30

Ismay had been waiting for the other shoe to drop all day. She knew Bastian wouldn’t let what’d happened this morning go. He’d tell Remy and possibly his parents and do what he could to get Bo fired.

She didn’t care if the Windsors were mad at her. She’d gone too far with Bo, knew that she could never go back to Remy. The fact that she was missing Bo, although he’d only been gone a day, and felt a mild sort of relief that she no longer had to deal with Remy, said a lot. She cared about Remy as a human being, and maybe they could somehow remain friends, but she was no longer in love with him. The separation had probably happened slowly over time, but enough distance had crept between them that it was obvious at last.

The question was...how did she feel about Bo? She couldn’t be in love with him. Everything was too new. When she first started seeing Remy, it’d been exciting, too. She’d thought she was in love. But after she moved in with him, the shine had quickly worn off as he began to take her for granted.

She checked her phone, hoping to hear that Bo had arrived safely in Louisiana, but she hadn’t received anything from him. Unable to wait any longer, she sent him a message.

It took a moment, but she got a response.

Any word from Remy? she asked.

She was still waiting for a response when a call came in. She hoped it was Bo but saw a number she didn’t recognize. She probably wouldn’t have answered it, except she thought he might be calling her from someone else’s phone. “Hello?”

“Ismay?”

The female voice sounded somewhat familiar. “Yes?”

“This is Annabelle Windsor, Remy’s mother.”

Ismay immediately thought of the truck she and Jack were driving and wondered if using it was going to get Bo in even more trouble. “I’m guessing you’ve heard from Bastian...”

“Yes. I’m sorry you felt he was acting erratically—”

“He was acting erratically,” she insisted.

“Maybe so, but I’m calling to let you know that he’s not the one you have to be afraid of.”

Ismay pictured the duffel bag and its contents. “What are you talking about? Remy isn’t safe?”

“It’s Bo who’s dangerous, Ismay.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Bo is—”

“You know he’s a murderer, right?” Annabelle broke in.

Ismay started to laugh. “Oh, my God! No, he’s not! That...that’s outlandish!”

Annabelle remained unruffled; she merely sounded sadly adamant. “Apparently, he’s duped you, just like he duped me.”

The fact that Annabelle wasn’t backing off sent a chill through Ismay, but she still couldn’t believe it. “He hasn’t duped anyone—”

“Check your texts,” Annabelle interrupted again. “I just sent you a picture of his driver’s license under his real name. Do a Google search on that and see what you come up with. I’m sorry I ever trusted him, that I exposed you to a man like that. I—I should’ve done a background check. I just never dreamed...”

Ismay didn’t respond. Eager to see this “proof” Annabelle purported to have so she could shoot it down, she navigated to the picture that’d just come through. It was a driver’s license, all right—one with Bo’s picture as a much younger man and the name Beau Landry.

This had to have been doctored, she told herself. She was intent on finding the flaw in what Annabelle had sent, so she told Remy’s mother that she’d get back to her and hung up and opened her laptop. But when she typed Beau Landry into Google, the links that appeared made her skin prickle.

Son Kills Father, Claims He Murdered Mother

Son Secures Justice for Mother Eight Years After Her Death

Beau Landry Gets Revenge on His Own Father

Beau Landry Sentenced to Twelve Years

Jury Empathizes With Boy Who Lost Mother, Goes Easy on Landry

She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see what she was seeing, didn’t want to believe it. But Bo had told her his mother had been killed. The timing matched. One article even mentioned that he’d been living in Louisiana with his great-uncle after his mother was killed. Too many details fit with the little she knew of Bo. And now she understood why he hadn’t been more forthcoming...

The article that shocked her the most was titled Sister to Testify Against Beau Landry. That had to have been excruciating for him, but even that fit with what she knew.

Ismay dropped her head in one hand. She’d been so caught up in what was inside the duffel bag she’d found, what it might mean about Remy. Now she wondered if it was Bo who’d hidden that stuff. He was in and out of the cottage; he could easily have stashed it anywhere he liked.

But that didn’t explain the picture of Lyssa. How would he even have known her? And why encourage Ismay to go to the police?

Some details fit, others didn’t. Her head was spinning. But Bo was an ex-con. There were too many articles to deny it. And although she ached for him, losing his mother when he was so young, she had to wonder if he was truly capable of shooting and killing someone. Did he have that kind of rage inside him?

It was possible...

What kind of person, exactly, had she trusted?

Suddenly ice-cold, she could scarcely breathe. She’d made love to Bo. She’d thought of almost nothing but him ever since. She’d trusted him over Remy and Bastian.

