Wicked Game Read online

  Vangie had been one of Jessie’s closest friends, an inner circle among the larger clique, Becca recalled.

  Jarrett Erikson’s dark eyes gazed coldly at Vangie. “It’s not like we forgot what you told the police.”

  “What did I say?” she demanded, affronted.

  “Just that. You were her best friend and Jessie told you she was running away.”

  “I wasn’t her best friend.”

  “We were all good friends,” Renee put in brusquely, intent on pulling the conversation back to her own agenda. “I was a good friend of hers.”

  “Yeah, but Vangie acted like she and Jessie were like this,” The Third said, crossing his fingers.

  “I don’t know why you’re picking on me!” Vangie sniffed.

  “Hard to believe it’s Jessie,” Zeke cut in. His gaze fell on the way Evangeline’s hand clung to his and he moved it to his lap, as if embarrassed.

  A cell phone chirped. The Third reached into his pocket, withdrew a sleek BlackBerry, checked the number, then clicked the phone off. “Sorry.”

  Renee said tightly, “Okay, so if it’s not Jessie, then whose bones are they?” She glanced around the table, but no one responded. “Come on. Whether we like it or not, we all know that the body up there is Jessie Brentwood and it’ll only be a few days, maybe even shorter, before the police put two and two together.”

  “Is that what this is all about, going to the police?” For a split second, The Third seemed unnerved. He grabbed his short, near-empty glass, jiggled the ice cubes, and took a last swallow before cracking one of the melting cubes between his teeth.

  Renee shook her head. “No. But they’re bound to come to us again. It’s what they do.” Her gaze skated around the table, to the faces staring at her. “Come on, we all know this thing’s been eating at us for years. Everyone of us has said, ‘I wonder what happened to Jessie. Where she went.’” Renee took a sip of her wine. “Now it looks like she’s been found. Part of the mystery solved.”

  “Nothing’s been eating at me,” The Third pointed out, and he seemed relaxed again. An act? Or for real? “And I don’t know what the hell you mean about a mystery. Vangie’s right. Jessie ran away.”

  “Are we all going to order something, or what?” Scott asked, his now-bald pate gleaming in the subdued lighting. Becca realized he scarcely had any hair left and apparently chose to shave it off completely. “How about a couple of bottles of wine? Looks like we could use some refills and a few new glasses. Glenn…” He glanced pointedly at his business partner.

  Glenn Stafford looked like he’d been enjoying the fruits of his own kitchen. Once thin to the point of being gaunt, he’d packed on the pounds over the years. His shirt stretched a little tight around his middle, whereas Scott was as lean as he’d been in high school and his face was remarkably unlined. Glenn, on the other hand, had deep furrows dug into his forehead, as if the worries of the world lay on his shoulders. His hair was still its same medium brown shade and it was close-cropped and neat. He sent Scott a black look, then pushed back his chair and headed toward a wooden swinging door that presumably led straight to the kitchen.

  “Are we ordering food, or just drinks?” Mitch Bellotti asked cautiously.

  “Oh, sure.” Scott nodded emphatically. “Glenn, how about a couple of appetizer sampler plates, show everyone our specialties. That way maybe they’ll come back.”

  Glenn managed a scowl as he left the room, and Mitch seemed satisfied. The ex-lineman was even thicker around the middle than Glenn, but then he’d always been on the heavy side. He’d had a love of cars that had translated into a career as a mechanic. He’d also always had a love of women and was twice divorced, according to his own admission. Becca could feel his appreciative eye fall on her, but she ignored it, as much to give him the message as to keep The Third and Jarrett Erikson from exchanging amused glances. In high school, Mitch had been the group’s resident clown, always joking. The Third and Jarrett Erikson had referred to him as the Village Idiot behind his back, and Becca sensed their disparagement of him hadn’t changed over the years.

  She slid a sideways look at Jarrett, seated on her left. His black hair and black eyes under beetle brows made him seem as if he were hiding secrets. He’d been the least easy to read in high school, and it looked like nothing had changed.

