The Rich and the Dead (15 page)

She stood up.

“You leaving?” he asked, scrambling to his feet.

“Looks that way.” She turned to walk back toward her car.

“Hey,” he called after her. She turned to see his smile was gone. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lay into Effie again. It's just I think you're different”—he paused—“better than her.”

“Why do you think you know me?”

“I just do. I know who you are.”

“Oh, really,” Lila said with a tight laugh. His arrogant presumption was startling. “Then you know why I'm here, I assume?”

“No, I don't,” Dylan admitted.

“Then let me enlighten you. Three years ago, today, my mom died.” The words were hot in her throat. “And this is where I scattered her ashes. So I came to be with her, and now you're here.” She felt the tears spring to her eyes, her voice beginning to crack. “And a bad day just got worse, thanks to you.”

It was the first time since she'd traveled back to 2014 that Lila had dropped her facade in front of another person. Even though she was flooded with pain, it felt good to be herself again, if only for a moment.

She quickly blinked her eyes, trying desperately not to cry. But from the look on Dylan's face, she knew her words had struck a blow. A blow that was undeservedly strong.

“I'm sorry, Camilla. I didn't know.”

“Exactly. You didn't,” she spit, though she knew her anger was misplaced. The harder she tried to suppress the tears, the more acutely she felt them coming. She turned her back on Dylan, not wanting him to see her like this. But she couldn't help the anguished sob that burst out of her mouth. Tears streamed down her face.

“Please, just go,” she said, in a defeated voice. But instead, she felt him come up beside her.

“Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

Lila shook her head, unable to speak. The surge of grief had left her feeling depleted and exhausted.

“Trust me,” Dylan said. Lila looked up into his clear, brown eyes, so genuine in that moment.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Together they walked along the beach in silence. Lila tried to stop crying, but now that she'd opened the floodgates, she seemed unable to stop. As he led her along a sandy path that cut through the dense tropical forest, Lila began to feel her resistance toward Dylan soften slightly. She had always been alone on this day, and it was nice to have someone beside her for once.

Though the path continued straight, Dylan turned right, taking her through a dense thicket of palm trees until, breathtakingly, dark jungle opened up onto a small, secluded beach.

“How'd you know this was here?” Lila asked, amazed that she'd never found this magical place before.

“My dad found it. He used to bring me here. See that spot?” Dylan pointed to a rocky inlet full of still, turquoise water. “That's where he taught me to swim. Then when it was low tide we'd spend the day walking so far out that I thought we were in the middle of the ocean floor.”

They both stood still, lost in their own memories.

“He's gone now, too,” Dylan said.

Lila kept looking forward. She understood now. He knew what it was to lose someone.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“He got sick. The details aren't important. But he was my world. Taught me everything. Gave me everything. When I lost him, I thought it would break me. But it didn't. I'm still here.” He paused. “And so are you.”

Lila nodded. In her pocket, her cell phone rang, destroying the serenity of the moment. She glanced at the screen.

It was Meredith.

“Christ,” Lila said. “Meredith Sloan for the fifth time today. She's relentless.”

“She's a piece of work, that one,” Dylan agreed, with a smile.

“I find her absolutely terrifying.” Lila laughed. She felt light, almost giddy, as if her tears, her anger, her moment of honesty had lifted a heavy weight off her chest.

“It's nice to see you smiling,” Dylan said softly, stepping toward her.

“Listen, I should head back. The sun's almost down and I—”

“Me too,” he interrupted. Letting her know she didn't need to give him an excuse.

Before they stepped back onto the beach, Lila turned to him, suddenly and impulsively, grabbing his hand. “I'm sorry about your dad. And thanks—for being here, today.”

“My pleasure,” Dylan said. “Do you think . . .” He paused, his eyes fixed on her.

“Do I think what?”

“That I can call you sometime?”

Before she could think twice about it, Lila just nodded. She took his phone and quickly put in her number. What could possibly come of it? She would only be here two more months.

Dylan grinned and turned to start pushing his kayak back in the water.

“So,” he called out over his shoulder. “Why's Meredith hounding you?”

“House stuff. I put in a bid for a house on Star Island. The one next to Effie's.” Lila saw a look of disappointment flicker across Dylan's face.

“You don't approve?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he answered. “You just don't strike me as the Star Island type.”

“What makes you think you know me at all?”

“You can't fool everyone all the time,” he said with a smile as he jumped smoothly into the kayak.

Then, as he started to paddle back to his boat, he called to her over his shoulder. “And just remember, our world isn't as perfect as you may think it is.”

Of course it's not,
she thought sadly.
Of course it's not.

CHAPTER 15

W
EEKS PASSED
. L
ILA
'
S
work on the case was progressing, but not as fast as she'd have liked. She hated to admit it, but she was starting to worry. For every suspect she eliminated, she accumulated a dozen more questions. Most frustrating of all was the fact that she hadn't gotten any closer to figuring out the mystery at the heart of the Janus Society. Even with endless information at her fingertips, even spending time with the society members themselves, she felt like a rat in a maze, hitting one dead end after another.

So here she was, spending yet another Friday afternoon sitting by the pool at Effie's Star Island house while Effie pounded back shots of tequila. In six days it would be Thanksgiving. Time was running out. As the sun retreated toward the horizon, Lila wondered for the thousandth time whether focusing on Effie had been a mistake. Was she wasting her time?