And how did she feel now? Shocked. Betrayed. Hurt most of all. Surely, the Windsors’ retribution would be swift. They’d fire him, of course. But maybe they’d spread the word about his background around the island, so he wouldn’t feel comfortable returning and wouldn’t be able to find work even if he did. She could even see them threatening to alert any future employer, which would make the coming years incredibly difficult—unless he could find a way to disappear again.

Setting her computer aside, she pulled the lap blanket from the arm of the couch over her and curled up as she stared blankly at the opposite wall.

Her phone dinged again. She thought it might be Annabelle, trying to confirm that Ismay had found the articles backing up her claims. But Ismay didn’t want to read whatever message she’d sent, let alone respond to it. She didn’t want to hear from Bo, either. Right now, she had no idea what to say.

Remy had tried calling him twice in the past fifteen minutes. Bo had silenced both calls; he had no interest in talking to Remy. If the Windsors had something to say to him, Annabelle or Mort could reach out. But he’d sent Ismay three texts since she’d asked him where he was in Louisiana, and she hadn’t responded. That made him wonder if something was wrong...

Bastian better not have done anything to her. The fact that he’d stolen a pair of Ismay’s underwear—and that he had a collection of other panties in that damn duffel bag—scared the hell out of him.

Everything okay? he wrote to Ismay.

Again, she didn’t answer. Maybe she’d fallen asleep. It was an hour later on Mariners. But she’d asked him a question...

Remy was calling again after not leaving a voice mail, so Bo decided he’d better see what was going on.

Because Uncle Chester and Matilda were sleeping, he got off the couch, where he’d made himself a bed for the night, and stepped out via the screen door before hurrying down the stairs to the path he knew so well from his childhood. It led to the water, which was exactly where he wanted to go. Then he wouldn’t disturb his family. Nor would they be able to eavesdrop. “’Lo?”

“Bo? It’s Remy.”

He could hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, see the thin smile of a half-moon overhead and the water far out on the horizon lined with silver. “I know.”

“I have to admit, I’m shocked. I had no idea who you really were.”

Bo stopped walking. Apparently, the day he’d both feared and dreaded had arrived. After finally establishing some stability in a place he enjoyed, without too much fear that his past would catch up to him, he was coming face-to-face with the truth he’d been trying so hard to hide. “How’d you find out?” he asked.

“You’re not going to play dumb? Deny it?”

“I’m assuming you have it on good authority.”

“I do. Bastian came across that wallet you hid between the mattresses, Beau Landry.”

“I don’t suppose it’ll do any good to say that Bastian had no business snooping around in my things...”

“You can complain about that to the police, if you want,” Remy said. “But if I were you, I’d stay away from them.”

Bo turned to face the water. “Why? I’ve served my time. I’m not even on probation. And I plan to speak with the cops, anyway, when I tell them about the duffel bag I found hidden in the wall of your old closet.” It was a lie—Ismay had found the duffel bag, not him. But he preferred to leave her out of this, if he could. He didn’t want to give Remy a reason to target her. And now he had nothing to lose.

“What are you talking about?” Remy sounded leery.

“You’re going to pretend you don’t know?”

“I don’t remember any duffel bag,” he insisted.

“You’d remember this one,” Bo said. “It was filled with women’s underwear, some cheap jewelry, and a picture of Lyssa Helberg.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he exploded. “You have no idea what happened that night. I don’t know anything about a bag of panties.”

“Really? Because it was right there by your notebook. Nice sketches, by the way—if you have violent, twisted fantasies that would turn a decent person’s stomach.”

“You couldn’t even guess what I fantasize about.”

“The contents of that duffel bag would give anyone a pretty good indication,” Bo said.

“That duffel bag—and what’s in it—must belong to Bastian. It’s not mine.”

“Oh, of course. He just hid it in your room.”

“You’re fired, you know that?” Remy shouted. “Bastian will box up your shit and send it. Don’t ever set foot on Mariners again.”

Bo gripped his phone tighter. “You think you own the whole island?”

“I might as well. You’ll be sorry if you come back,” he said and disconnected.

Bo sighed as he stared off into the distance. No wonder Ismay was no longer responding to him.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Jack never thought he’d be the one doing the comforting, but when he woke up the next morning, Ismay was still on the couch in her clothes, with nothing but a lap blanket to cover her and balled up tissue all over the floor. When he gave her shoulder a gentle shake, and she opened her eyes, he could see tear tracks on her cheeks, and she immediately broke down again when he asked her what was wrong. Because she was trying to stop from crying and was then crying too hard to answer him, all he could do was put his arm around her to console her. And when she finally calmed down enough to tell him what’d happened, he couldn’t believe it.