  There were a couple of others who had been part of their group, but more peripherally, and they hadn’t been invited to this command performance, apparently, as the only chair unoccupied was waiting for Hudson.

  This group of friends, their core, was made up of the people most affected by Jessie’s disappearance.

  But Becca still didn’t get why Renee had so wanted this meeting. It wasn’t like they could do anything about Jessie now. She glanced again at the notes so neatly stacked on the black table in front of Renee. Hudson’s twin. And direct opposite.

  The door opened, letting in a whoosh of air that touched the back of Becca’s neck.

  “Hey.” Hudson’s voice washed over her and her muscles tightened reflexively as she waited for him to move into her line of vision.

  “About time, Walker,” The Third said, gazing Hudson’s way, his eyes assessing him carefully.

  Becca attempted to ease her stiff shoulders, afraid she looked as tense as she felt.

  “Traffic snarl on Sunset,” he answered.

  “You’re coming from the west,” Jarrett said as Hudson walked around the table into Becca’s view.

  Faded jeans. Tan suede shirt. Thick, dark hair that brushed his collar. I-don’t-really-give-a-damn attitude still intact.

  “Shouldn’t be any traffic that way.” Jarrett eyed him carefully.

  “You think I’m lying?”

  Jarrett backed off with a shrug. “Just think you’re late.”

  “Okay, now that the bull rams have locked horns, can we get over this?” Renee asked.

  “After we say hello,” Tamara said. She turned to Hudson and added, “Hudson Walker. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Oh, there have been some changes, all right.” He took a chair next to Zeke, directly across from Becca, and when his gaze touched hers, Becca remembered all too vividly how those blue, blue eyes could dilate in the dark. There was just something earthy and male about him that couldn’t be missed. Of course, as she’d guessed, he looked even better than she remembered, and she kicked herself for noticing, for the sudden rise in her pulse.

  “Hey, Becca.”

  “Hi.” She smiled a greeting, hoping she’d hidden her true feelings as he greeted everyone else. Pretending to be unaffected, which was damned hard. He seemed to have grown an inch or two, which was probably all her perception. But along with a cynical, “just dare me” smile, he still had that tall, rangy cowboy style going for him. And it was sexy as hell.

  Great.

  She’d hoped to be immune to him.

  But this more mature, more relaxed, more confident Hudson was even more intriguing than he had been two decades before, as sexy a man as she’d ever want to meet. Whereas Zeke’s good looks and appeal had diminished, Hudson’s had increased.

  Renee said, “The thing is, I’m doing a story on the discovery of the remains. A piece about high school and what it’s like when one of your friends disappears and how it can affect you. We’ve all dealt with the same questions for twenty years. Where’s Jessie? What happened to her? Did she leave on her own, or was she taken from us? Now maybe we can find some answers.”

  Evangeline stared at her in horror. “You’re not serious!”

  Jarrett breathed noisily through his nose. “What a bunch of bullshit. Until you know who’s been rotting in the maze at St. Elizabeth’s, you’re writing fiction. I don’t think the Valley Star is big on conjecture.”

  “I can theorize, put my spin on it,” Renee said. “I’ve already talked to the kids who found the bones. Great story. Older brother and friends were trying to scare the littler kids by telling ghost stories in the maze, and then one of th
e kids sees this bony hand reaching upward.”

  “Oh, for the love of God.” Evangeline pressed her lips together. “You’re trying to profit from this?”

  Renee regarded her coldly. “I want a purge. I want this behind us all. My way is to write about it. I’ve kept in contact with Jessie’s parents all these years because I was a good friend of Jessie’s,” she said directly to Evangeline, “and I think she died in the maze at St. Lizzie’s and I want to tell that story. For Jessie, and for us all.”

  Scott said, stunned, “To your paper?”

  “Don’t count me in!” The Third stated, glaring. “Jessie ran away, okay? I don’t believe those bones are hers. And I’ve had more than enough wrangling with the police about it. Those bastards wouldn’t leave us alone.”

  “McNally wouldn’t leave us alone,” Mitch corrected.

  “Who gives a shit? I’m not doing any of it again.” He reached for his glass, then realized it was empty and let it sit on the table.

