Page 9 of Her Dark Lies
“It’s all going to be fine,” Jack says again, sensing my need for reassurance. The past forty-eight hours have been off the charts nerve-racking.
“I know. I’m not worried.”
Many marriages are made on such little lies. It’s so much easier to reassure than laying oneself bare. Saying I am terrified is unthinkable. All of this—the break-in, the trip, the island, the wedding, the storms—it is too much for me to bear. And yet, I smile winningly at my fiancé, squeeze his hand. He mustn’t know I’m second-guessing everything. He would take it the wrong way.
I look toward the pier. A knot of people comes into focus, and there is the small strobing of a blue light. Alarm seizes my stomach.
Malcolm shot the intruder.
“Jack, what’s going on? I can see blue lights flashing. Is that the island’s police?”
His attention snaps to the pier. “Our local islandpolizia, yes. The Italians have both local police and military police, but here on the island, it’s just a couple of local guys. There’s no crime on Isola.”
Unspoken—Our security sees to that. You’re safe with me, Claire. Always.
Safety is something Jack offers in spades. After Monday’s escapades, I’ve been shown that in person.
“What do you think’s happened?” I ask. “They aren’t here about Monday night, are they?”
“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out. They’re blocking our way up to the Villa.”
It’s another ten minutes before we can disembark. Jack is silent and watchful the whole time. He holds my hand and plays absently with my ring. I see the muscle in his jaw tick, tick, tick as he grinds his teeth.
When the gangplank finally settles against the ground, he says quietly, “Just follow my lead.” He steers me down the pier toward the flashing lights. We’re fifteen feet away when he sucks in a breath and says, “Wait here.”
“But—”
“Wait here, Claire.”
Jack doesn’t normally command me. I’m so shocked I halt immediately, and he surges ahead, disappearing into the crowd. I stand awkwardly alone, shivering in the salty breeze. I can hear Italian, spoken very quickly, much too fast for me to follow even the few words I’ve picked up, then Jack’s baritone, all overlaid with a cacophony of seagulls—the island’s rookery for wayward birds must be nearby. I’m just grateful for the solid ground. Maybe Iwasgetting a little seasick.
Jack reemerges moments later, his face pale.
“The timing is impeccable,” he grumbles.
“Are they here for us?”
“No. The restoration people dug up a body.”
“A body? Whose?”
“No idea. Sorry, technically it’s not a body, it’s a skeleton. Remains. This happens frequently in historical restoration.”
“Remains?” I’ve had just about enough death for a lifetime. Two bodies in two days?
Jack smiles. “Don’t freak out. You know this island dates back. Sometimes there are little mudslides that expose ruins, or the restoration people my dad hired will dig into the ground and find a tomb, or tunnel under a building and uncover disarticulated bones.”
“So it—they—aren’t recent?”
“Goodness, no. I’m sure they’re not. My parents will have to meet with the people from the historical society, just to be certain, but it’s all going to be fine. It’s just one more thing to handle.”
He sounds annoyed but supremely unconcerned, so I relax, too. I have learned to take my cues from Jack. This is a whole new world I’m stepping into, and camouflage is my only weapon.
“Let’s get up to the Villa. I’m sure my parents will want to see you. And I’d love to show you around, if you’re not too jet-lagged. Plus, we have the meeting with the lawyers this afternoon.”
Ah, the lawyers. I’ve almost forgotten about the prenup signing. Almost...
What, you thought it was going to be different? You missed the part of the story where Prince Charming sat Cinderella down with an annuity payout schedule because the glass slipper earned interest at 4.8 percent a year? This is the Comptons we’re talking about.
