowning. “I don’t suppose you’ll wait in the
car.”

“Not a chance,” I said, buttoning up my jacket. I was glad I’d gone with a dark wardrobe
tonight. “But I promise I won’t get in your way.”

“Damn straight you won’t.” He reached across me, unlocked the glove compartment, and
pulled out his scary-looking gun.

“I suppose that’s necessary,” I said, basically to myself.

“Yes, it is.”

“Fine.” I pulled my cell phone from my purse. “But do you mind if I call Gabriel so
you have some real backup?”

Derek checked his rearview mirror. “He knows we’re here.”

“He does? How?”

“One of his drones is hovering above our car.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

He grinned, took another look out the windshield, and waved up at whatever was above
us. “I’ve got to get one of those.”

“You guys scare me. You really do.”

He reached for his door handle. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Stay behind me.” Derek opened the car door and was out in three seconds. I tried
to duplicate his moves, but I wasn’t quite as smooth or fast as he was. We snuck across
the road and hiked up
the shallow hill above the lighted parking lot. Here there were rows of graceful birch
trees lining the ridge along the bottom of the vineyard acreage.

I stopped behind one tree and looked up at the terraced hill above us. It was really
dark out here tonight. The storage cave was fifty yards in front of us, so we continued
following the line of trees, staying in the safe shadows as long as we could.

Derek held up his hand, and I stopped immediately. He pointed to something in the
bushes at the end of the tree line. I had to squint to try and see what he was looking
at, but I couldn’t see a thing.

“Stay here,” he whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I nodded, and he took off toward whatever he was seeing. I waited. I had no interest
in getting in the way of his gun. After a few moments, I had a sudden attack of cowardice.
Did I really want to see what he’d found? It was a lot easier to be brave while sitting
inside the luxurious Bentley. But out here in the elements, with some bad guy skulking
around? Not so much.

“Brooklyn,” Derek said aloud, breaking the silence of the dark night. “Get Gabriel
on the phone. Tell him to call the sheriff and get an ambulance over here.”

I forgot my fears and went running over to his side. “What happened?”

He pointed to the ground behind the bushes. “It’s Noland Garrity.”

“I knew it!” I leaned over and looked down at Garrity’s body, sprawled motionless
on the dirt and hidden by the hedgerow. “You caught him.”

“No, someone else did,” he said grimly, “and left him for dead.”

*   *   *

“J
ust to be clear,” Gabriel said, “nobody entered the caves tonight.”

“Good,” I said, pacing the room, trying to shake off the nerves and fear I’d felt
out there in the dark.

After the ambulance had whisked Noland Garrity away and the police had finished asking
their questions, Gabriel, Derek, and I had returned to our house. The two men were
seated at the dining table, munching on pretzels while I continued to pace around
the room.

“Garrity must’ve been trying to sneak inside, right? Did you find a key in his pocket?
Anything?”

“No key,” Derek said. “More likely, he was planning to meet someone else who had the
key.”

“He definitely met someone,” I muttered, “and they beat the heck out of him. Two fractured
ribs and a broken nose, plus bruises everywhere.” I shivered. “I mean, I can’t stand
the guy, but I’m sorry he was so badly injured.”