  “The police will figure it out,” Renee went on. “Those are somebody’s bones, and I’m guessing they’re Jessie’s. It’s all over the news. If I don’t write this piece, somebody else will.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re our savior.” Jarrett was sardonic. “You’re writing the damn thing to make a few bucks.” He waved away her arguments. “Gain some attention. That’s what this is all about, and it’s crap.”

  “I’d like to know if the body the cops found is really Jessie.” Hudson met Jarrett’s eyes. “And if so, then I’d like to know what happened to her.”

  Renee bit back a hot retort and seemed to relax a bit when Hudson came to her aid. “I’ve been thinking about Jessie a lot lately. Remembering what she said. Doing some research.”

  “What kind of research?” Becca asked. The vision she’d had of Jessie on the cliff felt very close. It was all too much of a coincidence, and she was starting to feel claustrophobic.

  “The Brentwoods never left the area after Jessie disappeared. They wanted to be where she could find them when she returned, but now they think the bones are hers, too. I told them what I wanted to do and we talked about Jessie at length. I think they want closure, too.” Renee looked thoughtfully at Evangeline. “They remember you and Jessie being tight.”

  “Wow. Everybody’s telling me how it was. Funny, I don’t remember it that way.” Evangeline pulled her gaze from Renee’s and looked around the room, obviously trying to distance herself from the missing girl. “Can I get a glass of wine or something?”

  Scott nodded, appearing irritated as he glanced at the door to the kitchen. “Glenn should be back any minute.”

  Renee wasn’t sidetracked. “Before she disappeared…Jessie was on a search herself. Kind of obsessed about it. Kind of looking into who she was. Trying to figure out what made her tick.”

  Was that right? Becca had never heard this before.

  “Hudson made her tick,” The Third said with a dirty chuckle. Jarrett laughed and Scott grinned.

  Renee, on her own track, went on doggedly, “She lived in a bunch of different places before ending up here. She was adopted by the Brentwoods and they moved around a lot.”

  “Chasing after her, probably,” Mitch snorted.

  “But she always returned until she attended St. Elizabeth’s. She’s missing for a reason. If those are her bones, something happened to her.”

  Scott’s expression darkened. “‘Something?’ You mean, like murder? That’s where you’re going with this, aren’t you? Just like McNally. He acted like we were all in on some kind of conspiracy.” Scott half laughed, almost nervously. “What an idiot. He had a hard-on for Jessie and he never even met her.”

  “He probably killed her.” Evangeline was serious. “The cop that gets all obsessed about a girl. It happens. You hear about it. Read about it. See it in the movies, like, all the time!”

  “Oh, sure.” Jarrett regarded her disparagingly.

  “I thought you didn’t believe she was dead,” Scott pointed out.

  “McNally didn’t know about Jessie until after she disappeared,” Hudson reminded Vangie.

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe he did and we just don’t know it,” she sniffed.

  “Stick with your theory that she’s still alive,” The Third suggested. “It’s not as kookoo as ‘the sex-crazed cop killed her.’”

  This was getting crazier by the minute, Becca thought, the conversation nearly drowning out the background music still straining to offer a calm, relaxed atmosphere while everyone in the room seemed on the verge of freaking out.

  Tamara shook her head and twisted up one palm, her bracelets musically jingling. “Well, I don’t think the bones are Jessie’s, either. Sorry,” she said to Renee. “Jessie was just too much of a force, y’know? She’s not dead. She’s out there. She was…different. Don’t you remember? She knew things.”

  “Here we go with the mumbo-jumbo stuff.” The Third sat back in his chair and Jarrett followed suit. The perfect lieutenant, Becca thought, liking him less and less and feeling the need to run away. She’d never fit into their crowd in high school, and things hadn’t changed. If anything, she was more of a misfit than ever.

  “The last time I had my Tarot read, I swear it was all about Jessie. Remember?” Tamara looked to Renee for verification. “You saw it, too.”

  “You believe in that junk?” The Third looked around at the rest of them for support, as if to say, “What a bunch of idiots.”

  “Oh, learn to have some fun,” Tamara snapped at him.