“That can’t be true,” he said. “I feel like I know the kind of man Bo is. He’s not a murderer.”

“If anything could push someone to that kind of violence, it would be justice for his mother,” she said.

He had to agree with that, but still... It was hard to believe the man who’d been kind enough to take him in so he wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel, which he couldn’t really afford, and had tried so hard to look out for Ismay could be guilty of shooting anyone, regardless of the situation. Bo had lied about his identity and his background, so whether or not he was guilty of more, Jack could understand why Ismay would be distraught. He’d watched the attraction grow between them, knew they’d been getting closer and that Bo was largely the reason she was suddenly so decisive about being done with Remy.

She showed him Bo’s unanswered messages on her phone. “Do I tell him I know? What do I say?”

“I wouldn’t say anything until you’re ready. Take some time. Then ask him whatever you honestly need to know.”

“Why bother?” she said, her voice sounding nasally from all the tears. “We don’t have a future together, anyway.”

Jack hated to hear her say that. He was as shocked by what he’d learned as she was, but there was something about Bo that made it difficult to just...cast him aside. No matter what he’d done, Jack felt he’d earned more of their trust, respect, and loyalty than that. “Issues like this can be complicated,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we don’t know what was going through his mind at the time. Or for that matter, what really happened. Are you even sure he did it?”

“He was convicted. He served twelve years.”

“That’s not always the same thing,” Jack said. “What’d he plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“Maybe he isn’t. A lot of innocent men go to prison.”

“Who else would’ve done it?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, “but he deserves the chance to explain. Don’t you think?”

“I guess, but what if he did do it? I mean...we’d all like to mete out justice when we feel someone has wronged us. But we can’t...”

“I’m not making any excuses for him, Is. I’m just saying the man we’ve come to know is a good man. I firmly believe that. Don’t you?”

She grabbed another tissue to blow her nose. “I do,” she admitted. “But is that because it’s what I want to believe? Am I being stupid? Naive? Foolhardy?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t have those answers. But I will say he’s done all he can to look out for you—and he’s put himself on the line to do it.”

Her gaze fell to the carpet.

“What’s happened since you got here is probably the reason he’s been found out,” Jack continued. “I know that wasn’t intentional on your part, but I’m sure Remy’s parents have fired him. Or they will. That means he has no place to live. Starting over with a record isn’t easy, which is probably why he lied about his identity in the first place.”

She wiped her nose as another tear fell. “I can’t stand the thought of him being without the things he needs. Or feeling rejected. Or unloved.”

“Then that should tell you something right there.”

She massaged her temples. “I have a terrible headache.”

“Then go back to sleep while I finish the fence. We can talk about this later.”

She caught his arm. “You’re not going to finish the fence knowing Bo probably won’t even get paid for it!”

“He might get paid for it. I hope he does. Either way, I said I’d finish it, so I want to follow through. You get some rest, and we’ll talk later.”

“Jack, I’m just...trying not to ruin my life by falling in love with the wrong man.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I know. But given all these tears, I think it might be too late for that.”

Remy was coming to the island. He was forgetting about his big exam, said he’d have to take it later, during his residency. Bastian knew he couldn’t be happy that Ismay was making it necessary for him to drop everything and come to Mariners. But Remy could never take no for an answer.

Bastian sat in the Jeep and surfed the internet on his phone while waiting for his brother’s plane to arrive. At last, Remy came walking from the terminal and climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep. “Finally!” he said as he slammed the door.

Bastian started the engine. “Rough flight?”

“Aren’t they all? I hate air travel.”

“Where do you want to eat?” Bastian asked.

“I don’t want to eat. Take me to Honey’s. That’s where you said Ismay and Jack are staying, right?”

Bastian blinked at him. “You’ve got to be starving.”

“I ate in Boston on my layover. And if we wait any longer, they might go to bed.”

Bastian checked his watch. “At ten?”

“I want to talk to her, Bastian,” Remy said. “Now.”

“If she won’t answer your calls or your texts, what makes you think she’ll let you in?”

“It’s easier to ignore a call or a message than someone banging on your door,” he replied.

Bastian was hungry, but he knew better than to insist on eating first. He didn’t want to start this visit off on the wrong foot. Taking Remy head-on was never the right thing to do. “Fine. We have to get the keys to the truck Bo left with them, anyway,” he said and drove out of the parking lot.

The lights were on at Honey’s, and the truck was sitting in the drive. It appeared as if someone was home. But when Remy went to the door and knocked, no one answered.

Bastian lowered his window. “Let’s go eat. We can deal with this tomorrow,” he yelled, but Remy shook his head.

“No way,” he said. “We’ll deal with it tonight.”