Ever since the night at Fisher Island when Effie had become so upset, she'd been acting strange and secretive. She'd also been drunk and high more often than normal, which, given Effie's appetite for altered states, was slightly alarming to Lila.

“So,” Effie continued, now rolling a joint on the cover of an Italian
Vogue
she had balanced on her thighs, “if Meredith says there's another offer on the house, you have to match it, right?”

The sun had become magenta, and the evening sky was darkening with purple clouds. Sunsets gave Lila a pure physical pleasure, like diving into the ocean on a hot summer's day.

“First thing tomorrow, Ef,” Lila promised. “I just don't want to get into a back-and-forth with her tonight.” Though the whole farce of bidding on the house was a good way to keep Meredith around, Lila had absolutely no intention of spending that kind of actual money while here. It didn't seem right.

“Speaking of exhausting. I'm going to your old stomping grounds to be with my dad and stepmonster for Thanksgiving.” Effie rolled her eyes, so Lila rolled hers while Effie watched. Effie required active listening from those she deemed lucky enough to hear her stories. By this point, Lila knew when to gasp, clap, roll her eyes, nod, frown, and smile.

“I'll be forced to breathe the same air as Coleen Mathewson Webster, a.k.a. my stepmother, and her three little horrific children. They're about as pleasant as a tornado, and slightly more destructive. My dad will be at the office the whole time while Coleen bosses everyone around, including me. It's excruciating. Meanwhile, my real mom is in an ashram somewhere in Costa Rica sleeping on a tatami mat and trying to embrace the now with a guy named Swami Gerry. What a joke.”

“Thanksgiving just as the Puritans intended,” Lila said, which got a meager smile out of Effie.

“Hey,” Effie said as she lit the joint. “Aren't you going somewhere for Thanksgiving?”

“Me?”

“I know you said your mom and dad aren't around anymore, but you've got to have someone else, right? Or are you my little lost orphan?” Effie put on a big faux pout, the facial equivalent of the emoticons she included in so many of her texts.

Lila thought of her own Thanksgiving in 2014. The tiny house with the paper-thin walls in a dying part of Fort Myers. Her mother, looking thin and tired but assuring Lila she was fine. Lila should've known better. That was the last Thanksgiving she ever had with her mom.

She let out a big sigh. “I mean, I've got the fat aunts and the bitchy cousins just like anyone else. It's just that, being in the middle of a divorce and all, I don't want to have to go into everything with them. You know?” Lila figured it was as good an excuse as any. Luckily Effie seemed to eat it up.

“I'm with you there.” Effie nodded. “Some people like to be around family when they're down. But my family attacks the weak like a pack of wild animals.”

The two women sat gloomily on chaise longues as evening began to engulf the air.

Lila jumped when her cell phone vibrated. Assuming it was Meredith, she was about to silence the phone. But she didn't recognize the number.

“Who is it?” Effie asked, hungry for some distraction from her sour state.

“I don't know.”

“Well, answer it, for Christ's sake!” As a woman who was constantly on her phone, talking, texting, tweeting, and documenting her every move, thought, and half-baked opinion, Effie believed that if the phone was making a ring, beep, or chirp, it had to be tended to like a baby bird.

When Lila answered, she was startled to hear Dylan's voice.

“Who is it?” Effie mouthed.

“Dylan,” Lila silently mouthed back. Effie scrunched her face to convey confusion. Lila shrugged a bewildered look right back at her. She hadn't told Effie about the afternoon she'd spent with Dylan at Key Largo. She had tried not to think of it at all. Or if she had, she'd convinced herself that the chemistry she had felt was imagined.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to call. I've been . . . out of the country,” Dylan said. “But I was hoping I could convince you to join me for dinner tonight.”

“Ummm . . .” Lila stalled, trying to figure out what to say. Part of her wanted to see him, part of her knew it was a bad idea, and part of her was reminded that she had plans tonight. According to Teddy's information, Rusty Browder was attending a fund-raising event for the University of Miami. She was planning on crashing it, hoping to get some one-on-one time with yet another member of the Janus Society.

“Thanks so much, but I'm busy tonight.” As Lila said these words, Effie began to vigorously shake her head no. “I'm—”

Effie got up and ripped the phone out of Lila's hand.

“Hi, Dylan. It's Effie. Camilla would love to join you for dinner tonight.” She smiled wolfishly at Lila. “Great. How soon can you be here? Perfect. Ciao!” With smug satisfaction, Effie handed the phone back to Lila.

“He'll be here in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes!”

“Oh, relax. Just throw on a dress, tie your hair in a bun, and put on some lipstick. It's not like a man is going to object if you're a little slapdash. Plus, I have my own plans tonight. And I don't think my date would appreciate you tagging along.”

As Lila was getting ready in her room, she found herself becoming nervous and excited, like a teenager before prom. “You're a cop, goddamnit,” she scolded her reflection. But the woman in the mirror, with her golden hair braided and pinned (thanks to Effie's quick handiwork), the flowing couture dress that revealed her long, bare neck and bronzed shoulders, and the Jimmy Choo heels, was as far from a cop—and as far from herself—as she could get.