  “You did that Tarot crap, too?” Jarrett demanded of Renee.

  Hudson’s twin waved off his attack. “I’ve done a lot of things. We all have. It’s been twenty years, for God’s sake. And sometimes everything isn’t black and white, you know, not cut and dried. We did the Tarot thing and Tamara asked questions about Jessie.”

  “So did you,” Tamara reminded her tartly.

  Renee nodded. “It’s kind of what got me going on the Jessie story.”

  “So you’re not a true believer?” Scott lifted a brow.

  “Oh, shut up,” Tamara said to him with a faint smile. “Tell them what you learned, Renee.”

  Renee hesitated, then said, “It was something about how I was about to embark on a quest for knowledge. That someone from my past was reaching out to me. And that I should be warned not to let it take over my life.”

  Becca eyed Hudson’s twin with a wary eye. This, from Renee? The journalist? The girl who always had her facts so straight? What was going on here? What was Renee’s real angle?

  “And so you decided to chase Jessie’s ghost?” The Third looked from her to his friends as if he thought Renee had gone around the bend.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Renee stated coolly, her dark gaze hard.

  Hudson asked her curiously, “How long have you been on this story?”

  “A while. It’s just weird the bones have turned up now.”

  “A sign?” The Third asked with exaggerated interest.

  Renee said, “Maybe one of us should call that cop. McNally. Mac.”

  “What?” The Third demanded.

  “He knows more about the Jessie case than anyone.”

  “That’s just begging for trouble,” Jarrett snarled as a chorus of denials rose up. Becca had to agree with them, though she said nothing. She noticed Hudson remained quiet, too. McNally wasn’t the enemy, no matter what Evangeline theorized.

  But something had happened to Jessie. Something bad. Something Becca felt she should know. With a chill she vividly recalled every aspect of her vision at the mall: how Jessie had appeared to her, how the ocean had crashed so loudly she couldn’t hear Jessie’s warning, how Jessie’s toes had touched the edge of the cliff above the raging water. She remembered her own heart quivering fear, and the calm, clear way Jessie had stared at her, called to her…

  “Becca?”

  She jumped back to awareness and turned to Renee. “Yeah?”

  “I asked you what you
thought.” She regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Do you think the body is Jessie’s?”

  Did she?

  “Of course it’s Jessie,” Glenn answered, reentering the room carrying a tray with four bottles of wine, two red and two white. A waiter followed after him with glasses and began placing them around the table. A waitress carried a tray filled with platters of bite-sized seafood, everything from fried calamari to crab and artichoke dip to crostini topped with smoked salmon, heirloom tomatoes, and sliced mozzarella cheese. Samples of fried razor clams, steamed mussels, and barbecued oysters followed.

  While the waiters placed small plates, glasses, and napkins around the table, Glenn added, “She didn’t run away. Maybe she was planning to, but something stopped her.”

  Tamara eyed the heaping trays of food. “I’m on a tight budget.”

  “It’s on me,” The Third said in a bored tone that suggested he always picked up the check and found it tedious.

  Glenn shook his head as he took his seat. “Compliments of Blue Note.”

  Tamara smiled gratefully.

  “Everything’s free at Blue Note,” Scott murmured, then waved away the remark as if he were just kidding.

  “I’d love to know if those bones belong to Jessie,” Evangeline said, once the waiters had disappeared back through the doors and she was helping herself to the calamari.

  “So the cop didn’t kill her?” Jarrett asked, pretending wide-eyed shock.

  “I don’t know,” Evangeline said with an edge. “None of us do.”

  “She’s alive.” Tamara was sure.

  “Oh, yeah, you would know. Communing with Tarot and the stars and the charts and tea leaves…” Zeke didn’t exactly sneer, but the thought was there. He, too, was loading his small plate, and some of the others were serving themselves.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, either, St. John,” Tamara said, running a hand through her fiery curls, bracelets dancing and singing. “And yes, I communicate any way I can, with the spirits and the dead…” She lowered her voice to a whisper and waved her hands over the table in a circle, pretending to make her eyes roll upward.